starting to write

It sucks when people don't give a shit about you.

I decided to start writing down some things that I am thinking about, because I think beyond poetry that it might be nice to be able to cycle through some actual thoughts on this blog and not just old poems that I have saved on word anyways in huge folders. Lately I have been reading people's blogs all the way from beginning to end, and that is fun fun fun.

But, about people not giving a shit about you.

So I went down to Agnes Scott college the other day--Thursday--to check out the writing contest in which I was a finalist. I had been looking forward to it since January, when I heard I was a finalist, and was hoping, more than anything else, to get some good feedback from the superstar judge Yusef Komunyakaa who had been hired to read finalists' poems.

Needless to say, such was not the case at The Agnes Scott Writer's Festival 2007.

For one, Yusef barely even acknowledged the finalists, some of whom were MFA and PhD students from around Georgia. We were all lumped into a room with everyone else and forced to stand in line like everyone else to get our books signed. And its not like I am always looking for special treatment from Pulitzer prize winners, but, come on. I didn't drive all the way from Athens for a damn reading.

Second, I didn't win.

Not that I was expecting to win, or anything. There were some Pushcart nominees in the fold, as well as tons of MFA students, so, I mean, I was happy just to be in the running. But the head of the department spent approximately 17 seconds announcing the winners, and then went right back to introducing the next reader.

I mean, why don't you just post the names of the winners on the door to the bathroom. Then I can find out who won after taking a big shit in the rarely-used men's room.

It was like the contest was a total side-note. And, I mean, the winners must have felt like shit too. It was almost as if the announcement was interrupting the regularly scheduled program.

Finally, Yusef didn't workshop our poems. They called Friday a workshop day. But, unfortunately, no workshop. I have no idea what he thought of the poems. For all I know, he didn't even read them...maybe Ages Scott just sent a few undergrad minions off to the library to randomly pick the winners (including two Agnes Scott girls), and tacked Yusef's name onto the lot of them. The finalists did get an hour QandA with Komunyakaa, but, really, how much good does it do to hear for the bobillionth time what a poet's process is when writing a poem. Yusef also tried to push his theory on the relationship between the hand and the brain, which is either totally basic, or totally bullshit. But whatever.

The winners pool also looked a bit rigged as well. Only three writers from UGA--including Kristen Iskandrian, who is really great, but didn't win. A high proportion of the poets and writers were from Agnes Scott. Also, there were a lot of bullshit freshman comp-y essays from Agnes Scott in the nonfiction pool, which I am sure were outperformed by authors from, say, the Emory PhD program. But, whatever.

More than anything else, I wanted to start writing down some of my thoughts (starting of course with the crazy bitter ones), because the feeling I had right after leaving the contest was one of not necessarily anger, but one desiring a change.

If I am ever in a position to judge a bunch of up and coming poets in a contest, I will certainly take the time to critique their work and offer them at least minor opinions on how I think their stuff is good or bad. I don't care how sick of the scene Yusef Komunyakaa must have become after two days of fielding the same questions over and over again by Agnes Scott faculty. He probably got 10,000 dollars and swank lodging downtown. And, honestly, it is good to help out other people who have travelled a long way to get your opinions.

Moreover (what the hell type of entry is this, anyways), I think the attitude have toward a lot of these poets (raifying them like demigods) is totally counterproductive as well. Yusef Komunyakaa is good, but he isn't T.S. Eliot, or Frank O'Hara, or Bob Dylan. While I would be happy if guys like those deigned even to wipe their asses with my poems, Yusef Komunyakaa is not an unassailable poetic force. A lot of his stuff doesn't even do that much for me.

I don't know, I think poetry is just a hard thing to work at. It's a solitary sort of an enterprise, and not to many people can tell you that much about what it takes to write a good poem, or how to improve work you have already created. I don't even know if Yusef would have been that much of a help with my huge experimental poem.

I think what matters most is reading a lot. And writing. Even writing like this. Though I am sure few people are going to enjoy my writing I think it helps me focus in a lot of different directions at once.

Plus, I am feeling extra under-achieving because Jessica just got the Goldwater scholarship. Which is awesome. But after my little poetry debacle, it just makes me feel more and more like an amateur.

Ha.