Blog Post #2-An Introduction to Poetry
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about talent. What is it? Does it really matter? How do you make it work for you? Is talent all you need? The reading we’ve been doing on the topic of talent in the poetry writing class I’m taking echoes what I’ve learned about how innate gifts are rather useless without some other key factors.
In most martial arts schools, students are constantly reminded that “A black belt is a white belt who never gave up.” Going from white belt to black belt takes hard work, tenacity, and perseverance, but whatever innate athletic gifts you may have are meaningless if you don’t keep showing up.
So how does that translate to being a poet? In her book Write Away: One Novelist’s Approach to Fiction and the Writer’s Life, Elizabeth George says writers need “bum glue” to stay in the chairs and keep working. You might have all the great ideas in the world, an unsurpassed ear for language, a natural feel for rhythm. You might be able to imbue a pondering snail with a catalog of meaning but, in the end, it all comes down to sticking around, doing the hard work—the reading, the writing, the thinking, the rewriting. Without “bum glue” and effort, your gifts are of little value to you.
But stick-to-it-iveness and effort aren’t all you need. I once attended a one-hour board-breaking class at a women’s martial arts conference. After half an hour of clear, thorough instruction, we were ready to break 12”x12”x1” pine boards. Jazzed up, we stood in line waiting for our turn as the instructor and her assistant set the squares of wood up and provided last minute coaching.
We cheered as each successive classmate’s hammerfist crashed through the wood. Until it was Lisa’s turn. She hesitated. Then she began to cry. Again and again, Lisa lifted her clenched hand above her head only to let it fall impotently to her side. She had some psychological barrier to committing the forceful act, of demonstrating her own strength of mind and muscle. Finally though, she managed to push through whatever reticence or fear she had and brought her fist down hard, splintering the board. Cheers erupted. The lead instructor picked up the pieces of Lisa’s broken board and presented them to her with a bow.
Artists can use discipline and tenacity to break through fear, too. In my own writing, I know that I hold back just as Lisa did with board breaking. Often I put the brakes on just when my material builds up steam. I shut everything down for fear of where it may go, what part of myself it may reveal. I need to have the courage to bring my hammerfist down and smash through that barrier, get beyond the fear.
So what’s my take-away about talent and writing poetry? Just do it. Sit (or stand) at your desk, read others’ poetry, study what makes it work or not work, start writing. Again and again.
