I started my writing course with an open mindset towards free verse. I end up writing a little everyday now, and some of it has been said to be good. It sounds like steady learning. I’ve been encouraged, even last year, to send my poetry off to magazines. Now, that’s a scary world out there.
If you ever even looked at submission guidelines for some magazines you will understand the real feeling of judgment. This is by no means a fault of the publishers, as they are the ones having to swim through a flood of submissions.
Trying to put something together to send off, finding the right magazine or press puts it into perspective that I have, in fact, achieved nothing. Similarly to other disciplines, I have to learn the insides of the trade by myself, and allow my creative side to come up with an extension of it.
This post sounds like another emotional outbreak that I can’t handle, but it’s just an honest reflection on the space I’m in right now.
Internet be my witness, but I think being a non-native speaker has finally become problematic to my future. It is dumbing down my poetry. Sure, I can learn more vocabulary, as can anyone, and polish (no pun-intended) up my grammar, but the way I understand English is specific to my mind. Not even other bi-ligual speakers of my two languages would understand what I mean, when I write certain ungrammatical sentences.
I keep thinking whether I have a chance, trying my best to be the best at everything but also true to myself. I don’t want to have to change my writing style just to be published. (And no, I don’t just tell instead of show and all that.) It’s like new poetry isn’t given a chance anymore unless you’re middle class and bough up with it or from a very disadvantaged background.
Worst of all, I feel too simple to write.