For the past eight months, I’ve been writing poem after poem after poem until I couldn’t stand it anymore. There were moments I would burst into tears just as the words came into my head. There were times I made my fiance read what I’d written in my head on the way to pick him up from work (and then typed up on my phone) and we would cry together. A handful of the poems were written several years ago but the majority of them were written this year (and the last two months of last year). I never expected that compiling this book would make me feel so different, so free.
My therapist always tells me that since writing is my passion, I should spend more time writing about my experiences and my feelings. It wasn’t easy because for most of my life, I was made to feel like what I experienced wasn’t real or wasn’t important or was over-dramatized. I let others dictate how I dealt with it and it has not helped me heal from any of it. Until now. Until I took control of my story and I wrote it. Of course, I worry every day about how the people in the poems are going to react to how I portrayed them. But I always repeat to myself that if they had wanted nicer poems written about them, they should have behaved better. It helps.
I just got the edits back from my beta reader this week and I’ve already perfected everything to the best of my ability. So I’ll be publishing on my birthday this month. The 22nd. It’ll be coming out via Createspace/Amazon. It honestly doesn’t feel like a real thing. Mostly because I guess everyone can self-publish so it doesn’t seem like that big a deal. But I am incredibly excited and nervous. I get sick just thinking about it.
It’s been a rough road but I’m happy to have gotten this far.