Making the Most of One Poem… Part 2

Read It Out Loud

A lot of poets would rather wrestle an octopus than read one of their poems aloud. I am particularly creeped out by octopi, and I would take the octopus over the live event. When I was a young writer, twenties and thirties, I could not wait to perform my work. I always got good responses, as well, to my live readings, so I was so excited to do them. Now, though, standing in front of a room feels strangely vulnerable. I get so nervous I find myself choked up. As a young writer I had a lot of very kind teachers who were delightfully excited about my writing. When I look back at that “young” writing, I don’t think it was very good, so I wonder at that. But their support was marvelous. These days there’s no teacher to be wowed before I go out and attempt to wow the crowd, so I do feel especially …. clumsy, for lack of a better word.

Here’s the thing, though: audiences don’t expect perfection. They aren’t looking for a Broadway actor or a professional voice-over artist. They just want to hear the person who wrote the poem, read the poem. We have a few people every issue of Instant Noodles who record themselves reading their poems, and those always get more hits than the non-readers. Reading your own work gives people something the printed page can’t. They hear where you pause, which words you linger over, and where you smile without realizing it. Even a quiet, slightly nervous reading can help a listener connect with your poem in a new way.

You don’t have to book a poetry reading to do this. Prop your phone against a coffee mug, press record, and read your poem. Actually, if you want to look your best, prop your phone on something eye-level or higher, pointing down. Practice positioning until you feel confident you look okay. I often record myself on Zoom so I have more control over my look. Just open a Zoom account and hop into the “Personal Room” and hit RECORD. If you stumble over a line, pause and start over, in you’re on Zoom, or, if you’re on your phone, stop that recording and start another. Then read it again. Nobody has to know it took three tries. (I won’t tell if you won’t. Sometimes, when I record things, I need a calculator to count the tries!) If video isn’t your thing, record the audio instead. Share it in your newsletter, post it on social media, or add it to your website. You’d be surprised how many people enjoy hearing a poem in the poet’s own voice. It adds a warmth and familiarity the printed work doesn’t give. And, when I’ve listened to some of my favorite poets, I’ve been surprised by one or two who came across as decidedly… different from what I had expected. That added a new depth to the writing that really intrigued me. I would love to hear more of our Instant Noodles authors reader their work.

Next time, I’ll look at how one poem can become several meaningful posts without feeling like you’re repeating yourself.


Making the Most of One Poem… Part 1

Your Poem Isn’t Dead When It’s Published

Sometimes a writer submits a poem to Instant Noodles Literary Magazine, it gets published, and we never hear from that writer again. It’s almost as though the poem completed its mission in life and quietly retired to a folder on a laptop.

I’ve always found that a little surprising.

We work for weeks, sometimes months, on a poem. We submit it. We wait forever. We get the acceptance email, do a little happy dance in the kitchen (or maybe that’s just me), share the publication with a few friends, and then we’re off chasing the next shiny poem. But publication isn’t the end of a poem’s life. It’s the beginning of its conversation with readers.

Most people who would enjoy your work probably haven’t seen it. They don’t subscribe to the journal that published it. They weren’t refreshing the editor’s website waiting for the new issue to drop. They’re just people who like good poetry and would be delighted if your work happened to cross their path. So don’t be afraid to let a published poem keep doing its job. Read it at an open mic. Share a favorite line on social media. Tell the story behind it in your newsletter. Mention it on your website. Include it in a future reading. You spent a long time writing that poem. It has probably earned the right to stick around a little longer than the three days it spent on your Facebook page before disappearing beneath photos of someone’s lunch and a cousin’s vacation.

Next week, we’ll talk about one of the simplest ways to give a poem a longer life: reading it aloud. Don’t worry. Nobody says you have to sound like Lauren Bacall. Though if you do, I’m a little jealous.