A short list of the best books for creative writers

Well, it's a very specific list -  books that help the creative writer understand their creative practice better.

I know there are people who just do it, and don't do things like stop writing for months at a time, or have to examine why they stop writing for months at a time. Ahem. But for those of us who do benefit from insight into how we work and why we create at all, these can be amazing resources.

The Artist's Way – Julia Cameron

Cameron has written a lot of books about creativity since, but this one is still the gold standard for creative recovery.

Fearless Creating – Eric Maisel

After you've been gently coaxed by Julia Cameron's warmth, Maisel is a nice brisk kick-in-the-pants. He's particularly insightful about how to successfully manage the anxiety of the creative process.

Writing Down the Bones – Natalie Goldberg

The best for turning off your inner editor and getting first drafts down on paper.

If You Want to Write – Brenda Ueland

“I learned…that inspiration does not come like a bolt, nor is it kinetic, energetic striving, but it comes into us slowly and quietly and all the time, though we must regularly and every day give it a little chance to start flowing, prime it with a little solitude and idleness.”

Bird by Bird – Anne Lamott

“Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor, the enemy of the people. It will keep you cramped and insane your whole life, and it is the main obstacle between you and a shitty first draft."

 

Any that I missed? Please share in the comments! 

What I learned this year, Part 1

In no particular order.

1) I can’t write Ted Kooser’s poems or Louise Gluck’s poems. I can only write my poems.

2) I can make them much better than I ever think I can at any particular stage of editing.

3) Forward momentum is the single most important thing.

4) I need to read poetry to feel consistently inspired to write it.

5) I don’t write for acceptance. I do it to have meaningful work, and to feel consistently alive. Of course I want acceptance from the rest of the world. But it’s really important to not get those two things tangled up.

6) I wrote about this previously, but it bears repeating: Don’t pursue the result of heightened awareness. Reach for the state of heightened awareness itself.

7) Writing anything generates motivation for writing anything else.

8) Writing anything generates motivation for doing anything else. In writing, I become real to myself. I become hopeful. My choices seem to matter. My life seems to matter.

Urban redesign

Book_of_life

My writing practice these days is like Detroit. A lot of formerly vibrant space being abandoned, no longer receiving essential services. There has been talk for years of withdrawing to a city center, concentrating energy where it can still do some good. I don’t know how this is going to work out for Detroit.

But here’s my stripped down plan.

Start by making the best poem you can make.

Be merciless, be innovative.

Then, send it everywhere.

Then, put it in your manuscript.

When you have enough poems, arrange the manuscript.

Then, send it everywhere.

Ignore fads. Ignore trends.

Write only the best poems you can write. Write them every day. Never stop. Never pause long enough to question what you’re doing.

Never let rejection be anything more than a blip in this process.

Try everything.

What’s in a Title

This_is_totally_my_manuscript_title

This month it was finally time to come up with a title for my manuscript-in-progress. And let me tell you, it was a fun-filled process of head-banging, hand-wringing and silent weeping. No, I’m just kidding, it wasn’t that bad. But it did keep me occupied when I was driving, washing dishes or trying to fall asleep.

A poem’s title functions as an introduction, and first impressions matter. You want the title to be as compelling as the poem is. Even more than that, you want the title to add an extra layer to the poem. The right title expands the impact of the poem with a kind of feedback-alchemy, as the reader finishes the poem, looks back up at the title, and maybe discovers it means something different now.

Maybe because a title is so small a unit, you can get away with even less laziness. As with every other element of the poem, you have to throw away the first four obvious choices, and then you have to throw away the next four clever choices, and only then do you start getting somewhere.

Some title techniques I’ve used and abused below.

“Untitled”

I used this on a fair number of poems when I was a teenager. Maybe this is why I’m unwilling to ever use it again, unless it actually has something to do with the subject of the poem. There’s just something painfully self-conscious about it.

Long statements or sentences used as titles

I love this kind of title, so naturally I’m no good at writing them. I especially love it if it seems like a completely different topic from the poem proper, and extra points if it’s funny.

Using the first line of the poem as the title

A respectable solution to the problem. But like any other technique, it can be a crutch. I’ve tended to overuse it, so now I back off when I’m tempted by this technique.

No title at all

You know, lots of terrific writers do this. Personally, I feel like I owe it to the poem to try to figure out its title.

“Sonnet,” “Villanelle,” “Poem,” “Song,” etc.

Everybody’s writing ghazals and pantoums these days. If you are in a writing workshop or MFA program, you have more than likely tried your hand at one or the other (or both!). I’ve read some brilliant examples, but dare I say, not all of these exercises should end up published? Yep, I just said it. The thing that makes it even worse for me is when the title of the ghazal is “Ghazal”. Sigh. It’s not necessary to point out the technique you used to write the poem because we all recognize it by now. Even if we didn’t, the intelligent reader will still perceive that there’s a poetic form involved. If you believe in the poem, give it a fabulous title to go with its fabulous self.

On the other hand, the idea of titling something “Sonnet” when it clearly isn’t is intriguing. It really all goes back to: does the title add something?

To come up with a title for my manuscript, I read through every poem and pulled out words or phrases that I liked, and then I combined two of them that spoke to the themes of the whole. But I should mention, before I get too smug, that I don’t know whether my current title will stick. I’d be interested in hearing what other people’s go-to title techniques are.

On difficulty

It's been a difficult month. It's not so much that I need to get back on the horse that threw me, as that I need to get back on the horse that I've beaten to death.

If you are not discouraged about your writing on a regular basis, you may not be trying hard enough. Any challenging pursuit will encounter frequent patches of frustration. Writing is nothing if not challenging.

– Maxwell Perkins

On negative capability in both the writer and the reader:

the writing of poems is wrestling with a question that is irresolvable and the poem is finished when you reach a stasis … Reading a poem is an act of faith and that involves abandoning oneself to something irresolvable.

– Carl Phillips

And this is the one I like best, because it makes me feel slightly less insane:

A creative writer is one for whom writing is a problem.

– Roland Barthes

 

I hate everything I’ve ever written; it must be Tuesday

Does this happen to you? I feel like I have about two consecutive days of feeling pretty good about my writing. You know: “I’m really making some solid improvements. This is progress. I’m learning how to do this better. I like this poem! Hey, somebody will want to publish this for sure!” And then…

WHAMMO.

Day three: “It’s all crap! Oh my god I can’t even string a clause together! Gaaaaaaah!”

How You Know A Poem Has Failed

I’ve been doing major writing housekeeping, sorting through poems from the last fifteen years and deciding which to keep, which to keep working on, and which to put away. Facing up to all that failed work is a relief. Stapling the drafts together, taking them out of the current circulation section, putting them in a pile; just the physical actions feel like a victory.

Some good reasons for retiring a poem:

  • My tone of voice was too smug.
  • My conclusion was overly simplistic and not “earned”.
  • My references were all internal mythology and therefore too obscure. (Note: this doesn’t seem to stop some very successful poets. 🙂  )
  • Lazy anthropomorphism. Given how much I tend to write about “nature”, this is a big problem in my writing. You would think that the North American seasons were a set of sitcom characters walking around in my head.

I think what it comes down to is that I was too darn clever. It’s as if I thought the poem was a puzzle, and I was terribly pleased with myself when I made it fit. When I read them again, they don’t excite me; they make me annoyed with myself.

There are other ways of failing that are more frustrating. Like when the poem Fails To Arrive. It’s draft that has a worthwhile beginning, is honest, but just trails off. It doesn’t get where it was headed for.  Sometimes these poems go back in the “worth working on” pile. But I’m getting better at letting these efforts go, knowing I’ll come back to the themes that have that provoking energy. I’ll either write a better version of it in the future, or I’ll keep generating more, better, failures.

Finally, there’s the poem I put away because I just plain hate it. Like, if it reminds me too vividly of certain moments in my life. Like, unrequited-love-for-inappropriate-love-objects moments.

lizzie_siddal_contracts_pneumonia
Lizzie Siddal contracts pneumonia
i_am_half-sick_of_resembling_every_other_waterhouse_model_said_the_lady_of_shalott
“I am half-sick of resembling every other Waterhouse model,” said the Lady of Shalott.

ohpepeyouhopelessromantic

You get the idea.