No matter where you look, always be thinking of things (ideas) you can be squirrelling away for future use. Bring a bag and a notebook and a camera.
If nothing else, strive for balance, even if you have to create it yourself.
Fujifilm XT1, Fujinon 27mm 2.8 “Pancake”
Lately I’ve noticed a surge of statistics and articles on increasing popularity, discoverability, readability. This idea also seems to be trickling down into the creative writing world, especially poetry. It seems that content is being replaced by style, message by findability. Ok, so this isn’t new, but the sheer volume of noise behind the movement is disconcerting.
Every title of every article is the same, and some of these pieces even offer exact formulae for proper title wording. To me, an old school writer just wading into this new world, it seems self-defeating. It is the definition of vicious cycle: read articles about how to get articles read. While some of the pieces offer great information and insight, many rehash, refurbish, recycle. Does creativity take a backseat to search optimization?
The same holds true for poetry these days. Themes, styles, looks all drain into one homogeneous slush of ‘poeming.’ It is becoming more and more difficult to tell poets/writers apart — it all sounds the same, about the same thing, written pretty much the same way. Where articles use canned headlines, poems use the same short, choppy prose, losing any differentiating, interesting, identifiable characteristics. The essence of voice (see my short piece on voice) is gone.
● Commodification kills style
● Commodification kills voice
● Commodification kills art
Randomly select an article in a publication, on the web, anywhere, and truly try to find the author in it. Do the same with some contemporary poetry. Can you really, REALLY, identify the poet? It is getting tough. This is not to say there aren’t many great writers, poets, novelists, etc… I just find it disheartening that it takes much more effort to wade through the swamp of sameness to reach a little island of beauty. And, people are often instructed to become more homogenous:
● How to get reads
● How to get clicks
● How to get published
In each case, the message is simple: be more like everyone else, and everyone will read your stuff. Journals often tell writers to read what they like, what they’ve published, what they don’t like. If conformity was the goal, we would not have Samuel Beckett, H.D., or any other writer experimenting, excelling, inspiring. Instead of compelling, complex, cerebral writing, we would only have short, simple sentences and paragraphs of a certain length, apps to make us write like Hemingway (no hate, I LOVE Hemingway, mostly because he was Hemingway), apps to cut words we don’t need, to suggest better, shorter, more common words… oh, wait, nevermind…
“They don’t make movies like they used to.”
“Whatever happened to the classics?”
“Now THAT song will never get old!”
When we do find something different, exciting, fresh, a piece, poem, story, novel, song that is identifiable to a particular creator, we instantly know we’ve found something special. It will survive ‘pop’ culture, trends, the ‘must-dos’ of the day. Without differentiation, experimentation, deviation from the blob of sameness, there is nothing special. That’s why, for me, I want quirky titles, non-conforming articles, poems that are still poetry. I think it’s something we should all want, need, demand. My suggestion: make it yours and let the world find you. It doesn’t help to try and make it fit. That just fills the swamp. If it’s good, if it’s yours, if it’s fresh, it will be discovered, remembered, cherished.
Off to a tiny island, to read weird, wild, wacky stuff, I remain — RLR
pitch dark where stars whiten at the death —albeit short-lived— of the streetlamp cycle-timed for conservation frogs creak and croak he hears them echoed reflected deflected from neighbouring houses with windows open to the calm evening air that carries the din there are no thieves conspiring or ne’er-do-wells whispering plans for mischief only frogs those night-sounds that bounce against constructions and preconceptions
Using vintage lenses makes photography fun – and you get to (re)learn the basics. Manipulation through aperture, shutter speed and ISO, along with manual focus, forces you to concentrate on the subject and the desired outcome. Search those old lenses out. Yard sales, parents’ or grandparents’ closets, online, second hand shops, all can yield cool glass that will guarantee hours of enjoyment and that polishing of your “artistic” skills. Don’t just focus on the internet darlings; any old lens will yield something different, often for a few dollars, or even for free. The flaws or imperfections will give your shots that character that breathes life into the images. No need for apps or filters.
Below: images shot with Fuji XT3, inexpensive Fotasy adapter, Minolta Rokkor 45mm f2 (free, from someone clearing out his basement).
The beauty of online communities, networks, publications, is the abundance of information available. We can learn anything, from anyone, at any time. However wonderful this is, there are too many traps to fall into.
Learn from the Teachers
A lot of advice — a lot — comes from novices, learners, students. This may seem fantastic, a fresh pool of opinions to draw from. It is, however, important to remember that Teachers and Masters have learned from experience. They show what they’ve done, more than expound on what they think should be done. The best example is a college/university course. Would you rather sit in a room with an experienced professor, or with a fourth year student lecturing? Ask yourself what is the difference?
The same holds true for writers. Trust those who have been published, those who have been rejected, those who have proven themselves over time. Sure the new kid on the block may throw his or her ideas out there, but often those are conceptual instead of experiential. Also, those new insights are often ‘borrowed’ or ‘reworded.’ It takes time and living the life to really have the ability to pass along wisdom.
Ignore the Sycophants
However good it feels to have someone like you and / or your writing, there is seldom much value in the sycophant’s comments.
I love what you did here.
Perfect as always!
This ego-stroking, heart-clicking, thumb-upping advice does little to challenge, advance, spark an internal discussion. Beware the folks that fawn over your stuff. Maybe there are ulterior motives (reciprocation, follows/likes by association), but certainly there are few constructive motives.
Don’t Ignore the Haters
Unless a reader is castigating just to castigate, or baiting, or trolling, there may be some useful nuggets of wisdom in the vitriol.
Man, could you drone on any longer!
Wow, haven’t seen this a thousand times.
None of this really connects.
Somewhere, inside that dark cloud that weighs on the writer, there is a silver lining. Maybe a short sentence would work here and there. Maybe that was a weak piece.
Those readers who take the time to criticize, hopefully politely, will give you pause. Are they on to something? Is the challenge worthy? Could this be improved?
Now, take the compliments when deserved and ignore the insults when unwarranted. But, if you are truly searching for lessons, for improvement, place more weight in those that have done it before, for real, in the real world, and that have something to say that may actually make you uncomfortable.
Make your writing unusual
One of the best aspects of creative writing is the ability to manipulate, transform, mystify. Taking the everyday and making it sublime, ridiculous, awe-inspiring is a skill any writer should hone.
Anyone can describe. It takes a special talent to change what one sees in order to make in interesting, provocative, evocative for a reader. The “stuff” is the same, that original inspiration, but the execution is what counts. Without the ability to engage and entertain, we would all be but scribes, recording the everyday.
When you are writing, exercising the voice and vibe that makes the writing yours, remember that you must run everything through the filter of you. Failure to make the world around you yours, presented in such a way as to bring your world to others, will only result in boring retelling or rewording.
Always ask yourself:
● Is it presented in a new way?
● Is it exciting?
● Will people care?
If you know where to look…