Poems for Me, Poems for You

Every poet wants to write great poems—or at least good ones. The pressure to write well, however, can make the drafting process a nightmare. I never want to write the bad drafts, especially when I know I can write better ones, so sometimes I don’t write any drafts at all. When I’m feeling particularly anxious about writing badly, I don't write anything—not poems, not emails, not journal entries, not tweets. But every good poem begins as a bad draft. (Well, at least every decent poem of mine has begun as a bad draft.) Most of the poems I’ve written that I would consider “good”—by which I mean, of course, bearable—have emerged from some of the worst, most embarrassing writing I’ve ever done.

Putting that writing—that awkward, clunky, often cliché writing—into the world will be terrifying. But I know it’ll also be freeing. Tupelo’s 30/30 project will force me out of the mindset that everything I write must be good, must give at least twelve people 127 goosebumps, must say something grand and meaningful and new. This project (I hope) will let me relax and write something for fun, write something for me, write something for you.

Meanwhile, your donation will raise funds to help Tupelo Press continue to publish exquisite and diverse voices that might never be heard otherwise. Help me to help this distinguished press! For every $10 you donate to my fundraiser, I’ll send you a thank-you postcard with one of my 30/30 drafts, handwritten by yours truly.