Reading a lot more lately, and I think it’s making me double back on my own work with a bit more of a critical eye.
As a lot of you might know, I’ve been working on putting together a debut collection for the past few months, and about two or three months ago, I had already pulled together about fifty that I liked enough at the time – pieces that I felt showcased the best of what I had to offer as a new author.
But lately, sinking into book after book I’ve been picking up at the old Metuchen book store, I’m feeling a bit differently. It’s not as though I’m ashamed of the work that I made, and I don’t think I’m full on comparing my work directly to the pieces that I’m reading. It’s just making me realize that I’m still developing my particular sound – the poems that I put up three months ago aren’t necessarily pieces that I would write now. Thinking of reassessing the entire project and trimming some of the fat – taking out a lot of the short form I used to write and putting in more of the pieces that sound more like me, and less like where I started.