Why Poetry? Why the Internet? Why Self-Publish?
As I officially self-publish my debut collection of poems, In Praise of Thought, I relinquish a very personal work to the world. The revelation that I am a poet will come as a surprise to many; I embarked rather quietly on writing poems nearly eight years ago. In that vein, I felt it could be helpful to provide a background of the book and its origins. So here are answers to burning questions no one’s yet asked! Why poetry? Why the internet? Why self-publish?
Why poetry? Or perhaps, how poetry? To call oneself a poet can feel absurd. There is a general stigma attached to the poet, one of a kind of banality; and there is a reputation that poetry is inaccessible and esoteric. Of course, while it can be some of those things, it can also be none of those things. I understand any wariness. Before I began reading poetry, it felt out of reach to me too. Yet here I am.
I learned the craft mostly through self-study, taking a writing workshop only after the poems in this collection were near complete. It started as all writing should: with reading. I began to read an obscene amount of poetry. The more I read, the more it seemed to unlock within me a breadth of language and creative expression that felt free, even when confined to classic poetic forms. Over time, ideas began structuring themselves in lines and stanzas (which always seemed to happen in the shower, or on long walks around the city without pens).
Abstract observations, fleeting moments, fears, joys – experiences that can feel difficult to express accurately and explicitly – became incredible matter for poetry. Of course, initially, my poems were bad. But steadily, as I chipped away, scratched out, whittled and molded the language, they began to have a certain effect. Eventually, the poems became complete. Like any amateur writer, I caution qualifying my work. But I am confident that the poems of In Praise of Thought are complete, meant to be exchanged outside of me.
Why the internet? “The internet” can be an obscure term, as proven by the dizzying array of headlines daily proclaiming, “The internet thinks [whatever].” Can one thing be everything? In the case of this project, I often use “the internet” to imply a state of being online, or plugged in.
Beyond that, the actual internet remains the most invasive and pervasive technology ever created, to date (and one should be prepared for more, i.e., Elon Musk’s brain chip, anyone?) Specifically, the structures of our internet (mostly, social media) are designed to be inherently invasive. It may be decades before we are lucid enough to make sense of this digital invasion: the commodification and erosion of personal privacy; the propagation of misinformation; the tracking and manipulation of human behavior as “data.” At the very least, these structures can be addictive and bad for mental health. At the very worst, they are an unprecedented exploitation of our worst habits, a frightening manipulation and perpetuation of the darkest and most divisive urges within us. My belief can skew toward the latter.
I’m nowhere near informed enough to write effective essays about how the internet should be restructured to rectify these issues. Nor do I feel qualified to write about its effects on society as a whole. Many writers have excavated the subject far better than me (Shoshana Zuboff, Adrian Daub, Zadie Smith, Jarett Kobek, to name a few). Instead, I wanted to examine what the internet called into question for me personally. Poetry allowed me the space to approach these elusive ideas more effectively and emotionally. And poetry helped me to stay in touch with some overarching soul, something more human.
Finally, why self-publish? The answer to this question is a bit easier and more succinct. Besides the most obvious reason of rejection, the publishing world remains elusive, exclusive, and confusing. I am fortunate to possess the means to self-publish. In a sense, self-publishing excites me. I may not have the marketing, outreach, or financial backing that a traditional publishing house provides, but I have control over the narrative and identity of my work. In Praise of Thought is important to me – if only because these are my words, a part of my being – so it feels right to do it this way. Self-publishing is by no means a lucrative route, but I sincerely hope that by taking small and meaningful steps, these poems will find their way to readers.
I will forever be astonished and grateful that anyone would be interested in reading my book. From the bottom of my heart, thank you, thank you, thank you!