Before You Quit Your Day Job to be a Full-Time Poet (six considerations)…

A photo of how the paint dried on my bedroom wall. Keep reading for context.

So, a year ago when I decided my “full-time-job” would be “poet,” I embarked on a pretty steep learning curve. If you have romanticized this career choice, I would like to give you a few considerations before you dive on in:

1. The dishes will still need to be done. For some reason, I assumed that life as a working artist would mean being unshackled from daily chores. Instead, the pile of dishes looms larger as I Jenga coffee mugs and soup bowls onto it all day long, its growing shadow judging me by its very presence. The plus side of this dish pile, is that staring at it is giving me some writing ideas, and I can wander off and write instead of doing dishes…because, I’m an artist, damnit!

2. Writing poetry looks like doing nothing. My partner will often wander past me between his Zoom meetings and ask, “What are you doing?” In the past week, I have sat on my bed and watched paint on my bedroom wall dry. I have spritzed my little houseplants approximately 17 times each day. I have reshuffled my poetry collections by color, alphabetized by author, and arranged them by height. I have sat at my desk for hours and then typed 64 words.

3. Introducing yourself to others will be a challenge. Our culture does not have a lot of follow-up questions stored in its hard drive for those of us who say, “I am a POET.” Now, it may be that I am defensive, but I tend to sense a bit of a step-back from strangers when I hand them this information. It is as though just by saying the word “poet,” I am attempting to evangelize them into a strange cult. (I am: you will become a true lover of poetry and realize it is the superior of all art forms and hail me as your poet intercessor who grants you access to all of poetry’s divine secrets and wisdom.)

4. Hello, is anyone there? It’s me, a poet. I spend a fair amount of time stalking other poets on Insta. I spend a fair amount of time reading rejection emails from poetry journals. When I do get published, I read my poem alone in my room, imagining that maybe three others are reading it alone in their rooms, thinking about how cool I am. I have exactly one poetry buddy, Cory, whom I can cold call midday to ask about my enjambment in the last itty bitty screen shot of a poem I just texted. If you are a poet, find one poet friend, cling to them and always return their calls, even if they took none of your revision suggestions the last time you talked.

5. Poetry is the practice of perpetual forgiveness. I forgive myself for not writing as much as I thought I would. I forgive myself for writing a really terrible draft. I forgive myself for writing something that might give other people feelings. I forgive myself for doing something that some might consider a waste of time. I forgive myself for the years I spent not writing poetry. I forgive myself for judging other writers. I forgive myself for judging the people who aren’t writing, but I think should. I forgive myself for not taking the risks I meant to take. I forgive myself for the risks I took that didn’t pay off. I forgive myself for leaving all the dishes for my partner to do.

6. Ohhhhhhh….money! Yeah, so it turns out there is no one waiting around to pay people for writing poems. In fact, what I didn’t realize before I started this non-capitalistic venture is that often, poets have to PAY to submit their poems to literary journals and contests. Even when your book eventually gets picked by the magic poetry-contest fairies for publication, the advance is perhaps $1000, and the publishing royalties are small…not because the awesome small presses that print poetry are short-changing poets, but because there is not a huge market demand for books of poetry. I recently heard Ada Limón, arguably the most famous poet in the world and also arguably the only poet who can actually live off of the job-title POET, recall that her fourth book was purchased for $500. This past year I have made exactly $50 on my poetry from one publication.

A poet in her natural habitat. Note the blank page.

All that to say, quitting your day-job to be a poet might not be feasible, practical or enjoyable. Many poets I know write around or during their full-time jobs. Others have saved their poem-writing for retirement, and it’s like waiting this long to write poems turned them into little poetry rockets, on fire. For me, a disability meant I had to leave my work teaching in the public school and brought me a new “job title.” I am still feeling my way into the role of poet, grateful for the time and energy I have to spend writing that I didn’t have when working full-time. If you are trying to figure out how to fit the job of “poet” into your life, keep your dream close to your heart, a blank page somewhere nearby, and your poetry buddy a text away—I have a hunch poetry will come find you.

“Your life you live by the light you find

and follow it on as well as you can,

carrying through darkness wherever you go

your one little fire that will start again.”

William Stafford

Note about artwork in above photo—Kimberly at Dreamy Ink Creations is the amazing artist!