All bad poetry springs from genuine feeling. To be natural is to be obvious, and to be obvious is to be inartistic.
What if you wrote a beautiful poem and you feel strongly that this is the truth. It is the truth because it reflects exactly what you felt at the time. It is the truth because it welled up from the very depths of your soul.
What if there was just one tiny catch.
The beautiful poem is one enormous, looming, unattractive, grinning cliche. A gargoyle perched on the edge of the cathedral, it’s soul-less purpose to channel rain and stream it out as unfiltered liquid drenching unfortunate pedestrians below.
Most early writers don’t realize they’ve written a bad poem or a derivative novel. And that’s okay, as long as the artist in question is willing to fix their work and channel all that creative flow back into making the work stronger. But some aren’t. Some remain gargoyles.
I’ve recently encountered two writers who embody this particular kind of gargoyle – the sensitive artist.
The teen who knows everything.
The poet who knows even more.
When we start writing, it’s all new. Ah, this is love, this is hate, this is marvelous. We write it down, it’s new and perfect. But maybe we don’t realize our brilliant metaphor, our story, has been done before. Likely since Homer heard about it in an Athens cafe.
So where does that leave the artist, or rather, the emerging artist?
I would argue that great writers are always figuring out, learning, and improving their craft. What Was missing with my two emerging artists was the confidence that a person can be a great artist, yet still (always) benefit from feedback.
Also, there is no such thing as a completely original thought. Get over it. But there is such thing as your voice, your unique view of the world. Your choice of words. Just do a quick check to see exactly who went before you, be they bad, great or gargoyle.