"Journalism is often factual but not always honest; poetry is not necessarily factual but should always be honest."--LoVerne Brown

 "Did it happen? No. Is it true? Yes."--Ron Carlson on fiction.

Notes on Kowit's “I Couldn’t Stop Watching” (In the Palm of Your Hand 8-20) In the second chapter of his book, Kowit begins with the concept of using imagisim and moves on to storytelling to show how clear, descriptive language is characteristic of enjoyable poetry.

Key Concepts

1.  Power in Details: specific, particular, sensory, concrete, (If the concept of concrete language is an unfamiliar term for you, a concrete noun is anything that can be experienced with one or more of the five senses).

2.  Power in Plotting

3.  Detailed Masks Are Not Lies

4.  Memory Is the Most Powerful Muse

 Power in Details
Abstracts are implied through details.

 

·   Read Corrine Hales' poem "Power" and look at how the concrete details bring us emotions: the train engineer "waving his arms,/screaming that he would kill us" at first appears angry, and later, when "falling, sobbing, to his knees," he seems crushed.

 

·   Read Dorianne Laux' poem "The Tooth Fairy," the images "palms/ curled into fists, a floor/ of broken dishes" are concrete details of violence.

 

·   example: although we strive for the concrete to imply the abstract, there are times when the two are combined with great effect: "a love/so quiet, I still can't hear it." By using the sense of sound, Laux puts the abstract of love in the world of sensory detail, even if that love is too quiet to be heard.  Also, Machado linked the abstract mood of boredom with the concrete detail of raindrops.

Power in Plotting
Plotting is the order of actions in an event.
The following are some of the preferable ways to plot

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·         hook early by beginning in the middle of things

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·         conflict: raise problem with high stakes

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·         focus on physical details

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·         not just physical details but but those that convey emotion

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·         suspense: raise question of what happens next

After establishing conflict, a writer can sustain a reader's interest in the conflict's resolution. The poet Horace advised a storyteller to begin "medias res," which means "in the middle of things" because the writer who begins already on the way carries the reader along with him or her. There's a screenwriter's maxim that says, "cut into the scene" when there's nothing left but consequences for characters being who they are.

"Power" begins in medias res (the dummy is already on the tracks) The first line makes the  children stopping the train (initial conflict) a forgone conclusion. Then, there is suspense as to whether or not they will be caught.  Interestingly, Corrine Hales does not resolve the conflict but leaves the reader with three portraits: a grown man on his knees, sobbing; a child with eyes open in a rapt stare; and boy lying with "his face pressed tight to the ground" and "his hands covering his ears." The poem ends with the tension between the engineer and the children still taut; the poem ends suspended.

The degree of conflict need not be something as in-your-face as a father kicking his daughter in the ribs or kids stopping a train.  In "Memory from Childhood," Antonio Machado uses contrast as a subtle form of conflict.  Although the poem is about "boredom," the poem is not boring because Machado contrasts the young students with the old professor and his dry voice indoors with the raindrops outside.  The contrast between young and old, indoors and outdoors creates tension. Formula for conflict: where there is opposition, there is tension; where there is tension, there is energy.

Although the father's violence in "The Tooth Fairy" raises the question of whether or not he will hurt the mother and her children, there is another subtler conflict that occurs, as Kowit mentions:
· the contrast of the father's gentleness as the tooth fairy with his violence;
· the young mother sitting with the father at the kitchen table contrasted with the lone woman drinking dark beer before going to bed in the morning. 
The respective depictions of the father and mother are in conflict.

Detailed Masks Are Not Lies: distinguishing the author from the narrator

The speaker in a poem should not be confused with the author.  The term "persona," which comes from the term for masks of bark or clay that were once worn by actors, has come to refer to the speaker in a poem or novel.

As a poet or storyteller, you have no responsibility to fact for no matter how something "really happened," poems and stories most often take place in readers' minds.  If a poem has verisimilitude for its readers, then it has an emotional truth independent of the facts.  Consider divergence between Shakespeare's "history" plays and British history.

In creative writing, a vivid lie is more desirable than dull fact. As Dorianne Laux has said, poetry is the history of human emotion. A successful poem appeals first to our empathy, not the historical record. A poem is not evidence introduced under oath in court and verified by witnesses; it is performed or published.

Although many poems, stories and plays are based on the experiences of their authors, we should not assume that the works represent their memoirs. The literary term for assuming that an author is a character in his or her work is known as “the autobiographical fallacy.”

 

·         verity: quality of being true or real.

 

·         simile: an expressed comparison using the words "like" or "as."

 

·         verisimilitude: like-truth.

 Details create verisimilitude: a quality like truth.

Memory Is the Most Powerful Muse
The muses are Greek gods that inspire artists. Of the muses, memory was said to be the most powerful. For poets, this means we should trust our memories to start us writing, even if we don't fully understand the significance of a particular memory.

In the recall exercises on page 16, Kowit asks about specific memories to give you topics for a poem. If your brain has taken the trouble to remember something, chances are good that the memory holds some significance for you; however, remember the autobiographical fallacy and know that I will not assume any poem is autobiographical.

If an autobiographical incident inspires a poem, do not think that you must adhere to the facts. The reader is most interested in verisimilitude. If you find the facts controlling your poem, change a minor detail so the poem can explore the emotional truth from the most compelling perspective.

The details just need be believable. Many inexperienced readers will introduce a poem by saying, "This really happened," or "This is a true story." From a critical perspective in creative writing, the facts are less important than the verisimilitude of a narrative.

In creative writing, the inciting memory need not be understood, just powerful in terms of the clarity of its details. So trust your memory to provide the details of a poem.

Here are Kowit's instructions. First, jot down a few sensory details for each memory below. If you come to a gap in your memory, don't stop writing. Ask yourself, if there were to be an image there, what would it be?":

  1. Recall a pleasant time in the past.
  2. Recall a building you once lived in.
  3. Recall a secret you had.
  4. Recall a magic person from childhood.
  5. Recall an incident that fills you with dread.
  6. Recall something dangerous you did when you were young.
  7. Recall something bad or sinful you did as a child.
  8. Recall something that happened during a school vacation.
  9. Recall something that happened in a classroom or playground.
  10. Recall something that happened near a body of water.
  11. Recall your first romantic infatuation.
  12. Recall something that made you laugh happily.

After jotting down a few words for each memory, describe the action in the incident in lines. In the first draft, write out the details. Keep the whole poem to no more than 35 lines, which will make you choose the most evocative details.

 

Below are two poems written from Kowit's exercises.

from Poem 2: Working with Structure (19)
after Machado's "Memory from Childhood" (8)

 His Own Valley 

Summer's end midnight,
            a boy shivers in a blanket.
The pond below the bluff
            holds yesterday's heat.

A can of beans for tomorrow sits
            by the fire-ring stones cold
while he huddles
            frightened of brush fires

                        In the next valley
                                    mother clicks off the late show
                        the screen goes blank, leaves
                                    no dot in the center.

A paw snaps a stick
            near the muddy bank.
Crickets count heartbeats double time.
            Stars poison his eyes.

Summer's end morning
            boy shivers in a blanket.
In the mist over the pond
            floats yesterday's heat.

from Poem 1: A Childhood Memory (17-18)
after Hales' "Power" (9-10)

Home Along the Highway

While my father moves our family
back-to-across Wyoming for another job,
we again drive onto Uncle Bill’s farm,
and I run over the stubble to the barn
where I held a white rabbit on our last trip
when the stalks were green.
But the hutches are empty.
Though my eyes have grown dull from
watching the fields along the highways,
outdoor light halos the hairs left on the wires.
Nevertheless, Uncle Bill’s farm was close to
a home for me along Highway 20.
I count seven rabbits on the way to Alcova,
three of them running.