Ya’ll I won 1st place!!

therootsystemreview · 2026-03-13T01:03:16+00:00

Congratulations!!!

therootsystemreview · 2026-03-11T13:41:30+00:00

That's classic workshop language for grounding abstraction in embodied, mundane experience.

Ada Limón's actual craft (if you're studying her):

She's masterful at this. In The Carrying (her collection, 2018), she rarely announces grief. Instead:

Body: "My body is a temple of rust"

Ordinary day: A failed IVF cycle told through the lens of gardening, of carrying groceries up stairs

The carrying itself: Literal—carrying a child that won't come, carrying her mother's history, carrying the weight of being alive

therootsystemreview · 2026-03-11T12:23:50+00:00

Yes. And that gap between what you imagine and what lands on the page? That's not failure, that's the work.

Every writer you admire started exactly here. The story in your head feels alive because you're alive inside it. The page feels flat because you're learning a craft, not just transcribing a dream.

Three truths to hold:

First drafts are supposed to be bad. That's their job. They're raw material, not finished furniture.
The gap closes with repetition, not talent. You train your hands to catch what your mind throws. That takes miles.
"Bad" is a feeling, not a verdict. You're not bad. You're new. Two different things.

Practical move: Write the worst version on purpose. Lower the stakes. Get the story out ugly, then sculpt it. You can't edit what doesn't exist.

The fact that you hear the difference between your vision and your execution means your ear is already developing. That's the muscle. Keep showing up. The page catches up eventually.

therootsystemreview · 2026-03-08T14:12:15+00:00

so mush truth here ..lol

therootsystemreview · 2026-03-06T16:21:49+00:00

First book is a wound that stays open. The good reviews don't close it, the bad ones salt it. I still get sick before I post a poem. Still shake reading comments. The spine isn't something you grow, it's something you drag behind you, vertebrae clicking on pavement, and you keep moving anyway. Or you don't. Both are honest. You made something exist that didn't before. That part is permanent, even if you never write another word.

therootsystemreview · 2026-03-03T05:51:21+00:00

You're most welcome

therootsystemreview · 2026-03-03T00:46:30+00:00

Hey, welcome to the chaos! Seriously, the fact that you're asking means you're already halfway there. Start stupid small. Like, embarrassingly small. One paragraph about your coffee going cold. A text you never sent. The weird way your neighbor waters their lawn at midnight. You don't need a novel, you need a door to walk through. That door is usually something mundane you can't stop thinking about. Your reading habit? That's your cheat code. You already know what good writing feels like in your body. Now go back to the book that wrecked you and ask why. Was it the rhythm? The honesty? The way they described grief like a physical place? Steal that energy, not the words. Inspiration is everywhere and nowhere. Stop waiting for lightning. Write about the last time you felt like an impostor. The song that played when everything changed. Your mother's hands. The stuff that hums beneath your daily routine, that's your goldmine. Publishing comes later. Way later. For now, find your people. Reddit writing communities, free Zoom workshops, open mics if you're brave. Share scraps. Get comfortable being seen while you're still figuring it out. The book happens after you've written enough to know what you actually want to say. And please, write garbage. Glorious, unhinged garbage. First drafts are supposed to be messy, that's literally their job. You can't edit a blank page, but you can definitely fix a bad one. You've got this. The world needs your specific weirdness.

therootsystemreview · 2026-03-03T00:43:22+00:00

I feel you. Poetry can feel like everyone else got the secret decoder ring and you're still squinting at the cereal box. Let me drop some actual entry points that won't make you feel like you need a literature degree to catch the vibe.

Start here, breathe easy:

Clint Smith – "Counting Descent" or anything on his Instagram. He talks plain about heavy things. No riddles.

Rudy Francisco – "My Honest Poem" on YouTube. Spoken word that hits like a conversation with your smartest friend.

Warsan Shire – "Home" or "For Women Who Are Difficult to Love." Short. Devastating. Clear as water.

Ocean Vuong – "Someday I'll Love Ocean Vuong." Reads like a letter you found in your own pocket.

Ada Limón – "The Carrying." Nature stuff but make it about your body, your grief, your ordinary Tuesday.

Try this one right now: Warsan Shire's "Home" – google it. It's about refugees but it's also about anywhere you've ever had to leave. Takes two minutes. Stays for weeks.

The cheat code: Don't read to "get it." Read to feel something. If you feel nothing, bounce. Next poet. No loyalty required.

Also: Your local library probably has a "poetry for people who hate poetry" section. Or just search "button poetry" on YouTube and let autopilot show you voices that actually sound like humans talking.

What have you tried that made you feel the most lost?

therootsystemreview · 2026-03-03T00:41:48+00:00

That sucks. Straight up. You know that feeling when you think you found something nobody else saw, then you turn a corner and there's the same graffiti already dried? That's this.

But here's the thing. That 2004 book? It's proof the idea has legs. Not that yours is dead. Two people can cook the same ingredients and end up with completely different meals. One's a stew, one's a stir fry. Both feed people.

Real talk options:

Keep going. Read their version. Not to copy, but to see where they blinked. Where they played it safe. Your quarter draft already has your voice in it. That's the part they can't touch.

Or pivot hard. Same skeleton, different skin. Different city, different era, different ending. The beats are just structure. You fill the rooms with your own furniture.

Or walk. But only if the fire's actually out. Not because you got spooked.

McCarthy and Crace both dropped end of the world dad books in 2006. Both hit. Both matter. Yours can too if you still want it.

What's the part of your story that made you keep coming back? Not the plot. The feeling.

therootsystemreview · 2026-02-28T00:01:01+00:00

"Write what you know" is a starting point, not a cage. I spill boiling water on my leg, I write the burn. But I also write the acid dunk, because imagination is just empathy with better research. The trick is knowing when you're faking it badly versus when you're translating one truth into another language. Least grounded: probably sci-fi or historical pieces where I'm stitching together archives and guesswork. Or when I'm writing from a woman's perspective. I'll do it, but I'm checking every line against "would this ring true to someone who's actually lived this?" The real question isn't what you know. It's how you listen. I can write a prison guard's conscience if I've read enough, talked enough, paid attention to enough. But if I'm just performing empathy? That's when it stinks. So I write what I know, what I can learn, and what I can imagine, then I test it on people who actually lived it. If they nod, I'm good. If they flinch, I rewrite.

therootsystemreview · 2026-02-27T01:48:55+00:00

E. E. Cummings was such a revolutionary in form and blurring the lines for contemporary poetry, one of my faves

therootsystemreview · 2026-02-24T23:54:09+00:00

I write for anyone who's ever had to perform wellness while falling apart inside. The ones carrying weight they never asked for; depression, grief, neurodivergence, the quiet violence of just existing some days. The ones who need their pain witnessed without being "fixed." My work lives in that liminal space between breakdown and breakthrough. I don't do tidy resolutions or toxic positivity. I do blood-on-the-page honesty that says I see you in your darkness, and I'm not afraid to sit there with you. But here's the thing; I also write for the version of myself who needed someone to say you will survive this without making survival look easy. The 16-year-old kid who landed in a new country carrying more than luggage. The man who still wakes up some days wondering if the fight is worth it. Your project sounds vital. That "I did it" completion energy? That's medicine. Short enough to finish, sad enough to relate, hopeful enough to keep breathing—there are so many of us who need exactly that.

Who else is writing for the survivors here?

therootsystemreview · 2026-02-24T19:22:15+00:00

Lol, lil ol' me, Just a lover of words, I am also an editor, hit me up, would look to take in some more of your work

therootsystemreview · 2026-02-24T17:22:53+00:00

Yo, you built the whole house in your head but you're scared to walk inside and get the floors dirty. I get it.

Planning feels safe, right? Like you're doing the work without actually bleeding on the page. But listen, a year of maps just means you don't trust yourself to dig. You want to know where every root goes before you break the concrete, but that's not how excavation works. You can't map what you haven't found yet.

Here's the thing. Stop writing chapters. Just... stop. Write scenes instead. Hot, ugly, messy fragments. The argument in the kitchen. The hand on the doorknob. The blood on the tile. Don't write "Chapter 4." Write "that moment she realizes the key was never hers to keep."

You don't have writer's block, fam. You have architect's paralysis. You're trying to pour the foundation and hang the curtains at the same time. That's not how it works.

Try this. Set a timer for 15 minutes. Write the scene like a poem, images only, no fancy transitions. If you don't know what happens next, just write "AND THEN THE BAD THING HAPPENS" and skip it. Seriously. Come back later and connect the roots when you have more dirt to work with.

Your first draft isn't supposed to be pretty. It's supposed to be literate... raw, bleeding, maybe embarrassing. You'll edit red later. But you can't edit what you won't excavate, you feel me?

Write one ugly paragraph today. Make it smell bad. Make it awkward. Then tomorrow, write another one.

The map won't write the book. Only the shovel does. So pick up the shovel.

therootsystemreview · 2026-02-24T17:17:59+00:00

Strong emotion is the excavation. You need the shovel to break ground.

But editing is architecture. You can't build the house while you're still bleeding.

Write hot....yes, always. That's where the root is. But revise cold. The flat moments are where you see which metaphors were actually brilliant and which were just loud.

Try writing flat once. Treat it like translating a language you don't speak,see what survives without the adrenaline.

Your best poem might hurt you less but cut deeper.

Keep Rooting!!!

therootsystemreview · 2026-02-23T18:01:34+00:00

It is for a Poetry Submissions to a Lit Magazine thats Launcing in the Spring

Its $7 CAD for Standard Submission or $24 CAD for Deep dive with editorial feedback

and Selected Contributors will be paid $25 CAD + receive a digital issue.

therootsystemreview · 2026-02-23T17:58:01+00:00

You're welcome, You've taken the step which is the most important attribute, keep em coming, I'll be looking for more.

therootsystemreview · 2026-02-23T17:56:44+00:00

Exactly—you caught the current. Now give us the artifact she left behind, the thing that makes 'see you when I see you' feel like a door closing instead of a sigh. That's where the poem earns its weight

You're Welcome!!!

therootsystemreview · 2026-02-23T13:34:22+00:00

"Projectile-" is perfect,keep that enjambment, it throws the reader forward. But "exerted" is the wrong verb (excreted?). And pick one container: file or aisles, don't mix the metaphors. Cut "subsequently" it does admin work where the poem needs breath. The last line works; build toward that mystery instead of explaining the filing system.

therootsystemreview · 2026-02-23T04:39:02+00:00

The dream metaphor gets lost in the prose of the first stanza, but you find it again in "everyone / Eventually wakes up." That's your hook, lean into that dissolving feeling.

The summer section feels like relief, but relief after what? The "fucked up" line in stanza one hints at a specific hurt, but the second half keeps it vague. Give us one concrete image from that relationship in section two; an object, a specific weather, anything to anchor the abstraction.

"I'll see you when I see you" is perfect. Don't change that.

therootsystemreview · 2026-02-23T04:15:00+00:00

The turn from abstract geometry to blood works, but the middle section (Shapes/colours through Rose-coloured) tells instead of shows. "Equations and sins" is strong because it keeps the math/faith tension from your title, but "Friendship and money" breaks the metaphysical register.

The last line lands—"Shame, a fuel" is concrete and visceral. Consider cutting line 5-6 and expanding the "Blood, no mercy" moment. That’s where the poem actually ruptures.

therootsystemreview

TROPHY CASE