Good morning, friend!

I'm writing this to you from my standing desk in my studio apartment, furiously typing as quiet as possible because my boyfriend is still asleep and I want to make sure this gets to you before I head out for work. There's something about a hard deadline and the quiet of a shared space (hello body-doubling!) that really forces me into the flow.

It's been exactly two weeks since my last update, and today feels like a massive milestone.

🎉 We've officially hit 100 subscribers! 🥳

To some, that's a small number; to me, it's 100 people who care about the local poetry scene, 100 people looking for community, and 100 reasons why I keep showing up (even when consistency is a struuuuuggle).

Today's newsletter features some new types of content (as I experiment with sending every 2 weeks/twice a month) where I'm pulling back the curtain on the why & how of TPP. I’ve written a personal essay about building in public, my borderline obsession with newsletter strategy, & the reality of trying to create "insanely valuable content" while balancing so many other obligations as a creative soul.

Ready…Set…POUR!

THE SPARK

It all started in 2024 when I gave my two-week notice at PCM.

I'd been there long enough to know I'd learned everything I was going to learn in that role. I was underpaid, undervalued, and frankly exhausted from curating content for an organization's weekly newsletter while being disrespected considering all of the the various projects I was a part of.

Around that time, I was reading Amy Porterfield's Two Week Notice, and something clicked: I could take all the skills I'd been learning related to email marketing, content creation, and community stewardship—skills I'd been applying to someone else's vision—and use them for my own project.

But here's the thing: I wasn't ready to go all-in on poetry yet.

So I created Sips & Flow, my first newsletter. It was supposed to blend my passions—writing, wellness, healthy habits, a balanced lifestyle. But my heart wasn't fully in it. The mission wasn't clear. And deep down, I knew why I'd really started it: I was missing the community that comes with being a poet & sharing my words.

So I stopped sending that newsletter and immersed myself in the local poetry scene.

THE PROBLEM: SILOS OF INFORMATION

As I started attending more open mics and local poetry events at the start of 2025, I noticed something frustrating: the local poetry scene was thriving, but it was fragmented.

There were incredible events happening all over in the city and within & across state lines, but the information was scattered across Instagram stories, Facebook events, word-of-mouth, and flyers stapled to telephone post and coffee shop walls. If you weren't already plugged in, you'd never know half of this stuff was happening.

And social media algorithms? Completely unreliable.

That's when the idea for The Poetry Pour was born: a central hub for the local poetry community. An events calendar where people could find ways to engage. A newsletter that would reach them directly, bypassing the algorithm chaos.

I wanted to be the knowledgeable, connected friend who kept people informed, inspired, & engaged—with minimal effort on their part.

THE EDUCATION: LEARNING FROM THE BEST

I didn't figure this out on my own. I've been learning from thought leaders in the newsletter and local media space, and I listen to (or read) their work pretty religiously:

• Newsletter Operator by Matt McGarry & Ryan Carr at GrowLetter

• Growth in Reverse by Chenell Basilio (who coined the phrase "insanely valuable content")

• Creator Science by Jay Clouse

• Local Media HQ by TJ Larkin

• Letterland by Louis Nicholls & Tyler Morin

These creators taught me that the key to a successful newsletter isn't just consistency (though that's critical)—it's providing insanely valuable content. Content that people can't get anywhere else. Content that makes their lives easier, richer, more connected.

For The Poetry Pour, that meant the events calendar. According to the data from those who completed the welcome survey, the majority of subscribers like to engage with the poetry community by attending readings & open mics, and their goal in subscribing is to connect with other poets & poetry lovers.

So naturally, a calendar of local in-person events was what we needed most. That's why I've been so persistent in figuring out the best way to deliver it (hence the debut earlier this month of Poetry Events Calendar 2.0 via Google Calendar).

THE FIRST 100: WHAT WORKED

So how did I grow the list to 100 subscribers?

Honestly, the thing that's worked best is in-person promotion. Not Instagram ads. Not viral posts. Just showing up.

I've talked about The Poetry Pour on the mic at open mics. I've posted flyers in my neighborhood (RIP to the first events calendar that lived on those flyers). I've used the platform to feature the amazing people already doing cool stuff in the scene, and I've engaged with them on social media and in person so they know I see them & respect their work.

I think of The Poetry Pour as a community connector rather than something I created to insert myself into the space. (Though my inner saboteur and imposter syndrome sometimes make it feel that way.) But I try to fight those voices and persist in my pursuit to connect poets—so we can collectively pour more poetry into Providence and beyond.

THE STRUGGLE: PERFECTIONISM & CONSISTENCY

Here's the hard truth: I've let perfectionism get in the way of building a sustainable content creation schedule.

I procrastinate on writing the newsletter, which leaves no time to repurpose the content for Instagram and Threads. (And that's like the cardinal rule: repurpose, repurpose, repurpose!)

After declining from weekly to monthly, and then having to take January and February off to focus on my mental health, I almost gave up on this completely a few times. I thought about scrapping everything and spending my time on money-earning activities instead.

But as I've learned many times in the past, not doing the things I love—things aligned with my values of transparency and creativity—and instead just focusing on getting money? That's not an internally sustainable or enjoyable approach to life.

So here I am. At my standing desk. Typing furiously. Showing up.

THE VISION: WHAT'S NEXT

Success for the next 100 subscribers looks like this:

• Using April (National Poetry Month!) to lean into consistent online promotion

• Getting more people to attend Poetry Book Club meetings and the Polish Your Poems event I created in partnership with Cas at Public

• Building a sustainable rhythm that doesn't burn me out

And the long-term dream? To build a local media company that:

• Expands in visibility to put Rhode Island and Massachusetts on the map as a poetry hub people want to travel to

• Partners with local and national businesses to amplify the power of poetry to those who may not already be tapped in

• Pays the bills and then some so I can keep doing the things I love & amplify my impact as a poet, pole dancer, and nonprofiteer

THE LESSON: CONSISTENCY ISN'T PERFECTION

Here's what I've learned so far: Consistency doesn't mean doing everything perfectly. It means showing up, even when it's messy. Even when you're tired. Even when you're typing furiously, racing against the clock to get your voice & work out there.

So here's to the first 100 subscribers. Here's to building this thing together. And here's to proving that consistency doesn't have to mean perfection—it just means showing up, pen in hand/keyboard in position/mic on the stand, ready to pour. 😉

Whether you're planning submitting to The Poetry Pour or just looking for a creative nudge, here's this month's prompt:

Write about a time you built something from scratch—a poem, a meal, a project, a community, a life. What did you learn about yourself in the process?

This can be a poem, a reflection, a list, a letter—whatever form feels right. Share it with me if you'd like, or keep it for yourself. Either way, I hope it gets your pen moving/fingers typing!

So, I want to tell you about this cool opportunity with AymoLive. They just announced a new call for poets, and honestly, it feels like a solid fit if you're looking to expand your reach beyond the local scene. I held a livestream on their platform back in November, and it was a great experience for getting my work out there in a new way (without having to rely on algorithms!).

This March, their theme is Fault Lines: Stories That Shift Us—a series exploring the quiet (and not-so-quiet) fractures that change the course of our lives. The realizations that arrive without warning. The truths we can no longer ignore. The moments when something breaks open and we find ourselves standing on unfamiliar ground.

Details

Live Event Dates: March 25 - 31

Booking Deadline: Friday, March 20

How to Join

Book Your Slot: Choose your performance time HERE

Schedule Your Stream: After booking, create your free account on AymoLive.com. Once logged in, click "Create Live Stream"

The platform is designed to help us connect directly with an audience in real-time. It's a low-pressure way to share your process or a live reading, and since I've already navigated the setup, feel free to reach out if you need help figuring it out!

Thank you so much for being part of the first 100. Whether you're here for the events, the submission calls, or just the vibes, I'm grateful for you. 🥰

If you're in the RI & MA area, check out the Poetry Events Calendar to find something to attend in these last 2 weeks of March or start planning ahead for April. If you're not local, I would love to have you join the conversation on Fable and connect with me & other poetry lovers from near and far.

Snaps, claps, & heel clacks,

Salena JD ~ your resident pourtender

P.S. — Got a poem or essay brewing? Don't forget: submissions are due March 31st via email to [email protected]. I can't wait to read what you create. And stay tuned: I'll be announcing the anniversary release details in the next edition!