Last year I published two articles in a lit mag called The Blue Nib about contemporary poetry. The first centered around Rupi Kaur and the genre of Instapoetry (poetry published via the social media platform of Instagram). The article is essentially a close reading of Kaur’s best-selling book, milk & honey. I worked off several sources to analyze and critique Kaur’s poetry in an attempt to understand and explain why so many poets and academics (myself included) disliked Kaur’s poetry. One of my sources was a divisive article by Rebecca Watts, published in 2018 in the PN Review titled, “The Cult of the Noble Amateur.” In the article, Watts criticizes the rise of contemporary poets, Kaur included, profiting off of their “artless poetry.” At the time, I agreed with Watts and drawing from writers such as James Longenbach, Harold Bloom, and James Geary, I picked apart Kaur’s writings and came to the conclusion that Kaur’s writing is not poetry but merely several poor attempts at aphorisms (“poor” of course, being my informed but ultimately subjective opinion). Parts of the article work through specific poems of Kaur’s and highlight the arbitrary use of stresses and line breaks to further critique the work as “bad poetry” or not even poetry.
The second article centered around the now defunct genre/movement of alt-lit (alternative literature) that popped up in the late ’00s and was born out of Internet culture (Tumblr mostly). Alt-lit had a somewhat significant impact (these writers were published) but disintegrated in the early ’10s when many of the leading male figures of the movement were outed for sexual harassment and even rape. The article took a survey of the genre, pulled from several texts by the more prominent members, with a focus on women writers in the genre, and illustrated how the genre of Instapoetry grew out of alt-lit in terms of style, but also in response to the sexism and misogyny found within the movement.
I do not personally enjoy Instapoetry or alt-lit but I am fascinated by my disdain for these genres. I think I’ve fallen into the same trap as Watts did—I have the misconception that poetry should meet a certain standard of form and use of language; and while these two articles were my attempt to better understand just what that standard is, I ultimately failed. I failed because this standard doesn’t exist; there is no “proper” poetry. Even though Longenbach’s TheArt of the Poetic Line really makes one think there is a “right” way to write poetry, I no longer believe there is.
In this series I would like to revisit these genres and explore them from a new perspective. Engaging with the ideas of Wittgenstein, Derrida, Felski, Bahktin, Tomashevsky, and my professor, David Bleich, has made me rethink the claims I made in my two essays, “Understanding Rupi Kaur’s Milk & Honey” and “An Exploration of the Rise and Fall of Alt-Lit.” I plan to give a brief overview of the genre of alt-lit and how it set the stage for Instapoetry. Then I will give an overview of Kaur’s work, how she rose to fame, and how her work functions as the quintessential Instapoetry by comparing it to other popular Instapoets. This will be followed by the criticism I’ve found on Instapoetry, as well as the criticism I’ve written on Instapoetry and alt-lit (it should be noted that there is virtually no criticism to be found on alt-lit). This will bring us to the question of: Who gets to write poetry? Where I’ll explore the gatekeeping surrounding poetry. The series will conclude with a look at how Instapoetry functions as a uniquely online medium and I will consider some criticism that engages with Instapoetry in a positive manner, exploring how the genre promotes ideas of selfcare, feminism, and more.
You can follow Ada Wofford on their Twitter: @AdaWofford.
Melissa Martini received her Master’s degree in English with a focus in Creative Writing from Seton Hall University. Her fiction has previously appeared in Zanna Magazine, Jalada Africa’s “Bodies” anthology, Camas Magazine, and Analogies and Allegories; her flash fiction has previously appeared in Pretty Owl Poetry, Bandit Fiction, and Dime Show Review; and her poetry has appeared in The Confessionalist Zine and The Daily Drunk. She currently serves as prose reader and newsletter creator for the winnow mag.
The publishing world is constantly changing, and social media has become the forefront of a poet’s marketing tools. Now that most American consumers are glued to their phones, poets are forced to make social media accounts and update them once to multiple times daily to garner an audience with whom they can cultivate a community around their work.
Through this practice, poets have discovered that by posting short poems and snippets of their more significant works, they can amass a following that will buy their books when they are released. This micropoetry slowly became known as “Instapoetry,” both because of its instant-gratification way of consumption, and its popularity on photo-sharing apps, namely Instagram.
We took to the world wide web to find a diverse group of people with varying opinions on this influential form.
Interview Questions:
The Minison Project: What does Instapoetry mean to you?
Melissa Martini: To me, instapoetry is a subgenre of poetry that started off as shorter, easier to digest poetry pieces posted on social media, primarily Instagram and Tumblr. I find it to be more common amongst independent, new, and emerging poets who would like to share their work and post it in short snippets as Instagram posts. As a fiction writer, it’s equivalent to genre fiction in my mind, with more traditional style poetry being the equivalent to literary fiction in this case.
TMP: Since its severe spike in popularity circa 2013/14 because of writers like Lang Leav and Rupi Kaur, what changes have you noticed happening in the poetry community?
MM: I think that the rise of Instapoetry has gone hand in hand with the rising popularity of self-publishing. With the internet and social media, it is easier than ever before to share your work and make your own name for yourself – you can post your work on social media, tag it in a way that will gain you a following, and share it easily to advertise yourself. While many poets have actually gotten book deals through gaining popularity online, this has also bred countless ways to publish your work yourself, such as on Amazon. This has made it easier than ever before to write and share poetry, whether someone has any prior experience writing poetry such as studying it, reading it, or honestly knowing anything about it. There are pros and cons to this – it eliminates a kind of gatekeeping that the literary community inevitably has, but it also diminishes the elitism of the title of “poet.” When just anyone can slap a few lines together, screenshot it, post it to Instagram, and call themselves a poet, what is the point of studying it for 4+ years and getting a degree?
TMP: How would you say Instapoetry has evolved poetry today? Has it had a positive/negative effect on poetry? And how has the digestibility and accessibility of Instapoetry changed the dynamic between traditional poets and readers?
MM: I think I touched upon this a bit in my last answer, but it’s changed what exactly constitutes a poem and/or a poet. I think in the past, poetry has been seen as needing to be “deep,” “complicated,” “meaningful,” and other faux-woke adjectives. While I think this is the case to an extent, not all (traditional) poetry fits this description and I don’t think modern poetry necessarily needs to either. In this way, Instapoetry has allowed poetry to become more digestible and easier to consume for the common reader – I think of someone like me, who studied creative writing in undergrad and grad school, who can take a piece of writing that is “simple” or a piece of writing that is “complex” and rip it apart piece by piece, analyze the F out of it, and have a great time – meanwhile, there are folks who could look at the same pieces of work that I did, and be like “I have no idea what this means.” Instapoetry, because it is typically shorter, more “obvious,” and more “clear,” has allowed the common reader to enjoy poetry on a broader scale. This has likely made poetry easier to access for a larger audience, but on the other hand, this can be seen as tainting the idea of poetry itself – the same way the literary fiction community shits on genre fiction due to the elitist ideals that “challenging” fiction = “better” fiction while genre fiction (known as “easier” fiction) = “shitty” fiction. If Instapoetry continues to gain popularity, this takes away from the attention traditional poetry is getting – poetry will be expected to be easier to digest, easier to consume, because that’s what’s popular – that’s what sells. In short – are there positives? Yeah, more people can enjoy poetry more easily. Are there negatives? Yep, more traditional forms of poetry are going to be seen differently as the features of Instapoetry become more popular.
TMP: What are your opinions on the aphoristic/clichéd tendency of the Instapoetry format?
MM: Look. Sometimes cliched stuff is fun, relatable, and feels good to read. Sometimes you want to see a little quote and think, “OMG, me too.”
But it’s recycled. It’s overdone. It’s unoriginal. And I personally don’t want to go to poetry for things I’ve seen before. I want poetry to make me feel things I didn’t know were inside of me, rather than things I’m already aware of. If I wanted to read something and be like, “OMG, me too,” I can go on my dad’s Facebook page and read one of the quotes he shared. I don’t really want to get that from my poetry – I want poetry to make me effing cry because it dug something out from inside of me I never realized before.
So yes, I read milk & honey and it was relatable and I enjoyed it. But when I read “Skunk Hour” by Lowell, there’s still something in there that rips my heart out and every time I read it I try to figure it out, it has been years and I still cannot pinpoint why that poem gets me every single time. And that’s what I want from poetry, personally. I want to still be thinking about it years later and feel like it hit me deep inside and I’m not exactly sure what it hit, but I just know it hit.
TMP: How do you think the presentation format of Instapoetry affects the length/form of poetry now?
MM: I think Instapoetry has led to poetry being expected to be shorter, definitely. I think of something like “Howl” by Ginsberg, that would never fly nowadays. People are so used to poems that are half a page or less, or even just a few lines that can fit into an Instagram square, that longer form poems are exhausting. I feel like people are going for that shorter, more impactful vibe, and while that can 100% work and be “good”, we don’t need all poetry to be like that now, just because Instapoetry has made it the cool thing to do. Maybe if I’m in the mood for that, yeah, I just want something quick and easy to consume that I can think about all day. But sometimes I also want long, lengthy, wordy poems with metaphors that are entire pages long! There are benefits to both short and long poems, but Instapoetry has kind of made it hard to experience long poems anymore. I want them back!
TMP: In terms of the poetry community, has Instapoetry made it easier or more difficult for traditional poets to get published? / Because of the self-publishing/nature of Instagram, now you can simply search “poetry” on Instagram and read content for hours. For better or worse, how does that impact traditional poets and traditional publishing?
MM: As a fiction writer I am not 100% sure, but I imagine it has made it more difficult due to the fact so many people are just publishing on Amazon or just posting their work on Instagram. I know some poets have gotten book deals from sharing their work online, but I wonder if this is hurting the publishing industry – if it’s easy to self publish, there’s not as much need for publishers, thus less publishers exist, thus more “serious” traditional poets have less options to publish with a publisher?
TMP: With Instagram’s 2016 algorithm update there has been a lot of talk about the price gouging of artists to maintain their following through Instagram marketing. What are your thoughts on this issue as it pertains to smaller poets?
MM: Makes it near impossible for smaller poets to gain the same kind of following as folks who have a larger following/money/etc. This removes the “talent” aspect and leaves it up to how much money people have and/or how conventionally attractive they are, honestly. Doesn’t matter how good of a writer you are, if you can’t afford to market your Instagram and/or you’re not posting content that Instagram (and the world, unfortunately) deem “attractive,” you’re not going to have as much engagement or followers. Problematic, 100%.
You can follow Melissa Martini on Twitter @melissquirtle.
Lorelei Bacht is a published fiction writer and poet. She was a Junior Editor for a branch of a major French publisher and co-edited two (now defunct) literary journals, Moveable Feasts and Spoke.
The publishing world is constantly changing, and social media has become the forefront of a poet’s marketing tools. Now that most American consumers are glued to their phones, poets are forced to make social media accounts and update them once to multiple times daily to garner an audience with whom they can cultivate a community around their work.
Through this practice, poets have discovered that by posting short poems and snippets of their more significant works, they can amass a following that will buy their books when they are released. This micropoetry slowly became known as “Instapoetry,” both because of its instant-gratification way of consumption, and its popularity on photo-sharing apps, namely Instagram.
We took to the world wide web to find a diverse group of people with varying opinions on this influential form.
Interview Questions:
The Minison Project: What does Instapoetry mean to you?
Lorelei Bacht: In my own personal experience at the moment of writing this, it is: – a funny little laboratory where one can explore short forms; – a tool for connecting with people who share a common interest/issue; – a medium that offers the instant retribution of putting something out there and knowing that a few anonymous humans must have read it – it can be therapeutic; – a meta-experience: I enjoy trying various formats/types of content and seeing what gets the most reaction; – an exercise that can actually serve traditional poetry, by teaching you conciseness; – a platform on which I can propose something completely different to the type of poetry that I normally write, which sometimes ends up published in journals.
TMP: Since its severe spike in popularity circa 2013/14 because of writers like Lang Leav and Rupi Kaur, what changes have you noticed happening in the poetry community?
LB: It is true that there is a lot of resentment and mockery from traditional poets towards Instapoets who are thought to put no work in their poetry at all and/or dramatically lower the standards of writing. I can see both sides as someone who writes both traditional and Instapoetry, and find the discussion itself interesting, which has led me into heated conversations at times. It is not just a matter of poetry. The surfacing of Instapoetry reveals changes in class, race, culture, etc. Some of these changes are positive, such as the promotion of historically marginalized voices; others less so, such as the race to the bottom in terms of literary quality, as exemplified by a couple of interesting experiments led by people who started fake Instapoetry accounts and attempted to write utter drivel… only to find that they were gathering more followers than with their actual work.
TMP: How would you say Instapoetry has evolved poetry today? Has it had a positive/negative effect on poetry? Why/why not?
LB: I’m very happy that it brings more readers to poetry, helps promote historically marginalized voices, helps poets connect beyond geography and pandemic-induced loneliness. If I think back on my own youth, poetry was very much a dusty artform. It was, quite frankly, a bit ridiculous to read or write poetry – unless you were Sylvia Plath, or dead. I do believe that it is fantastic for poetry to be a space of freedom for people to explore what it means to be human, and that such a space should not be the exclusive property of an elite. However, even as a lover of form and of experimental, intellectual, and poetic hard work, I would not want poetry to be just that. There is a place for the delicate, meticulous, intelligent exploration of feelings and experiences. I do write completely different things for magazines, and the type of poetry which I enjoy reading and writing would not be successful on Instagram.
TMP: How has the digestibility and accessibility of Instapoetry changed the dynamic between traditional poets and readers?
LB: It could be seen as the latest evolution of confessional poetry. From artifice and rhetoric to a more personal tone, and now the delivery of bare, naked, raw experience. Or at least experience that is presented as such. Accessible words are not necessarily truthful. One problem is that if readers have a nearly instantaneous access to your mind, if you write with a reader right next to you, waiting on your phone, and if you respond to the feedback of that reader, if it changes the way that you write, then there is not much space left for artistic creation. You become a provider. I am too much of a contrarian to enjoy that, which is why I use my own Instagram account to conduct bizarre experiments, including deleting content on a regular basis. Another little thing to consider: Instapoetry is often read only by the reader, in their head. What does it mean, to lose the connection with a poet reading from their work? To only see little chunks in black letters on a white background, stuff that fits in a little square, but is not read aloud? What does it do to language?
TMP: What are your opinions on the aphoristic/clichéd tendency of the Instapoetry format?
LB: It is boring, ultimately. How many quotes about being broken-hearted but strong-willed, about dying inside and/or moving on can one read? How much undisguised common sense do we need? It is not the type of poetry that I enjoy reading and writing. I like much longer poems that take their time to explore feelings, develop metaphors, links, tell stories. We don’t always need a punchline. In fact, in real life, there rarely ever is one.
TMP: How do you think the presentation format of Instapoetry affects the length/form of poetry now?
LB: A lot of online magazines now favor short forms, because they know, consciously or not, that their readers do not have the attention span of their elders (due not only to Instagram, but to online media in general). Many journals’ issue submission guidelines that specifically call for “short” poems. In addition, because we now read on our phones, there may be specific requirements in terms of line length. I am very happy when it leads to inventive, creative constraints (such as the “minison” format, which is a lot of fun to write in), but mostly, it just means that there is less space to express meaning in deeper, more generous ways.
TMP: In terms of the poetry community, has Instapoetry made it easier or more difficult for traditional poets to get published?
LB: My understanding is that it contributes to bringing the literary “market” even further down. Nothing long, thoughtful, or demanding, can be published in a world where we look for instant, “pop” content. There is very little money to be made in editing, and economic choices are not always compatible with quality. Large publishers often tell themselves that the “pop” stuff finances deeper, more noble publications, but in reality, given the economic situation, a lot of valuable writing remains unpublished, while online feeds and bookstore shelves fill up with low-quality books. In addition, the quick turnaround in publishing means that editors have very little time to work on books, leading to a decrease in quality of print publishing (e.g., only one round of proofreading).
TMP: Because of the self-publishing/nature of Instagram, now you can simply search “poetry” on Instagram and read content for hours. For better or worse, how does that impact traditional poets and traditional publishing?
LB: It participates in lowering our ability to focus. We scroll on and on, without being encouraged to dig deeper into anything. Nothing is memorable. Nothing is engaged with. There is always more content to view. It is no secret that social media plays on our natural tendency for addictive behaviors. As a reader and writer, I would much rather spend an hour rereading ‘The Waste Land’ by T. S. Eliot (on paper) and ending up writing bizarre erasures than scrolling through overwhelmingly tedious, repetitious stuff. It can also be discouraging to writers to see how much “content” there is out there: a sea of people writing the same thing, gaining followers by sharing easy, mindless fluff.
TMP: With Instagram’s 2016 algorithm update there has been a lot of talk about the price gouging of artists to maintain their following through Instagram marketing. What are your thoughts on this issue as it pertains to smaller poets?
LB: Perhaps because I am older (late thirties), and know from firsthand experience that it is very difficult to make a living from writing/editing, I refuse to pay for a social media platform to promote my “content”. I have no time to devote to marketing. I am very happy to conduct little experiments in my small corner of the universe. I believe that every minute spent on marketing is a minute not spent on thinking, writing, living, talking to friends. I know how I’d rather spend my time!
Lorelei Bacht experiments with micro format through her two linked projects: @the.cheated.wife (sketches) and @the.cheated.wife.writes (short poems). She hopes to run a literary magazine in the future.
Sabina Khan-Ibarra is a writer and an educator. She is a recent San Francisco State University Graduate with an MFA in Creative Writing. Her work can be found in The Minison Project’s Sonnet Collection Series; anthologies by iō Literary journal, Mainstreet Rag Bookstore, and White Cloud’s Faithfully Feminist. She is the recipient of the Joe Brainard Creative Writing Fellowship in fiction, the Wilmer award in short fiction, and first place in Martha’s Vineyard Fellowship. Sabina currently resides in Northern California with her husband and two children.
The publishing world is constantly changing, and social media has become the forefront of a poet’s marketing tools. Now that most American consumers are glued to their phones, poets are forced to make social media accounts and update them once to multiple times daily to garner an audience with whom they can cultivate a community around their work.
Through this practice, poets have discovered that by posting short poems and snippets of their more significant works, they can amass a following that will buy their books when they are released. This micropoetry slowly became known as “Instapoetry,” both because of its instant-gratification way of consumption, and its popularity on photo-sharing apps, namely Instagram.
We took to the world wide web to find a diverse group of people with varying opinions on this influential form.
Interview Questions:
The Minison Project: What does Instapoetry mean to you?
Sabina Khan-Ibarra: To me, Instapoetry is poetry that is created for and promoted on social media, specifically on Instagram.
TMP: Since its severe spike in popularity circa 2013/14 because of writers like Lang Leav and Rupi Kaur, what changes have you noticed happening in the poetry community?
SK: I think more people are reading poetry because of Instagram poets. People who wouldn’t normally be reading poetry are following Instapoets and looking for poetry that resonates with them. I think it has also opened a space for poets who may have written poetry traditionally, or based on what they’ve read and learned from books/school, to take the work they have already created and adjust it to be just as digestible. And because they didn’t create the poem on the spot, the trajectory may change, where people don’t just post what they like but look deeper.
TMP: How would you say Instapoetry has evolved poetry today? Has it had a positive/negative effect on poetry? Why/why not?
SK: Overall it has a positive effect on poetry. I think when quantity is the primary focus, we tend not to sit with a poem long enough to dig deep and create worthwhile poetry. More people are interested in poetry in whatever form is the most accessible, and because most people who are new to poetry were probably first exposed to it through Instapoetry and wanted to know/learn more, they were able to look up traditional poets and poems and learn about genres that are often dismissed.
TMP: How has the digestibility and accessibility of Instapoetry changed the dynamic between traditional poets and readers?
SK: I think because poems are put in visually engaging and digestible ways, it makes poetry accessible to non poets/poetry readers and It could be a gateway into traditional poetry for those who are interested in more. Poetry books are not sold in the same way as other books are, but Instapoets have still topped charts. There is definitely something there.
TMP: What are your opinions on the aphoristic/clichéd tendency of the Instapoetry format?
SK: That’s probably one of the biggest things I worry about. Because the platform encourages artists to create rapidly, poems that are created for Social Media may lack depth and flatten poetry. Not enough interrogation that goes into anything created so fast, all the time.
TMP: How do you think the presentation format of Instapoetry affects the length/form of poetry now?
SK: I think poetry can be of any length and therefore can fit into a post on Instagram. But I do wonder if the need to create content quickly (which is the sole purpose of IG) will affect the quality of poetry. I also think that people may confuse summarizing something and making it palatable to read with sitting with words for a while and distilling the language to create the perfect literary image.
TMP: In terms of the poetry community, has Instapoetry made it easier or more difficult for traditional poets to get published?
SK: I have not considered this aspect but I do know that Instapoets are getting published and Instapoetry is making its way to bestsellers lists. And maybe it can help other writers who are not as prominent on Social Media get some attention from agents and publishers.
TMP: Because of the self-publishing/nature of Instagram, now you can simply search “poetry” on Instagram and read content for hours. For better or worse, how does that impact traditional poets and traditional publishing?
SK: Yes, it has changed the landscape. However, I do know that some of these self published Instapoets are able to sell their books and sometimes gain the attention of larger publishing companies. I am hoping this means that large publishers will be more open to publishing poetry, whether the poet is on Instagram or not.
TMP: With Instagram’s 2016 algorithm update there has been a lot of talk about the price gouging of artists to maintain their following through Instagram marketing. What are your thoughts on this issue as it pertains to smaller poets?
SK: I didn’t know this aspect of the Instapoets, but based on the ads I see on Instagram, I can believe it. This, again, worries me that the focus will be quantity (to create content at a rapid pace) vs quality. If we start creating poetry rapidly and don’t sit with our work long enough, we will be sacrificing our standards.
Sabina Khan-Ibarra will release a chapter from her upcoming novel, The Poppy Flower, in Summer 2021. You can keep up with Sabina on Twitter @sabina_writes. or on Instagram @sabinakhanibarra_writes.
The Minison Project 