It finally happened . . .


I used to disagree when I heard writers say something like this:

If you’re a writer you’ll know it because you won’t be able to NOT write. A writer has to write, no matter what.

I mean, I understood what they were saying, but I had never felt that way. I wrote because it was a way to communicate but not because I loved it, not because I had no other choice. But this semester something changed. And you know what happened to me?

Poetry happened to me. I can’t explain it, really, because I know for so many people poetry is just something weird. It used to be that way for me. But I just fell in love with poetry this semester.

And I finally experienced that “true” writer’s moment: I was sitting at the library yesterday trying to read and I had to stop. I had to pull out my notebook and write. And you know what I had to write? I had to write a poem. I had to.

That’s never happened to me before. But I liked it.

What’s really crazy is how fateful it sort of seems that I’ve discovered this new love. I only enrolled in this graduate seminar in poetry because my classmates wanted to take something together. We agreed on American Lit: 20th Century Women’s Poetry. At the time, I could think of about a hundred other topics I would have rather covered in American lit.

And now I write poetry.

Do you like poetry? Or what awesome thing have you discovered by surprise lately?