Pat Schneider, Writing Alone and With Others (2003, pg. 172)

During the last week in April I attended an AWA writing-group leadership training with poet Patricia Lee Lewis at The Crossings in Austin, Texas. Patricia, along with writers Celia Jeffries and Charles MacInerney, coached twelve of us in the art of leading a group in the Amherst Writers and Artists method of writing. Patricia and Celia both worked for many years with Pat Schneider, founder of AWA, writing in Pat’s weekly group held in her home in Amherst, Massachusetts.

Pat Schneider developed the AWA method after finishing her MFA. She and her colleagues gathered ideas from the writing process movement, which she traces to Dorothea Brande’s work, Becoming a Writer, Peter Elbow’s Everyone Can Write, Natalie Goldberg’s, Writing Down the Bones and Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way. (2003, pg.  144)

Besides learning the nuts and bolts of starting a writing group or workshop, we wrote together. That’s what the AWA process is about. A typical writing session starts with a brief meditation to center the mind and relax, and then is followed by a simple prompt. The writing is timed. We wrote for shorter lengths of time because we were learning the art of managing a group, for eight to twenty minutes per prompt.

The writing that came out of us was amazing. We wrote outdoors, immersed in the fresh breeze of the Texas hill country and the scent of wildflowers. We wrote about whatever came to our minds, and then afterwards read our work aloud to the other members. Since this was fresh writing, newly born, the members responded only to what was strong in the piece. AWA encourages holding critical responses for when the writer has prepared a typed manuscript.

Another important guideline of the AWA process is to keep all writing confidential. As one of our writers suggested, “what happens in the circle stays in the circle.” Also, we treat all writing as fiction, unless the author wants the members to treat it as autobiography.

When responding to a writer’s work, we talk about the narrator, or the character, never attributing the events of the piece to the writer. Patricia compared it to reading a Stephen King novel. Do we think that Stephen King actually experienced all the grisly tales of his stories? Even if the writer uses the first person, we don’t assume the author actually experienced the events.

This is the one aspect of the group writing process that gives writers the most difficulty, but it’s one of the most important parts. Otherwise the writing group enters the murky territory of group therapy, without a therapist! AWA sticks to treating the work as fiction to keep the writers safe.

How will I include this training in my writing life? I’d like to begin a small group in my home, and maybe offer workshops a few times a year in my city.

Pat Schneider brought her method to women living in a housing project near her town. Out of that work grew The Chicopee Workshop for Low-Income Women, as well as a DVD and book of their work with Pat. Many of the original members of this group have gone on to earn college degrees, and even MFAs.

One of the writers in the Austin training, Ellen Reich, says, “I plan to approach a local organization, the Charlotte Coalition for Social Justice, to explore possibilities of offering this writing workshop to teens. The CCSJ’s mission is to bridge differences and foster understanding among different populations. I also hope to offer a group to our local Room at the Inn - a residence for unwed, pregnant women who have little to no outside support.”

What experiences have you had in group writing? Do you belong to a critique group, and if so, do you write together, or only respond to typed manuscripts? What do you think about bringing writing and poetry to underserved populations?

~christine

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Schneider, Pat (2003). Writing Alone and With Others. New York: Oxford University Press.

This week, your prompt is fairly simple. Make comparisons. Notice the world around you. Turn your observations into similes (and metaphors).

As Webster explains simile: Likeness, comparison, a figure of speech in which two dissimilar things are compared by the use of like or as (as in cheeks like roses).

Metaphor: a figure of speech in which a word for one idea or thing is used in place of another to suggest a likeness between them (as in the ship plows the sea).

Write long lists of comparisons. Long, trailing lists. Try to avoid clichés at all costs. (99 Cents; $1.39; $3.56; spare no expense!)

After you’ve spent a few days collecting, choose your favorite(s) and use them in a poem. Use a simile to begin a poem. Use a simile to inspire an entire poem. Use a simile as a poem title. The words are your oyster.

There. Easy as pie. Easy as wind in your hair. Easy like Sunday morning!

~Jill.

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Come back starting next Monday after midnight (CST) to share your poetic similes or metaphors or anything at all.

Be sure to check back through the week and see what others have written: Read Write Poem!

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Oh, and don’t miss Juliet’s and Carolee’s great posts last week. Find the links on the sidebar. We love the sidebar around here. Both of them.

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Please take a few moments to read the the about page, the code of conduct and our copyrights page. If you have any questions about the project after reading through those pages, e-mail us at info (at) readwritepoem (dot) org.

Please note: If your comment does not appear, send an e-mail to info (at) readwritepoem (dot) org and we will fish it out of the spam filter. (Put but one link in your comment. The spam filter thinks more than one is fishy-business and will send you to the tank.)

Please also note: We encourage participants to link to the Read Write Poem site every week they participate and to tag or categorize their posts as “Read Write Poem.” Doing so each week helps new people find the project and increases the site’s visibility and rankings — and that in turn that means more people will see the work of project participants.

In true Poetry Slam style, the Spoken Word Revolution Redux CD and book set starts out by putting a Poet Laureate head to head with a Slam Champion. Ted Kooser (former USA Poet Laureate) vs Anis Mojgani (twice National Poetry Slam Individual Champion); Andrew Motion (current UK Poet Laureate) vs Sonya Renee (former National Poetry Slam Individual Champion).

I’m not a fan of Motion’s poetry, but even if I were, his polite reading of “Anne Frank Huis” would still be totally blown out of the water by Renee’s electrifying, music backed performance of “Thick”. The comparison is of course, unfair; Motion writes for the page, Renee is a performer. However, any literary poet who is presenting their poetry in front of an audience could learn lessons from performance poets. Lessons about how to bring poetry alive and to engage an audience.

Questions, asked by Ted Kooser in his introduction to the book, about whether performance poetry will endure as literature, are, I think, irrelevant. Each performance is unique and will live on in the mind of the audience who may well memorize the words (as proven by the audience participation in the recording of David Lerner’s “Mein Kampf“*).

Dare I ask the question: is literary poetry in fact the sign of a failure in poetics? That it needs to be written down because no one can remember it otherwise? The first poets performed their work, they didn’t write it down. Performance poetry today continues this tradition. Kevin Coval in his article “Towards a Hip Hop Poetica” describes hip hop poets as ‘modern griots, indigenous keepers and tellers of his/her/stories.’ Hip Hop poetry revels in rhyme and rhythm, as demonstrated here by poet Invincible, in this excerpt from “Detroit Winter”:

    The city streets are bitter sweet
    I pound pavement
    While I’m kicking litter at my feet
    Under the snow, the ground’s blanket
    These heavy hitter beats.

Dana Gioia in his article “The New Oral Poetry” notes that “the nearly universal critical bias against rhyme and meter as recently as ten years ago, especially in University writing programmes, indicates how distant the poets in a print culture have become from the orality of verse.”

Some literary poets can seem to be afraid of emotion and humour and often appear to be engaging with a select gathering of fellow literary poets, rather than reaching out to a wider audience. Performance poets however, are rarely afraid of emotion, whether raw anger in Mayda del Valle’s poem about Puerto Rican Spanish speakers, “Tongue Tactics”, or more controlled as in Patricia Smith’s rambling poem of love for her father “When the Burning Begins”:

    ……. I’m telling you it’s the first thing
    I ever cooked, that my daddy was laughing
    and breathing and no bullet in his head.

Nor are performance poets afraid to connect with the audience’s points of reference, as in this line from “Lebron James”, by Nate Marshall one of the many young poets featured in this book:

    I’ll be the first spoken word brotha with a shoe
    deal.

Performance poetry also is unafraid to engage with politics, which can seem confrontational, but it is hard not to at least see where Nikki Giovanni is coming from in her angry poem “All Eyez on U”:

    if those who lived by the sword died by the sword there would be no
    white men on earth.

There are some performance poets who I find too confrontational, just as there are some literary poets who bore me; at the same time there are literary poets who stun me with their distillations of powerful emotion and there are performance poets who move me with their subtlety. Both sides can learn from each other. This book is a perfect starting point for literary minded poets (or anyone else) to start learning from performance poets.

~Juliet.

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* The link is to a Lerner reading of his work, not from the CD.

The Spoken Word Revolution Redux, edited by Mark Eleveld, is available from Source Books and Powell’s Books.

Eleveld, Mark, ed. (2007.) Spoken Word Revolution Redux. Naperville: Sourcebooks Mediafusion.

(A version of this review first appeared on Crafty Green Poet.)

I resisted making this week’s prompt about mothers, because it seems like too conventional of a choice. But I did a little research on the American version of the holiday at wikipedia, and it turns out that when social activist Julia Ward Howe suggested the celebration, it was intended to be a day when mothers came together to speak out against war, which I think adds a little (pacifistic) spunk to the day.

Let’s face it: love them, hate them, fear them, miss them – or all of the above – the bond we have with our mother is one of the most primal and life-forming we will encounter. It might be natural that the relationship would show up in some of our poetic work, and this week I think it would be a great focus. (Here are some examples of poems about mothers.)

Maybe your relationship with your mother does not deserve a reverential ode — a vengeful or mournful piece would work just as well. Maybe you can find inspiration in Mother Nature, Mother Theresa, or the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo. Think through the people and events in your life that have mothered you. You could write about your experience as a mother, or your aspirations to become one.

Ideas for collaboration:

• Choose a photo or some words describing your mother and exchange them with another poet. Write about each others’ mothers.
• In the spirit of Julia Ward Howe’s vision, get together with other poets and write protest poems on a cause you are all moved by. Protest Poems is a great online resource by one of our RWP members.
• Ask your mother or a mother figure in your life to write something with you.

Whatever slant you take, remember this: Eat your veggies. Clean your plate. If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.

Oh, and come back Monday after midnight and find the get your poem on post. Leave a comment for us, with a link to your poem of the week.

~Blythe.

These dynamics exist in the poetry universe outside this poll, and I also suspect they have a great impact on our ability to write and as well as our ability to identify and polish our best work. Do poets and other writers/artists recognize the quality of their work with any degree of accuracy? As with fishermen (did you know some inflate the size of their catches?) and the “weight” blanks on health forms (did you know some people lie about the size of their backsides?), we sometimes have motivation to embellish or diminish our stories and our beliefs about ourselves.

Is it even possible for the creator to see the work in the same way others see it? Does it matter? Shouldn’t people write and paint and “poem” if they want to regardless of their level of talent or skill? Although Read Write Poem die-hards will fight buzzing swarms of killer poetry snobs to encourage people to write no matter what; not all of the world so freely supports the “amateur,” the “average,” the “hobbyist.” And not all the world embraces the legitimacy of the blog as a true poetry community worth the time of the “published poets” and “academics” among us. In other words, there’s a lot of chatter inside our heads, swirling around outside our heads that make it challenging to know for sure which poll answer is true for us.

However, if I am to finish my job and snake around this poll in a way that makes you want to give me money join me in the dance, I must assume the poll responses are as genuine and unadulterated as possible. (But it will be fun to hear what you think of the aforementioned influencing factors, as well.)

At press time, only four percent of RWP-ers stand on the rooftops and proclaim (barbaric yawps, anyone?) that they have an exceptional gift and work very hard. I’m proud of these poets whoever they are. I’d like to think that as I become more prolific and skillful with the craft of poetry I’d feel bold enough to celebrate my “exceptional gift.” If you chose this response right away, perhaps you could share how you came to that place (which from the outside looking in appears to be a beautiful garden where confidence and courage grow in abundant red blossoms). If you didn’t choose this response, do you wonder, like me, if it’s the sign of an evolved writer (something to reach for in time) or if it’s a state of mind anyone can acquire at any stage in their writing life?

Six percent identified themselves as naturals for whom it all comes easy. To some degree, anyone who’s been inspired on a regular basis probably admits that some of the inspiration came naturally. Perhaps others say the desire to write and even a small amount of the talent comes naturally. However, I know fewer people who’d use the word “easy.” Skeptics may argue that people who claim poetry comes easy may not be “serious” poets (whatever that means). So, naturals, we want to hear from you! Tell us how you approach the work or how it approaches you. If you’re so inclined, you may also e-mail some Zen wisdom directly to me. I’m. Desperate. For. Some. Relief. … But anyway, moving on …

A bunch of respondents (10 percent) claim to have no talent and no idea why they do this poetry thing anyway. I’ve heard people say this in moments of exasperation. Self-flagellation can be instinctual at the cellular level when things get hard. I’m curious: are these poets reporting their status on a bad day, a period of writers block, a catatonic state following NaPoWriMo? Or do they really struggle with this belief at their cores?

Two poll choices allow responders to identify mainly as hard workers: those who have more talent than average and those who have no more talent than anyone else. Each of these received 13 percent of the vote, and each represents a similar philosophy. They say, “I work really hard at this even though I represent something close to ‘average.’ Even though I’m not much different than anyone else, I put in the time to make something of my interest in writing poetry.” Maybe it’s my small-town working-class upbringing, but I like to believe that the work itself can be enough to make progress as a poet, to get “good” (saving, again, for another time, the argument about what that means and who decides). If you chose one of these two replies to the poll, is this how you feel?

The final response - “I write poetry no matter how I feel about my talent or work ethic” - earned more than half of the votes. Even our extremely scientific methods here at Read Write Poem (ha ha) have been unable to determine if it’s a popular answer because it’s a catch-all phrase or because it captures a mantra RWP-ers may be telling themselves: “Write no matter what. Write on good days and bad days. Write whether you feel like it or not. Write even if you don’t feel like you’re a poet.” The response is an affirmation and it’s very healthy. Let us know why you felt most comfortable with this response. Is it because it’s spot-on true for you? Is it because it fits you so well, none of the others came close? Is it because you want it to be true and you’re aiming for it?

I love all of our poll responders equally, of course, like any good mother, but I have special affection for the half of the group that chose the “I write no matter what” answer. It probably means you’re serious about your poetry, and I like that. But like any good mother, I’m also a bit suspicious of some of you because I can remember what it’s like to be standing in front of that poll facing difficult choices. I have been there. And I did the wrong thing. There, I said it. I confess I chose the “I write no matter what” response because it was safe. And because I was afraid to claim the response that resonated with me: “I have more talent than average, and I work very hard.” It seemed pompous instead of confident, and I balked. But truthfully, I don’t know if I could do this every day if I didn’t think I had a little bit of talent.

The bottom line, of course, is that writing poetry and saying we’re poets is gutsy, no matter where we fall on the spectrum.

Now it’s your turn! Jump up on the stage for the “poll dance.” Use the comments section to talk about your own response to the poll and your suspicions about the talents and work ethics of the poetry world at large.

~Carolee.

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Here’s how the poll dance works: We post a poll and let it ride for a week and a half, and then I’ll talk a little bit about the topic and the results. The poll will stand for a few days after that to allow additional participation. The rotation gives each poll two weeks in the white-hot spotlight.

Be sure to check back through the week and see what others have written in response to science fiction poetry, or any other idea: Read Write Poem!

* * *

Please take a few moments to read the the about page, the code of conduct and our copyrights page. If you have any questions about the project after reading through those pages, e-mail us at info (at) readwritepoem (dot) org.

Please note: If your comment does not appear, send an e-mail to info (at) readwritepoem (dot) org and we will fish it out of the spam filter. (Put but one link in your comment. The spam filter thinks more than one is fishy-business and will send you to the tank.)

Please also note: We encourage participants to link to the Read Write Poem site every week they participate and to tag or categorize their posts as “Read Write Poem.” Doing so each week helps new people find the project and increases the site’s visibility and rankings — and that in turn that means more people will see the work of project participants.

* * *

We always love hearing from you!

The poem juxtaposes images of a cop imagining a serial killer, a tree that is also a skeleton, a black sedan and a knit red cap, asking readers to draw the parallels between these seemingly disconnected things. In Armantrout’s universe (as well as ours), they are connected because they exist, if fleetingly, in the here and now. This opening poem serves as a preview of Armantrout’s larger project. In Next Life, Rae Armantrout uses spare, specific language to explore the big ideas: the nature of identity and all existence.

For me, Armantrout’s language style was challenging to dissect. While she uses very few words, she manipulates these words through placement, line breaks and context to reveal their complexities. For instance, in the poem “Tease” her second section reads: “Bare tree/is to human skeleton//as the holy spirit/likens objects//briefly//to make the world up/of provisional pairs.” By placing tree, skeleton and holy spirit together, between expanses of white space, she reveals their connections. They are structure and spirit, living and dead, holy and common.

As in “Tease,” it seems like much of Armantrout’s language is concerned with the act of definition, or distinguishing a singularity out of the multitudes. It is an interesting task in these times to define individuality, since we seem to be inundated with details and masses of things. In the poem “Two, Three,” the poet wonders how many details must be shared in order to create a specific instance. As she ponders, she lists people’s details, as if she’s watching a crowd pass by. A few poems later, she defines the existence of a pet cat as more than a thing, despite the cat’s lack of self awareness. In this poem, the language is still spare, but she extends her attention on the image.

Throughout the book, she uncovers the nature of identity through a sustained attention to images. In some poems, like “Short Story” and “Clear,” she presents fleeting moments shared between people that define identities. Through observed interactions, like a woman chatting on airplane or an elderly woman guided by two younger women, she reveals the frailty and vulnerabilities in lives. In one of my favorite poems, “A Distance,” Armantrout cycles through various identities, inhabiting and discarding them as she tries to find the right one. In fact, they are all her, “a woman/ age 56.” The poem is intriguing because she again finds commonalities between children and adults, the frail and the brave. Identity becomes a communal and public experience.

Even later in the book, her attention turns to the larger question of existence. In “Visits,” she begins with doubting Thomas, thrusting his hand into open wounds. Then, she switches to a wholly modern context, someone who collects Statue of Liberty figurines, showcased on the local news. After these two unrelated scenes she writes, “It is from this wound/that humans first emerged.” Did humans emerge out of the wound of doubting, the wound of needing to prove existence through experience, or the wound of surrounding ourselves with the detritus of our culture? It seems that Armantrout defines existence in spite of culture, not because of it. Ultimately, existence is hard to define, because we have surrounded ourselves with mediated experience. We collect figurines of Lady Liberty, rather than visiting the real statue itself.

Next Life is a challenge to read. Many of her poems are collages of imagery and it is the reader’s responsibility to discern the larger picture. At times I struggled with making connections between sections or stanzas of poems, and between poems in the collection. As with a lot of poetry, it took several readings and a close attention to the poet’s linguistic choices for me to understand her ideas. But once I began to pay attention, I started to look at the world slightly differently, as if everything could be connected.

~Jessica.

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Armantrout, Rae (2007). Next Life. Middletown: Wesleyan University Press.

Rae Armantrout’s website.

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Want to join Jessica’s Poetry Book Club? Find it at 9 to 5 Poet.

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I’m always impressed by the potential of Science Fiction to look at everyday life from an entirely different point of view. Issues and topics considered within an alien setting can help the reader to see things from a fresh perspective. Most people think of science fiction in the form of novels or films but science fiction poetry is becoming increasingly popular.

J D Nelson, a poet who I have published on Bolts of Silk often writes poetry with an element of science fiction. You can read examples here and here.

Patricia at Roswila’s Dream and Poetry Realm specialises in scifaiku (haiku type poems on SF themes) - you can read these here.

You can find out more about Science Fiction Poetry in all forms at the Science Fiction Poetry Association website or read more about Scifaiku at SciFaiku.com.

So your challenge this week is to write a science fiction poem in any form you want! You can choose to use the poem to explore an issue or to create a vision of a different world.

Idea for collaboration: Swap SF scenarios with another poet and write poems inspired by each other’s scenarios.

Then come back next Monday after midnight (CST) to share your poetry! Look forward to seeing you all then.

~Juliet.

get your poem on #24 will be open and accepting links to you poems based on this prompt - or any other inspiration - next Sunday after midnight