verb as in to tempt: to lead away from a usual or proper course by offering some pleasure or advantage

This door is never latched….
verb as in to tempt: to lead away from a usual or proper course by offering some pleasure or advantage

This door is never latched….
One of the pleasures of blogging for Old Scratch Press is discovering other writers through WordPress. I noticed that poet William Delaat, creator of Primitive Poetry, had been liking some of our posts, so I decided to see what he was writing.
I found a poet with a healthy skepticism toward literary rules and pretension, a fondness for contradiction, and some interesting things to say about writing and sharing poetry. I enjoyed exploring his work enough that I contacted him to ask whether he’d be interested in an interview for OSP.
Happily, he agreed! We talked about literary gatekeeping, writing under a pseudonym, the terror of reading your own poetry aloud, and the challenges of finding a genuine literary community online.
Old Scratch Press: On Primitive Poetry, you write about literary gatekeeping and pretension. What do you find pretentious about the poetry world, and what would you like to see change?
William Delaat: To clarify, on that page I have a line that says, “Poetry is pretentious. I love that.”
When I first started writing poetry, I had no literary training (I still really do not). I used it as a way to express myself in my journal in a more creative way. I did this for years before I ever published anything online. I had no concept that there were people who apply rules and logic to poetry. I just wrote what I enjoyed, and that was enough.
In my last year of undergrad, I took a creative writing class. I had taken some writing and English classes before, and part of my degree was in philosophy, so I was accustomed to writing and reading. I had even taken some “creativity” classes that mostly focused on thinking outside the box and (to be honest) marketing. This creative writing class was the first time I was in a formal setting where we were given assignments where I could say whatever I wanted, and in ways I could not throughout the rest of college.
And YET, my poetry was, for the first time, critiqued in ways I had never experienced. Suddenly, I was having to read books about how to write poetry. These books, typically written by successful poets, were far too nitpicky. It put a taste in my mouth that if this were my first time interacting with writing poetry, I would quickly walk away.
It seems silly to put rules and regulations around a form of art that is so fluid. I should note that this experience is from 2018, and I think the more I engage with poetry online, the more I see that other poets agree with the idea that poetry cannot be relegated to just one form. Perhaps these folks who write instructions on how to write poetry should clarify they are teaching how to write poetry like them. I do not care for that.
As for pretentiousness in the poetry world, I think many poets would agree that we write in strange ways. I do wish that many poets would be themselves more than the poets they see successful online. How often do you see people post something along the lines of “In English we say, ‘I love you.’ In poetry we say, ‘my heart sticks to you like the tide does to the shore.'”
Come on. You saw someone else get engagement doing something like that, so you replicated it and passed it off as poetry. It’s not you. I want to read poetry that shows who you are, and how you see the world, even if it is pretentious! I have written many pretentious things, but I truly felt that way in the moment. Be pretentious, but be you.
OSP: You write under a pen name that honors your parents. How does writing as William Delaat affect what you’re comfortable sharing, or how freely you write?
William: I first started writing under a pen name because I was afraid. I grew up in small-town Midwest America. Weekends were usually spent by the bonfire with lots of beer. Traditional values, and traditional views of the world. The pen name made it so I could write without anyone knowing who I was.
I wrote some nasty things when I first started. Things that I’m not proud of. I have deleted three poems from my site because they were too far, yet I feel as if they needed to be written and needed to exist. Writing under a pen name gave me that ability.
While I still write under a pen name, much of what I do now is public. I make spoken-word videos, and I cannot hide anymore. While close friends and family know that I write online, it is still kept quiet. This has changed some of my writing.
Every once in a great while, I write something that makes me think, “Maybe this one is just for me and my wife.” It is very rare, but it does happen.
OSP: You mention that “Academia Is Dead” remains your favorite poem, even though you wrote it in college. What makes that poem particularly important to you? Has your understanding of it changed over time?
William: Academia Is Dead was written in 2018, when I was in that creative writing class mentioned above. Maybe I still like it because it’s moody. Maybe because I am skeptical of higher ed (even though I have a master’s degree).
Although, as I age and fall more into what makes my writing uniquely mine, I think I enjoy storytelling more. Academia Is Dead is a story, after all. It is the visitation of an old friend, begging to be buried alive, but then I suggest she should be publicly executed so all have to stare at what they have done.
It’s a strange contradiction, in a way. I blame technology for what it has done for the classroom, while I wrote it in college, on a laptop. I think people sometimes have a hard time grasping that contradiction, as much as we may hate it, is boiled into our blood. Academia Is Dead is a contradictory piece. I mourn her, yet I suggest a different type of death than what she requests.
I also wrote this in my fifth year of undergrad. Watching freshmen come in and how they complained about having to write four-page papers. Meanwhile, my super-senior friends and I were writing dozens of pages and arguing over who was right.
Maybe it was the angsty music I listened to at that time flowing through. Maybe it was an observation of changes in trends. I don’t know. What I do know is that I have great concerns for college students and the way they now have to navigate AI. I often wonder if they read the poem and see it the way I do.
For those who read it, and are true academics, I hope they don’t view it as a condemnation of them. I hope they can change my perspective on academia.
William selected Academia Is Dead to accompany this interview because it remains an important piece in his development as a poet and connects directly to several of the subjects we’ve discussed.
Read “Academia Is Dead” on Primitive Poetry
OSP: Your website includes both written poems and spoken-word performances. What changes for you when a poem moves from the page to your own voice? Do you find that some poems work better in one form than the other?
William: Writing poems is easy for me. Reading them is terrifying. The camera is not my friend. I’ve always read my poems while writing them, but when it is just me hiding in my attic office, I don’t care. I, like anyone else on the internet, care how they are received.
There certainly are poems that work better when they stay in written form. I have many scrapped videos that I just couldn’t get the rhythm or tone right. I don’t know if this is just a “me” problem or the poem’s problem.
I had a poem a couple of months ago that someone else read and posted to their website. They read it better than I ever could. Again, contradiction. I read aloud every poem I write, but that doesn’t mean every poem I write should be read aloud.
OSP: You write openly about producing work that doesn’t always meet your own standards. How do you decide which poems to share publicly, and what do you do with the ones that don’t make the cut?
William: I suffer greatly from imposter syndrome. At least once a day I wonder why and how I have an audience on my website. I often think that my standard for what is good is far too high, and yet I cannot bring myself to lower it.
The compromise I’ve made is that I just post things. Primitive Poetry is full of poems that have no ending, are missing details, simply because there came a point where I could not go on. My journal is full of even more.
I have over 100 drafts sitting in my WordPress dashboard right now. Eventually, I just get to the point where I panic-post and call it good.
Sometimes I go back and edit already posted poems, even some that were posted years ago. The ones that don’t make the cut live in my drafts or journal, waiting for the day when I visit them and hopefully bring them new life.
OSP: You describe Primitive Poetry as a place to connect with other artists who enjoy writing without taking themselves too seriously. What would you like that community to look like, and what kinds of connections have you made through the site?
William: I owe a lot of my audience to WordPress. The Reader function on WordPress makes it easy to connect with other writers. Dianne, it’s how I found Old Scratch Press.
Unfortunately, I think WordPress is losing touch with the way people interact. Building a community on WordPress is incredibly difficult and takes an immense amount of time. I’ve been doing this for eight years and have 1,500 subscribers. The best way I’ve found to engage with the community is through comments. This is not what I want the community to look like.
I’ve been exploring different avenues: Instagram, YouTube, Facebook, even TikTok despite my disgust with it (hey, another contradiction). Substack offers some promise, but it feels like starting over again.
Yet I’ve made incredible connections through WordPress and Primitive Poetry. I met a fellow who reads classic poetry. The way he reads is true art. I’ve met other writers who pour their hearts onto the page. I’ve met people who point out the problems in my poetry and are actually trying to help (now THAT is rare!).
These are all good connections, but they are done through email and the occasional comment. I believe in proximity being an important part of relationships and community. I don’t think Primitive Poetry lends itself to that very well. It is on the forefront of my mind, and I am actively trying to find ways to fix it.

This world we live in is becoming ever more complex and divided. One of the beauties of art is that it shows things how they are and calls it out. We need more art. Whether that be painting, sketching, singing, or writing of any kind, we need it.
Live within the contradiction, point it out, and laugh at it. No one is without contradiction.
If there is anyone who has considered writing poetry but is worried about starting, or confused about where to start, they are welcome to reach out to me through my website. I’ll talk them through what I’ve done that has worked, and things that have failed. Maybe that is how we build the community.
William Delaat writes poetry with themes of nature, family, grief, and the quiet weight of ordinary life. Through Primitive Poetry, he explores love, loss, contradictory lives, and belonging. He invites readers to slow down and take a closer look to find meaning in the ordinary.
Website: Primitive Poetry
Social media and other links: William Delaat on Linktree
Our thanks to William for sharing his thoughts and work with Old Scratch Press. We hope you’ll spend some time exploring Primitive Poetry and joining the conversation.
Getting attention for poetry, books, and independent art isn’t easy. There are so many talented writers and artists out there, and one of the simplest ways we can help one another is by sharing our audiences.
If you’re visiting Old Scratch Press, why not consider featuring one of our members on your own blog, website, podcast, or social media? We’d love to introduce you to our writers and artists, and we’re always interested in opportunities to introduce our readers to new creative voices, too.
Interviews, guest posts, reviews, and featured works are all possibilities. It doesn’t have to be complicated, and it doesn’t have to cost anything. Sometimes all it takes is a little curiosity and a willingness to share the spotlight.
The more we help one another find readers and audiences, the stronger our creative community becomes.
Interested? Reach out to Old Scratch Press and let’s see what we can do together! Let’s show each other off!
noun: an inclination downward

Go down; go down~
All Hallows’ Eve
the basement is calling….
Our own Dianne Pearce (me) has a new post up at Authors Electric, and it begins with an important literary question:
Which author, living or dead, would you most want to get with? (A topic that deserves serious, serious daydreaming.)
The weirdo answer from Dianne (again, me) is Tom Robbins. Not because of what he looked like, but because of what his writing revealed about the strange, funny mind behind it. From there, Dianne (still me) wanders into attraction, humor, imagination, and the peculiar intimacy of reading someone else’s words.
I (Dianne, obviously) encourage you to go read it.
But while we’re (actually me, or rather, I, I am) sending you over there, there’s another reason writers should have Authors Electric on their radar.

Get off your duff, friends. Authors Electric accepts guest posts, and opportunities like that are worth looking for.
If you’re an author, it’s easy to spend all your blogging energy writing for your own website. That’s useful, but the people visiting your website are generally people who have already found you. A guest post puts your name and your writing somewhere else, in front of someone else’s readers.
And you don’t necessarily need to write about your book. In fact, please don’t turn every guest post into an advertisement for your book. And, on your own blog, don’t do that either. And certainly don’t blog on one blog solely about going to read something on another blog. That’s something we, here at OSP (well, rather I, me, actually; the rest of OSP has no idea what I’m writing here and will probably refuse to be held accountable for it), would never do. (Go read my post!)
Write something funny. Write about the books you love. Write about research that sent you down an unexpected rabbit hole. Write about some peculiar part of the writing life. Write something that makes a reader think, I like this person. What else have they written? People think that about me all the time (I am assured by my caretakers, who wish to keep me relatively compliant and still).
That’s the point.
Guest posting can give you another byline to share, another place for readers to encounter you, another link leading back to your work, and, perhaps most importantly, a chance to introduce yourself without standing on a chair yelling BUY MY BOOK (but seriously, people, buy our books. Well, mine’s not out yet, but buy the other books from OSP. Go ahead. Make a poet smile, and put down the bread knife. God, poets eat a lot of bread!).

glorious poppy seeds
glorious poppy seeds
delicious and replete
I love your taste
so very much
I happily pick you
from my teeth
Authors Electric is one place to consider. There are others. Look at blogs and publications connected to your genre, your subject matter, your profession, your interests, or the subjects you research for your books. See whether they accept guest contributions. Read what they publish before you pitch them. (Or just pitch wildly, like me in AA softball in 1970-something; you don’t need to know the date. Shut up about the years gone by! I pitched so wildly they [the coach, my own father] stuck me on second base where I could chomp on a huge wad of Bazooka Joe, blowing bubbles so large they hid my face, and not do too much damage to our losing streak. Wait, what are we discussing here?)

EXCLUSIVE!
Actual for real 100% photo of me in little league, wearing my official AA shirt and standing on second base with my beloved glove in my hand, age 9. People never could steal second from me because I was standing on it, and I could not see them coming, because of the gum.
Then come up with something their readers (which is to say readers who read their website/blog) might actually enjoy. Why would they let you post for them? Certainly because you are a serious author taking things seriously and not at all running around the yard barefoot and dangerously late for work. (By the way, forget the job. Poetry is lucrative!)
And how do you know what kinds of posts their gossamer readers like to read? I don’t know. Why you asking me? (Oh, um, read their blog and see what they write about? That might help.)
A quick scan of Authors Electric tells you that its readers are people who like books, writing, writers, publishing, and the odd places a writer’s mind wanders when nobody has stopped it in time. Posts range from writing and publishing to books and reading, author events, technology, literary memories, travel, personal stories, and whatever else can be dragged back, however tenuously, to a life lived among words. They’re personal, conversational, sometimes funny, sometimes serious, and not particularly interested in behaving like somebody’s content-marketing strategy. They seem to be genuinely nice people (as opposed to faking being nice), and that tracks because they’re mostly in Australia and the UK. I cast no stereotypes or aspersions on one side of the pond, the bog, the gulf of unreachable miscommunication, or the other. If you suggest that I am or that I do, or that I should, I will deny it with the vigor of a Dickens character.
They are also intentionally very light on salty words, unlike me and my prose, because I like every damn thing with extra freaking salt.
Why would anyone want a guest post from you? Your mother may have the answer. She thinks you’re great. But also because posting on a regular basis is really quite exhausting, and you can give another author access to another set of readers while giving the blog’s regular writers a bit of a break. Many hands make light work and all that. (Man, I’m tired. I wish someone else would write this and I could just go empty the percolator!)
And if you think you might like to guest post here, absolutely not, you shameless opportunist! Wait… No. I mean, hey, we might like that. Post a response to this post if you’re interested and tell us how to reach out and touch you (in a platonic way, of course).
And if you’d like to see one example of exactly that, go find out why that lunatic Dianne Pearce (moi, bien sûr) had such a deep (and purely, very pure) professional affection for author Robbins that she would, apparently, have overlooked quite a lot, including the possibility of belly-button fungus.

I mean, it’s Tom Robbins we’re (me, I’m) obsessed with, not John Cheever.
Read “Which Author Do You Most Want to Get With?” at Authors Electric. Go ahead. You know you want to (well, actually, you may not want to, but I would certainly like you to, so consider yourself cajoled)!
adjective: of or related to the space between what was and what comes next….

What comes next for you?
verb: to be piled up in heaps.

What would it be like to be piled up in heaps?
beguile, verb, as in to fascinate.

to attract or delight as if by magic…
What have you been beguiled by?
noun: the place or point of entering or beginning.

Have you ever written about a threshold?
Wouldn’t I just be lucky enough to get Mother’s Day as my regularly scheduled blog post day. *sigh*
I’m not a fan, in general, of prescribed celebration days like this one. However one of the first things my husband and I bonded over was Mother’s Day. We stood in a Ralphs together, a few weeks before the event, looking at cards:
“Mom, you were always there for me.”
“Not so much.”
“Mom your hugs are the warmest.”
“Um, well….”
And so on, until we smiled ruefully at each other, looking for the most non-sappy card, and laughing at our shared predicament.
Yes, it’s Mother’s Day, but we also have to be honest that not all mothers are the mother we need. Some are not kind or safe. Some are just cold, like hugging an ironing board instead of a loving mother, or absent, or not interested. In those cases, we learn something important. We mother ourselves. We learn to speak gently where others were harsh. We learn to protect what is still tender. We learn to become the steady presence we once needed. And, even those marginal mothers… I feel like we have to allow that not everyone who becomes a mother wanted to be a mother, and so it seems almost natural that some are not going to be good at it. Until all mothers become mothers solely by choice, there’s something demanded of, and taken from, women that also negates their personhood. So, Mother’s Day is a mixed bag at best, in my opinion and experience.
Mother’s Day does force us to think about our mothers, which I guess is the point, but let’s think beyond our biological mothers to all the ways mothers and mothering show up in our lives. Mothering does not belong to one shape, one role, or one person. We mother children. We mother pets who rely on us for warmth, routine, and the quiet comfort of being known. We mother friends when they are exhausted and cannot hold themselves up for a while. We mother partners, siblings, parents, and sometimes even strangers, offering care that asks for nothing back. Sometimes dads do the mothering better, and men can mother as well as women.
We also mother our homes, our gardens, our work. We tend to them. We notice what is growing and what is struggling. We prune what no longer serves, and we stay present long enough for things to take root.
Mothering is not only about giving birth. It is about giving attention. It is about noticing life and choosing to care for it, again and again, in all its forms.
As authors, we mother each other too. We nurture stories before they are ready to stand on their own. We encourage drafts that are still learning how to breathe. We remind each other to keep going when doubt gets loud. I have been especially grateful for Virginia Watts (who I also think of affectionately as “Dead Wood” because she has a remarkable gift for cutting away everything unnecessary from my writing). There is something deeply maternal in that kind of care. She has helped me shape my forthcoming book, and I am forever grateful because her mothering gave me courage to keep writing.
And, on Mother’s Day, I am always especially grateful for my daughter. I didn’t birth her, but I mother the heck out of her, and she often allows it and even tolerates it pleasantly, for which I am forever full of gratitude. I love being a mother, and I love mothering. It is one of my main joys in life, and on this day I send so much love to my pets, and my wonderful daughter, without whom I would not a mother be.
Happy Mother’s Day to all the variety of mothers, and to those grieving mothers or mother’s love, a hug and a wish for peace for you.
Mother’s Day also means forcing your family to do what you want to do. We’re gonna go eat dim sum now. LOL Sticky rice!

This week in the New York Times there is an article about Mark Oppenheimer writing Judy Blume’s biography. When he began the project, so he says, she liked him and gave him access to her life and her circle, etc. When he sent her the draft, she no longer liked him or the book he was writing about her. Apparently she sent him quite a big pile of notes, and contact ceased soon after that. He published the book anyway. He, and book’s narrator, Molly Ringwald, feel like Judy has to put up with his book, and that Mark did a fine job. According to the NYT article, Molly said, “There might be moments that Judy doesn’t like or agree with, but overall I think it’s a respectful treatment of her and her literary significance.” And, “If Mark didn’t show Judy’s flaws or humanity, it would be hard to feel invested.”
At what point does your life stop being your own? I might argue it’s when you become a parent. But, eventually they grow up, and you get to pivot back to yourself somewhat. Mark could have written the book with, or without, Judy’s help, and that’s the danger of being that level of author, but the fact that she gave him permission at first, and then was unhappy with what he made of her life, gives me pause. How much do we own our own life story?
The NYT made the main photo of the piece one of Mark sitting in a bunk bed. I don’t like this. He’s not at the age, or in life circumstances where he would actually be the person who sleeps in that bed. To me it is a ploy to make him look more innocent. I don’t think he is. I’m disappointed in Molly. For full disclosure, I read a bit of Judy Blume as a kid, from Margaret to some of the adult books, most of them for the sexy bits, honestly. Hey, I was in middle school. But, with apologies to Judy, I have seldom thought of her since. I tried reading Margaret to my daughter when she was in middle school, and we both found it didn’t age well. Plus, my daughter was not raised with the same religiosity I was. So there’s that for the longevity of the book in my life. And anybody can write a biography of anybody. The trick, like it is with our own books, is to get people to read it.
Still, do Mark, Molly, and his publishing company have the right to own Judy’s story, to make the truth of Judy’s life Mark’s version of the truth?
I say no. I say this is another woman losing agency over her own body, life, and body of work, to a man and a corporation. And it seems her only recourse might be for Judy to write her autobiography, to set the record straight. I cannot imagine anything as boring as writing out my own life story. And believe you me, I’ve had a fascinating life. Ha! Whether I have or I haven’t, I’m not ready to relive it all like I’ve had a near death experience. No, no no.

So, whose life is it anyway?
I would love to hear your thoughts.
Dianne Pearce is the chief editor and bottle washer at Current Words Publishing, and the half-cocked imaginer behind Old Scratch Press and Instant Noodles. Pearce loves helping writers realize the dream of having their work published. I mean she is really crazy about doing that for some reason. To that end, to join in the fray, to look at the thing from the other side, to stand in another’s shoes, and all of those things, she is fully expecting and promising to publish her first collection of poetry, In the Cancer Cafeteria, spring of 2026. Please don’t hold your breath. For very long. Happy 2026!