We all have our own way into this game. Some of us might struggle removing our heads from a book, others may have found peace in expression, some might have foolishly thought it was easy.
Because when writing has you, there’s no escape. (If you’ve found one, please let me know what it is, so I can erase the need to get busy on the keyboard and have more time for money and beaches and Cuba Libre’s.)
For me, it was a probably a combination of them all. I never assumed it would be easy, but I didn’t account for how hard it really would be.
I think I would’ve quit, if it wasn’t for one thing, poetry. Let’s make something clear, I don’t lay in bed at night and weep into sonnets, or sit in coffee shops with a rose in my mouth and a Walt Whitman collection pressed to my chest.
I like to write it. Poetry seems to be one of those cruel arts that gives the creator so much more pleasure than the audience.
That’s a beautiful thing.
I’ve been writing forever. It’s in my bones. So I’ve rounded up all those loose scraps of paper and crudely named word documents. I’m reading, editing, aligning each one for a chapbook. Not for money or fame, or reputation, just to, you know, keep me going between the next book.
It’s a fuel, poetry.
The World is a Cruel Place and We Can Only Confirm This Via Post, will be released on 01/11/2017.
George Derringer 