Saturday, June 11, 2011

From Flute to Free Verse

I didn't make it to the final round of Write Bloody's open submission competition, which bums me out. So I spent all day submitting poems different places. When I catch a bad break, the only way I know how to deal with it is by spending a few fiery hours shaking my fists in the air like an epileptic, and submitting all of my new poems to journal upon journal upon journal.

This is, I think, why I am confident I will "make it" as a writer. I use the term "make it" loosely (if you see, I put quotations around it there, so that's how you know), as "making it" means different things to different people. I think if you've read my blog long enough, or know me personally, you know what it means to me.

In fourth grade I went to RC Waters Elementary school with my mom to try out different instruments so that I could be in band. I tooted the trumpet, I farted the tuba, I whinnied the clarinet and the oboe. I beat the crap out of some base drums, but I could not make a noise out of the flute.

"You're going to teach me how to play this," I said to Mrs. Witt, the band instructor.

And she did. And after that, I spent a good number of years sitting first chair in my high school's wind orchestra. And I garnered excellent marks in solo and ensemble competitions all around the state of Ohio. And I spent three high school summers playing for the All Ohio State Fair Band. And after that, I spent another few years sitting first chair in my college's concert band, pep band, and orchestra.

I changed my major to English after the first year of Music Performance, because I just didn't love it. I like music, but it's not what I wanted to do with my life.

This is going to seem weird, but because of how I'm built to function, I think the constant rejection that comes along with the life of a writer is a huge part of what keeps me submitting and writing. I love it. I love writing, and having written, but I also love being told no and then trying to change a mind or prove someone wrong.

I feel like Wayne Campbell saying "Oh yes, it will be mine."

And I'm totally okay with that.

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