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Jul 26

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Two reasons to keep a poetry or writing journal

Shortly after Joan Larkin published her latest book of poetry, My Body: New and Selected Poems, I took an afternoon writing class from her.  I’d been writing poetry off and on for twenty years and had developed my own style for writing and saving my work. It looked something like this:

  1. I go for a walk, or do the dishes, or some other activity that requires little thinking. As I walk or scrub, I let my mind and eyes wander. Let them flit over ideas and objects until something seizes my imagination. I ask questions: What does this mean? What could this mean? What if?
  2. At some point, the words start coming. If I’m still walking, I speak into my iRecorder but eventually, I sit down and write out my first draft by hand—usually on a piece of lined notebook paper, but not in any particular journal or notebook. Read more

Jul 25

When life sucks, note it in your “good material” file

And even when life is good, be prepared to note it.

I have a friend, along with many others, who was laid off from her job in the midst of the financial market meltdown. While she and her coworkers had been told layoffs were coming, she couldn’t help but be devastated.

At the same time, she told me later that she also couldn’t help but be fascinated by observations of her boss and the HR representative as they broke the news: the smirky, nervous smile on her boss’s face, the canned corporate speak.

Later, cleaning out her desk, she would note the uncomfortable reactions of co-workers left behind, loud crying from behind a conference room door, and the angry response of one worker who threw items from his desk on the floor before being escorted from the building.

Ever the observer, she noted, “Damn. this is good material.” Read more

Jul 22

Should we write in different genres or stick to one?

The new international biennial Seek showcases the work of 100 visual artists selected by curators Calinda Salazar and Fletcher Ramsey. The artists come from all walks of life. They paint, sculpt, draw, direct short movies, and more. The unique thing about the exhibit? It’s all make-believe–even the “curators” aren’t real. Artist Shea Hembrey created the fictional artists and their artwork over a span of two years.

Above is a video of the talk Hembrey gave at Ted.com where he shows a sample of his exhibition.

How does this relate to writing? For his exhibition, Hembrey created works of art in a variety of genres. As writers, we know that the more we write, the more we learn—we learn about writing, about craft, about ourselves. But should be write in different genres or stick to one? Read more

Jul 21

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What is your writing soundtrack?

As I write this, I have an earworm. Sounds gruesome, but it’s not too bad. An earworm is when you get a song stuck in your head. You just hope it’s not, “It’s a Small World,” the song that plays on the ride of the same name at Disneyland.

But back to my earworm. I have “Boom Boom Pow” by the Black Eyed Peas stuck in my ear from my Zumba class this morning. And while I don’t normally listen to music when I write, I wondered as I was doing Zumba if I could carry the rhythm of the songs into my writing.

Storytelling can be symphonic, says Jack Hart, a contributor to, “Telling True Stories: A Nonfiction Writers’ Guide,” and author of Storycraft: The Complete Guide to Writing Narrative Nonfiction. John Steinbeck has said he wanted “The Grapes of Wrath” to sound like Igor Stravinksy’s, “Firebird Suite.” And Ernest Hemingway channeled Bach. If you read the first chapter of “Farewell to Arms” aloud to the first movement of the “Brandenburg Concerto,” the words seem to match the music, Hart says. Read more

Jul 20

Writer as wood carver: exercises in re-visioning, Part 2 of 2

In a writing class taught by Nicola Morris, I learned how to be a sculptor of words. As described in part 1 of this post, she had us take a page of completed work and after each sentence, insert two new sentences.

Now that I’d added 66% more words to my masterpiece, it was time to whittle away the unnecessary fat. The first exercise Nikki gave us is called “unpacking.” It’s a good exercise that teaches us to take our time as writers and fully develop a piece. The next trick was to take these unpacked, expanded pages and whittle them down again—leaving only what’s essential. I think of it like packing and unpacking a suitcase—there’s a whole bunch of stuff in there and each item has its own place…I wouldn’t put my bra in the medicine cabinet with my toothbrush would I?

In order to decide what to keep, I ask myself three questions: 1) What is important to me in this piece?  2) What do I want to say?  3) Which sentences are essential to what I want to say? Read more

Jul 19

Write the story only you can write

What is your work in progress? If you’re thinking about what to write next, consider this: Write the story only you can write.

1. Did something happen to you when you were a child that stuck with you your whole life? A distinct memory that is decades old but feels like it happened yesterday? Mine this memory and figure out why you’ve held onto it all these years. Maybe it’s a question you wrestle with. Ask what meaning it holds.

2. Make a list of turning points in your life when something changed your direction, you lived differently, or looked at life in a new way. Turning points could include starting a new career, getting married or divorced, losing someone you love, or making a geographic move. Times of great change fuel inspiration. Read more

Jul 18

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Writer as sculptor: exercises in re-visioning, Part 1 of 2

Writing workshops. Seminars. Weeklong Retreats. Self-help books. MFA programs. Online classes. I’ve done them all. I consider myself a lifetime student of my craft, a connoisseur of writing classes. At first, everything seemed new and fresh—a magical land of writerly ways and secret handshakes. Over time, I learned and grew. I became more selective. I’m still an eager student of the writing craft—I just don’t rush at everything like a new puppy. Still, every once in a while, I find a class that gets my tail wagging again…

One such class, taught by writer and Goddard College faculty member Nicola Morris, was on the theme of re-visioning. We were told to bring a few pages of a completed work to class. Nikki explained that as writers we were either building up our work like a sculptor or breaking down our work like a wood carver.

Our first exercise was to be the sculptor—to take a page of our written work and, after each sentence, insert two new sentences. Excuse me? She wanted me to expand it by two-thirds? How was I supposed to add that much new material to my finished masterpiece? Read more

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