I published my first poetry chapbook, My Family Tree Caught Fire, with Bottlecap Press. The chapbook dropped on January 7th, and I could not be happier with the result! The cover art is beautiful, the publishing company supports smaller artists, and they were a dream to work alongside in this venture. After a year of pursuing writing intentionally, the latest successes bolster my spirits with much-appreciated external validation. But I also learned valuable lessons while publishing a chapbook for the first time.

I discovered that publishing was more manageable than I had anticipated. Much like publishing my article with the Motherly Collective, my work flew into print like a jetliner. Within a short window, I went from “I hope they like this” to “You can find my piece here.” I was astonished at how quickly a chapbook can be assembled, and I must thank Bottlecap Press for being so diligent. A series of emails were exchanged, paperwork made its way through Google Docs and back, and it was finished. I had a webpage dedicated to a poetry collection I wrote! 

However, I would be remiss if I did not mention the trials and surprises of publishing a book of poetry. For me, poetry is a deeply personal and therapeutic process. The subject matter within My Family Tree Caught Fire is profoundly intimate and built on a year of distress. 2022 took me apart and reassembled me; while enduring the rearrangement of my spirit, I relied on poetry to process the emotions welling within me. Submitting the results of my inner work to a publisher felt like handing over a piece of myself for scrutiny. I was terrified.

If the intimacy of baring my soul to an unknown editor and potential readers were not enough, I also contended with the author’s bread and butter: the rejection of my manuscript. (Disclaimer: Bottlecap Press was only the second publishing company to receive my manuscript, so I cannot complain too loudly about the refusal.) The first publishing company sent the standard polite yet impersonal email wishing me luck on placing my manuscript elsewhere. Even though they passed on My Family Tree Caught Fire, the rejection allowed me to review the poems I included in the manuscript. Before I sent the manuscript back into the world, I replaced three pieces with alternate works in my arsenal of emotionally charged scribblings. It was this subtly changed manuscript that found its way to print.

Receiving the acceptance letter for My Family Tree Caught Fire carried more significance than a simple “yes” after a long string of life handing me “no’s.” It made me feel seen, heard, and relevant. My mission as a writer is to forge connections with others. I aim to build bridges between people so we can all feel that we are not alone. Yet so much of the material in my poetry chapbook stemmed from feelings of isolation, hidden identity, and familial losses–both physical and metaphorical. I worried that the work I hoped would resonate with others might not extend past my immediate circle. Thankfully, the publishing of this collection proves my insecurities unfounded. 

Now that My Family Tree Caught Fire has been published, I feel significantly more relaxed and confident submitting poetry to literary magazines and publishers. Through this process, I rediscovered a passion for searching for independent publishers, writers, and poets outside of the mainstream. I found many other talented writers via Bottlecap Press. There is Grace Dellis’s chapbook Signs and Wonders about religious deconstruction. I also love Tommy Blake’s space cowboy on a little, uh, space exploration? discussing queerness in their 20’s. Finally, exploring themes of evangelical Christianity, queerness, and disordered eating, E.D. Watson’s Anorexorcism moved me beyond words and into a place of intimate connection and resonance. I might not have discovered these incredible writers if I had not published through Bottlecap Press myself.

While I am honored to be included among a list of fantastic poets, there are two questions this experience leaves me with: what is my writing focus, and should I have one? I have encountered an outpouring of love, community, and success in writing poetry via Bottlecap Press and Instagram. However, I hold a plethora of plotlines eager to meet readers via short stories, novels, and literary articles. Even in nonfiction arenas, there is still more to share. While the poetry I write contains elements of creative nonfiction, there is an obliqueness to the medium that only allows for complete clarity of thought or experience. Instead, the subjective reigns supreme, and connection becomes the central pull of the piece. Can I still call myself a poet if I am not tied to the medium?

I cannot confess to knowing the answers to those queries. However, there is a gut reaction I can pinpoint: I do not want to decide. (Making a joke about being indecisive as a non-binary and pansexual person feels a bit gauche, but I am sure you can infer the irony, my dears.) But it is true: I write wherever my pen leads. If I feel drawn to penning a piece of prose, I will do so. If a short story begs to be released, I prepare a pot of coffee and dive into my laptop. My fantasy novels are still trudging along at a slow, sustainable pace. Poetry flows out of me at an insane rate of release because I find myself trapped in my own head without it. I am content to call myself a “writer” in a similar fashion to how I call myself “queer.” It may lack the specificity of more direct labels, but it covers more territory and is good enough for me. 

If you are so inclined, you can secure a copy of My Family Tree Caught Fire through Bottlecap Press’s website by clicking the hyperlink in this article or by visiting the link attached to the “Portfolio” page. May I also recommend the aforementioned poets in this post for your reading pleasure? Each one of them possesses a unique voice and a gift for language. And if you, too, are a writer, I would like to leave you with this: write whatever you want. Is it outside of your usual genre? Write it anyway. Is it a style you are unfamiliar with? Write it anyway. Have you considered yourself a young adult author, a nonfiction author, a poet, etc., for so long you cannot fathom writing something that would contradict that label? Write it anyway. Life is too short, and language is too vast for you to box yourself in. Happy reading and writing, my dears!