What do you want from your writing?

[Tzara]

I like Angeline's answer. I too like language; love its nuances.

As do I. I love language and love to play with it, tinker with it, twist it around like a Nerf ball.

I probably often get the damn thing stuck between the backboard and the hoop, but it's still fun, anyway.

I also write to find some Greater Meaning but probably delude myself in the process because there's still a question mark at the end of it, although a wonderful one. I'm not smart enough to figure it out. I don't believe anyone is. In spite of the pain and suffering of life, I remain in awe of it and attempt to express that in poetry.

I think you work harder at this than most of us, gm, but it is, as you say, very hard to do. How do you know when you're on the right track? That you're progressing?

I tend to feel I am just lobbing things in the air, hoping something will stick to the wall of Importance.

 

[greenmountaineer]

..........it is, as you say, very hard to do. How do you know when you're on the right track? That you're progressing?

I tend to feel I am just lobbing things in the air, hoping something will stick to the wall of Importance.

I think there is a greater intelligence at work in the universe that connects with us at an intuitive level. I know others don't believe that. Call it God, the Tao, my Muse, or a thousand other names humans have used to describe it since the beginning. Language, specifically poetry, is a medium I use to try to make sense of it, including the metaphysical, the physical, and yes, the sensual. Other media are music, painting, mathematics, physics, etc. Einstein had some interesting things to say about it, one of which was "My religion consists of a humble admiration of the illimitable superior spirit who reveals himself in the slight details we are able to perceive with our frail and feeble mind."

My apologies for the long winded antecedents to your question about progressing. The answer is I don't know, but I imagine I am, which reminds me of another quote from the famous man: "Logic will get you from A to B. Imagination will take you everywhere." But I'm no Einstein.

 

[Tzara]

currently, i don't think there's anything i want from my poetry other than for it to be what it meant best to be... just to see it exist, independent, not requiring my hand any more.

Do you think of them as finished, then? I tend to think of mine usually as in what I might call a "current state," i.e., kind of in between revisions. Not that they all get revised, but I'm not sure I ever think of them as being finished. The only ones that I'm completely through with are those that, for whatever reason, I have abandoned.

I suppose that is because I still haven't written anything that I've really been satisfied with. Part of where this thread came from, I think. I'm kind of wrestling with the idea of why I do this at all, what I want from it.

i used to think in terms of a book - well, maybe maybe one day. i've read so many poets of such calibre that the thought of a book with only my writing in it seems an old conceit. i suppose i simply want to read them (my poems) and be content - anyone else reading them and enjoying them is icing on the cake right now.

I like the idea of other people reading my poems and liking them, but right now that doesn't help me feel better about them myself. It almost makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong.

Maybe I'm just being contrary. I don't know.

 

[Tzara]

It isn't anything I have to do (as evidenced by the fact that I went recently for a good month or two without writing a single poem and I was just fine) but rather that it is a good way for me to channel the my internal dialogue into something concrete so that I can really look at it a little and figure out how I feel about things. That is why I write. It is not, however, why I edit, which is a whole other question.

OK, then. It's like me wandering about the house having conversations with myself, I guess. Way of letting off steam, or trying to understand myself.

So, why do you edit?

 

[Tzara]

To be read.

Well, that's a straightforward answer. But you don't get off that easy.

Do you consciously try to write in a way you think will interest readers, then? Do you have a particular audience in mind? If no one read you, would you stop writing? How big an audience do you need? One person? Ten? Do you care if you're read because people like your poems, or would it be OK if you were read by 10,000 people who detested your work?

I know, silly questions.

 

[Tzara]

I'm on the other side of that...


to be written.

It's likely got to do with this silliness of business and accounting that I'm currently eyeball deep in right now. Although, the upswing is that I've gotten some very good marks on my midterms. So I'm happy, but still not writing poetry. Dammit.

Well, congrats on those exams, m'dear and clear that accountinglyness off your schedule ASAP so you can write some more poems.

 

[Angeline]

I had the idea at one point that getting published was some indication that your poem was "good," with the additional idea that getting published in "better" places (online, better online, print journal, Ploughshares, The New Yorker) meant meant that you were progressing from "good" to "really good."

I'm not sure I don't still believe that, but I'm also not sure it matters to me any more.

What matters to me, I think, is that I write a poem I'm thoroughly satisfied with. Which I haven't yet done and haven't yet come close to.

I'd like to teach at some point. I have taught various things computerese (and psychology, many years ago), but I would like to teach writing at some point. So good luck on doing that.
The one and only written drivers' test I took was pretty close to 42 years ago. I would hate to take it again.

Good luck.

I used to feel the same way about publications like New Yorker and The Atlantic, etcetera. I used to have a subscription to The New Yorker (for years) but now, admittedly, just read it in doctors' offices and such. Even so, I've read enough to know I've written better poems than some I've seen published and I know you and others here have, too. That just reminds me that if one is an established poet who has published books and has a rep, it's a whole lot easier to get the acceptances. I think knowing that is why I care less about getting into those publications anymore. But lol I'm not saying I'll never try again.

I am now a registered legal NC driver. But man I was sweating bullets over that silly test.

 

[Eric_B]

Yes, of course. But what do you want your writing to do for you?

I'm not asking what you want it to do to/invoke in your readers. I want to know what you want to get out of it yourself. Control (over your readers)? Money? Fame? Pleasure in the act itself?

What?

Sorry for the lack of clarity.
I don't see the distinction between what I want my writing to do vs what I get out of it. If my readers feel the emotions I put to paper then I am happy. So I guess I want my writing to make me happy. Not sure what else I can say.

 

[corndog_]

Poetry has, at times, provided the table upon which I have emptied a dufflebag of emotions for examination. The selection of words, images, and structures that I employ to write a poem offers insight that I have found therapeutic.

 

[hmmnmm]

I used to feel the same way about publications like New Yorker and The Atlantic, etcetera. I used to have a subscription to The New Yorker (for years) but now, admittedly, just read it in doctors' offices and such. Even so, I've read enough to know I've written better poems than some I've seen published and I know you and others here have, too. That just reminds me that if one is an established poet who has published books and has a rep, it's a whole lot easier to get the acceptances. I think knowing that is why I care less about getting into those publications anymore. But lol I'm not saying I'll never try again.

I am now a registered legal NC driver. But man I was sweating bullets over that silly test.

I read this and think of pets. Matching up pets with the right people. If a pet's pedigree is checkered at best maybe some of the homes like The Atlantic - maybe they just want certain purebred pets.

Or maybe I've just got a houseful of mutts scampering around and I've grown too attached to them to let them go. Or there's fear. Or maybe I think of someone who might give one of my mutts a decent home. Or maybe down in the basement are a bunch of things at various stages of development, that I'm not sure what to call them, not sure how to tell if they're finished or if they should be.

Maybe find a quiet place on the outskirts of a flea market, set up a couple tables, maybe most people walk on by and maybe an occasional one stops and gives a gander, if they don't see anything that interests them, offer them a beer anyway. Maybe I'm doing something to while away the time, like whittling, and maybe they see the whittlings and are more interested in the whittlings than the wordsmithings. And maybe I'd as soon spend my time with one as the other.

The main thing is to get back on a track or into a place where there is no stress about it. I've been in that place before. It's like an ease, a laxity, in feeling like I can go anywhere or do anything I want. Whether it's really true or whether I'm inside a beautiful landscape that isn't real, really doesn't seem to matter. A comfortable place to be. A broke-in cozy sweater to wear all winter. Just for my own private enjoyment and others are certainly welcome to partake but are also secondary. Because I think the more calmly secure I am the less stress there is in thinking it has to be presented to others.

I have been in those places before but somewhere in the last year or so, I slipped out, fell off, so what I want now is to get back to that place, that feel, that groove, of just enjoying writing for its own sake. For my sake. Maybe when fall deepens into winter... the mountains wear snow now.

 

[nerk]

I had the idea at one point that getting published was some indication that your poem was "good," with the additional idea that getting published in "better" places (online, better online, print journal, Ploughshares, The New Yorker) meant meant that you were progressing from "good" to "really good."

I'm not sure I don't still believe that, but I'm also not sure it matters to me any more.

What matters to me, I think, is that I write a poem I'm thoroughly satisfied with. Which I haven't yet done and haven't yet come close to.

I used to feel the same way about publications like New Yorker and The Atlantic, etcetera. I used to have a subscription to The New Yorker (for years) but now, admittedly, just read it in doctors' offices and such. Even so, I've read enough to know I've written better poems than some I've seen published and I know you and others here have, too. That just reminds me that if one is an established poet who has published books and has a rep, it's a whole lot easier to get the acceptances. I think knowing that is why I care less about getting into those publications anymore. But lol I'm not saying I'll never try again.

I read this and think of pets. Matching up pets with the right people. If a pet's pedigree is checkered at best maybe some of the homes like The Atlantic - maybe they just want certain purebred pets.

I completely understand that feeling of wanting to be good enough. For years I couldn't write at all because of the massive rift between my expectations and my ability. You know, I was Destined For Literary Greatness, and so I was only allowed to write things that were Worthy Of My Latent Genius. Of course, with the genius being latent, nothing was worthy. I still fall prey to that sort of thinking often enough.

And I love the idea of the New Yorker being a pedigree snob. Now I know why my mutt gnaws on it.

To the original question, I want many things from my writing. Aside from fame and fortune, I very much write for readers. The whole reason I started writing was because of the way reading affected me. I definitely wanted to be able to do that. Even writing something that will never be read by anyone else, there is still that sense that this might could touch someone. So really, it's a kind of psychic frotteurism.

 

[ninianne]

what do I get from writing?

This is a fascinating discussion. For me, the answer is complicated.

I write because it helps me understand myself. I think faster than I can speak (and I edit as I go, which means the end of a sentence I speak doesn't necessarily follow from the beginning, which is sometimes confusing for the other half of the conversation). The process of saying something aloud makes me aware of how I think about it. Writing gives me another layer of clarity in that process.

I write because I enjoy the process of writing. There is something very satisfying about typing words so that turn into a poem or a story (or an essay . . . although essays tend to be less of an organic process (for me, at least)). I enjoy the craft of writing as much as I enjoy the art of having written. For me, I am not a natural poet. There is a lot more craft when I write poetry--it does not spring fulling formed from my fingertips. If I feel deeply about something, I revert to story telling--so that my emotions can be fulling engaged.

I write because I want to become a better writer. Yes, that's a circular motivation. Because I want to write and because I want to write well, I find that I need to write more. I write because I want to read what I have written. I write what I like--mostly.

I write to prove that I can. Specifically in this site--I write erotica because it's a challenge to see how close I can get to the body. It's fun to push my limits, to see what I can do if I step out of my experience and into the dark.

I write because I can't imagine not writing. Two years ago, I was in the hospital for just over a week (long story) and so for a period of maybe 3 months (a month before, two months after) I was dead tired, hurting physically and emotionally, and distracted with a major lifestyle change. I did not have the energy or motivation to write. I didn't feel myself again until I could sit down at the computer without fading.

I write out of hope that someday I will be read. When I post online, I am generally certain that what I have written is finished enough to stand on its own without additional explanation from me. Although I have gone back with some things and improved them based on reader comments.

Huh. Now that I've written all of this, I think my motivations aren't as complicated as I thought.

 

[Angeline]

I read this and think of pets. Matching up pets with the right people. If a pet's pedigree is checkered at best maybe some of the homes like The Atlantic - maybe they just want certain purebred pets.

Or maybe I've just got a houseful of mutts scampering around and I've grown too attached to them to let them go. Or there's fear. Or maybe I think of someone who might give one of my mutts a decent home. Or maybe down in the basement are a bunch of things at various stages of development, that I'm not sure what to call them, not sure how to tell if they're finished or if they should be.

Maybe find a quiet place on the outskirts of a flea market, set up a couple tables, maybe most people walk on by and maybe an occasional one stops and gives a gander, if they don't see anything that interests them, offer them a beer anyway. Maybe I'm doing something to while away the time, like whittling, and maybe they see the whittlings and are more interested in the whittlings than the wordsmithings. And maybe I'd as soon spend my time with one as the other.

The main thing is to get back on a track or into a place where there is no stress about it. I've been in that place before. It's like an ease, a laxity, in feeling like I can go anywhere or do anything I want. Whether it's really true or whether I'm inside a beautiful landscape that isn't real, really doesn't seem to matter. A comfortable place to be. A broke-in cozy sweater to wear all winter. Just for my own private enjoyment and others are certainly welcome to partake but are also secondary. Because I think the more calmly secure I am the less stress there is in thinking it has to be presented to others.

I have been in those places before but somewhere in the last year or so, I slipped out, fell off, so what I want now is to get back to that place, that feel, that groove, of just enjoying writing for its own sake. For my sake. Maybe when fall deepens into winter... the mountains wear snow now.

One important thing I learned when I was submitting poems for publication is that you need to find a publication whose editors will like the way you write. You can tell that by reading what they publish. If what you see seems sort of like the way you write, then you have a reasonable chance of getting an acceptance. But I found that even that became too much trouble for me because it took a lot of searching around and reading to find places where I felt I'd have a decent shot at getting in. Well everything goes in cycles so I expect that somewhere down the road I'll want to get back on the ride. But not now! Anyway I'm working away at the novel and that is consuming all my writing interest these days.

I bet if you force yourself to write something every day, a few months into it you'll get back to that space. Just my opinion, but I think it comes with ease and ease comes from practice Tihmmmmmy.

 

[Tzara]

I think there is a greater intelligence at work in the universe that connects with us at an intuitive level. I know others don't believe that. Call it God, the Tao, my Muse, or a thousand other names humans have used to describe it since the beginning. Language, specifically poetry, is a medium I use to try to make sense of it, including the metaphysical, the physical, and yes, the sensual. Other media are music, painting, mathematics, physics, etc. Einstein had some interesting things to say about it, one of which was "My religion consists of a humble admiration of the illimitable superior spirit who reveals himself in the slight details we are able to perceive with our frail and feeble mind."

My apologies for the long winded antecedents to your question about progressing. The answer is I don't know, but I imagine I am, which reminds me of another quote from the famous man: "Logic will get you from A to B. Imagination will take you everywhere." But I'm no Einstein.

As may perhaps have been apparent earlier, I don't believe in God. Technically, I am agnostic; functionally, I am atheist.

But I really like your poems, gm. And long-windedness is more my problem than yours.

I think we're all trying to make sense of things. Does poetry help?

 

[corndog_]

Many of already consult these, but Jeffry Bahr's and Duotrope's sites offer good info for those interested in publication.

 

[Tzara]

I used to feel the same way about publications like New Yorker and The Atlantic, etcetera. I used to have a subscription to The New Yorker (for years) but now, admittedly, just read it in doctors' offices and such. Even so, I've read enough to know I've written better poems than some I've seen published and I know you and others here have, too. That just reminds me that if one is an established poet who has published books and has a rep, it's a whole lot easier to get the acceptances.

I don't know that I have written better poems, but I'm quite sure that many of the poems published in the "better" outlets are not very good, in my ignorant opinion.

Not sure I care, actually. And, yes, "established" poets, or poets who have worked with established poets I think have a much easier time of it. But that's no different than any other discipline. Students who worked with, say, Robert Rescorla (I was a psychology major, and picked as example someone important in the profession whom I'd bet real money none of you would know) probably had a better chance of getting into the good journals than I did, with my second-rate professors.

It's the way grad school, and the World, works.

I am now a registered legal NC driver. But man I was sweating bullets over that silly test.

Congratulations. Be safe on the scenic roads of the Tar Heel State, m'dear.

 

[Tzara]

Sorry for the lack of clarity.
I don't see the distinction between what I want my writing to do vs what I get out of it. If my readers feel the emotions I put to paper then I am happy. So I guess I want my writing to make me happy. Not sure what else I can say.

That's OK, EB. I'se just jazzin' you, trying to smoke up responses to the thread.

I was trained as a psychologist. You answer, I prod. Sorry about that.

If you've said what you want to say on the topic, my sincerest thanks, and I'll stop nagging you.

 

[Tzara]

Poetry has, at times, provided the table upon which I have emptied a dufflebag of emotions for examination. The selection of words, images, and structures that I employ to write a poem offers insight that I have found therapeutic.

Oh, boy, is that an opening, especially for someone with a fondness for English detective novels!

Shall we examine the contents of the deceased's poetic viscera to determine his real emotions, Doctor?

And will that tell us who murdered Professor Pecksmith with that African blowgun in the conservatory?

And is he sad about it?

 

[Tzara]

I have been in those places before but somewhere in the last year or so, I slipped out, fell off, so what I want now is to get back to that place, that feel, that groove, of just enjoying writing for its own sake. For my sake. Maybe when fall deepens into winter... the mountains wear snow now.

That writing simply for oneself is, I think, important. I mean, you'd better like your own writing, a 'cuz there's no guarantee anyone else will.

So of anything is a starting point for writing, self-appreciation is.

Get on with that, Mr. T.

 

[Tzara]

I completely understand that feeling of wanting to be good enough. For years I couldn't write at all because of the massive rift between my expectations and my ability. You know, I was Destined For Literary Greatness, and so I was only allowed to write things that were Worthy Of My Latent Genius. Of course, with the genius being latent, nothing was worthy. I still fall prey to that sort of thinking often enough.

Yeah. What's with that Northeastern Literary Establishment That Doesn't Recognize Us Brilliant Younger Writers?

Tone deaf sons of bitches.

I got that Latent thang down, Nerk, if you want some advice on how to do it bad. Or badly. Or whatever.

And I love the idea of the New Yorker being a pedigree snob. Now I know why my mutt gnaws on it.

To the original question, I want many things from my writing. Aside from fame and fortune, I very much write for readers. The whole reason I started writing was because of the way reading affected me. I definitely wanted to be able to do that. Even writing something that will never be read by anyone else, there is still that sense that this might could touch someone. So really, it's a kind of psychic frotteurism.

I will ignore your last sentence which, frankly, seems kind of ew and, instead, talk about that reading thing. Why, I think, many (even most?) of us try to write. We like to read, like to read something in particular (ghost stories, PI novels, confessional poems, whatever), and are inspired to try and create it our ownselfs.

Whether we do it well or poorly is a whole 'nother thing.

If I buy you a subscription to Ploughshares, would Fido chew that motherf&#!er too?

Just a question.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

At the risk of repeating myself and thereby making you all sick, I want from my writing images, if possible colour and mood as in any evocotive painting or drawing. It hinders me somewhat because to achieve this I need an inspirational (to me) subject which are sometimes few and far between.

I like corny's idea of the duffle bag of emotions tumbled on the table for examination and might use that to jump-start a new effort........

 

[hmmnmm]

Nerk & Tz: the part about reading something you like lots and wondering about trying iit yourself, cropped up as I thought more about the question. I'll just raise my hand on that. (I'd read National Lampoons and laugh so hard, so then I'd wonder about writing stuff that would make someone else laugh like NL made me laugh, or I'd just think of stuff I'd write in those veins and make myself laugh- f'instance)

[belated ETA: always had rather broad and varied tastes in what I like to read - little bit of this, little bit of that - so I enjoy dabbling or at least thinking about dabbling- with a little or this, a little of that. I ended up in Lit because of a curiosity about writing erotica, and then ended up in the poetry. Poetry would be a sort of exception because I'd never really read much poetry, didn't think I'd be interested in it, and I still can't talk shop about poetry, or famous poets too much. But various people had, over the years, accused me of being a poet. I would always deny it. But then one day after a couple years trying erotic stories, I glanced over at the Lit Poetry forum, and wondered, "Hm. Hey why not. Look into it. See how it goes." And that's pretty much how that happened.]

Ange: I've done the searching around and only end up with a renewed appreciation for Lit. Just something about the smell that keeps a fella coming back around. Maybe something they put in the cookies.

A few Real Life peskies have made a few contributions too. Like last spring the ol' pc died and lost a lot of stuff (wife says she knows someone who knows how to retrieve the files, but we haven't gotten around to seeing about it yet), so it's been a matter of rebuilding from scratch, and the going's been slow. Because it's nice to have a large selection of works to pick out and peck at, maybe spring new ideas from... before that fateful day I'd sometimes print out a few pages. But it's almost a double-edged blade to look at them because I think some of it was getting somewhere and nothing I'm messing with now comes close; but on the other hand I can see evidence that I am capable of decent work, but as was said, it just takes work and practice and more work and more practice. Might as well.

 

[hmmnmm]

Rather than clog or clutter the above, another thought came along, and it goes something like this:

I'm stricken or touched with an interest in _________ (poetry). Never written what I'd consciously call Poetry. But I scribble and dabble anyway. Ah, there's some people who know or have been writing poetry. I approach and say I've been interested in trying to write poetry, so I wrote this and this. Would you call this poetry or poetic? Someone says there's a little poetry here and there, but there and there it needs lots of work. Okay, so what does it need? Try this and that... Okay, so I go back and try this and that, return and show the latest efforts. Maybe a little better here, still not getting it there. Go back, try some more, come back with the latest efforts. Then comes the point where I don't want to become dependent on the others' approval, but it's also been most valuable learning source. So I say thank you for your time. I'll leave you alone now and go and try to see what I can come up with.

So I think it's all of the above. I mainly want to write for my own enjoyment.
But at the same time try not to forget to be a student.

Okay. Done.

 

[hmmnmm]

Okay one more thing.


I'll predict that if I employ a healthy mix of doing it for fun and also receptivity to learning whatever I can, that which I may enjoy writing and the reader somewhere out who enjoys reading what I might write, will eventually, naturally, find each other. Whether it's an intimate handful or an overflowing basketful; whether it's within the approving halls of an Ivy League Literary society or some anonymous two or three on an internet story/poetry site; whether it happens quick or takes a few years...??? I recall someone much wiser than myself tried to explain this to me, but I didn't really appreciate it then. Little slow about some stuff - or very very slow about much.

Okay. Done done.

 

[butters]

Okay one more thing.


I'll predict that if I employ a healthy mix of doing it for fun and also receptivity to learning whatever I can, that which I may enjoy writing and the reader somewhere out who enjoys reading what I might write, will eventually, naturally, find each other. Whether it's an intimate handful or an overflowing basketful; whether it's within the approving halls of an Ivy League Literary society or some anonymous two or three on an internet story/poetry site; whether it happens quick or takes a few years...??? I recall someone much wiser than myself tried to explain this to me, but I didn't really appreciate it then. Little slow about some stuff - or very very slow about much.

Okay. Done done.

i think you have it about right, mr hmmnmm