Some Tips for New Writers

This afternoon, while enjoying one of the last days of summer vacation with my niece at Kirby Park, I met another resident who told me he’s interested in writing, and he asked what advice I’d give a new writer. My conversation with him made me want to come home and write down the basic feedback I would give to anyone just starting out.

1. Write daily. This is the first piece of advice I give to anyone. Even if you have a full-time job and family, make time for writing daily, even if it’s for 10 minutes. Serious writing should become a habit, much like exercise. The more you do it, the easier it becomes. The muse isn’t going to show up if you don’t put the time and effort in. My writing schedule is pretty standard. I do it in the morning for at least an hour, usually more. I start by journaling and freewriting, and then I move to drafting or revising a new poem. Once I’m done teaching for the day, I often return to my writing in the evening and do revisions then. This schedule won’t work for everyone, so find a time that works best for you, no matter the time of day or night.

2. Find a writing community. Most of your friends or family that aren’t writers won’t care about the great novel you just read or the book of poems you’re revising, so it’s important to find a community of writers to connect with so you can get support and feedback. Writers need other writers because otherwise, the world feels like a lonely place. You can find information about writing workshops in your local art papers. If you live in a rural area where there aren’t any workshops, find some online. While completing her senior year creative capstone project last year, a student told me that she was part of an online writing community that gave her frequent helpful feedback on her novel-in-progress, and that feedback showed in her work.

3. Read as much as possible. This can’t be stressed enough.  No matter your genre, you should be reading as much as you can. If you’re a poet and serious about the craft, it’s crucial to understand the traditions, movements, and key players that came before so you have a better understanding of what’s happening now and what’s already been done. A poet’s work should possess a “historical sense,” in the words of T.S. Eliot, meaning not only some resemblance to traditional works, but also an awareness and understanding of their relation to one’s own writing and contemporary literature. This belief can be applied to any genre of creative writing.

4. Don’t stress over publishing credits. Before you worry about seeing your name in print, focus on finding a writing community, reading, and making your writing as strong as possible. If you put the work in, the publishing credits should come.

Finally, if you have some extra money or belong to a local library, check out some craft books on writing. I always find them useful. My favorite ones for poetry are Best Words, Best Order by Stephen Dobyns, The Triggering Town by Richard Hugo,  The Poet’s Companion and Ordinary Genius by Kim Addonizzio, and A Poetry Handbook by Mary Oliver. There are plenty of others too in all different genres. Just noodle around Google.

 

 

back to the early stages

Not long after Front Man was published and I did a slew of readings to promote the chapbook, I started wondering what next? What should I work on now? The poems from the chapbook, overall, have a distinct voice and focus on a particular music scene and the ideals that go with it. But I knew around the time I finished the book and it was accepted by Big Table Publishing up in Boston that I said all I wanted to say about that subject and it was time to move on.

Near the end of writing Front Man, I started drafting some new poems, with far different personas and even some different forms than the poems of my first book. I started to heavily explore the issue of relationships, of first meetings between friends, crushes, lovers, and what’s left after relationships unravel. I think some of this came from what I was reading at the time- a lot of Kim Addonizzio’s poems (which often deal with love, sex, lust, and loss), and Sam Hazo’s marriage dialogue poems, which explore how each gender communicates in a relationship. I also read Major Jackson’s new collection, Holding Company, and that collection has had the biggest influence on my newest work. In his third collection, Jackson leaves  behind the hip-hip references and longer narrative poems. For Holding Company, he created a series of tight, 10-line, sonnetesque poems, many of them dealing with a broken marriage and new beginnings/new relationships. I was especially impressed with the collection because of the leap forward he made as a writer, how he broke from his  familiar and probably comfortable personas and forms.

I have a good portion of poems written (probably 15-20 solid drafts,  just a few shy of a second chapbook manuscript). So far, it’s been exciting to take on new subject matter, new forms, and new personas. Finishing Line Press wanted to publish Front Man after it was accepted by Big Table Publishing, and recently, they told me they are very interested to see a second manuscript and will give it close consideration. But right now, I’m enjoying the drafting and revision process, figuring out how these poems will fit together and speak to each other. I’m in the process of sending poems out to journals, just like I did for Front Man, before it all came together. It’s refreshing to be back at the early stages of a new manuscript. Here is a new poem from the new collection I’m working on.





Old Lovers

He answered her motel call for company,

pulled her close, wrapped her in his long arms,

the same arms she used to imagine

caressing when she watched him swing bats

at their high school ball field.

For two hours, she made up for months

she ached to be touched,

nights she pulled a pillow close,

pretended she could feel his facial stubble prick her cheeks.

The old lovers finished, sparked cigarettes,

sat on the deck. They knew that come daybreak

they’d gather their clothes,

bathe and leave because she had her New York job,

and he his hometown carpenter work.

He liked to remember her moans,

his name loud in her mouth,

and she the strength of his hands

tracing her curves in the dark.

They always left before sunlight revealed

growing streaks of gray in their hair,

fine lines near their eyes,

bodies sore and tired, in need of rest

before meeting again.