Poessay--Lots More Fun Than a Sonnet and Loads More Fun Than a Trimetran

          Essay + poem = poessay. You can rant or preach, but not for long. Remember, it's a poem, and in poems, every word and every white space is deliberated on.

photo by sue.h

      John Pereira (the writer who invented this form), Simon Potter and Wayne K. Johnson said of poessay:

    "What is a 'poessay'? On one hand, it is poetry to be appreciated for its sounds, rhythm, dramatic impact and imagery. On the other, it contains a flowing message, an insightful opinion, or a rhetorical argument that is usually expressed in linear prose."

     Here is a link to page of poessays. Peruse. Ponder. And try writing one. If you spend an hour or two and create one, and then would like to spend the next 13 years of your life tearing your hair out trying (and failing) to use a different form, check out Fireblossom's post.

     Here are two poessays written by Scott Blackwell when he was in 7th grade. He might cringe, seeing work from such an earlier phase of his, but looking back on past work is crucial to our growth as a writer. Keep a "map" of the crap (or what you perceive as crappy writing). It helps to chronicle your journey as you look for the buried "treasures" as a writer.

 Hunters

quiet

deadly

but the

real thing.

it's

all in

how you

look at

it.

hunters

fire

but

should

you

fire

at them

for their

passion?

"The Fencers"
painting by Milton Avery (1898-1965) 
photo by RasMarley 

Lunge

Fencers

should

lunge

at the

opponent

but what

if the

opponent's

a book

or

a poem

do they

parry

or do

they

lunge?

Prioritizing Emergencies

         "Peter!  Come quick!  This emergency trumps the kitchen sink!"

         That's what I yelled, in the hopes that my sister's beau would respond. Fast.

         I spent the night at her house, and we were heading off to lunch and then a bike ride. 

(Abigail's in Rocheport---delicious, unusual combinations and quite reasonably priced.  It's a family-run restaurant--Abigail is their teen-aged daughter--and is very small. If you want a spot on Sunday afternoon, get there right at 11 when they open. I hear getting dinner there means you made reservations a week or two in advance.  They always get fresh stuff from the farmers' market, so the menu varies from day to day. Yesterday I had a brie, apple and pecan quesadilla--delicious!)

        Chomp. Chomp. Swallow.  Sorry...back to the story.

        Peter was attempting to fix a clogged-up drain. My sister Nancy had been dealing with it on Saturday afternoon. Chemical gunk that was guaranteed to work failed. Peter was called into action, and he brought with him a snake.

        As he was working with the snake, pleading with it to slither down the length of the pipe, I stayed out of the way. No one who is elbow deep in grease and acid is eager for an audience. 

        As I was lurking in the spare bedroom, I heard a bird. Clearly. Loudly. And clearly, this bird was not outside.

            I ran into the hall and there was Lilly (Nancy's cat) and a bird. Proud (Lilly) and in shock (the unnamed bird).

photo by bluemoonart

        I picked up Lilly and Peter grabbed the bird. After spending a few minutes in the bird bath, it got its bearings and flew off. Lilly's ending was not as happy. I picked up and discarded the few tiny downy feathers that were still in the hall (I did not want the cat to have those as a memento; it might have reinforced her thrill with the near-kill) and had to wipe a couple off of her chin.

      I am sure she was upset.  'Hey, I did something exciting, and you  blew it for me! What the heck?' She had been so close to something so desirable and then it was inexplicably yanked away from her.  And after all, she was doing what she was born to do...

     But later on that afternoon, when we returned from our bike ride, there was Lilly, hiding under a newly-planted spruce tree. She was scanning the yard for her next prey.

     As writers (here it is, Hope) we might think we are so close to snaring something fantastic. A magazine's acceptance.  An anthology saying "yes." A publisher sending a contract to sign. 

     But if they are wrenched out of our grasp, we can't give up. We can only keep alive the glint in our eyes, and keep stalking...Stalking with our submissions in hand... 

      

          

Metaphorically Speaking---If You're Not a Teacher, This Post Will Cure Insomnia

        Earlier this week I did a workshop for Gateway Writing Project's writing festival for 3rd-5th graders. There were kids and (yikes!) teachers in the two sessions I facilitated.

photo by MR38

     In the fast fifty minutes we had together, we worked on extended metaphors. This is what happened:

1. I had numerous objects scattered around the room on tables. A hair dryer, a dream catcher, a shiny rock, a treasure box, a rusty hammer, an old paintbrush, a shiny new wrench, an empty picture frame, an over-ripe banana, a branch from a tree that was torn down by the tornado, some bubble wrap...(you get the idea)

2. We began by talking about what a metaphor was. While we were in the midst of the discussion, I was (idly? nervously?) shaking up a can of soda.

3. I then (of course, since it's a messy way to make a point) popped open the can.

4.  We brainstormed adjectives and vivid verbs and I jotted them down in lightning-fast fashion (or as lightning-fast as my menopausal brain allows).

          me                                                    a shook-up can of soda

                                       fizzy

                                       bubbling

                                       messy
                                       blow up
                                       erupting

                                       volcano

                                       explode

                                       spewing

5. I then thought out loud, and said I had to make some choices. All the contributions were great, but I thought some would be better suited than others for what we were going to do. For example, I loved "fizzy" but I couldn't figure out how to use it when describing myself (unless we went back to my Bozo-the-Clown perm phase, when my hair was fizzy-frizzy...I didn't share this, as I didn't want to frighten anyone away. And visions of me with a perm did terrify people!). I circled the words/phrases I intended on using.

6.  I then created a metaphor on the spot, something like, "I am a shook-up can of soda. When I get excited and bubble over with enthusiasm, things get messy because I get off track; all I think about is what I'm into at that single moment. There are other times, however, when I explode in anger. My rage spews and sprays everywhere...No one is safe when they're around me when I blow up..." (I wrote the metaphor under the "me" heading.)

7.  The students had post-its (okay, I did not have a chance to snag some post-its from my school, so I used a small memo pad and just gave each participant a handful of sheets) and they went around and jotted down verbs and adjectives for the objects scattered around the room. (After all, writers are thieves. We "steal" ideas from each other. Also, writing should not be done in a vacuum. We need fellow writers to bounce ideas around.) They left the notations with the objects, so everyone/anyone could refer to them.

8.  The students then chose one of the objects to write an extended metaphor. They jotted down the notes that went along with that object, so they could plug them into their metaphor. They could compare the object to themself, they could compare it to a friend/relative or they could use the metaphor to paint a picture of a fictional character.

If you're a teacher, try this activity out. It helps kids connect to metaphors if they have something concrete to work with. And if you have any suggestions to improve it, or have a figurative language activity that you'd like to share, please do. (Teachers like to steal as well!)





photo by citygirlny10305



Total Eclipse of the Original

         I read Becky Povich's post, which mentioned her wanting to see a total eclipse of the sun. Immediately, I thought of a youtube bit that's funny and well done. And it takes me back---rushing---to my past.

      If you're 50 or 60-something, you might remember a song entitled Total Eclipse of the Heart. Bonnie Tyler did it, and it engulfed the airwaves for a while...

     For some time there has a been a very humorous version on youtube. The singer is decent, and the new lyrics take a light-hearted look at the cheese-y original lyrics.

     Here's the link if you haven't seen it before and you need a blast from the past and a chuckle this morning (and it's probably my last post for a few days, as I am knee deep in report cards...).

       Becky--This one's for you!

Telling a Story---Digitally

         

        Yesterday I did a little workshop for teachers on digital stories. It's a bit comical when I am asked to speak (as a semi-authority) on anything that has an electrical plug, as I am a "know-nothing."

         But I tried to lead nonetheless...

         Digital stories, in case you're unaware, are stories that integrate photos with the storyteller's vocal narration along with music. It's a phenomenal way to hone your "show don't tell" abilities, because many things are expressed through the music, the transitions, or the images, rather than the written word.

         Beginning by showing a digital story I had created a few years ago, I cringed at all the deficits: some of the transitions were a little out of sync. Some of the photos I chose were cheesy.  Some of the narration needs to be ramped up. However, it remained a moving story; most of the teachers had tears in their eyes when it finished. (To give credit where it is truly due, the story itself---a true one---is quite emotional. The impact was not due to my storytelling abilities.) 

          During the summer months, I plan on redoing this digital story. Before, I used images from flickr; I want to take my own photos so there is no concern over infringement. When I created this story, it was during a workshop, and I had techno-savvy folks who dragged me along behind them,helping me doing some of the parts for me (such as using Audacity and mixing the sound levels). This time, I am going to utilize a more user-friendly version (Microsoft's Photostory 3--a free download)--it even has canned music you can create and make a part of your piece.

        If you've never tried your hand at one, dive in. Photostory 3 is so easy to understand, even a Golden Retriever could use it. (In fact, I think Foley fools around with it during the day while we're gone. Perhaps that explains why the story called "The Squirrel Hunter" mysteriously appeared on my desktop last week.) If you decide to dabble with it, and have questions, shoot them my way--I've bumbled with it every possible way.

        And why bother to retell the story? you may ask. After all, it's "done."
When you value the story, when the story is important for you to tell, when the story compels you to tell it, you want to do the story justice. And this story definitely deserves to be told well...

       The next time you see these photos, they will be a part of my revised digital story.  (And hopefully, it will be worth the wait.)

The John Belushi-Joe Piscopo-Eddie Murphy Syndrome

           I was listening to Sam and Dave's version of the song "Soul Man" yesterday on a CD in the car.  Usually I like the original version better than remakes, but not in this case.

           I prefer the Blues Brothers' cover.

This is a sculpture of the Blues Brothers; it's in the Chicago airport...

           Perhaps it's because the song is part of a great soundtrack and a funny movie. (I mean, come on! Aretha Franklin and Ray Charles and Cab Calloway...It couldn't get much better!) Perhaps it because the brass is a little more prominent in the Blues Brother's version than Sam and Dave's. (Or so I'd like to try and convince myself.) Or perhaps it's because there's the element of humor---even as they sing---in Belushi and Ankroyd's voices.

          And it got me thinking about something I've considered several times during the 10 or 12 decades I've been alive so far.

          What is it about some comedians who---when they immerse themselves in playing certain characters (like Joe Cocker, or Frank Sinatra) they cast off their comedian's coccoon and morph into a singer? I really don't think they have had great vocal ability all along...I think something happens to them when they allow themselves to become completely enveloped in a character.

           (And here it comes, Hope...Wait for it...)

          As writers, doesn't something happen to us when we immerse ourselves in our characters?  I know I'm not the only one who gestures or works on a task or gallops to the car and I become a character for a moment. Or, I contemplate how I would describe the gesture, the movement, if I was a character in the story.

        Perhaps there are some gifted comedians who are chameleons...And when we write well, we get into the skin of the characters we create... 

          At least that's our hope...