What I’m Thinking About
When should you follow the rules of craft, and when should you break them? I mean, everybody says you’re supposed to know the rules before you break them, right? Or is that just another rule we’re meant to break?
What I’m Reading
- Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow. This is a re-read. I can’t recommend re-reading enough, btw; it’s the quintessential reading-like-a-writer move. And the question of whether a text rewards such re-reading and rediscovery or not—well that’s the ultimate test of whether it’s “necessary.” This one, so far, is passing that test for me. Love his subtle verbal flourishes and his not-so-subtle passion for the subject.
- All-American Poem by Matthew Dickman. Another re-read. (Maybe I need some suggestions for new material?! Email me at tj@tjb.me with some suggestions for new stuff, preferably written in the past year or two…) A sharp student in my Forms of Poetry class just did a presentation on Dickman, and I’ve reimmersed myself in his oeuvre. (Here’s a WM pod episode where I engage with his poem “Bluebells.”) Love his blend of cool-kid/skater nerdiness, and how he’s evolved into adulting. He always has me thinking about persona on the page, how “voice” and identity go together (or should, anyway) in ways that feel authentic.
Seven Invitations
The goal here is always GENERATIVE, never prescriptive. These are invitations, not assignments.
1. Write a list of 30 Things you loved in November. Better yet, inaugurate your own “Season of Thanks.”
2. Take a 20-minute walk. Write for ten minutes afterward. Conjure the sensory input (sights and smells and sounds etc). What was out of place? What was where it always is?
3. Go vegan for five days. Or “plant-based whole foods,” if you prefer. It’s not even a week. (That burger can wait five days, right?) See how you feel. I like nutritionfacts.org and @simnettnutrition (YouTube) for solid, helpful plant-based-nutrition inspiration.
4. To that end, eat some greens this week. Preferably with some garlic.
5. Write a poem about your dad. Send it to him. If he’s not around, find a way to ritualize it’s “delivery,” whatever that means to you.
6. Write a very short personal essay or micro-memoir (250 words or less) about an item on your 30 things list.
7. Write a story or sequence of scenes that has a main character who refuses to speak. Make that refusal central to the tension of the narrative.
Postscript
FYI/FWIW: I’m doing manuscript consultations for the inimitable Black Lawrence Press this month. If you’ve got a fiction manuscript of any size or shape that could use another pair of eyes, now’s a good time to send it my way.