Writing a New Poem Every Day: Finding Meaning in the Mundane
Do you know that movie, Julie and Julia, where a woman tries to cook the entirety of Julia Childs’ Mastering the Art of French Cooking in one year, and she starts off really inspired but ends up having multiple breakdowns, and is disappointed when the hero behind her cooking endeavor is rude and unsympathetic to her cause? Yep, that’s going to be me this year. But with poetry.
Not me, but it’s a mood. Photo by @jeshoots from Unsplash.
“Genius is one percent inspiration, ninety-nine percent perspiration.”
I’m sure you can imagine the inspiration and the breakdowns, but who is the muse, you may be wondering, who will ultimately disappoint me and leave me contemplating if my life has any meaning at all? I don’t know. Probably me tbh, because, if you’ve been following my blog (which is mostly my boyfriend, a few of my close friends, and my boyfriend’s mom - shoutout to www.nancymatsumoto.com), you might have noticed that I’m pretty bad at consistently posting.
This year, I’m hoping to change that.
Yada yada yada, New Year’s resolutions and all that jazz. But I’m serious. I love writing, and there’s not much else in the world that makes me feel better than that. This year, I want to grab life by the lapels and declare that, yes, I write for a living and damn it, it’s sustainable.
That, of course, will take a lot of hard work. I do have a day job (see my “About” page), and, even though I can probably get away with an hour or two of writing during that job, I definitely can’t do a full eight. Realistically or ethically.
So here I am, after a characteristically bad depressive spell, wanting to find a way to break the cycle by keeping busy doing what I love. Maybe also placing unrealistic expectations on myself, but I’m not saying I want to write good poems or publishable poems. Just one poem. Every day. For 365 days.
While, also, of course, updating you all on my blog, editing my book, working a day job, and generally trying to stay healthy during a neverending global pandemic. My therapist is certainly going to be well-paid this year.
“But how, Melissa?” you may ask. “Even if the poems aren’t good or publishable, how do you plan on finding things to write about every day, for 365 days?”
Excellent question. Fuck if I know.
But in all seriousness, this is something I’m actually pretty decent at. If you check out my “Publications” page, you can see my book Probably Nothing, which was written, well, mostly about nothing. One of my few skills is the ability to marvel at the mundane. How do you find inspiration in little things? By looking at them. By remembering and thinking and realizing how they make you feel. That’s all writing is anyway. Even textbooks, books brick-thick with political theory, even science and mathematics and astronomy. It’s crafted with language designed to make us feel a certain way (Bored? Maybe).
For example, how does rain in the winter make you feel? Angry? At peace? Indifferent? Write about it.
“But Melissa! Everything you write is literally about trauma. Not the rain or the way it makes you feel. Please explain.”
Sure. I’m taking an interesting class on how to become a full-time writer (wonderful Christmas present from my boyfriend. I see he’s not insinuating anything *side-eye*), and one of the first steps in becoming a self-sufficient writer is to craft a worldview statement. Here’s mine:
“Every individual with the intention to learn and the onus to heal can resolve to dig deeper into the roots of their trauma and grow from it.”
Photo by Matteo Catanese from Unsplash.
Yeah, all my writing is about trauma. But all my writing is also about rain. About snow or dust on hardwood floors, so it’s also about my mother on her knees, it’s about my father coming home with dirty shoes and words that sting like winter winds on bare skin, so yeah. There’s duality. And that’s how I write, and hopefully, that’s why you’re here. Because my worldview statement is about healing, and one of the ways I do that (besides the meds and countless hours of therapy) is through writing.
Maybe it’s still unclear, and you don’t see a surefire way of finding beauty in the mundane. That’s okay. Writing isn’t always about beauty. Writing is more about feeling, like I said above. Use objects as reminders. Give feelings to seasons, to refrigerator magnets, to late night, fever dreams. Give life to it all. And I think that’s the best advice I can give.
I think I’ll try and keep a running poem count with every new blog post, so you can know how many I’ve written throughout the year. And I’ll share one new one every week, along with some new writing thoughts, ideas based on books I’m reading, or anything else you might want to read.
