I did National Poetry Writing Month pretty much every year. A poem a day, all April. I got together with a talented bunch of poets over at The Waters Poetry Forum and had a blast. We all posted one poem a day, and lots of good writing happened. Plenty of us published stuff that had started out during the April marathon. The Waters does a poetry marathon in November, too, to sort of rhyme with NaNoWriMo. I recommend it. I wish I could be in two places at once this year.
See, I'd been planning on spending November writing poems and promoting Time Runs Away With Her. That is, until a bunch of my new friends over at Evernight Teen started talking about doing NaNoWriMo. My acquiring editor (who is NaNo'ing, herself) knows I have a sequel to write. I know I have a sequel to write...but rough-draft it in a MONTH? Yikes, I was just getting used to sitting at the cool girls' table at lunch. You know, with the real writers. The NOVELISTS.
Now, Let me be clear. POETS ARE REAL WRITERS, too. That was my epiphany of the week. What poets do when they poem is WRITE. You can spend three hours and have your butt fall asleep trying to smooth out a free verse sonnet or a trad Italian sonnet or some plain old wild-woman free range rant just as easily as you can feel that same body part go numb while you gallop through six pages worth of plot and dialogue. Poetry is WORK. It's not just unicorns and fairy dust.
But here's a big difference--and I wrestling with it right now. Imagine you're me, at a friend's dinner party.
Person whom you just met: So, what do you do?
Me: I, um, write. I'm a writer.
Person whom you just met: Oh, cool. What do you write about?
Me: Lots of stuff. Love, family, some political things... (In a quieter, less confident voice) I write POETRY!
Person whom you just met: My mother used to do that in college...
Now imagine you're me at that same party:
Person whom you just met: So, what do you do?
Me: I'm a writer.
Person whom you just met: Oh, cool. What do you write about?
Me: Well, the novel I just published with Evernight Teen is a YA time travel, but lots of my grown-up friends are liking it.
An hour later, you've sold the last author copy you have in your car, autographed to Person Whom You Just Met. This almost never happens with poetry. Which is a pity and a shame. And I love poetry and I will always write it. I revised and sent out a bunch of poems last month. I don't feel good unless I have five poem packets circulating the lit mags, and I've managed to keep it up even during the launch of Time Runs Away With Her.
But darn it, the dark side has COOKIES. And I just want to go hang out with Bean and Zak and Samantha in 1970. So, yeah, NaNoWriMo. Poet friends, I swear I will be with you in April. I bet you'll write some enviable, smoking hot poems this month. And I hope you let me eat lunch at your table when I come up for air.
My novelist costume is feeling more like my blue jeans these days. Onward!