First Packet

This week was my first conference with my mentor over the phone. I had to submit two papers written on poetry books I was assigned as well as three new poems. I was a little nervous about the papers, as it was my first time really scrutinizing a book of poetry on my own. I'm not too familiar with all the rules and forms and stuff, so I was  hoping that I was getting the right sort of idea and writing what I needed to write about. He ended up telling me that he'd enjoyed them, though I'd mistaken a broken sentence as a line break, and not what it really was: a sentence that would have been on one line if it hadn't run out of space on the page and simply forced to be on a new line. I felt a little silly about that, but he said that I'd made a believable point on why it'd been done, and I might not be entirely wrong about it. So that was a relief.

Then we went on to my poems. Because I knew it was my strongest, I started with one that I am currently calling "Echoes of Bovary." It was another poem about my family, but one that I felt confident in, like with "My Uncle Sings La Cucaracha." Which I guess I was spot on about, because he said it was his favorite. He actually paid me a really great compliment and said that he could definitely see it and "Cucaracha" being thesis poems, as well as book poems. With a little tweaking, of course, as it seems like I was really on a repeating words kick in the three poems for this month. I didn't even realize it until he brought it up, though I had already been somewhat distressed to realize how I'm obsessed with the word "fingertips". I have no idea why. I just like the way it sounds. And now it won't get out of my poetry. It's like the syllables and stresses in it. It's just like music.

That word is in like every poem I have written since I first attempted to get into Grad School. I've got to get rid of it. So I'm glad that he still enjoyed the poem anyway. And, I mean, what more can I ask for than to be told that my poetry is worthy of a book? The only thing that scares me now is that I'm going to start making my thesis about family poetry, and I'm going to run out of good poems about my family or start horribly overusing the same ideas. And words. Like "fingertips". I have a problem with music. When I'm writing a poem, it has a certain rhythm in my head, and sometimes I add unnecessary words to keep the flow going. For instance, in my second poem, which was--ugh--so bad, reading back over it, I kept using the word "still", because I liked the pause and transition, but reading back over it with Blas, I realized, wow, that is so annoying. It's not even a pretty word.

So we go over that, and this poem I wrote that had a narrator that was a mix of my grandma and great-grandma, and her hatred of cats, and this cat that always ate its babies, and, yeah, I realized that wasn't so great either. I keep coming back to that story, but it's still not working so far. I'm trying too hard to make an apparent allusion, and it's overkilling the story. I don't know, but I can't stop writing family poetry, and I'm worried that it's going to kick me in the butt at some point. I've tried to write a few unrelated poems, but those just continuously come out as crap. Well, I guess I should at least be proud that I have two poems already that my mentor thinks are worthy enough to be thesis poems. That's really something. I'm still kind of surprised  by it, really. Half the time, I don't think I know what I'm doing in this poetry business at all.

When I started writing, it was initially in poetry, actually. But the stuff I wrote back then was really horrible. It had horrible, cheesy rhyme, and I had no idea what I was doing, but I was like 11 or 12, so, yeah. I remember my mom read one once that was actually from when I was mad at one of my friends, and, at the time, a lot of stuff was going on with my bio dad, and she thought it was about that, and she asked if I wanted to see a psychiatrist. Embarrassing then, funny to look back on now. Anyway, the point is, I think I'm just only now beginning to understand what this is really all about, because I was so concentrated on fiction in undergrad and sort of, more or less, dismissed poetry. But you know, who knew then that I'd get into Grad School for it?

Swinging back around to the original topic of this post, after we'd discussed everything I'd written and the books I'd read, my mentor asked me why I'd picked Murray instead of SIU for grad school. I admitted that I'd applied to SIU in fiction but had been rejected and told that I had a slim chance of getting in since I'd taken my undergrad there. I reapplied there this year in poetry, but the results for that weren't going to be released until May, and I wasn't going to skip Murray's acceptance and wait around for another possible rejection. Anyway, he told me that Murray was a good fit for me, but that he could have easily seen me in a bigger, high ranked school, that my work was comparable to what he'd seen in schools like those. I don't know, that might have been one of the best compliments I've gotten in my life.

I was genuinely thrilled and stunned that I got into Murray, and I'm still really excited about the whole experience, but it's not like I haven't wondered if I could have gotten into a school that was ranked in the top 50 for their MFA program, like, am I that good, or just good enough? I'm a homebody, so I don't like the idea of moving out of state, and I don't know if I'd done it if I'd been given the opportunity, but it'd just be nice to know that I was that good. And it'd be nice to have a really high ranked school backing me when I look for a job, but I made my choice, and I've really enjoyed my time at Murray so far. The professors seem genuinely interested in the students as individuals, and who knows if I'd have gotten that at a bigger school? I'm very happy with my life here, and I don't think I'd give it up for anything. If my writing is that good, then it'll speak for itself, top 50 school or not.

This semester alone, I think I have a really great mentor teaching me the ropes, so that definitely counts for something. With his guidance, I know I can get better, and, within the next two years, I'd like to get something in a book. Okay, a lot of somethings. Once I get one more poem that can stand with "La Cucaracha" and "Bovary", I'm going to start submitting to all the suitable contests that I can find. Hopefully, I strike gold somewhere.

Before I wrap this up, I thought I'd take a second to announce that I have yet another poet to add to my favorites list: Kim Addonizio.

She's grittier than Marie Howe, but I really enjoyed this book, Tell Me. She seems like she has a lot of similar problems in her life, but she has a different, edgier voice for it. She says what it is, doesn't hold anything at all back. It's almost kind of brutal in spots, but I love it. I really enjoy the fact that female poets can write like this. Just in your face, all my feelings type of thing. I hate, hate, hate soft, mushy, lovey-dovey stuff. Anyway, if you have the time, you should read this book.