I spent a few hours yesterday and the first half of today attending the 2013 Creative Writing/Teaching Conference at Southern Utah University (where I attend college). Jane Hirschfield and Robin Hemley were the visiting writers. Jane is a poet, and I must admit that when I first read her recent book of poetry, Come, Thief, I was not in love. I could tell they were good poems; they just weren't my cup of tea. Here's what I mean, if it's possible to explain:
Everything Has Two Endings
Everything has two endings--
a horse, a piece of string, a phone call.
Before a life, air.
And after.
As silence is not silence, but a limit of hearing.
It just doesn't make me care. I guess that's my main problem with her poetry. I loved that last line, though: "As silence is not silence, but a limit of hearing." It's a twist on my regular way of seeing the world, and that's something I value.
After listening to her read, attending a class she taught, and interacting with her later, I find myself liking her poetry more, or at least, seeing that she is a wonderful poet. After that, it's really just a matter of taste (and I'll just go elsewhere, I suppose, for poetry that makes me want to eat the page).
In the class, she led us through an exercise for poetry writing. Before I walk you through it, let me write something that I wrote as a result:
She wraps herself in the scarf of delight,
tugs it round her hair
and down her back
in a wondrous cascade.
The wind feathers it
while she sits on the couch,
watching the rain condescend
to kiss the earth.
And here's one more:
Autumn
I look in my mailbox
and find only a black beetle.
Now that you've admired how poetic I can be ;-) , I will show you what she had us do that led to them. You should give it a try. First, I wrote ten ordinary nouns in a column (without thinking too hard).
house
panther
orange juice
scarf
boy
school
bell
tower
shower
fingernail
Next, in a column beside that one, I wrote ten abstract nouns (no thought given to correspondance).
argument
thirst
cold
delight
wonder
history
stereotype
giggle
scene
comedy
The next step was to write "of" between my first and second columns. Thus:
house of argument
panther of thirst
orange juice of cold(ness)
scarf of delight
boy of wonder
school of history
bell of stereotype
tower of giggle(s)
shower of scene
fingernail of comedy
Then she had us write about one of those things/combinations we had created. That's where my scarf of delight thing comes from.
Another exercise she led us through was to write a short thought or image in the sense of haiku without caring about the syllables and meter. She suggested using a season to title or begin the short poem-esque piece of writing. That's where my black beetle piece came from. That, and the one time I opened my mailbox and found nothing but a black beetle. For some reason, that particular image has stuck with me for some time, and I keep looking for an excuse to use it.
Robin Hemley was there in his capacity as a writer of creative nonfiction, though he also read some poetry, and he has written novels. After the reading, I asked him why he started writing creative nonfiction, namely, memoirs. I wanted to know what made a person decide to start writing about themselves under the assumption that other people actually would be interested. It sounds a bit narcissistic (but then, I'm the one writing this blog, so who am I to talk?). He did not seem particularly narcissistic, but then, most writers need to be a little cocky in some way, otherwise they wouldn't try to get published in the first place. Anyway, I asked, because I was curious. Turns out he had already been writing fiction when someone suggested he do it, and that's where it started. Makes sense to me.
He talked with us about how memory can assist but also get in the way of writing a memoir. Memory is the worst eyewitness. Basically, it comes down to figuring out the line on your own, because writing a memoir does involve a bit of fiction. It's true! Nonfiction and fiction are like neighbors, and if nonfiction wants to have a lively household, they have to borrow decorations from the house next door. The house is still nonfiction, and the people are still nonfiction, but the decorations tie it all together.
Translation: While I may not remember what color the couches were, it might prove a useful detail. So I include a color.
I guess this means y'all should never completely trust a word I say. Actually, I make it a policy to be honest, except when I'm lying ... er, writing.
They were both delightful people, and I really enjoyed the conference. Thanks to SUU and the Utah Humanities Book Festival for putting it together.
