When I was a kid, scribbling words was all I had as an identity. It took me years to realize that I wanted to be a “writer”. I took writing classes and often dismissed the criticisms of how I wrote because I wanted to write with freedom. Writing that reminds me of all the idiots that believe a mask is infringing on their freedom. I needed discipline and style. I did not want to write like others. I read voraciously and often questioned how I wrote - if I was copying the style of someone else. I believed I was a “poet”. I wrote word splatter stuff and seemed to convince others that I WAS some kind of “poet”. I CRINGE remembering how I would push things I had written through the vent in one girls locker. Ah I wanted to impress her! Mr. 0 weird kid was a GREAT CREATIVE GENIUS! I think it was last winter I saw some of the stuff I wrote back then and more embarrassed cringing. I suspect that my horrid writing made that woman disappear from the internet.Nowhere to be found no matter how I looked. Yes! MY EGO SAYS she disappeared just to escape my searching for her 50 years later!
Writing poems and being a “poet” (that identity) kept my ego alive. It was useful for decades. I finally realized a year or few ago that I had not written anything that I considered “poetry” in a few years. I think it is because I questioned if what I wrote could be perceived or defines AS “poetry”.
I have come to realize that if you are going to write, do not define yourself about it. Maybe there is something in there about life. If you are going to LIVE do not try to define yourself IN life. I am throwing a word salad out now thinking aloud. I DO know that if I write something here or anywhere else, what matters is coherency. Is it understood? For example, if you are conversing with someone can they understand what you are saying or what point you are trying to get across? I have seen many try to write with their invented chopped up words trying to be cool or lets just say radically creative but …it’s a mess. I cannot understand the jumble of words of that person’s special personal language. When someone uses nothing but profanity (I have know a few people like that) I often feel like asking if they know English. With others, the use of profanity with nice big words is like an art form I savor. The point of writing to me when I write or someone else writes is coherency. Message. If I write that I got up and took a shit someone can nod and go, “yup! He got up and did a doo doo!” It was coherent and understood.
I remember that what I would often write in what I thought was my own unique style often felt GOOD like I had scored a winning goal in a game BECAUSE I felt the word combinations and SPACINGS were a special language that many could understand. But maybe it was only me. For that it was fine to keep off to the side because thinking back, I doubt if anyone could understand it and a little criminal part of what I used to do in my present view is… It was some egotistical bullshit ;-)