Random Thoughts on Language for a Friday Afternoon

This summer I am more focused on teaching adult writers than on K-12 classroom experiences. This is a shift in my own consciousness as I am only teaching elements of writing and revision instead of ways to be a better reader. There is something I keep coming back to in this teaching, as the summer storms keep swirling around the house: we cannot be good writers if we hide the full intention behind our language.

I have had several discussions on the big words, those abstract universals such as happiness, sorrow, beauty, humility, the universe, joy, etc. When we use these terms, we are also relying a great deal on our reader's back knowledge and programming. If we do not illustrate what we interpret these words to be, in metaphoric and imagistic connections, we ask our readers to do all of the work. I liken it to Pavlov and the pooches. When this happens, we ring bells that our readers respond to in patterned ways, rather than navigating our readers to a unique landscape in which these big words can be experienced rather than conjured, crafted by our own imaginations and then shared. 

This evasion of the true message, or relying more on the reader than our own sensibilities to derive the essence of the poem (or any written piece), makes for dull writing. It does not say anything of consequence that will make me, as a reader, want to go back and back again to the piece. It is also a way to be very safe but not captivating. If something cannot be exposed fully, don't write it until it can, until you feel safe as a writer to be open as the sky. Wait...there is no rush. But be authentic and be tangible and clear with your writing, as well as inventive and engaging.

TGIF...and what a magificent thunderous sky!

And Now, Time for Some Poetry...

After being fully immersed for more than a year in drafting, crafting, thrashing, revamping, revising, and fine-tuning Our Difficult Sunlight, in general, I left poems by the wayside. I had initiated four cycles of poems, many of which will be united into book entities once the cycles are complete; however, once there was a contract with a hard deadline looming for the book project, it had to be a priority.

I found that I enjoy the process of writing prose as well. There is a very different experience with prose. For one thing, I do better at prose if I work directly on the keyboard. Poetry needs to first be drafted by hand. It has a delicate nature to me in that early stage. But prose is a streaming that allows me to rely on my nearly 15 years of clerical work and my role as a "document technician." In other words, I can type quickly and my fingers are more able to keep up with my thinking on the keyboard for the prosaic expression, just as it is now...as I blog these thoughts.

Also, I am accustomed to the concise form of a poem as I have held in my view for many years. Having developed the habit of keeping poems to a single page, and particularly to 40 lines or less, since many literary journals ask for that length to fit their magazine size and limits, essays give me a range to investigate and postulate. I am able to develop a thought in a much different manner, which entails more words.

So the poems were stalemated. The words were still flowing...and gushing...and flooding. Then the project was complete, the edits (many, many slash-and-burn trips through the manuscript) accomplished, and the book is now heading into print in its final and, hopefully, blemishless form.

A few weeks ago, I was traveling back home from Chicago and the first launch events for ODS. The book launch itself was heartwarming and it was wonderful to be welcomed into the community of artists, writers, students, and educators that embraces Quraysh and the work he does. The in-service workshop was profound as well, as the very diverse group that attended worked together to meet a common goal of deepening their already rich connection to poetry in ways that will support their own teaching in whatever setting they work.

As I waited for my flight, my pen was demanding attention. I opened my journal for the usual rundown of activities and emotions that fill volume after volume of these little books charting my moods and movement through life. Instead, a voice started narrating a perspective on a tale that was fairly new to me, shared by my mother's cousin at a family gathering this past summer. The voice continued through the waiting, and once we boarded, the voice started up again. My fingers transcribed as quickly as possible for the first part of the flight. Then I needed a nap so I closed the journal for a little while.

There was a brief layover in Philadelphia, when the voice completed her story. I was amazed at how seemlessly it all unfolded.

As soon as I could, which turned out to be a couple of days later due to the insane pace of my life the first quarter of 2011, I typed up that rendering, starting the whittling and tweaking that I love so much. The poem's second draft was two and a half pages! I was shocked.

I worked that poem and returned to a draft from the summer that was buried in the last volume of my journal. Once typed, it was two pages long as well.

Then, prompted by Jennifer Pashley after she read the first of these pieces, I have drafted a third poem, almost four full pages long.

I have clearly broken some barrier within myself. I attribute the new work and the length that these poems are striving towards as the response to all the expository writing I have done over two years. It took that third poem to cause me to examine the trend and draw the correlation.

After a brief moment of celebration that the poems were happening again, I started to panic. Who will publish these? They are so long! I don't know where the market will be for these pieces. What am I going to do with them?!

After indulging myself for a brief span of time, reason resounded, "Just write them, dammit."

I collected myself and developed a level of clarity I have not had in a long time. The important issue is that I am writing, and that I am producing poems. I need to be concerned with these poems first and foremost. Identifying a home in print is entirely secondary to the work at hand, rather than being my motivator. If I am diligent and astute enough, the poems will find homes. Right now, it is the poem that is important, not the repository for it. That will be determined at a later date. I can liken it to the parents who are researching colleges while their children are cutting their first teeth. Revel in the fact that poems are emerging. That is cause for celebration and massive word play of its own accord.

The To-Do List...Where to Start?

Having been on the road for most of the past 6 weeks, there is a pile of mail on the dining room table to deal with, I have laundry, emails that have been on hold, vacuuming the hefty dust bunnies, and then there is the shoveling that is pressing since it has snowed at least 6 inches since I pulled into the driveway Friday evening and pulled the key from the ignition.

There is always a list! Book promotion events to orchestrate, Comstock Review deadlines that have passed and I need to catch up with, writing projects, thank-you notes for a myriad of reasons, plants to repot, finances to address and bills to pay, calls to return, course proposals to draft and submit, and this is just some of it all. I took the weekend as a retreat and got a lot of sleep, much needed and welcomed quiet time. Now to get busy with all that I need to accomplish before I head out on the highway once again.

Not the least, I want to work on some poems. The book is done, now to return to verse. There are at least four cycles of poems that have been very patient with me while I accomplish other goals but now to return. I feel a bit cranky about poetry actually...like I am not taking enough risk, not striving beyond my comfort zone. I want to say something of import, of value, so how to do that?! Oh gee...I am not really sure. I know that some of the first attempts at some work are long! Much longer than I have ever tended to write and this is intriguing. I have concern about the publishing aspect of the long poem, particularly since I have always gauged my poems to accommodate the needs of the typical poetry journal. For instance, Comstock Review asks for an average of 38 lines to give a poem a page. But I know poets who write long poems, where do they publish? I guess the real point is to just write. To be more concerned with the poem than the outcome. If I take that stance, who knows what I will discover? I have found that I am rather bored with my poetic voice as I flip through the binder of work that is on hold. I know that Joy the Agnostic wants to be a bad-ass and is tired of sitting idly while the world is going crazy. The Twins are wondering about their fate and all the letter poems are asking to be honed like carbon steel to a fine edge.

I also know that I find a great deal of creativity in crafting a lesson plan and there are several that need to be transcribed as well. I will get to some of this list but first...finish the cappuccino and start the laundry!

The Work at Hand

How to inspire people to love language?  How to instill a keen and honest interest in writing, telling their stories, reading a book when it is not a regular practice?  That is the work that I am engaged in, starting with children early in their careers as learners, then with students already disengaging from the passion by middle school.  By high school, many of them are convinced it is "boring" and no longer have interest.

It is a constant challenge to develop discussion points and activities that coerce the reluctant and fulfill those who already drank the Kool-Aid.  

My starting point is the brain...that portable personal computer that is grander than any computer designed and manufactured.  Reminding students of all ages that they are life-long learners, that the brain is the most marvelous of devices and each of us owns one, for free.  We need to nurture and maintain this incredible machine that can do more than any laptop in any given second.  It is as astounding as the universe.

As I explain that the brain is this ultra-computer, I build on the metaphor and explain that the job of the writer is to make those imaginary DVDs and CDs that slip into the brain's drives so the voice of the narrator fills the mind as one reads silently, so the movie will play as one reads an intriguing piece of fiction.  Strive for this goal.  Be that kind of writer who deliberately selects each word to collaborate with the others to achieve this goal.