Failing Up During the PAD Challenge

I'm currently locked into another Poem-a-Day challenge for April. Writer's Digest puts out prompts for the months of April (when the goal is for 30 poems) and November (when the goal is to create a chapbook). I try to participate in each one. But, the past few years, I tend to tap out halfway.

For someone (mostly) bed bound, I generally get too busy or overwhelmed during the challenges. April is cancer-scan month (plus, often Easter), and the looming appointment always occupies my mind more than it should. November, once another cancer-scan-existential-dread rollercoaster, is still part of a four-month holiday crunch for Brandon and me.

I used to hate myself for "failing" to complete every day, though I still wound up with at least ten new poems to edit and submit to publications. I promised myself I would do better next time but spent the rest of the month cringing and berating myself for my inability to follow through. 

A writer friend recently told me about the term "failing upwards," and it's pretty applicable. Even if I didn't reach the finish line, I ran as far as I could and still got something to show for it. And it's not just a participation trophy.

As of today, I've written 23 poems. They aren't all great. Hell, maybe only a quarter of them will be anything serviceable. But five is better than what I had on March 31st! The time isn't wasted... it's invested. 

Do you ever "fail" in a good way?

Interpretations: His and Hers (Poem)

He promised forever.       She couldn’t stay

The thought was sad       he desired her, anyway.

Reaching for her hand    Trying to keep his word

his grip slipped and,       he thought he heard

her gasp of surprise        (a shocked intake of breath)

he interpreted as hope    that was really love's death.

I attempted to create a contrapuntal poem with some sort of rhyme scheme. This is interesting but also... lackluster. The subject matter doesn't sit right with the more sing-song nature, either.

DEIA and the NEA

Just a couple notes before the post: My flash horror went live on Stygian Lepus. Please be aware that it's quite a dark piece. 

Also, I made a video on my YouTube channel recently about things said to me as a disabled woman. Forgive my nerves.

The National Endowment for the Arts (NEA) is caught in a difficult position thanks to Donald Trump's executive orders against diversity, equity, inclusion, and accessibility initiatives. The NEA has already axed its Challenge America program, which gave small amounts of funding to underserved communities and groups. Though they say individuals and organizations from those backgrounds are still able to apply for funding... it looks a bit tenuous.

No project or proposal can deal with "gender ideology" and qualify. I know this term is used to "weed out the woke and/or trans folks," but I'm confused. If you believe there are only two sexes and genders that match from birth, that's an ideology. If you believe a holy being created men and women to be complementary to each other... that's an ideology. Is the NEA going to make sure there are no creative programs run by TERFs looking to further their agenda?

What else constitutes a DEIA proposal? Is a program automatically disqualified if it's run by a Black woman? If a program requests funding for a music program taking place in a Boys and Girls Club that has more disabled kids than average in attendance, does that mean DEIA strikes again? How do we tell? Is there going to be another committee to oversee choices? Or is the NEA going to be so scared of getting it wrong, they won't even consider certain people or projects? 

A group of artists is imploring the NEA to change course, but I don't think it will. The purse strings are too easily cut. Playing ball will at least ensure some programs get funded... even if merit isn't necessarily a priority.

Personal Year in Review (2024)

Cancer-free! Last spring, I hit the fifth year of clear scans after my second diagnosis. I can now go from oncology appointments every six months to just once a year. It hasn't cured the copious amount of anxiety I have around mortality, but I can breathe a bit better.

2024 was the third year without my mom and the second without my older brother. It was also the first anniversary of my oldest brother deciding to cut contact with me. Days are bursts of bright memories and the ever-present ache of absence.

I did my first book signing in January, and Domestic Bodies turned a year old in November. I never thought I'd type those words... I'm still a bit dazed. My book also received some lovely reviews.

Blighted Feast came close to being published (again). It's still waiting for the right publisher. I might give it one or two more years before I bin it.

I learned new painting techniques last year, especially when I made my younger siblings and husband flower paintings as part of their Christmas gifts. I now know I can finger paint petals during the congealing part of the acrylic drying phase and use cotton swabs for stippling. I'll never be an expert, but it's still cool to try new things.

My local library is going through changes... including one that might end the writers' group I attend.

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Submission by the numbers: 

Submissions sent - 42

Rejections - 25

Solicited works - 1

Acceptances - 4

Work published in 2024:

"We Can't Afford Three Houses" in Trollbreath Magazine

"Wordless Esteem" on the Zoeglossia website 

"Camping at the Planetarium" in the Midnight Fawn Review 

"The House of Disappearances" on the Tiny Frights podcast 

Twitter Goodbye, Hello Bluesky

Twitter isn't the same since Muskrat took over. People can say the most vile things in the interest of "free speech," but cis and cisgender are words tagged as "hate." The block button no longer functions as it should. And, as of November 15th, anything put on the site will be scraped for AI training. It's too many strikes against a platform I've used since 2014.

It hurts to leave something I've put a lot of time into. I debated just riding it out, but I just can't stay as the sewer gets even more fetid. I know Meta (Facebook/Instagram world) also uses public posts to train AI, and I hate it; maybe I'll leave those platforms down the road as well or just use them for general updates. People warn tech bros have their sticky hands all over Bluesky, so it might not be long before AI season begins.

I can curate Bluesky and Facebook more to what I want to see than I could on Twitter. Every day, I would see political/social "takes" that went far beyond what I didn't agree with and into literal hate crimes. I'm not one to shy away from discussions or considerations from those who don't think like I do, but there's an entire solar system between that and what goes on in Elongated X Land. Just logging in made me question any faith I've had in humanity.

My Bluesky account (@jenruthjackson.bsky.social) is over six months old, and it started out as just a cross-posting station for things I posted to my Twitter. I joined as an exit strategy, hoping things wouldn't melt into excessive bleakness. Alas...

A writer friend suggested that I delete as many posts as possible and private my account instead of leaving altogether. Apparently, there are people waiting for an exodus so they can snap up handles with almost any number of followers. I'm sitting on my name, but I'm done with Twitter for good.

Have you made the jump away from Twitter? Are you using Mastodon or Bluesky?

Halloween Horror Poetry Reading

The stream I did on Saturday now has a replay! Just a warning, I misspoke and went off on tangents fairly frequently. I tried. My husband helped me cut out the error in the beginning (the camera wasn't working). But I remained nervous and flustered.

If you want me to do videos on horror/fantasy tropes or media, please let me know.

October Reading and Feeling Defeated

Since October is "horror month" for most people, I'm going to do a reading on my YouTube channel on the 19th. The event will be under an hour. I promise to read at least one thing not previously published online. There will be an archive, so don't worry if you miss it. 

*~**~**~*

I'm thinking a lot about my future as a speculative (horror/fantasy/sci-fi) author. The difficulties with publishing Blighted Feast make me believe that presses (perhaps even readers) don't want horror poetry as an entire book. I love writing it, but it might be something kept for myself. Or it could be the dejection talking.

So many magazines consider short horror fiction, and quite a few accept poetry as well. When you look at the publishers considering book-length projects, you find almost no one will touch it. Why are magazines filled to the brim with horror verse and short, freaky fiction but presses turn up their noses?

I suppose, in a world where poetry doesn't make money, splintering off into speculative could mean the book is even less likely to gain traction. Most small publishers (often the ones who take more risks) still have to be realistic. If the audience isn't there, it's just a guaranteed loss.

My horror poetry is a fairly large departure from my literary work. It isn't personal. There is little that relates to the human condition. It's just (hopefully) entertainment; maybe it isn't enough in a world where cheap thrills are as close as a click away.

Two different presses almost took my book. It should hearten me. But it doesn't. Two chances is a significant amount when there are under twenty total. The book was rejected five times and ignored at least three more. I know new presses begin every year. I know rejection is subjective and all that jazz. I know... but it still suckaroos. 

Not all manuscripts are meant to be published. Is Blighted Feast one of those? Am I holding onto false hope because I conflate the book being accepted twice as being publishable?