Passing It On

The other evening a friend and I were having a discussion about the artist in the community, not the worth and purpose of the artists so much as how they fit into everyday life. He’s a musician and said that the most satisfaction he gets out of public performance is not based in praise or applause but the sense that some of the audience had been “touched.” He explained that it was an awareness of sorts that what he had been doing had let someone reach into himself to find a creative spark; it need not necessarily apply to music but any way of creating something other. The artist’s role in the community, he suggested, was to pass on the knowledge that all have a talent and should display it to the best of our ability. It doesn’t matter what, just that each one create.

I told him I could understand that about musicians and their instruments in a public performance, even actors although they hid their real selves behind a character. A visual artist is exposed through the works hanging in public galleries, film makers etc. in theatres. But how do you make that work with writing, with the literary arts? “You perform words in public,” he replied. “You do readings not to simply advertise yourself and your work, however valid that purpose may be. You have to show that creating is worthwhile, that it is delighting and satisfying.”

I remember once talking of poetry to a small group of eight to ten year old children. I was explaining rhyme and the ways different words can sound not the same but alike. I would give a simple word like “cat” and ask several of the youngsters, one by one, to give me a word that sounds like it, that rhymes with it. They grasped the concept easily enough and I was ready to go on to rhyming phrases and lines when one girl’s face lit up. Unasked she began to speak out many rhymes for different words, with an ecstatic look on her face as if she had discovered something magical. Deep within her the repetition of sounds had lit a spark of joyful creativity. I don’t know if she ever went on to write or use language in other ways. I felt like a master who had just gained an apprentice. The essence of the poet had been passed on.

And then at PoeMagic, his reading/performance series, Klyde Broox touched on the same thing. Talking about the reasoning behind PoeMagic, Klyde spoke of developing a community, a gathering in time and space where poets and spoken word artists could be together and share their creativity, where the more mature artists could fan that spark in those beginning to find a voice. Schools for artist, writing courses, and such only teach basics and methods. Creativity itself can not be taught. It must be developed and the best way to ensure such development in the younger writers is to provide chances for their works to be heard and seen. So it was his intention to form such a venue where all levels of writers of any creed, colour, social status, or whatever may seem to divide us were free to grab the spark and fire up their creativity.

And I agree. Poetry readings should not be simple showcases for one person’s work but reach to build awareness, an awareness that poets can be serious and fun, even seriously funny. I don’t remember ever setting up a reading series just for development of an artistic community but the concept is intriguing. I may be a little too old to take up such a task myself, but I will support to the fullest anyone who can and will.

So if you are just beginning to write, even if not seriously, don’t judge yourself by what publication credits you may achieve. Find a writer or group you admire and write toward their approval. Most are happy to pass on their outlooks and enthusiasm.

The Fire, The Fire!

A few days ago I picked up second hand an anthology of contemporary African-American poetry published toward the end of the twentieth century titled Catch the Fire!!! It’s interesting and important because it identifies current rap and hip-hop artists as part of the stream of black writers/poets/artists of the U. S.

The book is divided into six segments; each is introduced by a black cultural figure of importance with reflections and encouragements. The overriding theme of the book urges the young poets to be positive and passionate, to catch and spread the fire actively. The editor and many of the younger poets included are wordsmiths, presenters of ideas in the language of their culture and the immediacy of post literary media – black street talk with rap beats, to be performed as spoken word and disseminated as recordings.

The work in this volume lives up to that challenge. It burns with passion. There are poems from some of the well-known and established poets and writers: Amiri Baraka, Nikki Giovanni, Quincy Troupe, and Sonia Sanchez. These establish the immediacy and the tradition. But much of the collection consists of work by younger poets, often rap and slam artists, who try to burn the fire of their performance onto the black and white of the page.

It all shows that there is a tradition of black poetry - revolutionary perhaps, passionate certainly – that flows through American letters. Much of it is, as mentioned before, available only through performances or recordings. And this is where the more established poets come in with advice and direction. They urge the young to write and then look at their work, not simply to consider performance but the writing as literature. To not only listen to their contemporaries but also to read them, study them, find what works and what doesn’t. To delve into the craft of poetry beyond rhyme and rhythm and into simile and metaphor. To read and use everything you can until you’ve worked out something you feel comfortable with, a voice, and a positive attitude you can share. Use poetry to reach outside yourself so it can become part of everyone else.

And with such advice it is easy to see how rap and hip-hop, filtered though the experience of black people’s existence, is real poetry. It may not have the ancient, European forms and cadences but the power and confidence cannot be denied. The fire that exists on the stage is being transferred to the page. And the page will be all the better for it, will not be consumed.

Young Writers

This past Friday evening the annual "Power of the Pen" Awards for young writers were held again; again, I had had the honour of judging the poetry submitted by seventeen year olds. Much of the event was the same, but let me dwell on a few things that were different.

Previously I mentioned that I had greater difficulty choosing the top two (and their order) than in years before. Speaking to other judges, I found that I was not alone. Therefore, I think it fair to say that the overall quality of writing entered was better than before. I didn't feel so awkward about suddenly giving out honourable mentions.

The overall awards given out by the Hamilton Association for the Advancement of Literature, Science and Art, which seem usually to go to older and more mature writers went to relatively young writers this year. The short fiction award went to a fifteen year old; the poetry award went to a thirteen year old. After reading the award winning entries, I concurred with the judges. Just as an aside, the second place overall for poetry was the one I had selected for second prize in my age category.

That brings me to the one disheartening part I feel I must mention. When I opened the book of winning stories and poems, I didn't recognize at first the poem I had selected as first in its category. Why did I choose this one over the #2 which seemed so much more direct and poetic? Then, nosing around in the presentation envelope I saw a copy of the original work. Part of it (a part just as important as the rhythm and the images used) was the placement of words and phrases on the page. In the publication all that was lost, all the intricate possible relations between words and images, simply by centering each line. I hope the prize satisfied the author; the layout of its publication certainly dismayed me.

Anyway, enough vexation to make me want to stop judging if I can't control the quality of final publication. But then, would someone else have seen the significance of the layout, and rewarded it? That's enough to keep me in the game. I would have liked to congratulate the young poet in person, but that didn't happen. And so it goes.

Judging and Quality

It's the middle of August. This is again the time that I consider the nature and merits of those who judge contests, poetry contests specifically. At the moment, I'm looking at judging from both sides; we are trying to round up a set of judges for the Acorn-Plantos Award for People's Poetry (a book award, nation wide) that I administer, and I've received my allotment of the local secondary school entries for "Power of the Pen" through the public library. On the one hand I have to find suitable judges; on the other, I have to be one.

What do I look for in a judge? First, a good knowledge of the matter she is judging. Just as the criminal judge on the bench must know the law and how it applies, how to measure an accused against a law abiding society, so must a judge of poetry have knowledge of what it is and how the items before him measure against the standards set, in this case the work of Acorn, Purdy, Livesay, Plantos, etc. Second, she should be honest. A corrupt judge is a stain on an ordered society. A judge of anything, be it talent, Olympic sport, poetry, dogs, must put in the time and dedication required. A personal bias is always present, should be expected; but the awareness of that bias should hold the judge to a high standard.

That's a lot to ask of someone; that's a lot to ask of myself. And still, because I accepted the task, to fulfill it I need to hold myself to the same rigorous standard. If perhaps I think a young person's poem is garbage, I need to see it in the light it was written: with what understanding of the craft, as an assignment, a venting of emotion. And then in all fairness I should suggest ways of betterment. That's what it's about in younger years, getting to know if this is or could be your "thing," your means of expression. It took me time to find that, and I have no right to discourage anyone. Remain honest, to yourself and your craft.

Poetry in Cambridge (Ont.)

The other day I travelled to Cambridge to attend a meeting of the folks who are putting together an intriguing event to celebrate April, National Poetry Month. It consists of representatives of the Cambridge Libraries, their Arts Centre, and three writer/judges.

What it really consists of is three categories (Child, Young Adult, Adult) from each of which ten poems are chosen. These thirty are published, one per day throughout the month at all branches of the library, put together in a booklet, and read to an audience at a gala affair. I had the responsibility of chosing ten young adult entries; it was a matter of choice rather than judgement.

Some I liked. Some I didn't. Most fell in between the two. There was a lot of emotion but very little of the similes and metaphors that I tend to look for. I was happy when I found them, and found them well-used. I was less impressed by likes and dislikes expressed without using any poetc devices. End rhyme abounded but other sound facets of poetry: alliteration, assonance, internal rhyme, regular rhythms, were sadly lacking. Much of the appeal came to rest on pretty words.

For better or for worse, ten were chosen. I understand that the other categories had similar concerns. There was some discussion about changing criteria, etc. but we decided to keep it as open as possible. We want to encourage writers but not by excluding any.

I guess I get to give a little praise/pep talk at the gala. I'll be short and kind. I hope they don't turn out to be too shy or lacking self-confidence to read to an audience.

Advice for Writers

Last Friday at the "Power of the Pen" awards for teenage writers, the assembled young authors and wannabes were addressed by Dana Robbins, the current editor of the Hamilton Spectator. In his speech he stressed a number of simple ways to help oneself develop as a writer. They are almost identical with the advice I press on younger poets. He urged them to follow these actions:

Write. No matter what, no matter how good or bad, satifying or not, by putting words down in an order determined by yourself you become a writer. Write fiction, non-fiction, letters, emails. Keep a journal. Blog.

Read. Read anything you can; you are not doing this to learn anything specific, but to keep yourself immersed in the written word. You may want to read in your favourite category, be it poetry, fiction, non-fiction, or other, but be sure to spend just as much time and effort on the others. Read what you don't care for. Read newspapers, tabloid mags, cereal boxes but read. Even the bad stuff. Tell yourself "I can do better than that!" and then do it.

Observe. The world you live in provides the basis for your thoughts and ideas, and therefore your writings. If you close your eyes and mind, you deny yourself much of the life you should be living. Watch people. Watch the intricacies of nature as things grow and change. Observe the details. These will become the subjects and objects of your written sentences.

Robbins presented several more but these were the three most important to my experience. It never hurts to reiterate them.