Clearly, poetry is a dangerous business. Brilliant poets like Hart Crane, Sylvia Plath, and Dylan Thomas lost their lives prematurely to substance abuse, mental illness, and poetic ambition. Others, like Robert Lowell or Ted Hughes descended into a kind of tedium of accomplishment and self-satisfaction that, to any working poet, appears worse than actual death.
Most of us don't risk our lives for poetry, or our sanity, we just write poems and suffer a lot about how many people read and like them.
But is this kind of worrying unavoidable?
There's actually a kind of golden path that even the most sensitive creator can follow to artistic fulfillment and a happy life. The key is knowing and remembering that it's all about creativity and growth, not about popularity and "likes." I'm not saying there's anything wrong with being popular. I'm saying, don't worry about it one way or another. The more you worry, the less you'll create.
Fortunately, there's a single all-purpose cure for burnout: just keep creating. Push yourself hard everyday and stay excited and inspired. If you dig deep enough, "likes" and followers will take care of themselves.
Poems Written: 299
Rejections: 17 (10 tiered)
Poem written today: "Sky with Machines"