“The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven’s sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.” —Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.
I don’t know about you, but writing fiction is not coming easy for me these days. Hell, living is not coming easy for me these days. These are hard, scary times. Writing fiction requires the ability to imagine people and places and events and feelings beyond my immediate experience, and, like many of us, my immediate experience demands so much of my time and attention and energy there’s not much left for anything else. Work, family, social distancing, racial justice, violence, the pandemic, politics—how many things can jostle for attention all at once in the human psyche? I don’t know, but it sure feels like at least six too many right now. So when my friend Julia called last month and asked if I wanted to meet via conference call once a week to discuss poetry and share poems, I thought, I can’t think about one more thing. But then I thought, maybe I can do just that.
And now, six weeks in to writing a poem a week, I feel that this small, regular act of creation is keeping me moored. I wrote a poem about backpacking. I wrote a poem about social distancing. I wrote a poem about a childhood memory of stargazing with my father. I wrote an onomatopoeia poem about a frog. I wrote a welcome manual to sadness in poetic form. I wrote a poem about writing poetry. I’ve written rhyming poems and free verse and sonnets. I’ve explored ghazals and pantoums and villanelles (look them up; I had to). Writing a poem a week is a small, do-able thing, one that reminds me that my creative brain still works. And in these trying times I’d recommend finding one small creative act of your own that you can do each week, aside from your fiction. Art, poetry, dance, music—whatever it is, just try it. It’s a good respite from the hard, immersive work we all do as writers, for several reasons:
You don’t have to be invested in the outcome. When I’m writing a novel, I’m always writing, then reading and rereading with a critical eye. Will readers like these characters? What will my agent think, or my editor? Is this as good as my last book? As good as my first book? With my poem a week, I’m completely free of thinking “this needs to be good.” I don’t think of myself as a poet; I don’t plan to publish my poems or show them to anyone (except my poetry club partners, Julia and Martha), and if I write a bad poem it doesn’t bother me; if I write a good poem I’m pleasantly surprised. It is a JOY to write without any thought as to what will happen next. It’s creating for the pure pleasure of creating.
You can train muscles that will make you a better writer. The assignments we’ve given ourselves in our little poetry-writing group have included writing a poem that included five onomatopoeia words (words like “slash,” “murmur,” “thump”). I was surprised at how including vivid words like that seemed to push all of us into using more active verbs and stronger words throughout. In another assignment, we made a list of things that can get broken (your phone, your heart, a teacup) and the ways things get fixed (a repairman, time, glue) and then wrote a poem mixing them all up. It was good to suddenly find brand new metaphors, to think about other ways of looking at things.
You can expand your creative world. Over the last six week I’ve read dozens of poems, out of curiosity, or looking for inspiration. I’ve encountered poets and poems and even poetic forms I’d never read before. The incredible power and beauty of the language of so many of these poems and poets has opened my mind to all kinds of ways of using words.
You can get something done. I may not have started a new novel, finished the editing on an essay I need to do, or deep-cleaned the kitchen, but I did write a poem this week. It feels good.
Finally, here’s one of my poems. It was fun to write, and I wish you all the joy of finding the fun in your own creating this month.
A Quarantine Poem
I shall not write a June poem
A June poem should shout joy;
I’ll wait until December
Then all my skills deploy.
I’ll wait until December,
When the days are brief and dark,
And sit beside the fire-glow
And write about a lark.
And my sweet words will rise up
And fly about the room
And settle on the windowsill
And then burst into bloom.
Have you explored other forms of writing or creating lately? What works for you?
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About Kathleen McCleary
Kathleen McCleary is the author of three novels—House and Home, A Simple Thing, and Leaving Haven—and has worked as a bookseller, bartender, and barista (all great jobs for gathering material for fiction). A Simple Thing (HarperCollins 2012) was nominated for the Library of Virginia Literary Awards. She was a journalist for many years before turning to fiction, and her work has appeared in The New York Times, The Washington Post, Good Housekeeping, Ladies Home Journal, and USA Weekend, as well as HGTV.com, where she was a regular columnist. She taught writing as an adjunct professor at American University in Washington, D.C., and teaches creative writing to kids ages 8-18 as an instructor with Writopia Labs, a non-profit. She also offers college essay coaching (http://thenobleapp.com), because she believes that life is stressful enough and telling stories of any kind should be exciting and fun. When she's not writing or coaching writing, she looks for any excuse to get out into the woods or mountains or onto a lake. She lives in northern Virginia with her husband and two daughters and Jinx the cat.
When we started home isolation in March, I decided to use a daily schedule that included “create time” for my kids. After creating something (legos, drawing-alas, neither wants to write) they were less anxious and possibly even looked a little happy? They began having drawing competitions that they’d post on Instagram and have people choose the winner. They interacted with each other nicely for at least an hour or two, and then were able to connect with their friends, too. All because of create time. And that is what creativity does for us, I think. It allows us to connect with ourselves, first, but then-in the sharing-also with others.
During this time , I’ve actually been writing more regularly. Working on my novel has become a refuge from all my myriad anxieties. I can’t say I write a lot each day, but even writing 250 words soothes my soul. Since I’ve had to learn to block self-doubts to write, I appear to be able to block out other anxieties as well, and entering my novel world and figuring out the puzzle of how to word a description or plot a scene allows me to exercise some problem solving control I don’t have in society in these troubled times. Plus, making progress is always a reward. :)
Oh, Lara, your daily “create time” is just brilliant. Kudos to you for coming up with such a productive, healthy way to channel your kids’ energy (and anxieties). I love that. And I’m glad that you’ve found that working on your novel provides the respite and the forward momentum we all need to find these days. Thanks for your comments! P.S. This sentiment is so insightful it should be a meme: “And that is what creativity does for us, I think. It allows us to connect with ourselves, first, but then—in the sharing—also with others.”
I have to admit, the great idea was not my own. I found it on Pinterest, maybe? :D
Appreciate that you’re crediting the source, and love the idea and that you shared it with us.
Hi Kathleen, your words are uplifting, because you are making the best of one of the worst situations. Bravo. And to that point, we are actually selling our home and moving in the middle of a pandemic! But it became a necessity and so here we are. I only write this to say that when I can get to my computer and work on my novel I’m joyful. It might only be two hours a day or ten minutes, but everything else disappears and I live once again with my characters, my people. Then it’s back to the reality of decision-making and worry. So again, bravo. When you love writing, creating, you do it under any circumstance.
Wow, Beth! Moving in the middle of a pandemic lends a whole new meaning to the definition of the words “chaos” and “uncertainty.” It’s good to hear you’ve found an escape in your book. I certainly wish you all the best with your move (and your writing). I agree, when you love creating, you’ll find a way to do it under any conditions. Big hugs.
A lovely poem, Kathleen. I’ve always worked on multiple projects and use poetry to ‘cleanse the palate.’ Word play is such fun.
Lara’s create time is genius. And Beth, I know several families who are moving this summer and I’m praying you’ll have a smooth move too.
I’ve been working on short chapter books, with my daughter making art for them. It’s been such fun and so very refreshing, plus we have little books to hold and share with our young friends.
Hi, Vijaya. What a great idea to create chapter books with your daughter’s illustrations. It’s such a fun way for you to try a different kind of writing and what a wonderful collaboration with your daughter. As Lara said, it’s the kind of creating that allows us to connect with ourselves and with others. I hope you save those books forever! And I love the idea of writing poetry as a “palate cleanser.” Good luck with your writing.
I like those lines, Kathleen — they brought an immediate smile, inside and out. Thanks for sharing!
Thanks, Thomas. The poem made me smile as I wrote it, and God knows we could all use more smiles these days. I appreciate your comment.
I loved your poem, too.
Thank you, Marcy! Best of luck with your own creating.
I agree! Poetry is short. Sweet and something I can complete. It gives me a break from my novel. Sending this along to my poet friend.
Thank you, Carol. It makes me happy that you want to share my poem, and I’m glad you, too, find a welcome break in poetry. Cheers.
Thanks Kathleen, I enjoyed this post because I’ve been doing something similar. A friend sent me a book on poetic forms, and I started reading it and decided to try each one as I went along. I’d been looking through the hundreds of free verse poems I’ve written over the years, but somehow using the forms made the writing an entirely different thing. It was no longer simply a way to express how I felt, it was part of a tradition, and I found the poems themselves were different. I’m actually now thinking about applying to do an MFA poetry program – it opened up a whole new world. Who knew that writing villanelles and pantoums could be so much fun?
Thanks for sharing your experience – I hope you keep enjoying it!
Wow. I agree with you–it is mind-opening (world-opening?) to explore all the forms of poetry, each with its own challenges and rewards. Kudos to you for trying them all on for size, and how exciting to contemplate an MFA. You, go! Keep us posted on if you decided to pursue it. All best,
I’m currently working on a NF book (humorous essays), a play (comedy-mystery), and the first stirrings of a fantasy novel. But yesterday, just for variety, I composed a limerick about legal deposit as I waited for the train to the National Library in Wellington.
There was a young book for deposit
Which found itself shut in a closet
It wondered “will I
e’er be read ere I die?”
but books are immortal – or was it?
Not of any great literary merit, to be sure, but a change is said to be as good as a holiday, and it’s hard to be gloomy and sad mid-limerick.
Oh, your limerick made me smile, Deborah. Thanks for sharing. Agreed, it’s hard to be gloomy mid-limerick. And I’m impressed with the range of writing you’re working on! Best of luck with it all.
Kathleen, I love your poem. I used to be engaged with poetry, and I wrote a lot of haikus:
Poetry, not prose,
warms the brain, bubbles the blood,
gilds every dark crease
But I got away from it, or it got away from me. We need to get back to each other, though. I once wrote that haikus are like candy — sweet treats. I also think they’re like medicine — good medicine for hard times.
Thanks for reminding me, and thanks for this post!
Hi Kathleen,
Thanks for this. Your poem reminded me of the winter days not so long ago. I found myself longing for them and some of the comforts of the holiday season.
During this pandemic time I’ve been trying to write encouraging words to my friends on Facebook – things that would apply uniquely to them. Being a dancer, I use that to get a break from writing, but during the first month I tried different styles than my regular jazz, modern and ballet. I tried hip hop, African dance and something called gyrokinesis which does amazing things for the spine! Best to you and all of us during this time. Be safe, creative and well.