Pick My Brain

more A's to your Q's

Hi, Friend.

It’s summer here, and I finally have a break from book travel to spend some quality time at home—and play catch up! It’s amazing what piles up when I’m gone: laundry, emails, tasks…then more laundry, then more emails. Today I’m answering some more questions from subscribers. There are so many good ones, so let’s dig in.

The first question is from Adrian, who asked about teaching poetry to children:

If you were designing a poetry Masterclass for kids, what would you teach? Which poems would be essential to read and understand? How would you balance introducing poetry with interpreting poetry?

When I’ve worked with younger students (ages seven, eight, and nine), we didn’t focus on reading and understanding other people’s poems; we focused on creating imagery, making metaphors, and paying attention to sound. Often having models is helpful, and I always use model poems with teens and adults, but my gut instinct is that young children are more likely to feel free writing poetry—and seeing, experiencing, and thinking like poets—if they can do so without the burden of analysis (and comparison) in the early stages.

A poetry lesson could be as basic and guiding children to describe their surroundings using sensory imagery (what they can see, smell, hear, touch, and taste) and then guiding them to use comparison to push those descriptions into metaphors and similes. (For example, a student might observe that shade from a tree is covering the grass. We can ask, “What does that remind you of? What else acts as a cover or layer?” The student might come up with answers like a blanket, a coat, a veil, or even skin. Then we can guide them to make the leap to figurative language: “The tree shade is like a soft gray blanket on the grass.”) I wouldn't worry as much about form and line breaks with young children; I would focus more on articulating these small moments and observations. A haiku could be a lovely, manageable form and is perfect for observations in the natural world. For example:

The maple’s shade is
a gray blanket covering
the green sleeping grass

That’s a not a great haiku, but it’s what came to me on the fly! I hope this is useful, Adrian.

Justine asked about resources for improving craft, jumping off of a question from Alexandra:

I also am curious how to improve craft with limited writing time. My current practice includes a weekly poetry writing group (which I love), a bit of free writing and reading poetry on my own. I feel like I would benefit from having more regular formal critique of my work from someone experienced, but an MFA would be quite a stretch. Thoughts?

Having a weekly poetry writing group is incredible—and, frankly, that’s more than I’ve had since graduate school twenty-some years ago. Back then I had an MFA cohort and weekly workshops (and, therefore, weekly deadlines). Since then, whenever I get a poem to a place where I know I need another set of eyes, I send it to my grad school friend Katie (the poet Catherine Pierce) to get her feedback and advice. It’s not “critique” but it’s help. I wonder if your poetry writing group might be able to be ramped up a bit to include more rigorous feedback, since you already have a schedule and a rapport with those writers.

Beyond that, there are so many online workshops and editorial services being offered these days, and that might be just what you need. Organizations like The Loft Literary Center, 24PearlStreet/FAWC, StoryStudio Chicago, Gotham Writers, and others offer ongoing virtual workshops, and many poets offer editorial services and mentorship. (I did this for years and have had to step away because of my own deadlines, but I hope to get back to it one day.) Some poets that come to mind are Catherine Pierce (yes, the person I send my own poems to!), Danusha Laméris, Ellen Bass, and Kim Addonizio. If an MFA doesn’t feel doable right now, you might look into some of these offerings. (And you might also DIY it by building a library of craft books. I revisit my many beloved craft books often! I’m listing a bunch of my favorites at the end of this post.)

This next question is from Stacy:

How can I take a 30+ year journal practice and turn it into a collection of cohesive essays? Thanks in advance for any thoughts you may have.

I love this idea, Stacy! I would say first of all that not all essay collections are especially “cohesive.” Some are wide-ranging in tone and form, the way a book of poems might be. But to your point, if I were you, I would likely do what I do when I’m assembling a poetry collection: Look for threads. Are there shared images, metaphors, settings, or characters? Are there thematic commonalities (grief, place, new beginnings, coming of age, etc.)? Are there tonal similarities? Sometimes looking at what many disparate pieces have in common can help you find your subject. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve read through a stack of poems only to realize what I’ve been obsessing over and writing about for years. It’s one of the pleasures of taking a step back to look at the whole.

If what you have in your journal entries is fairly fragmentary, that’s okay, too. Look for “hot spots”: those especially resonant, surprising, or emotional experiences that you could unpack and write much more about. What stories could be told? What conversations could be recalled? What have you not said yet, because in a journal you are writing for your eyes only, not an outsider reader’s? Then start unpacking…

The next question is about editing:

How do you go about your editing process for poems? Do you let them "sit" for a while before editing, show them to others, or just shape the poem based on what is written?

Thanks for this question! I want to say first that there’s a difference between editing and revising, and what I hear you describing sounds like revision to me: Looking at a piece of writing with fresh eyes and trying to help it becomes its best self. When I’m revising, I do all of the things you’ve mentioned. One, I often put a poem away for a week, or several weeks, or even several months, before coming back to it again. Even a little distance helps me see new possibilities and things I want to change. Two, I also send my work to a trusted friend or two, to get their honest feedback and to hear their questions. Are there places where they are confused or less interested? Are there places where I can trim or do some rearranging? Having a new set of eyes (and ears) always helps. And yes, three, I also just continue to work on a piece and trust my own instincts, especially if I’ve already done one and two. Dear Writer includes many revision strategies that I’ve used on my own poems, and that I hope will be useful for you. You might also enjoy The Art of Revision by Garret Hongo.

This last question today is from Courtney:

Probably asked already/elsewhere—but I'd love to know a list of some of your favorite craft books, now that you have such a gem to add to the "best of" list on the shelves of writers everywhere! I adored the audiobook of Dear Writer and now am rereading on paper, savoring it slowly.

Thank you, Courtney! I’m so glad you’re enjoying Dear Writer. Yes, I have one whole bookshelf in my office that houses my craft books, and I return to them often—when teaching, or giving craft talks, or just trying to get unstuck myself. Here’s a starter pack of ten, alphabetical by author. Enormous gratitude to these writers.

1. Permission by Elissa Altman

2. The Practice of Poetry, edited by Robin Behn and Chase Twitchell

3. Refuse to Be Done by Matt Bell

4. Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert

5. The Art of Memoir by Mary Karr

6. Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott

7. The Art of the Poetic Line by James Longenbach

8. Still Writing by Dani Shapero

9. The Making of a Poem, edited by Mark Strand and Eavan Boland

10. On Writing by Stephen King

Thanks for all of these terrific questions. More posts soon, as I’m home and back at my writing desk at long last...

Love,
Maggie