The Five Strands of A Sedentary Empress

I bought it.

"Invalid Entry" 

I read the leading entry this morning and I shook my head. objurgate is a good photographer, whether my opinion means anything or not. She sees things that I don't see, she captures images in a way that makes them appear as though they're her invention; she makes the ordinary luminous. But, my opinion is one of many, and it means less than that of a seasoned artist, but more than a person who thinks art is a dress made of meat. I'm somewhere in the middle, and like most of you, I'm positive that I'm right when it comes to voicing my views. There's always room for debate, sure, but deep down the certainty is set, the programming complete, and I know what makes me focus and what doesn't.

The thing I didn't see in the entry, was the notion that maybe the judge, or whomever made the final call on which photo should win, may not have been informed enough to make a good decision. I don't know if this is the case, and the possibility that the photo she submitted wasn't her best isn't out of the question, but really, why do we leave all our best thoughts about ourselves in the hands of people who possess vastly different ideas than we do? How do we let perfect strangers, or people who think they know more than we do, take away what makes us feel complete without ever questionning their shortcomings? I'm not going to make this all about Aaron. She's not into that, and I respect her too much to piss her off. I will make some of it about me, though, because it's my journal and I like to get to personal.

I have entered different contests on this site in the past. I've done it with a sense of hopefulness as well as humility, and there have been times when I've read the other entries to see what I'm up against and walked away thinking 'the glory is mine'. I've read poems that lose me in the first sentence because the content is cotton batten fluff, and I've read poems with the worst spelling I've ever encountered in print. I've read poetry that has to do with wanting to kill one's self, repeatedly, complete with aforementioned bad spelling and fluff, and then there are the dreaded love poems that have to do with wanting someone so bad it hurts, willing to jump off the nearest bridge to proclaim it, and so on. When I read these competing poems, I feel a sense of superiority (dilettantes! you're no match to the likes of me!), and I wait for my ribbon or gift points with a smile of satisfaction, knowing that the accolades are mine. Imagine the colour of my face when the 'thanks for entering my contest' email arrives, and there are no ribbons, no gift points, no 'Hey, you're amazing' words of encouragement. When I sheepishly read the names of the contest winners and see that (sometimes) it is the dilettantes who are swimming in gift points and virtual shiny sashes, I am reminded that it's sometimes political, that occasionally it is about who you know, and how much the two of you have in common.

This is not to say I am a great poet. I may not even be a good poet. I'm willing to suck on that and like it. The problem for me is when I look at the work of the person who 'judged' me, and I see that they really aren't that skilled at the art they seek to critique that I lose respect for the both of us. I am angry at myself for putting my work before a person who I don't necessarily respect or value as an artist in their own right, and getting upset when they don't appreciate it. I put myself in it, I made myself a target and I walked away feeling lower than before I entered. I am angry at the person for judging me when I can't understand why they feel confident enough to do it.

Now, there have been many contests in which the judge is more than qualified to tell me that my work is uninspiring and vomit-inducing. I look at their body of work, and I know they have my number. Am I qualified to judge them and say they're good? Well, that's debatable, but the good writers, or artists, or whomever, usually stand out from the rest without much scrutiny. You know whose poems you like to read and why. You know which journal you can't wait to be updated because it's so well written and engrossing that it becomes part of your routine. My point is that we gravitate toward what we aspire to be. It's all very subjective.

What it comes down to is this: our talent, or lack thereof, is a matter of perception. If someone we perceive to be worthy of praise comes back at us with it, we feel valued. When you get an email which sings about you as though you were the second coming, a Hemingway of the new millenium, a Leibowitz of the new generation, and you know the person writing it is not speaking to you from a position of experience or artistic maturity, then you take it in stride. You smile, you feel good but you don't know what else to do with it. When you receive positive feedback from someone whose work you respect and admire, then you are inspired enough to believe the compliments are true. The thing is, maybe they are.

I used to think I was a decent poet, but now I know I wasn't. Everyone (family, friends) told me I was amazing, until one important thing occurred to me: none of them read, wrote or thought about poetry. How could they have an opinion? Once I began to attach myself to people who did appreciate the art form, who did see the worth of carefully placed words and hidden meaning, that I began to see what was good about my writing, and what wasn't. When I lost most of my portfolio last month, and had to go through the painstaking process of rebuilding, it was easier for me to see which work belonged in it, and which didn't. Being here, in this community, has allowed me the objectivity to look at my own work and weed out the good and the ridiculously bad. I look at who is reviewing me, who is speaking to me, whose work I like to read when I have the time to sift through ports, and I consider their words carefully. I take it all in, and I let myself wonder about the most important thing of all: what do I think?

It's a mistake to let ourselves be dragged down by the opinions of other people. Nearly every established writer was rejected at some point in their career. If they allowed themselves to believe that this meant they were untalented, we'd all be looking at the walls for something to hold our attention. Losing, rejection, negative comments, condescension and utter hatred are part of the artistic process. It's part of everything, actually. If we all bought into it, we'd get nothing done.
If you love what you do, someone is going to see that in your work, and there is always value in that. Placing anything but first also gives the incentive to keep working, to keep looking for ways to get better. This also has value.

Don't buy into the loser philosophy that if at first you don't succeed, you give up because you clearly suck. If it's your passion, your 'thing', then it's supposed to be in your life.

I've said enough, and I am going to submit some work to a couple magazines I've been too timid to submit to until now.
I choose to buy into my own hype, because it's better than the alternative, and if I don't get in, I'll try again. I'm tired of choosing to feel unworthy. It's totally overrated.