RHYTHM FOR A REASON: Ear Cropping for Smaller Breeds
(NOTE: You picked me out, brushed me off/Crushed me while I
was burnin’ out/Then you picked me out/Like an ashtray heart/Hid behind the
curtain/Waited for me to go out/A man on a porcupine fence/Used me for an
ashtray heart)
April is National Poetry Month (to find out more log on to www.poets.org),
when those who haunt bookstores are confronted with posters, bookmarks, and big
displays of poetry books. This is cool. Poetry is where the language dances, is
the news that stays news, and brings images of the past to the present. An
honest poem gives us more than we can carry in one lifetime, a surfeit of
humanity at its most pure. The reader enters the lines like a new land no
matter how many times they are read. Poetry is the beating heart of literature
and any prose writer who ignores the poem is a jerk.
We need poetry to make sense of our lives. They are songs
celebrating the human experience. Poet Richard Hugo said, “Writing is a way of
saying you and the world have chance.” This cheers on the poets stuck in
garrets, under bridges, driving taxicabs, or sorting the mail. Sure, teaching
provides a living for poets, but the fire of poetry burns brightest for those
on the outside, where most of us live. Do more than read a little Wordsworth
this month and support today’s poets by buying their books, lots of them, then
read aloud to your friends and family until they get the message: Poetry is for
everyone.
CONTENTED FORMS
Poet Charles Olson once quoted poet Robert Creeley as
saying, “Form is never more than an extension of content.” This is true for
everything from cell phones to wind-up ducks, and works of prose. In fiction,
the form is the paragraph followed by the chapter. Look carefully at Iris
Murdoch’s The Good Apprentice (Chatto
& Windus, 1985). Her paragraphs are long, convoluted affairs that
illustrate the inner states of mind among characters too financially secure.
When a husband and wife must confront the wife’s ongoing affair with another
man, the paragraphs go out for a cup of coffee and dialogue takes over, saying
much more than what was inside their heads. The result of this dramatic change is
exciting reading.
HOW LONG THIS CAN GO ON
A frequent question asked by new writers is about the length
of a chapter. Snotty editors will answer, how long is a piece of string?
Chapters are the rhythm of the story, established by the story. The importance
here is listening to what the story needs and following its advice. For the
reader, keeping the chapters of equal size invites them to hear the music of
the story and follow its rhythm from front cover to back. Some stories are
served better by short, ten-page chapters. Others like The Good Apprentice need breathing room. Murdoch divides the book
into three parts, with each containing several unnumbered chapters. She wrote
in the service of the story, and brought the reader into its form defined by
the content. The form is invisible as the story unfolds.
FLASHY DRESSERS RARELY GO OUT
Attention to form over content wears on the reader. Every
bit of pyrotechnics in prose writing takes the content along with it. Fireworks
never stay in the sky. With a solid foundation in form dictated by content, the
reader can return to the story and find new things not seen on his or her first
reading. A story can be told in any form when the content says so. Forcing
content into a form is to invite disaster.
GET ON UP
First-time and experienced writers must read The Dog Walked Down the Street: An Outspoken
Guide for Writers Who Want to Publish (Cypress House, $13.95), if for no
other reason than to learn the ins and outs of good writing and the perils of
publishing. The book also has a swell cover that matches most of the spring
colors. Buy several to go along with your Easter frocks and suits. Instead of
making haberdashers nervous with unreasonable demands, log on to
www.indiebound.com for your friendly neighborhood independent bookstore. Make
reasonable demands of the clerks and you are guaranteed to walk out with an
armful of treasures as long as your credit is good. Speak like you said.
NEXT: Ban the Pomeranian
Labels: chapters, Charles Olson, Don Van Vliet, Iris Murdoch, National Poetry Month, paragraphs, Richard Hugo, Robert Creeley