Outta the Blocks!

The only people reading poetry are those writing it.

If this statement is in the least bit a true, even a semi-factual statement (for those not knowing of its accuracy: it should be obvious) then, the writers’ challenge:

Adapt and overcome

Scenario: Joe Everyday: “my life’s a bore, hate my job and anything smacking of literacy ‘cause e-trash media feeds me everything they want me to know at a fifth- grade level. Was not exposed to poetry in school—except some drool by James Whitcomb Riley and Seuss, and that was enuff to skunk-stripe my tighty-whiteys.” Somehow, gawd only knows how, Joe has become lost in the Home Section of a found newspaper, is about to turn the page and happen upon a poem. Ta da da dum…!

   Will he inquisitively peruse the verse?—or blanch, double take with bugged eyeballs and give out the ol’ Bill the Cat “aaack!”

Proposal: Since Joe Everyday, as does the majority of our society today, only has an opening interest level of a few nanoseconds, the writer, in order to capture Mr. Everyday’s interest, must do so in a very short, concise—interesting way. Hmmmm? (thinking, here. Thinking.)

Some Solutions:

a.)  Catch the reader’s attention, not as if you’re yanking him by the nose hairs! Rather draw the reader quickly in as if convincing an eight-year old boy to take a bite of free apple pie. It ain’t that hard. Don’t sneak up on the “story”. Begin with a clause (statement) that puts the reader immediately into the scene (the who, what and where is developed, woven, into the text that will follow (if even required), not categorized before the action even begins—think of the first Star Wars movie; that battle cruiser rumbling in over your head, jiggling your popcorn as well as your butt. Two seconds into the film, and you were hooked!)

b.)  Blend the “poem”: Most readers, upon seeing the typical formatting of the typical “poem”, do indeed pull the ol’ Bill the Cat and bolt. Oh geeze, it’s a poem!

Somewhere about the advent of newspapers printing poetry in columns, writers developed the notion: a poem has to look like a poem by being long and skinny. (unfortunately, in the newspaper game it will have to be.) Making the verse look less poemy will certainly be more successful in enticing a reader to at least test the waters.

Left margin all caps: Hate to break it to you, this archaic practice, although doggedly still followed today by sophomoric writers, is long gone. All caps down the left margin when smartly used, may offer some form of emphasis to the line starts, but mostly just telegraphs the reader: this is writing for a child.

Bye-bye any sophisticated reader.

c.)  Don’t start with “I.” Yes, we all know you want people to know you wrote the piece; you want to share the story of your pathetic high school experience, etc., etc.—but face it: no one wants to hear it. They had their own misery in school. Readers want to be able to be included in a story or “poem;” be able to associate with it without putting up with all of your tears and nasal discharge. In fact: try to eliminate the pronoun “I” as much as possible. Go out of your way to craft around using it. Toss the ol’ “I” as if it were week old boiled broccoli with fish heads. As much as academia has tried to dumb-down literacy, the average reader gets it: the person writing the poem is expressing a personal position of observation, even if written in third-person. They know it happened to you, or you wish it did (or didn’t) and this is your way of telling the woeful tale. Give the reader some credit.

d.)  Make it brief. Be brief and be gone. As Bill Gainer has stated: write a poem that can be read while falling from a ten-story building. Doesn’t get any more succinct than that. A poem is supposed to provide an interesting glimpse of life. In this day of sound-bites, “glimpse” is the operative word. If one is to actually complete that free-fall reading, with a savory moment just before ground-contact, the writing needs to be clear of: adverbs, adjectives (let your verbs be strong and carry the load); without being surgically draconian, carve away absolutely anything that does not contribute to the final goal of the theme; boring, overused words and phrases without letting the style become stunted; duplicate words as well as duplicate or over-saturated thoughts. Not everything, including the kitchen sink is relevant…use that extra stuff in another poem, maybe two or three (depending on how big your kitchen sink is.)

More Overcoming to come

Max tdc