On being published for the first time

Last night was the launch party for the 51st edition of Jeopardy Magazine and the first time I’ve ever opened a book to find my name and work somewhere within the pages.

I first received the news that a poem I submitted to Jeopardy was being published a few months ago as I was walking out of my American women’s literature class and I swear the birds carried me home; I was elated. In between that moment and last night, I’ve been outrageously busy and consequently unable to revel in the good news. Now that I’ve got a moment to exhale, I’d like to reflect.

When I was 8 years old, my third grade teacher had us all keep a journal for creative writing. I used it to write a chapter book about an alternate universe in which monkeys live like humans and befriend trees. It was titled, simply, Bob, and inspired by my Beanie Babies (holy hell, remember those things?!). My teacher, acting as any good third grade teacher would, encouraged me to continue writing. She was the first to tell me I had a knack for it, and I still remember one of her comments in my journal, almost 13 years later: “Keep writing, and one day you will publish!”

I know, it’s a corny anecdote, but it’s something I’ve kept in the back of my mind since then. I remember thinking of holding a book in my hand, a book that I wrote. Bound with care, cream-colored pages, smelling young. I loved the thought. I wanted that feeling, and I never stopped yearning for it.

For many years, I lost confidence in my writing. My entire first two years of college were spent wallowing in self-doubt, shyness, and frustration. I wouldn’t share a single thing I wrote with even my closest friends. I think this lack of confidence was spurred by relationships that wore me down and ate away at how I saw myself, but they could just be merely correlated.

Regardless, I didn’t try to publish. And, truthfully, I regret it. There was no reason I should’ve waited until I was 20 years old to try and see my work in print. Luckily for me, that period of extreme self-doubt didn’t last another year. In the fall of 2014, I made it my goal to submit to Jeopardy. I saw it as an opportunity to be rejected; something every writer should (and will) experience a healthy (?) amount of during their lifetime.

So, you can imagine my surprise when I got the email telling me my poem “sestina for a saturday” had been selected for publication. As a volunteer content evaluator for the magazine, as someone who contributed to evaluating the hundreds of submissions to the magazine, I was shocked. I still am. Some writers volunteered to read at the launch party, and hearing their pieces was both humbling and flattering. I couldn’t believe my silly poem about the trials and tribulations of a grocery store clerk was sandwiched between these incredible, moving pieces.

Although this poem of mine is far from what I’m writing now and seems juvenile to me, I can’t complain. A team of content evaluators and editors thought it was worthy of being published, and so should I. This didn’t keep me from feeling embarrassed when my two plus-ones (one plus-two?) shared the news with people I didn’t know, including a worker at the local crepe joint.

All in all, last night was surreal. I was surrounded by my incredibly talented peers (many of which are actually students in my ViPo class), professors/mentors who have given me so much, and two of my closest friends who entered our names in the raffle drawing multiple times against my will (Hailey) and convinced a classmate of mine that he truly believed my poetry wasn’t “real literature” (Allan). The building was hot as hell (literally) and I’m pretty sure I felt sweat drip down my back at one point but it was an overwhelmingly great time.

That being said, since Jeopardy magazines are unfortunately not circulating outside of WWU, if you feel so inclined you can read my poem in their online webzine version here, once they update it to this year’s edition.

I hate to be sentimental yet again, but this really was a dream come true. Being published is just as rewarding and euphoric as I always thought it would be. I’m beyond excited to have finally begun my journey as a published writer.