“Arrive where we started . . .”
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
— T. S. Eliot, from “Little Gidding” in Four Quartets
Recently, a reader asked me whether I harbor feelings of inadequacy during the writing process, and, if so, how I manage to escape from writerly paralysis. He correlated the sense of inadequacy with desiring to produce great writing. Artistic ideals and expectations can become impenetrable fortresses.
I was humbled by my conversation with this reader, however, I’m not sure if I answered or avoided his questions. I understand that, since the 1980s, circumnavigating clear meaning has come to be in vogue, however I am not always stylish person. In this instance, I answered authentically, but perhaps not satisfactorily. In fact, I completely misread one of his questions and answered what I imagined him to ask, rather than what he asked.
I thought I’d include my response to the reader here. I welcome your input and feedback on my words.
Hi D****,
It sounds as if you haven’t lost your poetic drive, as you still think about creativity and writing. It sounds to me as if you’re challenge is the feelings of inadequacy, rather than an loss of poetic drive. I suspect that you need to cultivate your creative side again. This cultivation is a courageous endeavor and well worth the effort. It can bring you in touch with yourself and your world.
I don’t believe that I have any clear measurements to help me know when a poem I’ve crafted becomes great. Maybe goodness, not greatness, is preferable. The process of writing for me involves a great deal of editing, so I will often work and rework poems for months on end. Some of my longer poems have taken 6-8 months. In some ways, I am not sure if poems are ever finished. Published, yes. Finished, no.
I find that I have to hone in on words and sections until I feel good about them, as well as the larger trajectory of the poem. Piece by piece I work towards my own satisfaction. For me, I work to express wisdom through my words–sometimes through beauty, sometimes through power. I know a poem is good when (1) I feel I want to work on it to make it good (good start) and (2) I’ve worked on it long enough that I can set it aside and invest time in other work.
I try to stay away from measuring my work against other people’s work. I prefer to create work I am proud of, rather than work that strives towards someone else’s ideals (or the ideals I imagine makes a poem great).
To overcome your feelings of creative inadequacy, I would suggest that you simply write a few lines that you like for yourself. Lines that you are happy with–that you’re proud to read. Then, start working on whole poems. Spend time working on one idea that you like until it is what you want it to be. It may take you multiple edits before you arrive at your destination, but the effort will be worth it. By producing work you like, you’ll increase your inner sense of accomplishment, which will (hopefully) help you to write longer pieces.
I also encourage you to find other writers, of all levels, and meet with them to share your work (face to face is best). This will get you talking about your work and hearing the process that other’s go through. You’ll find some encouragement in these groups. You will, of course, also find one or two people who will act as if they are experts. These people can sometimes be somewhat grating. You can even learn from those people, however don’t let their judgements be pronouncements. they are simply another opinion—no matter how loudly they speak—that you can take or leave. I have found that people who are sometimes overbearing or harsh are masking their own feelings of inadequacy by pushing others down.
I hope I’ve provided some helpful advice. Let me know if any of it resonates with you. I’d welcome hearing from you again.
Until then, be well.
Leif


