A Writer's Notebook, Day Three-Hundred-And-Sixty-Two
Writing each day can be a bit of an odd experience, at times, at least in terms of how work develops and how ideas become integrated. For one thing, it is true that I am not really in control of my work, much of the time. By this, I mean that I must rely upon the process in that moment, as I write, often, and trust that I will be able to create something of value. As a result, I am not choosing what to write much of the time. Certainly, I can say to myself, and do, I want to create a poem about this, but for me, as someone who is writing so much each day, those poems are in the minority. Besides, even when I write those pieces, I can't say what it will be until it is written, and am often quite surprised by what comes through, what it is that the poem winds up really being about.
The aspect, however, that I think is truly interesting is how things progress and then integrate into the work. Writing so much, I am constantly learning. Repeating any action, practicing, is the best way to improve, and spending time each day at work yields new understandings. On any one day, I might not really notice anything major, and it may well be that it is small things that are building up over that time, but often I do become aware of new ideas or techniques that are emerging.
I think, as I said a few days back, many of the times that I am really struggling with the work are the times when those new ideas are integrating. Recently, I have become interested in certain devices and modes in my poems that were not present in older work. One of these, in particular, has to do with the idea of removing much context so as to make something that is universal. In some ways, this becomes more personal, if done right, as the reader can relate it to a particular in their own mind. These poems are often, for me, political in nature, and they tend to have certain similarities. I first started writing one of these poems, and from that I began to discover this as a way to work.
What really is more interesting, though, is that now, that way of working, that mode, is beginning to integrate with other types of poems that I write. I've mentioned that I had a bit of a stall in terms of certain kinds of poems, particularly the narrative poems I often write, and in recent days that has begun to change. These newer poems feel, to me, as if they are drawing on things that I learned when I was exploring other kinds of writing, like that mode I discussed above. I can sense the aspects of voice and tone that I have been playing with, and what is more, it makes me understand certain things about this process.
As I said, it is an odd thing, the way that these ideas progress, the way that writing changes and improves with practice. and I had a lot of fear in the past few weeks, because I did see something different in my work, but also I felt the lack of certain kinds of work that feel important to me, and that also seem central to my poetic identity, if you will. I mean, I wasn't writing work of a sort that had always been a major part of my poetry, and that made me feel a bit of doubt. For one thing, I wondered if I was burning myself out by writing so much. I think every artist can become scared they have lost their mojo. Now, I was still writing, so I wasn't all that deep into it, but it was something in my mind, certainly. But, now, I have a different perspective, because I realize that I couldn't have learned to do these things properly if I had also been pushing to create the same old work. I needed to be in a different mental and creative space to give room for the development of these practices, but once I had a stronger grasp, my creative focus shifted, bringing back much of what I had been missing, but also allowing me to add what I have learned, to use it in the context of the writing I've always been interested in doing.
The aspect, however, that I think is truly interesting is how things progress and then integrate into the work. Writing so much, I am constantly learning. Repeating any action, practicing, is the best way to improve, and spending time each day at work yields new understandings. On any one day, I might not really notice anything major, and it may well be that it is small things that are building up over that time, but often I do become aware of new ideas or techniques that are emerging.
I think, as I said a few days back, many of the times that I am really struggling with the work are the times when those new ideas are integrating. Recently, I have become interested in certain devices and modes in my poems that were not present in older work. One of these, in particular, has to do with the idea of removing much context so as to make something that is universal. In some ways, this becomes more personal, if done right, as the reader can relate it to a particular in their own mind. These poems are often, for me, political in nature, and they tend to have certain similarities. I first started writing one of these poems, and from that I began to discover this as a way to work.
What really is more interesting, though, is that now, that way of working, that mode, is beginning to integrate with other types of poems that I write. I've mentioned that I had a bit of a stall in terms of certain kinds of poems, particularly the narrative poems I often write, and in recent days that has begun to change. These newer poems feel, to me, as if they are drawing on things that I learned when I was exploring other kinds of writing, like that mode I discussed above. I can sense the aspects of voice and tone that I have been playing with, and what is more, it makes me understand certain things about this process.
As I said, it is an odd thing, the way that these ideas progress, the way that writing changes and improves with practice. and I had a lot of fear in the past few weeks, because I did see something different in my work, but also I felt the lack of certain kinds of work that feel important to me, and that also seem central to my poetic identity, if you will. I mean, I wasn't writing work of a sort that had always been a major part of my poetry, and that made me feel a bit of doubt. For one thing, I wondered if I was burning myself out by writing so much. I think every artist can become scared they have lost their mojo. Now, I was still writing, so I wasn't all that deep into it, but it was something in my mind, certainly. But, now, I have a different perspective, because I realize that I couldn't have learned to do these things properly if I had also been pushing to create the same old work. I needed to be in a different mental and creative space to give room for the development of these practices, but once I had a stronger grasp, my creative focus shifted, bringing back much of what I had been missing, but also allowing me to add what I have learned, to use it in the context of the writing I've always been interested in doing.
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