Well, October was a quite a month, creatively.
I’ve never attempted more than one challenge at a time before. Moreover, I’d never attempted something that wasn’t a writing challenge before, and this October saw me do both (this was a really special month, you guys).
OctPoWriMo was not a wellspring of expertly crafted poetry. I was not fond of many of the suggested forms, but because of time constraints, and because of the lingering funk I was in when it came to creativity, I opted in to many of the suggested forms and prompts, even when I didn’t love them. I’d argue that was good for me; it forced me to be okay with what I considered to be sub-optimal writing — it kind of gave me permission to create something not up to my nearly impossible standards.
In the end, I produced thirty-one poems, a few (very few, but still – a few) of which I am very happy with just as they are — Blue, Are We Damned?, Here There Are Trees, and A Doe in the Woods come most readily to mind — and several others that I think would be good with some work — Siren, Snake, How Do You Know if Love is Real?, and both of the haibuns fall easily into this category.
The poems that fell entirely flat (to me, at least), are the ones whose forms seem the most “gimmicky;” the blitz, for one, never truly felt like writing poetry (though, as I’ve said several times, I wouldn’t discount it as a writing or brainstorming exercise), and many of the non-traditional syllable counting poems didn’t come out as well as I’d hoped. Rather than count this as a failure, though, I’d like to walk away considering this a learning experience for me as a writer, discovering and uncovering a little more about what works for me (and what doesn’t) as a poet and writer.
What Inktober did, though, was interesting. I jumped on Inktober more or less on a whim, because I have never, ever, considered myself a visual artist. I’ve always liked doodling, but my drawings rarely ventured into more elaborate territory. People would sometimes compliment a drawing I’d done, but it never went beyond that — I never defined myself as an artist the way I did as a writer. As a result, I went into Inktober with no expectations — or, maybe the expectation of sucking. And because I assumed I’d suck — because I “wasn’t an artist” — every time my drawings came out with even an inkling of potential promise, it was a huge, positive surprise which kept me motivated to keep with it.
And at the end of thirty-one days, while I still have a long, long… long way to go, I can see very plainly that the stuff I’ve been producing sucks a little less. That giving myself permission to not be great and keep going anyway actually lead to me getting better.
I’m am spending my creative energies in November doing NaNoWriMo, as I have almost every year since 2002, and taking a break from (structured, challenge-based) creative endeavors in December (working on lowkey, low pressure personal projects) before jumping back in for another challenge in January.
In retrospect, even if I’ve not been thrilled with the all of the products of my labors in October, I’m proud of hanging in there and producing. And whether or not I win NaNo, and whether or not I reach 50k, I’m hoping to at least see it through day by day and word by word.
Here’s to a productive November, a recuperative December, and a creatively fulfilling 2019.