Draft Journey
A Look at the Process
First Draft
Let’s take a look at a poem that was recently published! This poem started out as a sensory memory dump. I was recalling the way things smelled and felt—the cedar, the way my hair felt tight in the curlers, the old chairs on the porch that bent at an angle. That’s how I entered this poem. All the textures and weight of memories: fur coats, sticky thighs, porch lights, coconut cake, a slam of the screen door.
It didn’t have a title, just the name and date of the workshop in which it was written. There was no line breaks, just a long single sentence trying to hold everything. I wasn’t editing. I wasn’t thinking too hard. I was just getting it down. That’s the important part friends, you can make it amazing later!
Third Draft
Draft Three is where I started breaking the sprawl apart. I began to notice where the breath naturally caught, where a line wanted to end or rest. Where the memory wanted to land. I didn’t cut much, but I started making room. A little more clarity, a little more rhythm. Still messy. Still good.
Sixth Draft
By Draft Six, I was finding a bit more clarity. The big pieces were there, but I started listening closer to the shape of the thing. Letting the poem show me how it wanted to move. Lines got shorter. Some images stood alone that used to be buried. That fresh coat of nail polish detail showed up somewhere in here—it felt small and huge all at once.
I want to note that an alternate title for this poem had been Home Congregation during the 2nd draft but it didn’t quite feel right. Heirlooms did. Ultimately this poem is about what’s carried forward. What’s inherited, not always intentionally. What lingers in the body, even after the people are gone.
Side Quest Draft
Also, I created a sonnet version of this poem that I completely forgot about?!?! I figured I’d send this version out for publication if no one picked up the original 😅
Final Draft
The final version is still full. Still weighted. But it knows where to pause. It lets you breathe. It holds both the overwhelm and the offering.
A few quiet edits happened between Draft Six and the published piece:
I flipped the first line for flow: “fur coats brushing against ankles—thick-scented of cedar…” became “fur coats—thick-scented of cedar…brushing against ankles.” Just a small shift, but it softened the entry and grounded the pacing.
I added a line break between the paragraph about Detroit and the line “we are all too much weight”—a move that gives that thought its own room, its own weight.
Otherwise, I stayed mostly hands off. The poem was ready. I just needed to listen one more time.
If you're revising something right now, I hope this is a gentle reminder: there’s time.
Let the first draft come out messy. Then shape it with care.
If you want to read the final & published version of “Heirlooms”, head over to Winnow Literary (they paid me $100 for this poem!). I’d love for you to check it out plus there’s an audio of me reading it!
About me:
Talicha J. is a Black queer poet, teaching artist, and Pushcart Prize nominee. She was a 2024 Collaborating Fellow at The Poetry Lab. Her debut collection, Falling in Love with Picking Myself Up (2015), led to a national tour and helped grow her presence as a poet.
In June 2024, she released her chapbook, Taking Back the Body, which won the Beyond the Veil Press chapbook contest. She also curates writing and editing sprints, leads online generative workshops, and hosts a monthly publication submission space. Her work has appeared in or is forthcoming with Plenitude, Fahmidan, Peach Fuzz, Lucky Jefferson, Just Femme and Dandy, Button Poetry, and more.