There is a Zen story about working very hard wherein a young student (in some versions, an American,) approaches the master and asks how long it will take him to become a master himself. The master replies, “ten years.” The student emphatically explains that he will work twice as hard as any of the other students, pushing himself to the limit to master his teachings more quickly. “In that case,” replies the master, “twenty years.”
For me, poetry is like this. Usually, when I find myself wanting to work very hard, it is because I have not been writing consistently. You see, I have waned in my discipline of getting up early before work to write. And, as a result, I notice myself daydreaming about dramatic change, such as a fellowship with a great expanse of uninterrupted writing time stretched out before me. Yet, invariably, I find that when I start writing consistently again, I become more satisfied and accepting of my present situation. My careerist thoughts subside. I enter back in to the vocation of poetry, the lifelong pursuit.
The art of not pushing, but rather focusing on consistency, is alien to our fast-food culture. And yet, writing something daily is actually a form of instant gratification as well–a true and lasting gratification of actually having written, good or bad. It is also, ironically, good for one’s career. That is because publication and awards are a numbers game. And writing consistently produces a greater volume of higher quality work than an approach of fits and starts. At least, that has been my experience so far.
So, it’s off to bed for me, and up early to bang something out–good or bad–for sake of staying in the flow.
Kurt
I like the story of the Zen master. I experimented for a while with writing immediately upon waking, when your thinking brain isn’t on yet. It’s a worthwhile exercise.
Robert
Yep, that sure was me this morning.
Andrew
Robert – great stuff! I’m posting this at B-days of Poets.
Greg Rappleye
Perfect!
Exactly what I needed to read.
Thank you for this.
Robert
Thanks, Andrew!
Robert
Thanks, Greg. I wrote this because I needed to read it myself!
Nick
What if you can’t tell what is of high quality and what isn’t anymore? Just asking…
Robert
Doesn’t that just go with being a poet, Nick? I’m there right now myself, beetling away toward this MFA manuscript, hearing other poets I respect tell me they think it’s good, convinced they must be temporarily insane; wading through years of work thinking it might, in fact, have all been for nothing. But, unlike Rossetti, I am resisting the urge to inter my poems. Instead, I have decided it is a matter of riding out my own temporary insanity of artistic self-loathing by continuing to read, write, and reflect. The only way out is through!
Nick
I’m not sure what’s closer to insanity:
the thought that our words are anything but a perfunctory exercise in self-expression destined to fall on deaf ears or multi-tasking sensibilities or the thought that our poetry can really make a difference to somebody…
Robert
What’s so great about poetry is that it can encompass the contradictory. What’s so hard about being immersed in it, however, is that it can encompass the contradictory. So, perhaps the most “sane” approach is to embrace it all — good and bad, earth-shaking and self-wallowing — as part of the process. I love what Marvin Bell said: “On the one hand, it’s poetry! On the other, it’s just poetry.”
Nick
I’ve been in the self-wallowing mode for so long my knees are starting to hurt….:-)
Robert
Yeah, I know the feeling. One trick that usually helps me is to revisit one of my heroes — that is, re-read one of the poets that got me started writing. It usually gets me up of my knees, and makes me stand up and salute.
Nick
Thanks for lending an ear, Robert. Much appreciated.
Robert
Any time, amico.
Dee Hart
Damn straight. One has to apply one’s ass to the chair consistently. Fail often. I found your fits and starts comment dead on. I love to have written, will do anything to put off having to write though. It’s the damndest thing.
Robert
I’m particularly experiencing the “love to have written, will do anything to put off having to write” syndrome this week. Thanks, Dee!