Your Mission: (Re)Write

From the Department of Fiendish Plots:

You know those five poems you just wrote? That was awesome, right?

Here's how we're going to proceed with them. I want you to revisit those five poems throughout the semester. Actually, I want you to wholly re-see (i.e., revise: [Origin: 1560–70; revīsere to look back at, revisit, freq. of revidére to see again;]) these poems. To that end, you will apply any one of the following strategies to each of the five poems:

1. If it's 25 lines or less, double it.

2. If it's 25 lines or more, half it.

3. Add two syllables to each line. You can add lines but you can't subtract them.

4. Make the first line the last line of a new poem OR make the last line the first line of a new poem.

5. Make it a sonnet.

6. Make it a ghazal.

7. Make it a sestina.

8. Make it a prose poem. Eliminate 25% of the words.

9. Make each line the same number of syllables. You can add lines but you can't subtract them.

10. Cut 3 syllables from each line. You can cut lines but not add them.

When we conference we'll talk about both poems: the original and the re-seen version. You will then pick one to revise for critique.

Your Mission (Part I): Read

You are now in proud possession of a packet of poems (not quite as fun as a pack of pickled peppers, but close). Read them. Read them again. Then I want you pick six poems from the packet: listing your three favorite Poems That Make Sense (as you understand that concept) and your three favorite Poems That Don't Make Sense (as you understand that concept). E-mail your selections to me by the end of the period on Wednesday and we'll read and talk about them on Thursday.

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Bread Loaf Blog #5: Endgame

I'm fittin to come home here soon. Just wanted to make sure everybody's on the same page with what you're supposed to be doing so we can hit the ground running on Monday. A reminder, also, to put your completed folders in the wire basket on the table near my desk. I don't care which one--just pick one as a class and put them all in the same one.

Also wanted to express (as I did on the Nonfiction blog) the fact that I have a new appreciation for what you guys do. Bread Loaf is not unlike ASFA. Imagine instead that everybody is a creative writer and they're all twenty, thirty, even fifty years older than you are now. All the same things apply, though--not least mental exhaustion.

In eleven days or so we've done the work of half a semester. Today we had a workshop in which we discussed three 25-page stories. In 45 minutes, I'm going to a class on line-by-line editing. This morning there was a lecture on Shakespeare. Tomorrow is a class on plotting a novel, and we'll talk about three more stories in my workshop--only one of which I've read, much less commented on--on Friday morning. And, of course, there are readings, readings, and more readings.

ASFA-CW on steroids. But older.

In all, it's been pretty awesome, and I'm looking forward to getting back to apply some of my newfound perspective.

And don't forget to vote about the apples!

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Bread Loaf Blog #4: Robert Frost's Apples

Check out this post from the Nonfiction blog. It's interactive and everything -- you get to vote! They took us to Robert Frost's farm down the road yesterday, and I filched some apples that had fallen in the orchard. I mean, it's not even a big deal -- even Frost says in his famous poem "After Apple-Picking" that the ones that fall on the ground go "surely to the cider heap / as of no worth."

So I've saved these apples from the cider heap but now I don't know what to do with them. Help!

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Bread Loaf Blog #3: Two Young Poets

This place is wall-to-wall readings. I'm not even kidding. There are at least four readings every day. Sometimes more. There are some big-name authors -- Edward P. Jones, Edward Hirsch, Louise Glück, Charles Baxter, et al -- but there are also up-and-comers.

Two of the up-and-comer poets who interested me were Darcie Dennigan and Amaud Jamaul Johnson. I've bought their books and will bring them back to school for you to borrow if you're interested. And guess what: One of 'em writes poems that make sense and one of 'em writes the other kind!

Actually, what makes them both good is that, while they both have their predispositions (I'll let you decide which is which), they both also dip their figurative toe in the water of the "other kind" of poem.

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Bread Loaf Blog #2: Poetry & Walking

Just got out of a lecture from Edward Hirsch, who talked about the link between poetry and walking. A few interesting highlights:

1. He talked about the word saunter and its origins: (v.) c.1475, santren "to muse, be in reverie," of uncertain origin. Meaning "walk with a leisurely gait" is from 1667, and may be a different word entirely. Some suggest this word derives via Anglo-Fr. sauntrer (1338) from Fr. s'aventurer "to take risks," but OED finds this "unlikely." The noun meaning "a leisurely stroll" is recorded from 1828.

2. A quote: "A walk, like a poem, takes place for its own sake."

3. He focused on two aspects of walking and poetry -- A) walking as a stimulant to the imagination, how it encourages associative thinking and digression, a drifting state of mind, and B) the tradition of poems about walking. Some very few of the many poems/poets he referenced:

A. R. Ammons -- "Corson's Inlet"
Elizabeth Bishop -- "The End of March"
Langston Hughes -- "Harlem Night Song"
William Wordsworth -- "I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud"
Basho -- Narrow Road to the Far North

4. Fun-fact: Hirsch said Wordsworth coined the term pedestrian.

Okay, so here's my thought on the whole thing: If you feel stuck with writing your drafts for this class, why not set aside some time for a walk this weekend? Walk (in a safe place!) for an hour. Don't take a notebook. Just let your mind wander. See if something gets sparked. If so, come back and write it. Put the walk itself in the poem if you want to.

And if nothing gets sparked? Well, a walk, like a poem, takes place for its own sake.

Have a good weekend...

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Bread Loaf Blog #1: Getting Acclimated

Here are just a few things I've noticed/learned so far about Bread Loaf:

1. People around here like to talk about books and stuff.

2. It smells good. Not like bread, though. Like cut grass.

3. Earlier this year, a bunch of kids busted into the nearby former home of Robert Frost (who sort of "founded "Bread Loaf) and vandalized the place. They were caught and prosecuted. Their sentence? They had to complete a course on the literary and historical significance of one Robert Frost (who, PS, is like the King of Poems that Make Sense). Around here they get a kick out of calling that "poetic justice." Get it?! Because it's poetry and justice all wrapped into one!

Hope everybody's thriving in my absence. I'll leave you with a Frost poem. Couldn't help thinking about this particular poem on the drive up here from the airport. Lots of white birches, which was pretty cool, considering they might actually be the birches Frost writes about in his famous poem called, aptly enough, "Birches."

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What You're Supposed to Be Doing

Just a quick sum-up/reminder:

Your folders are due by the end of specialty period on Friday, Aug 22.

They should include stuff that you've written and stuff that you've read.

I'll be blogging on occasion whilst I'm away. So that'll be awesome.

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A Word About Grading Criteria

I'll evaluate you in each of the three categories listed in the right column (TCOB [see below], Essay Drafts, and Critiques) twice each quarter. That effectively gives you six grades each nine-weeks, all weighted evenly. I'll also provide you a narrative assessment at each progress report and at the end of each nine-weeks.

In grading your poem drafts, here's what I'm looking for:

Your conference draft should be a completed draft. I don't expect conference drafts to be perfect, but you do need to show me you've made a good faith effort. If you do that, you'll get full credit (100 points).

Your critique draft should show progress from your conference draft. I see myself as an editor in this process, and in any editor-writer relationship, there's a give-and-take. The process is organic, and it's different for different poems, but in a nutshell it goes like this: I give you my educated opinion, and you do the hard work of sifting through it to take out whatever nuggets of wisdom you can find. I don't have all the answers, and the final product is always up to you.

Now I can't tell you exactly what I mean by "progress" because that too is different for different poems. Show me that you've really gotten back in under the hood. Also, critique drafts should be basically free of grammatical errors and typos. I'm not a freak about that, but it does save you the tedium of sifting through a million comments pointing out the same surface-level error. Plus it's a mark of self-respect to show some care in the work you present to your peers. You have a right, then, to expect that very same level of care and respect in return. Do all that and, again, you'll get full credit (100 points).

When it comes to critique, we'll talk specifically about what I'm looking for right after I get back from Vermont. But, you know, the basics are the basics. I'll evaluate you on both written and oral components of critique. In both cases, I want an insightful, articulate account of your reading experience. Two other adjectives: honest, authentic. And a noun: empathy.

Then, of course, your final portfolio will count for 20% of your final semester grade. The portfolio will consist of seven to ten poems: five fully revised critique poems and at least two new poems that have not been critiqued.

TCOB?

TCOB: It was Elvis's motto, and if it's good enough for The King, it's good enough for me. It stands for "Taking Care of Business." For our purposes, it's "Class Participation" on steroids. The trouble with your everyday, garden-variety "Class Participation" is it sort of implies that if you just do your work and don't make somebody cry, you'll get full credit for it. Yes, I want you to do your work. No, I don't want you to make anybody cry. But that's an exceedingly low bar, is it not?

What I really want is for you to be a writer:

• Writers show up to do the work.
• Writers engage. Ideas. The human experience. The world.
• Writers have empathy for anyone brave enough to stake a claim to what she/he thinks.
• Writer's know they don't know everything. Not knowing is the fun part.
• Writers pay attention.
• Writers are curious.
• Writers read.
• Writers listen.
• Writers think.
• Writers write. A lot.

Okay, maybe not all writers do all those things. But if you're doing all those things, then you, my friend, are definitely TCOB as far as I'm concerned.

A Typical Week

As this is a workshop, our main concern is writing and critiquing poems-in-progress. We will, of course, supplement that work by considering published poems and talking about poetics in general.

Here's how a typical week will go:

Monday: Individual Conferences / Receive Critique Packet
Tuesday: Individual Conferences
Wednesday: Critique
Thursday: Critique
Friday: King for a Day / Conference Drafts Due

Critique drafts must arrive in my ASFA e-mail account [tjbeitelman(at)asfa.k12.al.us] by 8 p.m. on Sunday evenings. No exceptions.

A few other notes:

Sometimes on Mondays and/or Tuesdays we'll talk about published poems and/or craft issues.

"King for a Day" is a reference to Stephen King. He says the only -- only -- way to learn how to write is to write a lot and read widely. I don't know about "only," but I take his point. Most Fridays will be reserved for you to do one (1) of two (2) things: write or read.

You can read anything (within reason), provided it's a book. Fiction, poetry, nonfiction. Whatever.

You can write anything, provided it's creative writing. Note that doesn't mean it has to be in response to a creative writing assignment, though it can be if that's what you want to work on.

You can spend some of the time reading, some of the time writing, or all of the time doing just one of them. It's up to you.

An Important Early Programming Note

The first two weeks are going to be anything but typical: I'm going to Vermont.

From Aug 13 through Aug 24, I'll be attending the Bread Loaf Writers' Conference. Eleven days of workshops, craft lectures, and readings by a range of well-known writers in all genres. Indeed, timing could be better and I apologize for the disruption, but this is a unique opportunity for me. I'm looking forward to getting back on the other side of the workshop table, so to speak. I'm prepared to be humbled and inspired. And, yeah, I hold out hope for a little validation. All necessary fuel for any lifelong student of writing. I'll let you know how it goes.

So what does all that mean for you? Means I'm out of your hair until Aug 25, and you'll have plenty of time to read, write, and think in the interim.

Poems That Make Sense & Poems That Don't

If you've been in one of my poetry workshops before, you may be familiar with my working hypothesis on poems in general: There's two (2) basic kinds, POEMS THAT MAKE SENSE and POEMS THAT DON'T MAKE SENSE.

Oversimple? Sure.

True? Yeah. A lot of oversimple things are.

It's important to keep in mind that I use these rubrics as descriptions. There's no value judgment attached. I've written both kinds. I like to read both kinds. Both kinds are difficult to do well. Both kinds have long, venerated, and multicultural histories. One's not better than the other, at least as far as I'm concerned. (Others disagree, sometimes with great vigor.)

On Day Two (2) or thereabouts, we'll talk more about what I mean. But just to get you started, here are two examples.

A POEM THAT MAKES SENSE: "Domestic Work, 1937" by Natasha Trethewey.

A POEM THAT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE: "The Circle and the Circle's Argument" by Tomaž Šalamun.

What do you notice?

Your Mission (Part I): Read

Find two (2) poems, preferably ones you haven't encountered before. Peruse the links to the right and the books above the back-corner cubicle, the one that houses the printer.

One (1) of these poems should be a POEM THAT MAKES SENSE (as you understand that concept) and the other should be a POEM THAT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE (as you understand that concept).

Don't just pick the first two (2) poems you find. Meander. Wallow. Ruminate.

Once you've chosen your two (2) poems -- and can explain what drew you to them and why you think they fit the particular rubric you've chosen for them -- type them up, word-for-word, line-by-line, typo-free, and include them in the folder you submit on Friday, Aug 22. Put each poem on a separate page; for efficiency purposes, please be sure that each poem does, in fact, fit on a single page using 12-point Times New Roman. Be sure also to include your name, the title of the poem and the name of the author.

Your Mission (Part II): Write

Ten days. Five poems. Simple. The only other requirement is that all of the poems must be at least ten (10) lines long and no more than fifty (50) lines long. Oh, and they all have to have titles.

There's an oft-quoted story about the poet William Stafford. Stafford's writing regimen consisted of writing a poem a day. He'd wake up, maybe grab a cup o' Joe, and start writing. Around mid-morning, he'd put the poem-in-progress down and go about his day. Run errands. Read. Eat lunch. What have you. After lunch, he'd revisit the poem. Jot a few more lines. Tweak some of the ones he'd already written. Put it down for a while longer. After eating dinner and doing the dishes, he'd sit back down with the poem and bring it to fruition. Then he'd go to bed, wake up the next day, and do it again. Upon hearing about this system -- a finished poem a day, every day -- that's a lot -- somebody asked him how he did it. "I lower my standards," he said.

Moral of the story? The real work of writing is confronting the blank page and filling it. Genius is overrated.

These five poems are due no later than Friday, Aug 22. When I get back, I'll read them and we'll conference individually to help you prepare for your first critique submission.

Your Mission (Part III): Think

I want you to think about two things. Words and Form. Whatever those two concepts mean to you, particularly in the context of poetry.

And here are a couple of related exercises to sorta get you started:

• oceanic
• "particular sophistication" vs. "particularly sophisticated"

What do you notice about the word "oceanic"? Do you like it? Do you not like it? Is it "poetic"?

How are the two phrases -- "particular sophistication" and "particularly sophisticated" -- different?

Be prepared to talk about this when I get back.