March 14th 2016
Today, apparently, I am a poet.
It was the final night of my 8-week creative writing course tonight, and as my final piece I brought in something that would hopefully challenge and showcase the artistic techniques I have learnt over the past eight weeks. So, to put myself far from my comfort zone, I brought in a poem.
I’d struggled with analysing poems brought in by my classmates because I’ve never been into them, or understood them, so I figured the most challenging thing I could do was to try and create one myself.
And, to be honest, I think I pulled it off. I created a poem based around things my Grandad says a lot, things he repeats over and over. I wrote them all down and put them in a poem. And everyone liked it, and they were surprised that I had it in me, and they taught me how to format it, and when to punctuate and when to line break, because I don’t know any of that stuff because I’m not a poet. I am primarily a story teller through long fiction, it was different to tell a story through poetry. But interesting, and, I think, successful.
I don’t know if it will become a thing that I do more often. I doubt it. But they said I was good at it, so idk. They said it might be an idea to create a portfolio of work that I could send off to be published, which might attract editors and publishers to my novel. Anthology, that’s the word.
For the time being, I am happy with what I wrote, and it made my Mum cry, which is usually a measure of merit.
Until tomorrow, don’t ask me if you can read it.