This little project of mine has officially come to a close with poem #30. Although I fell behind often, and so I definitely did not write “one poem a day” like I had planned, I still wrote 30 poems mostly within the month of November. In other words, I did it. And I feel good about that!
Over the last year or so, I really wasn’t writing any poems. I had a few in the works, which are still collecting virtual dust in unopened, untitled Word documents on a flash drive, but my lack of writing had gotten to the point where I felt uncomfortable calling myself a poet. The title felt undeserved. What is a writer who doesn’t write?
I’m glad I felt some urge to start writing again — or, rather, an urge to force myself to start writing again. To force myself to write a poem every day was admittedly a little too ambitious, given how long it had been since I finished any poems at all, but true to character. This all-or-nothing impulse is also what led me to move to Korea before I had ever even moved out of my home state.
Each of the 30 poems I wrote for the month of November is rough. There are maybe one or two I think are complete, or close to it, but the others are absolutely not. Maybe it’s irresponsible to post ~30 drafts before receiving any feedback on them, but vulnerability was a large part of this project. Sharing any creative work with anyone is a terrifying (and exhilarating) experience, whether it happens in a writing workshop at a university or on a blog that anyone can read, if they want to.
Part of why I didn’t write for so long was because I didn’t want to be vulnerable. I was preparing myself first to move away from the city I had lived in for years, where all of my friends were, then preparing for the big move abroad, and then suddenly I was here, in Korea, trying my hardest not to be homesick or experience culture shock and denying those feelings whenever they came along. And eventually it ate away at me and ended with tears and an existential crisis in late October. What am I doing here? Why did I come here instead of going to graduate school? Why was this the right decision, and what am I learning from it?
I suppose it’s no coincidence that Po-vember was born shortly after this. While I’m on this birth metaphor, can I point out that November marks 9 months of living in Korea? Just saying.
What’s next for all these Po-vember poems? I’m not sure. I have thought about making a chapbook, though it would probably have to be virtual since my access to a printer is limited to work. Some revision is necessary beforehand, though — of my own and of any other kind souls willing to be another pair of eyes. If I just described you, contact me in whatever way you wish, even if you only want to offer feedback on one stanza or one line or one em dash that’s driving you absolutely wild the way it’s positioned right now.
Before I end this, I want to thank everyone who read any of the Po-vember poems. It’s silly, but getting notifications that people were liking each post really encouraged me to keep going even after I fell behind. A reader, singular or plural, is as much a part of my poem as the time I spend making it, so thank you.
I hope you’ll be back again for the next one(s).
The featured image is the sunrise in Busan as seen from my apartment, taken on November 16.
watchtheFruits 