Billy Collins
Published on Mar 30 2010 | Filed under: Embraced by Darkness
Billy Collins is coming to Bemidji Minnesota this September!! WooHoo!
I am sooo excited. If you haven’t yet seen them on youtube you need to go watch These By Billy Collins. There are many to see/hear and they are absolutely incredible. I can’t wait to hear him live. And, is it just me or does he sound like Kevin Spacey when he played the serial killer in Seven? And doesn’t that just add another awesome element of dimension or what!
Stage two of The Talking Stick
Everything is in a digital file. Poetry, Creative nonfiction and fiction. There is no more scanning or typing to do (Thank God). Sharon has gone through the digital file and made as many corrections as she can there. The judges have already returned to us the first and second place finishers in all three categories. All that was left to do last Sunday night was for me to sit down and figure out how the book is going to read, which poem goes where, which story goes where. Made all the more difficult that we want to start everything that goes on to more than one page on a right hand page.
It took me four hours.
Not even kidding. Four hours. I started at 11pm and ended up still sitting there at 3am. It was the hardest book I have yet to put together in my life. It is strictly because of our standards of excellence and the fact that we’re getting more and more writing every year. That all translates into “less filler for the book.” Less easy going and blah poetry about nothing etc. We encourage and published clear-voiced pieces that are well described, as short/cut/tight as possible. And we love stuff that ends with a clear message. No, I don’t mean “Kill Hitler!” what I mean by a clear message is that there is a beginning, a middle and an end that translates into something, anything. An emotion, an idea, anything, anything at all without the writer TELLING IT TO US.
And that translates into . . .
A book that was damn hard to put together. I mean, my God, I’m not going to be caught putting a poem about baby’s dying across from a creative nonfiction that is a humorous slant on cabin life. Hell no. Everything this year was clear and imrpessive, but that means everything this year had to be very carefully handled. What a job!
But what a great job to have! I can’t believe I’m saying the quality of the work was so good it actually made my job harder. lol. What a great problem to have.
There was bad too though.
Don’t get me wrong. There is always truly horrible writing that I remain sitting with my mouth open while reading it wondering why the hell the writer thought anyone would want to read it. Half of the creative nonfiction submitted this year I crossed off (with red ink) at least the first and the last paragraphs. Simply put I eliminated the stupid back story that should start NO story (if back story is necessary and, it really shouldn’t be with a word limit of 1,000, then it should only be brought it when its relevant to the action.) and then I eliminated the part when the writer decided to tell us what we learned because of course all readers (especially editors) are too stupid to get it.
What writers don’t seem to understand.
I can imagine them. Flaunting along in tied died t-shirts in their minds as they expand their horizons and click off the editor and slip into that creative bliss where everything is genius. And then they write words that absolutely ooze like honey, thing like, “Expanded into/Void of oppressive/Convulsed noise/Weeping . . . Weeping . . . Weeping/Dreams shattered/A blink and I knew/I was alive!” Wow, really? This is the best you can do? What the hell did that even fucking mean? And, for that matter, who ever said that I cared about whether or not you felt alive? Do you understand that I don’t care? I couldn’t care less actually. You’re job as a writer is to make me give a fuck. Figure it out.
The number one rule that most “hobby” writers don’t seem to get is that writing is half creative process and half intellectual work. It seems they all throw out their brain, their working common sense, for this lofty bull shit hope that you can become a writer by writing what you think is poetic.
Most people who sit down to write a “poem” are always lacking the most important thing. Heart.
The impressive pieces, every one of them, start by the writer being inspired by an emotion. From there, not all writers create anything that’s worth reading (I can’t tell you how many pieces that we don’t put in the book but they had a great idea) the inspiration is the most creative part of it all and it does not create something worth reading. Your intellectual self, your ability to step back and allow that story to shine (or that feeling, that emotion) without ever telling us how to think, is how good writing begins. It takes clear thinking and an absolutely hated eye to get a piece cut down to the only words that matter. Very few things that I’ve read have ever reached this point of brilliant tightness and almost no creative nonfiction that I’ve seen has ever achieved this.
The ability to step back and clearly assess your own writing.
You need to be objective. So often I hear “I wrote it for a class” and I think, “Wow that must be an exciting read!” The basis of your work must be a seed that inspires you. You must have a clear and present knowing of what you are trying to achieve when you’re writing that piece. If you’re not excited about it, God knows, no reader will ever be.
