Becoming a nature poet in New Zealand: rewriting my poetry manuscript for the eighth time

Becoming a nature poet in New Zealand

I’m rewriting my poetry manuscript, Wild Altar. It was rejected recently. This made me think.
Was there a valid reason?

I didn’t see it at first. But yes, the poetry could be better.

I’ve worked hard to finish the manuscript and it’s a harsh truth to face. My work isn’t done.
It sounds cliché but all I need to do is believe in myself.

Ultimately, it’s about my mindset and the time I put in.

I’ve rewritten it 7 times already. I’m going to do it again.

I said I’d keep you updated on the process.
This article is about the lessons I’m learning from rewriting my manuscript.

This is my journey to become a nature poet in New Zealand.
Let’s get to work.

Proving something to myself

You know what scares me? I’m excited to get working.
I hardly recognise myself. I don’t want it to be easy. I’m actually glad Wild Altar hasn’t been published yet. I don’t want accidental success. I don’t need anybody else to believe in my work yet because I am still learning to believe in it. I want to know I’ve worked hard for the ability to write good poetry.

I’m here to prove an inner truth to myself. I have what it takes to become a nature poet in New Zealand.

Cutting corners will not pave a path to good work. It hurts my fragile ego to admit when my work isn’t good enough. I ask myself questions like, am I a real poet? Why am I doing this?

No one is forcing me to do this. No one is paying me to write. It’s my choice to spend my time this way.

Ecosystem of a poet

There are things I want to change in the book. I’ve started by culling a few poems that don’t fit within the world of the book.

Each poem must contribute to the ecosystem of the book. As well as this, each individual poem must contain all the necessary ingredients to survive on its own. Mary Oliver, in her book the poetry handbook, poses the question. If someone reads your poem in 5, 10, 20 years, is it going to make sense?

Some of my poems have been assuming the reader has a knowledge of current culture and events.
Other poems in my manuscript have strayed away from the territory of my heart. I did not write them because they were important to me but because I wanted my voice to fit within the New Zealand voice. These are easy mistakes to make.

Identity and integrity are two core pillars between the internal landscape of the writer and the public realm of the reader.

It is easy to get caught up in contemporary voices and forget to harness the uniqueness of your own voice.

There were a few poems in Wild Altar that I thought would fit. But upon reflection, they didn’t have the same heart as the rest of the book.

I’ve cut them.

Writing is a private practice

A writer needs community. A community of readers and another community of colleagues. Both are challenging to build but the latter is hard to find.

This is for a number of reasons. Inherently, the act of writing involves solitude. It is a private practice, often conducted in a room of one’s own. Writers tend towards introversion, myself included.

Writing communities are either monetized (you need a buy a ticket to participate) or institutionalized. Wherein an organizational body, such as a university or large publisher, controls what does and does not enter the conversation.

This means that knowledge about how to improve as a writer (and survive as a writer) becomes a closed community. This is not a new phenomenon. Think Paris at the turn of the 19th century. Institutionalized art led to the revolutionary Impressionists.

I get it, time is precious. Lessons are hard won. We all need to get paid. But coveting knowledge cuts off new growth. Hoarding ideas will only attract dragons.

I have a sincere desire to improve as a writer. Nature poetry is niche. It’s even more niche as a full-time pursuit in New Zealand. It can be a lonely path.

I am challenging myself to build community.

I honestly don’t know enough about the path other poets took to get published. Or what it took to master the craft. I endeavor to find out. I’ll cold call some living poets and publishers and see what happens. I’ll share what I learn with you.

Sharing knowledge is the beating heart of this blog.

My inquires for my manuscript

Is every poem in this book important to me?
It it’s not important to me, it won’t be important to the reader. Period.

I am looking at it with a critical eye. A poem must feel true and relevant to my innermost identity as a poet. Anything else is imitation. Imitation erodes integrity, whereas inspiration builds integrity.

I approach a poem with an inquiry. Is this poem real?
Or pretending to be something it isn’t. Is it sufficiently drawing nutrients from the heart of the book?

Is my writing trying to be too clever? I fall into this trap all the time. I want to impress the reader with my own intelligence. A witty metaphor. A pretty sentence. A complex idea. But more often than not, an attempt to sound intelligent will isolate the reader from the heart of the writing. Because the writer themselves has isolated their thoughts from the heart. Real recognizes real. Readers are not easily tricked.

If you can write something in a simple way, do it. Always choose clarity over complexity.

Is there something in this poem that catches or evades my attention?
Our intuition often knows where something isn’t working. Even if it doesn’t know why. The why can be learnt with technical knowledge. Instincts are more important. I will try writing those sticky sections again. If a poem can’t be salvaged, cut it with compassion.

Goals and practical steps

A few of the poems from this manuscript have been published in journals.
I was reading this article by Emily Stoddard and it talks about needing to have at least a quarter of the book published in journals before producing a book.

This is a monumental task but a worthy goal.

Any massive goal must have meaning and stay connected to a core value.

It must also be broken down into actionable tasks that can be worked on often.

If I feel frustrated or defeated in pursuit of this goal, I will write about it in this journal.
We can learn from this and share the journey together. I trust the page will hold us.

Face the dragon

“Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage. Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love.” ― Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a young poet

I feel ready to befriend my own dragon. But I must remember the dragon was never meant to be easy to conquer. Some interpretations of myth, say it was never meant to be conquered at all. To do so, is to slay our own wild nature.

But it is important to enter the arena and face the dragon, even if it defeats you. This will help you get stronger. There is courage in getting back up and being prepared to be clobbered again.

It is harder than I ever thought possible. But rejections build resilience.
All the good things in life involve risk. Risk always carries the possibility of defeat.
But risk offers an opportunity to become stronger than you ever thought possible.

Perseverance is the path to write good poetry. So is the courage to be vulnerable and ask for help.
I have learnt that I evaporate without nature in my poetry. I need more than technical improvements to my poems, I need to trust in their inherent truth.

Mindset matters

I’m flipping the script and using the rejections as fuel to encourage myself. I’m reading widely and drawing from diverse sources.

I'm reading David Goggins book - Can't hurt me. It's firing me up.

He has this exercise called the accountability mirror. It involves radical honesty. You get in front of a mirror and tell yourself the truth. You quit making excuses. You ask questions like, how hard are you actually working on your dreams?
If you think you are working hard, what are you basing that on?

The hard work behind success is often invisible. I thought I was trying hard but if I’m being honest, I’m lying to myself and making excuses. I’m not doing everything in my power to improve my life.

I’m still scared of rejection. But I’m learning to love the pain of it. Every rejection is an opportunity to armour my mind. This is another lesson from David Goggins. Use the pain as fuel. Rewrite the stories of your trauma as an opportunities to get stronger. Build the armour of your mind. Keep seeking pain.

This feels like swimming upstream. It feels like poison to my poetic immune system. I’m sensitive and empathic. These abilities allow me to write poetry. But the softness of my mind makes me susceptible to defeat.

I take it personally. But it’s not personal. Poetry is business and business is ruthless.

Get savage. Go for the throat. Write like you have something to say. Push beyond your own limits.
How do I know I am working hard?
Being honest gives you an important place to start.

This is an insight into my inner dialogue. I’m an unknown poet and I will never be capable of writing anything good. I’m an unknown poet that nobody wants to publish.

The accountability mirror will tell me the truth. I’m afraid of sending my work to publishers because it will only confirm that I’m no good. Excuses are easy. I use them all the time.

Nobody is making me do this. Nobody is asking me to write. Nobody wants me to write poetry. Nobody will notice if I give up writing. I have chosen all this because on some, deep level, I know it is my life’s purpose to write poetry. I do not have the language to explain how or why I know this.

David Goggins feels necessary to the masculine part of my being. I respond to it, even if I don’t enjoy it. I need someone to tell me how it is. I can hear him now.
“Motherf*cker, get back to the forest and write poetry about the birds.”

Make the time

“Be so good they can’t ignore you” – Steve Martin

I will make poetry a priority. I can and will get up an hour earlier. Work an hour longer into the evening. I shall say no to parties. To the things that don’t further my goals. I will have the courage to disappear until the work is done.

I will live everything and return to share the journey with you.

Talk soon,
Harley.