Brad Fruhauff continues his series on the Craft of Christian Poetry with his third installment on the essentials of Christian poetry.
I can’t seem to reduce all my thoughts on the subject of writing poetry down to just three posts, so I’m going to stop trying to predict just how many more of these there will be. I’ve previously suggested that poetry of any variety loves the world and doesn’t need to waste time trying to prove anything. I went on to say that poetry I like tends to surprise, transform, play, redeem, or sacramentalize. For this post, technically number 3, I said I would give some ideas on how to do these things.
If it feels like it’s been a long time coming, that may be because I’ve been trying to avoid it. What can I really tell you that you haven’t already heard or are likely to hear again from the place I got it? It turns out I can tell you all sorts of things, but the most important is that you have to write. I’ll probably blog more about that later. You can read advice on top of advice, but you’re going to have to write at some point. Knowledge is power, but it ain’t art.
Christian Intuition
Write about what? Well: nothing and everything. It’s not necessarily what you write about as how you do it that makes it poetry. And it’s sometimes no more than the fact that the writer was a Christian that makes it “Christian” poetry. If a poem is going to surprise me, it is probably not because the poet pulled some clever technical gag, reworked a Bible story, or said anything about spiritual experience—it may be that, but it’s more likely the poet opened me up to something I had never seen, felt or thought before, or a way of seeing, feeling or thinking about something, or a way of experiencing the words we use to talk about things. We often call such a power “vision,” but visual metaphors in Western culture are caught up with conceptual knowledge and quickly become confusing—that is, we tend to think that to have vision is to have unique or quirky ideas. Ideas are great, but poetry works in forms and patterns: meter, rhythm, rhyme—Frost spoke of the “shape a poem makes.” Poetic vision, then, is about organizing one’s raw materials (fundamentally, language) into some meaningful shape.
The Christian poet will, or should, have a Christian vision—or what I am calling here intuition. The Christian poet still works with language and form, but the meaning of her experiences, of her language, her “raw materials,” will always be bent according to a distinctively Christian intuition, a Christian sense of the world.
This is not to be perspectival. I do not believe that a Christian and a Buddhist simply have different interpretations of experience—that would reduce religious arguments to the level of fighting over the taste of lettuce. Rather, their beliefs and traditions condition them so that they actually experience the world differently from each other. Meaning is experienced as much as interpreted—or maybe we need to separate out kinds of meanings. In either case, poetry is in part the language of these disparate and distinct experiences.
When one is moved to great emotion, one wants to show another that moving thing—whether from love or anger or amusement or spite (but always, ultimately, from love). To do that poetically requires a trained awareness to the contours, colors and temperatures of the thing, to its motion, its volume, its cast, its repose. The poet draws these things together for many reasons: to share, to name, to comfort, to encourage, to empower. The Christian poet has to be both devoutly Christian and devoutly poetic, training herself to chase the names for the events and emotions that constitute a shared life. Don’t put limitations on the Spirit—rather, seek and expect to find. Or, better, seek and expect your reader to find.
To say the poet chases names just begs for some remarks on avoiding cliché, but they will have to wait for another time. If I were to leave you with one thing for the time being, it would be to trust your intuition and to always require more of it. God doesn’t require that we quote a psalm in every poem we write; he requires that we worship and obey him whether we’re writing a poem or cashing out the till. To paraphrase Augustine, then: Love God, then write what you will.
Brad is pursuing a PhD in English at Loyola University Chicago. He occasionally contributes book and music reviews to the Burnside Writer's Collective, and his story "The Strangler" appeared in the first issue of the Ankeny Briefcase. He is by temperament something of an Ancient - "a grumpy old man," as his (young) wife puts it - and does not believe a good idea goes bad by going out of fashion. He has not found a better dictum for poetics than "to instruct and delight" (Horace). In application he believes these are very hard to balance: a pleasant poem may yet be vacuous, and a didactic poem is almost always bad. A poem instructs by being itself, and the poet never knows just what her reader will learn. He wishes to say that good poetry is true, but the truth is not always poetry. He is currently excited about the novels of Marilynne Robinson and Orhan Pamuk, and enjoys the poetry of Auden, Donne, Hopkins, Tennyson and, more recently, Scott Cairns.
Concluding her 4-part series, Monica Brand shares the impact that the largest Muslim nation in the world— Indonesia—had on her American Christian faith.
Demons lived in a tree in Ujung Pandang.
Let me back up a bit and explain. In the middle of the city, there was a large park, kind of like Central Park, only Indonesian style. In one corner of the park, was a large tree and rumor had it that demons lived among the branches.
An American expat living in Ujung Pandang told me how the Indonesians he knew all believed it. I don't recall the species, but it was one of the biggest trees I'd ever seen. Wide trunk, tall with long heavy branches reaching up, out and green. It's just a tree. But walk past the tree at night and feel the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Easy to believe at night, that rumor of demons. There are demons in that tree, the story goes. Freaks a girl out.
Were there demons in that tree? Maybe. I saw no evidence of demonic activity, but why not? If Jesus drove demons out of pigs and people, why not a tree? Maybe all the demons were on their best behavior when I walked past it. My point here is not to argue whether the tree needed an exorcism, what struck me about the supposed Demon Tree was that it was locally accepted. Demons live there? No big deal.
Now finally to my point:
We Americans are so caught up in the clutter of life, the temporal, we miss the demons living in the tree. This is what we see: keyboard, monitor, desk, room, house, and Earth it rests on. The spiritual world is just as real as this one, this world that we can see and touch. I believe that. I bet you believe that too if you take the name of Christ.
Then why don't we act like we really believe it? Why do we chase after things that will only pass away? I'm not saying we should go looking for nasty demons under every rock and pew, but to live mentally conscience in that releam. That was one of the great things about living in Indonesia, with the consistent call to prayer for Muslims, the spiritual rarely was forgotten. There was a feeling of possibly in a spiritual sense. Maybe it's just me, but I don't feel that in American churches.
I may not see evidence of demons in the tree, but I do see a lack of evidence in the American church in belief in the supernatural. That's scarier than rumored demons in a tree.
Monica Brand, a former newspaper reporter turned stay-at-homeschooling mom who has been writing since high school, has been a Christian for most her life. She likes to read across a wide variety of genres (not just CBA authors). In addition to this site, you can find her at her own blog at monicabrand.net, Writer Interrupted, New Jersey Moms, and ACFW.com.
There’s no formula that guarantees publication. Publishers, acquisition agents, and editors are human: driven by personal tastes that influence their decisions. Plus, the publishing market is uncertain, with trends nearly impossible to predict.
However, this doesn’t mean aspiring writers shouldn’t plan their publication path. To some, the concept seems ill-fitting to such a creative venture as writing a novel. Our stories and characters are living, breathing things, works of art, so the idea of meticulously charting our steps can feel counterintuitive.
What happens if we viewed our writing careers as such: a career, a business, a full time job which we aspire to? Suddenly, our thoughts change. We start thinking about our writing “resume”, working our way up the “ladder”, and building a solid foundation on which to build.
That being said, I make this qualifying statement: the following isn’t something I invented; I’m only passing it on. I’ve gleaned it from other writers, largely from Stephen King’s memoir, On Writing. It’s not the only path to publication, but it is a path. In On Writing, King details the scenario of an imaginary author compiled from the experiences several writers he knew. In detailing this fictional writer’s path, King illustrates that a writer serious about publication:
Is a student of the market: studies and researches agents, magazines, digests, anthologies, and publishers.
Has a submission routine, and keeps at it, even in the face of rejection.
Is willing to take on side endeavors writing reviews, editorials, & other articles.
Has a PLAN: knows where to go and who to submit to.
Studies the Market:
King’s fictional author, (whom he called ‘Frank’), subscribed to several writing publications, always looking for articles about improving craft, new publishers and publications, trends in publishing, and agent listings. Frank also carefully notes agents who read his particular genre – before he ever publishes a single story.
When targeting short fiction magazines, Frank sends away for sample copies to read first, to see if his writing fits the magazine’s content. When querying editors, Frank creates a list of those markets and their comments.
Has a Routine for Submissions and Rejections:
First of all, it’s important that Frank actually sends something out. Many talented writers don’t do this for one reason or another, waiting forever for the “right” time to do so. Frank gets over this, finds a few magazines catering to his target audience, and sends his stories off. He also keeps a running list of where he his stories are, and gets busy writing more.
Though I’m focusing specifically on short stories, the above process applies to nonfiction articles also. The most important thing is this: while important to proof-read and edit, at some point, Frank had to let go and start submitting. Frank understands that most his first round stories won’t be accepted. It starts the ball rolling, however, and begins the process.
In any case, his first few stories are rejected, for a variety of reasons – either they weren’t liked, too many submissions were better, or in one sad case, a magazine folds before Frank’s accepted story is published. Undaunted, Frank continues to send stories out, letting them “do the rounds” through his publication list, carefully noting the each editor’s reaction.
Meanwhile, he continues to write with stiff upper lip. When a story completes the rounds unsuccessfully, Frank makes a decision: re-write, or shelve it for his “collection”? It’s a gut call, but at this point Frank has developed a good sense of his own writing, and what can be improved. Frank’s in a good place. He always has stories “doing the rounds”, he’s consistently editing and improving rejected stories and getting them back into circulation, and he’s always writing new ones. As his writing and sense of audience improves, he starts racking up publication credits – that resume we mentioned earlier.
Takes Advantage of Other Writing Opportunities:
Along the way, King notes that Frank picks up a gig for some money writing movie and book reviews for the local newspaper. It brings a little extra cash in, gives him some local name-recognition and exposure, but most importantly – it gives him regular, consistent work on his craft. It also shows that Frank has some range, and once again: more evidence that Frank’s work is of publishable quality, and he’s worked with editors on a regular basis.
At this point in King’s illustration, “Frank” lands a few stories – some for money, others for contributor’s copies – and wins a contest or two. That, along with the review gig gives Frank something to approach agents with, because now he’s finally thinking about that BIG story, the novel manuscript. He hasn’t landed a book contract yet, and maybe never will – but at the very least, Frank haves the satisfaction of knowing he utilized every avenue open to him in an efficient way.
So what’s the take-away from this? The following advice:
Know what type of genre/writing you excel at, and where to submit it. Know what material publishers like to read, what agents and editors are likely to accept, and what they currently AREN’T accepting.
Whether you write short fiction, non-fiction, poetry, inspirational devotionals, reviews or informational articles, the important take-away is this: organization, planning, market awareness, and determination yields positive results. The above is not a guaranteed formula, but not only is its order efficient; it also makes a writer FEEL better – because we all feel more confident with a plan.
Accepting writing gigs outside your preferred genre is important because it forces you to consider yourself as a writer first and a novelist/poet/short story writer second. It makes you hone in on the craft of writing itself. Also, it might open you as a writer to possibilities never before thought possible.
On a final note, this work ethic isn’t something that stops when a writer achieves novel publication – not if they want to be successful. An excellent example is one of the busiest writers in the market, horror novelist Brian Keene. Brian seems to crank out a new novel every few months; he writes short stories, novellas and chapbooks, and recently signed a deal to write a graphic novel series for Marvel Comics. This isn’t just the result of good fortune, however. A recent interview with Shroud Magazine shows how he gets it done. When asked to detail a typical week, Brian states: “I write more than 40 hours a week; it’s my job. I start writing every day around 6 AM, take a lunch break, and then write until 5 PM until everyone (his family) comes home.” Work ethic and order: two winning combinations, in any market.
Kevin Lucia is currently seeking an MA in Creative Writing from Binghamton University, is a born-again Christian who teaches 9-10th grade English and acts as a freelance columnist for The Press & Sun Bulletin. If you can’t get enough of Kevin here at Relief, you can find him at kevinlucia.net, as well as on MySpace and ShoutLife.
Brad Fruhauff continues his series on the Craft of Christian Poetry with his third installment on the essentials of Christian poetry.
There’s no formula that guarantees publication. Publishers, acquisition agents, and editors are human: driven by personal tastes that influence their decisions. Plus, the publishing market is uncertain, with trends nearly impossible to predict. 