Something strange has been happening over on Bluesky. A phenomenon, if you will. Each week, as The Broken Spine grows, as #PoemsAbout lights up timelines and #LiftToTheSky spreads its joy, something else quietly unfolds:
People. Keep. Saying. Nice. Things. About. Me.
Now, let me be clear, this is very kind. Lovely, even. I’m deeply grateful for every kind word, every unexpected shoutout, every DM that tells me a project or prompt or poem cracked something open. Truly, knowing I’ve impacted writers in any way, whether it’s helped them find their voice or just stopped them rage-deleting their drafts at 2am, is an honour.
But also… could you not?
See, I wasn’t built for this. I don’t wear praise well. I flinch at compliments the way some people flinch at cold soup. Being appreciated publicly makes me want to unplug the router, throw my phone into the sea, and go work in a lighthouse with zero Wi-Fi and no chance of a quote tweet.
The truth is: I’m just some scruff with a laptop and too many tabs open, doing the work I wish someone had done for me years ago. The community we’re building? That’s all of you! I just had the audacity to set the table and say, “What if we built something better?” You’re the ones who showed up with the food, the music, the stories, and the hugs.
If this all sounds like false modesty, rest assured, it’s not. Anybody who knows me personally can attest to that. I am genuinely, physically incapable of basking. I dodge praise like it’s flying cutlery. I once replied “Cheers, mate” to someone who told me my poem changed their perspective. That’s how emotionally fluent I am with affirmation.
Of course, this isn’t a complaint. (Okay, it is. But a conflicted one.) I love that The Broken Spine means something to people. I love that the work resonates. But I also firmly believe the pedestal is the least interesting place in the room. Give me the messy desk, the open mic, the quiet encouragement in the replies. That’s where the real stuff lives.
So, say nice things if you must. Just don’t be surprised if I respond with a joke about footnotes or pretend I didn’t see it until next Thursday. It’s not that I don’t appreciate it; I just have no idea what to do with it except get back to work.
Because that’s the point, really. Not being seen. But building something worth seeing.
And anyway, if you really want to flatter me, just submit to The Broken Spine, buy a book, and come to the open mic. We both know that’s the good stuff.
