Brittany V Wilder is a visual artist and writer based in the United States. She runs the monthly poetry project Poem Club, sending thousands of printed poems to members each month from her studio in Pennsylvania.

Let’s start at the beginning. You identify as an artist-poet and work with different artistic media alongside writing. How have words become the focus of your practice, and what role has writing played in your development as an artist? Is there something that writing offers you that photography or painting do not?

For me, at the end of the day, the impulse to take a photograph of something or to write about it comes from the same desire—to remember. For a long time, photography was my primary medium. I tended to think of my work as a purely personal documentation, or diaristic. Writing serves the same purpose, whether it’s prose, poetry, list making, or essays. The two ways of working are very complimentary in my practice. Words when something can’t be photographed. Images when words aren’t enough. Different forms of proof. Oftentimes, if I’m not able to photograph something I want to, the thought “I’ll just have to write about it” will pop into my head. Photographs are immediate documentation—I can never change what was or wasn’t in front of my lens. Words, on the other hand, can be retroactive documentation, and a way to process and shape an experience into something I understand.

Words can be retroactive documentation, and a way to process and shape an experience into something I understand.

Do you remember the first time you shared your writing publicly? What was that experience like?

Does publishing a blog in the 2010’s count? It may have been public but I had no clue if anyone was actually reading it. Similarly, when I started seriously writing poetry in 2018 I would often post fragments of writing online. Both sort of felt like shouting into the void, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. It was a great way of getting comfortable with strangers reading my words. The first time I shared poetry officially was with a small press out of the UK called The Silent Academy. I was so proud of myself for writing and editing the poems they published and it was a rewarding process working with them.

Tell us about your poetry project, Poem Club. How did the project come to be, and what were your initial ambitions when you first started it?

At its core, Poem Club exists because I wanted to create something tangible that lives in the real world, instead of just my phone. I found myself feeling frustrated that I was putting so much energy into sharing work online, when I’d rather be focusing on work I could hold with my hands. As far as the format itself, I’ve always been a sucker for mail and paper ephemera. Sending letters is an intimate way to connect directly with other people, and as an artist who mostly shares work online, it’s a privilege to send writing by mail and know that someone will be there to open and receive it. It’s personal and direct in a way pushing “publish” on a post never will be. It also gives me a focus for my writing, and as someone who thrives working on projects with tight parameters, it’s amazing motivation to continually work on my writing practice.

When I first started Poem Club, those were my ambitions—make something real, connect with people directly, keep writing. I had no idea that it would grow into the kind of project that could support me or be my full time job. The idea was something I’d had bouncing around for several years, and as a chronic over-thinker, if I’d had any more of a plan for what I wanted Poem Club to become, I would have been too scared to start at all. In order to start, doing the thing in the first place had to be the goal. 

At its core, Poem Club exists because I wanted to create something tangible that lives in the real world. I had no idea that it would grow into the kind of project that could support me or be my full time job.

This project seems to be very much about sharing a part of yourself with others, finding a new way to connect. With only one poem being sent each month, how do you know which one to choose?

It changes month to month. Sometimes a poem is chosen because it’s seasonally relevant. Sometimes it’s a reflection of my current emotional experience, or what’s happening in the world. The process of selecting a poem or choosing to write a new one is so instinctual. Some months it’s a challenge, some I have planned months in advance. 

With Poem Club, you’ve shared both recently written poetry and older poems pulled from your archives. You also run a side-project, (Today is), a series of paintings of the phrase “and it never will be again”, always with a different date written underneath it. Could you tell us more about your relationship with time and how it shapes the choices you make in your artistic work?

I started making the paintings for (Today is) on instinct—I wanted to paint a phrase, it was December 29th, 2022 and it never would be again. One thing I love about (Today is) is that it’s a project that can be interpreted in multiple ways. Marking each singular day is somehow both optimistic and depressing. Individual days being things we can’t get back—time passing quickly—is something to treasure, but also something I fear.

Like I said earlier, both writing and photography are ways for me to archive and preserve. To document my small, mostly insignificant life. (Today is) serves the same purpose, albeit more theoretically. But ironically, it’s a project that has the same flaws as photography and writing—do I really remember the thing or do I just remember the image? Am I writing the truth or what I want to believe? Am I honoring each day by acknowledging it won’t happen again, or am I obsessively cataloging it because I’m afraid it won’t matter if I don’t?

Both writing and photography are ways for me to archive and preserve.

Your writing often focuses on the personal. What feels most vulnerable—letting readers into your now, or sharing the writing of a past version of yourself?

It’s infinitely harder to share things I’m actively struggling with. While there is a feeling of vulnerability when sending writing about my past, I’ve had plenty of time to process those versions of myself and put a little distance between them. I recently sent a poem about a heartbreak from 7 years ago, and though still tender, the version of me who was heartbroken wasn’t the one sending the poem. On the other hand, the poem I sent the following month was about an ongoing period of depression. Sending that poem before I’ve had time to rebound and recover feels a bit like holding out my heart in my hands and hoping it’s received well. The emotions are still so fresh that I’m more insecure and anxious about my own feelings.

Once the poem is selected, what’s your favorite part of the process? Designing the cards, writing the accompanying letter, mailing them out, or something else entirely?

My favorite part is definitely writing the letter that goes alongside the poem. I typically spend a lot of time editing the poems I send, reworking them, reading them aloud, workshopping titles, etc. The poems are finished pieces. The letters, on the other hand, are more conversational and loose. Aside from editing for length (I tend to write over my space limit) I don’t edit the letters. Writing them feels a bit like writing directly to one person. 

Since launching in June 2024, Poem Club has grown to welcome thousands of members and become your full-time job. How have you found a way into making a living from it, and to what do you attribute its success?

I often say that I accidentally started a business. I really had no idea that Poem Club would do as well as it has or be able to financially sustain me. Probably the most conscious choice I made that allowed it to do so was making sure it was a real thing that people could join before I ever posted about it publicly. (I think they call this a leap of faith.) I didn’t ask people if it was something they would be interested in, I told people it was something I was doing that they could sign up for right now. That seemingly small choice turned a few viral videos into a list of subscribers that have enabled me to focus on Poem Club full time. In so many ways I got lucky with the timing and success of my initial posts about Poem Club, but I do think it really touches on a general desire for physical media and connection. 

As far as making a living from it, that really depends on my total subscriber count. With a low price point ($8/month) a project like this requires a large amount of subscribers to provide a full time income. Having monthly recurring income is an amazing thing as an artist, but of course it’s not guaranteed, there are fluctuations every month. 

Having the freedom and time to create is one thing—but how do you stay motivated when factoring in all the repetitive labor and administrative work involved in running a mail project?

There is a lot of physical labor involved in Poem Club. The first few months I was obsessed with timing myself doing every single step of the process so I’d know how long it would take me the next month. It took a while to get a real handle on my workflows, but I have a pretty good system now for planning my production in advance. My production calendar is my lifeline. I try to schedule 3-6 months in advance, even if I don’t yet have the creative work finalized, I know when my deadlines are and I don’t have to scramble last minute to fit things in. I also have a virtual assistant who helps me with the administrative work—answering emails, reaching out to members whose mail has been returned to us, and updating information. The admin isn’t a full time job hours wise, but I realized pretty early on that it was what stressed me out the most, so outsourcing it is probably the best thing I’ve done for myself. (It helps that my assistant is amazing.) 

Being a writer is notoriously a different experience from being an entrepreneur. With this project, you’ve taken on both roles—have you been able to keep them separate? What are the most valuable lessons you’ve learned from running Poem Club as a business over the past years?

Honestly, I haven’t figured this out and it’s probably my biggest struggle at the moment. Poem Club is the first time I’ve made consistent full time income from any creative practice. I’ve always taken my studio practice seriously, but it’s never had the pressure to support me financially. I’ve had to relearn my relationship to the studio and reconcile the reality that all my creative energy is going into a project that I’ve turned into a business. I can’t give any advice on keeping all the roles involved separate, but I can say that it’s a challenge I’m very grateful to have. I’m doing exactly what I’ve always wanted to do, and I trust that like all creative ebbs and flows, the balance between the creative and the entrepreneurial will shift and change over time as well.

I’m doing exactly what I’ve always wanted to do, and I trust that like all creative ebbs and flows, the balance between the creative and the entrepreneurial will shift and change over time as well.

How has your personal relationship with writing changed since you’ve made it part of your job?

Having a deadline I need to meet every month is both a pro and a con of a project like this. If I’m having an off month, I still have to write something. It doesn’t matter if I’m not inspired, or feel like I have nothing to say, or that nothing I write is coming out correctly. I have to mail a letter and a poem, so I do. This means I’ve written many poems the last two years that I never would have written otherwise. I’ve written poems when I thought I didn’t have any more poems in me. I’ve written poems about things I normally wouldn’t write poems about. Before, I rarely sat down and thought, okay, I’m going to write a poem now. If I wrote something, it was because I felt it, and it had to come out of me, and sometimes it came out as a poem. Learning to write when I’m not feeling that way is a skill—sometimes a painful one—but ultimately one I’m proud to strengthen. 

Poem Club is an analog project, yet you’ve been writing in Ulysses for the past eight years. What does your writing process look like, and where does Ulysses fit into it? As someone who values haptics and also writes longhand, what has kept you returning to the app?

Ironically, my motive with Poem Club was to have a tangible physical way of sharing my work. I do nearly all of my creative writing digitally. I find that I can type almost as fast as I can think, which is helpful when writing poetry. Something can appear on the screen before I’ve had a chance to overthink why I wrote it. Longhand writing for me is either list making & planning, or journalling. 

I do all of my creative writing in Ulysses. I first sought it out when I wanted to intentionally focus on writing as a part of my creative practice. I wanted a program that felt beautiful and minimal to write in, with zero distractions. I’m writing this right now with Ulysses in full screen mode. I set wide margins so my sheets never feel like I’m writing in a word processor, write in full screen 100% of the time, and have my theme customized. Ulysses sort of feels like a digital notebook to me. And of course the ability to organize sheets into groups is extremely helpful. I particularly like the ability to see statistics for the combined sheets of a group, which is how I know I have 24,168 words about that one person who broke my heart seven years ago.

Do you have any advice for aspiring writers who want to make a living from their work in non-traditional ways but haven’t yet taken the first steps or found a clear path forward?

I wish I had meaningful and straightforward advice to give, but unfortunately I don’t. My advice is to keep writing, and keep sharing your writing. Start projects without knowing where they’re going to go. If you want to charge money for something, make it a real thing, and then don’t shut up about it. At the end of the day, I got really lucky with Poem Club and I couldn’t replicate it if I tried. (I’ve tried.) But before Poem Club, I was sharing my work online for over 15 years. I kept going, kept writing, and kept sharing, and eventually something clicked. 

Keep writing, and keep sharing your writing. Start projects without knowing where they’re going to go. If you want to charge money for something, make it a real thing, and then don’t shut up about it.

What’s next for you and Poem Club? How do you see your writing and projects evolving in the future?

In June I’ll be celebrating the second anniversary of Poem Club! Which is very exciting and kind of mind boggling. The June edition will include a really special custom stamp printed by The Portland Stamp Company, that features images described in that month’s poem. Words and images are so entwined in my practice, and I’m hoping to incorporate more visual art in the third year. 

Outside of Poem Club, I want to start submitting poems for traditional publication, which is something I’ve been nervous to do. And eventually, I’d love to publish a book.

You can keep up with Brittany on her website. Also, Poem Club is currently accepting new members—sign up here.

The FBI wants to buy access to automated license plate readers (ALPRs) nationwide, which would likely allow the agency to track the movements of vehicles—and by extension people—across the country without a warrant, according to FBI procurement records reviewed by 404 Media.

The documents show that ALPRs continue to be a sought-after tool for law enforcement, not just for local police and individual communities, but federal agencies too. The news also comes as protests and pushback against ALPRs have spread around the country.

University of Washington researchers planned to have preschool teachers wear cameras that would record everything they saw from a first-person perspective, including the children they were teaching, then use that footage to develop AI models. Crucially, the program was presented as opt-out, rather than opt-in, meaning that parents had to take steps to prevent recordings of their children being processed by AI. 

“With your permission, your child’s lead teacher may wear a small teacher-worn camera that captures the teacher's approximate first-person perspective, and/or we may place a fixed video camera in the classroom,” a document given to parents and later shared with 404 Media reads. “These videos simply capture the normal interactions between teachers and children during regular classroom activities. Recordings occur during morning program hours up to 150 minutes, up to 4 visits in one month. Your child will not be asked to do anything new or different. Their daily routine will stay exactly the same.”