You Gotta - On Writing
by Poetry Editor Andrew Kelly
Image: “Sand” by Andrew Carlisle
I was in the shower listening to Jeff Buckley when I thought of the idea for this issue's blog post. Thanks in advance, Jeff.
Like many other creative people and recent college graduates I know, I'm in the midst of an existential dilemma called 'next'. With the spring arrives the graduation of my own MFA program, and I'll look beyond the past six years of undergrad and grad school in New Hampshire, where I learned to write poems, grow a proper mustache, make friends on the fly, party hard, and prevail from the turning wheel of regret and mistakes that existence as a young person brings along. All that leaves me waiting for something amazing to happen next—whether that's a job, an idea for a story or poem, a spontaneous night filled with memories. And low Vitamin-D day after day, whatever could be, I worry will never come.
Those worries definitely carry over to my notebook when I sit down to write something. I've got a little Andrew on my shoulder (I call him Drew) asking—Is this poem up to the standard of my workshop? Are my peers and professors gonna like it? Is it publishable? Is it any good at all? So I get up, grab a snack, maybe scroll for a bit, and if all goes to my plan of avoidance, never get back to that hungry blank page.
ENOUGH! AHHH!
In attempts to wage war with self-doubt, I’ve decided to make this the spring of now instead of later. The spring of what-am-I-so-afraid-of. The spring of writing perfectionless. I scrapped the blog post I had written about 'the role of silence in poetry' and swapped it for a more rugged (and less marketable, less interesting) practice in writing without stopping. So this is my blog post in one take. I hope this can help you write something. Even if you don’t like what you’re writing. Especially if you don’t like it. That’s the point.
Paralysis by analysis is my biggest hurdle as a writer. In talented communities, we can all fall for the trap of imposter syndrome. Like we don't belong there, whether ‘there’ is an academic program, a team, a friend group. It’s easy to withdraw. But creative people are often very humble and modest people, so many struggle with imposter syndrome. I say imposter syndrome is a Ponzi scheme. If everyone feels like they don't belong, everyone belongs.
One thing I wish some of my writer friends would do is acknowledge that they're good writers. Now, I'm not saying to be completely cocky, but I think great writing has a certain bite to it, some sort of reckless engine driving it forward without any safety net. So writers: don't be so humble all the time. You're good, and you gotta own it. Professional athletes constantly walk the line between confidence and cockiness, and it makes a world of difference for them. If you go by the book, people are going to see you coming from a mile away. If you don’t believe in what you’re saying, who will? And if you write nothing at all, who’s going to read it?
So this spring, I challenge you to:
Write about everything you feel. Don't make it poetic. Don't make it flow. Write it ugly if it's ugly. Write bad stuff. Get something on the page because you can and you have to. You are a writer because you are a writer, not a thinker. Thinking’s only part of the gig. Paralysis by analysis is my biggest hurdle. If it’s yours too, I think it's time for us to write with more abandon and take some more risks. To say, You know what, this is what I wanna do, and I’m gonna do it. Now. Right now. If you’re looking for something to believe in, write with faith in the fact that you're going to write and execute your vision. That’s all we got. Carve through the blank page with nonsense if you have to. You have to believe that believing in yourself is going to work. To make your vision come true, you have to believe in belief.
Dare I end by amending a Hemingway quote? Why not. I’m feeling crazy.
It’s very possible you’ve heard this one before, and this is going to sound like every YouTube tutorial on writing without inspiration, but stay with me. On starting the writing process, Hemingway said, “Write the truest sentence you know.”
Classic, right? Definitely intense, for starters.
Personally, that’s a lot of pressure. But I think looking at this part of the quote itself is misleading. What Hemingway’s trying to say is, “Write some real shit.” And that can be literally anything. Pick something easy:
-Bugs are gross.
-She smiles at me like it means something.
-My Nike shoes are red and I am ready to die.
Let me repeat myself: it can literally be anything. It can be easy and true simultaneously Sometimes, I feel like if I don't have that priceless concept, that moment of brilliant inspiration while I'm doing laundry, then I got no business writing something down in the first place and I should quit forever. Writing without an idea makes me feel out of control. So I distract myself and wait a little longer so the discomfort can wait a little longer too. And the joy is put on hold.
Remember that writing is fun. You wouldn’t do it if you hated it all the time.
You have that engine in you. So put the key in the ignition. Trust yourself. You gotta.
Andrew Kelly is an MFA candidate in poetry at the University of New Hampshire, where he serves as poetry editor of the journal you are reading right now. His poems can be found in The Shore Poetry, streetcake magazine, and some other places. Follow him on IG @andrewkel1y.
Andrew Carlisle is a mediocre button presser. IG: @andrewbcarlisle