Odling I

I realised that I don't actually like putting my deepest feelings into poetry. My work is strong on rhyme and metre and word-play, on alliteration for its own sweet sake, on throwing a twiddle of nice-sounding words on paper and watching it grow into something beautiful and true. There are reasons why. The world is overfull of young, angsty poets who feel that feeling is first, that if they shout "I feel bad!" loud enough we will feel it with them, of postmodern pissheads who revel in ugly, wandering, discursive dribble.

If you can get your form right then the function hits so much harder. If your poem is nice to say, then people are more likely to memorise it and teach it to their children: it is more likely to be remembered after you are not. I decided several years ago that I needed to master the tools of the trade, as a carpenter learns by making oggle-boxes and bird-houses.

And I realised that I tend to place these tools between the poem and myself. Much of the poetry that I have written lately has been incidental verse. That is to say, I am writing a story and there is a need for a poem, or there is a tiny crack that I can wedge and hammer open until there is space for a little word-singing. In either case, both the form and function of the poem are dictated by the circumstances of the story: someone mentioned a ruined city - throw in a scrap of lament; a hobbit composed a saga about Bandobras Bullroarer - give it a good rhythmic feel and make it a touch over the top; a love poem written by a very selfish person - no problem!

I enjoyed writing all three of those verses very, very much. They have a beauty in their own right. Yet, there is a veil between me and them. The stories themselves, my prose-writing, has a similar quality. I do not like writing torture-scenes. The love or pain of characters is not revealed by speech or drama, but by the graceful gesture, the flick of the eye, the stuttering tongue.

There are reasons for that, too. I enjoy subtlety and riddles in my prose: the conclusion that a reader works for is so much stronger than an easy answer. If I want to induce emotion in my readers, then there are some very cold-blooded and manipulative techniques to use. If I sketch my cartoons well then the reader will paint the minute, colourful details for me, which is a great saving in word-space and makes it more personal to the audience as well. There are good, sound, craft-wise reasons to write that way. But it also has the effect of separating me off from the opaque, elusive worlds I write.

I'm just wondering, why do I have so much trouble writing: "I feel bad"?

(Er, in general, that is. I was having a really interesting and good day when I wrote the above, it's just that part of that day was reflecting on these issues ;-). Now, today, when I post this, is getting to be somewhat gruelling, but never mind. I'll live. Stiff-upper-lip time, ne? Honestly, I don't feel bad - just a little harried.)