today’s a [insert tradition here] day– and some are deliberately uncomforting. One of them has a limited lifespan in its original form. Here they are:
- It’s 30 poems in 30 days to succeed – that means that I can have fallow days and catch-up/ super-productive days, and still
win
. I do need to be done by the small hours of 1-May, however, for it to count. On the other hand, last year (2018) I didn’t finish for the first time ever, and I feel happy enough with my 18 or so new poems.
- At least one should be a triolet – it’s a short and punchy form that’s suitable for obsessive/ frustrating subjects. It’s a useful filler for catch-up or venting without being so easy that I consider it
cheating
. However, as I do for many repeating/ rhyming forms, I do use a spreadsheet to do the heavy lifting of the repetition/ reminder of rhyme. What.
- At least one should be a terzanelle – this magnificently mathematical form can go very wrong if you paint yourself into a corner too early. The spreadsheet helps, but there’s often nothing for it but to patiently unpick the seams/ rip out several stanzas and, snarling, start again. On the other hand, the patience pays off in producing claustrophobic/ obsessive pieces.
- At least one should be a sonnet (although it looks like I rejected this in 2016, in fact that one is hidden, because it’s way too personal to share), ostensibly because I’m not good at them. However, I was recently invited to take part in 28 Sonnets Later this February (2019), where I rose to the challenge of writing seven sonnets across the month in strict rotation with three other poets, using randomly assigned historical figures. You can see my efforts by filtering here, and judge for yourself whether I’m still no good! I’ll still do one for NaPoWriMo, I reckon, even if only to prove to myself that I’ve learned something from the experience.
- At least one should be a form I haven’t tried before. This is the one that wasn’t sustainable, as the original challenge to myself was to add a new form each year, repeating former ones. There are only 30 days in April, after all… I will continue to try a new form each year, at least for the foreseeable future.
- At least one will be an ekphrasic poem – i.e. one responding to an image. This isn’t a strict challenge, but it’s turned out that way, so I’m calling it a tradition rather than a formality. Last year (2018) I had quite a few of these, having put together a workshop on just that, so being flush with art books and other materials! :)
- At least one will be a political poem of some kind. This has specially held true since 2015! Whether satire or allegory or call to arms, they’ll creep in…
- At least two will turn out to be inspired by real life events of that day. It’s a long month – you take inspiration where you can!
- At least one will be meta-poetry – i.e. writing about writing/ me-as-poet. Often a reflection on writer’s block.
- I will often invoke
emergency haiku/ senryū/ tanka
– I allow myself two entries which are just a single haiku/ senryū/ tanka and done. This is because they are short, and I find them really easy. Often enough I cheat and string three haiku/ senryū together as separate verses and say it doesn’t count as emergency haiku/ senryū. I am lying.
- At least one will turn out – deliberately or otherwise – to be to one of the
official
prompts from NaPoWriMo.net, no matter how I rail against them. Some people do all their poems for the month to the prompts. I… am impressed, but just can’t, myself!
- At least one will be in response to a prompt/ request from a partner or close friend. Usually towards the end of month, roughly 70% or more through the challenge when I hate whatever I’m writing at the time, every poem I’ve written that month and, in fact, all poetry. Fuck poetry! I shout. Then I get a prompt, swear at it, and then whale at it until it’s done and I’ve got over myself.
- Mythology and folk lore will creep in no matter what I do. I might as well accept my fate – I’m frankly obsessed.
- Welsh will likewise turn up – either the language, the folk lore, a form (e.g. clogyrnachau), or reminiscences of home. See? Sixteen years of living in England and I still call Wales
home
…
That’s all I can think of for now. What other patterns have you seen in my NaPoWriMo entries?
No comments:
Post a Comment