Switching up styles: from poetry to prose
I have come to realize that poetry is not my/calling. It is more a culling, a lullaby/lodged in my father’s throat. It is a way he can/neither forget us nor kill us, so he swallows/stones to keep it there, the melody set to stomping/feet and pounding chests, to a shower where/I question the will to continue writing or reading or/breathing. Poetry is not my calling. It is a/way for me to feel like I am someone still connected/to my parents, like I could call them now, &/they wouldn’t hang up the phone.
Photo by @tabithabrooke from Unsplash.
“Fiction is one of the few experiences where loneliness can be both confronted and relieved. Drugs, movies where stuff blows up, loud parties — all these chase away loneliness by making me forget my name’s Dave and I live in a one-by-one box of bone no other party can penetrate or know. Fiction, poetry, music, really deep serious sex, and, in various ways, religion — these are the places (for me) where loneliness is countenanced, stared down, transfigured, treated.”
It was going well until it wasn’t.
I have to say, I’m impressed with myself for making it halfway through the year, writing a poem every day. It was a lofty goal, and there was a genuine part of me that believed I could achieve it. It’s okay that I didn’t. But it’s time to move on.
My psychiatrist thinks I have some sort of up and down mood disorder. We aren’t quite sure yet, but it’s impacting my ability to work. I can be on top of the world, at my most creative, overflowing with blooming plot lines and poetic essences, and, a few days or weeks later, I’ll be down and out. I won’t be able to move, I’ll be exhausted even though I’m getting enough sleep. Everything will seem bleak. For the past few weeks, I’ve been existing in that down phase. Suicidal ideation planted itself like my mind was a grave set to sprout. It went beyond the vague feeling of not wanting to be here anymore, which is what was concerning.
I say this because I think it’s important. I’ve always viewed these up and down mood swings as essential to my creativity. A friend of mine told me once that I wouldn’t be the great artist I was if it weren’t for the heavy depressive episodes. I’ve mentioned this before, but it doesn’t change how much I hate that sentiment. Still, a part of me believed it was true.
My planning for TGOFT. If you subscribe at my highest tier, you’ll get an inside look at my process and writing tidbits when I begin the drafting process.
But it also serves as an explanation. I’m exhausted. Poetry doesn’t feel like the effortless release it once was. So I’m switching it up.
If you don’t follow me on Patreon, this might be the time to join. And I know it’s a lot to ask someone to subscribe to my writing, but it would mean the world to me if you did. I’m going to be releasing a monthly short story for every subscriber to my Patreon. If you’re in the $7/month tier, you’ll also receive a handwritten letter and poem from me. If you’re in the $12/month tier, you’ll get an inside look at my next fiction novel, TGOFT.
I’ve already released my first short story on Patreon, so be sure to check it out if you haven’t! Once I have a more concrete release date for Just Us, I’ll also be having a special release on Patreon, so it is definitely a good time to join.
Peace and love, my friends. Hang in there. And as always, drop a comment, send an email, or shoot me a text. I’m happy to be around here for all of you.
