#525: Chocolate and Salt
How we will attempt to make this work…
Welcome to the Long Road. It is not enjoyable right now, in fact it is frequently painful. However adult and enlightened I claim to be, there are moments of anger and dispiriting comprehension. What do I need to do to be heard on my own terms, and accepted as the creative force I have become? How can I do this whilst simultaneously remaining integrity and maintaining ethical honesty?
A lot of the problem right now is Other People [TM]. It is a constant fight to be noticed, to be one step ahead, to be the better work. The quality of output from other people right now is superlative. However much I want to feel aggrieved, consistently I am being beaten to spaces by better poets. It is important to accept that however good I think I am, other people’s work always deserves attention.
With that as the hurdle, I have no choice to accept that the Long Game is now what has to be played. Targets are still being hit, and progress continues to be made. There’s an MC gig on Wednesday, a Support Slot on Thursday for someone else, these are absolute progress. My poetry brain still craves the physical affirmations from other people. I need to wean myself off that craic.
I need to redefine terms in a smarter frame than currently surrounds the work.
Evolution happens in different ways for different people. The first time I tasted salt in chocolate I thought I’d never ever go back to sweetness on the level I’d lived and loved for decades. It turns out that my palate (and my brain) is in fact capable of remarkable levels of subtlety, but sometimes I crave the hit. We’re largely weaned off processed sugar now. The benefits to my body continue to be significant.
However, sometimes I need to be comforted. It is also like that with poetry, that occasionally only a win will quash an obsession to be known and seen. I know how many times I’ve been rejected by other people. There are lists, which for a while I considered might not be a healthy approach. However, as time has gone on, it becomes funny. They never remember me, but I know them better each time I fail.
The plan becomes giving them a reason to remember me too.
This morning, as we start a new month, it’s time to set out my stall for work. Three things are in progress for deadlines, and one gets finished today. I have a list of Things I Can Do, but mostly I am going to begin working on the Poetry Film Project. This doesn’t need anybody else’s validation, except my own. It is the gift that will keep on giving. It will grant me both development and satisfaction.
However much I crave to be heard conventionally, unconventional is now the way.