Poetry for Prose: Make Your Fiction Sing

By Maggie King

Write what you know. This mantra is drummed into the heads of writers, especially those of us at the start of our careers. But today I’m writing about what I don’t know—poetry. Specifically turning to poetry to make my fiction come alive with music.

I’ve been intrigued with this idea since I read This Year You Write Your Novel, an instructional and motivational book by Walter Mosley. Yes, that Walter Mosley, prolific writer in many genres and best-known as creator of the bestselling historical crime series featuring Easy Rawlins. Mr. Mosley considers poetry to be the basis of all writing and suggests that reading, writing, and studying poetry gives fiction writers a deeper appreciation of the nuances of language. He has taken several poetry workshops at the City College of New York in Harlem and, although he says he has failed to turn out “even a passable poem,” he’s confident that what he learned from the workshops has benefitted his fiction.  

Here’s an excerpt from This Year You Write Your Novel:

Of all writing, the discipline in poetry is the most demanding. You have to learn to distill what you mean into the most economic and at the same time the most elegant and accurate language. In poetry you have to see language as both music and content. A poet must be the master of simile, metaphor, and form, and of the precise use of vernacular and grammar, implication and innuendo. The poet has to be able to create symbols that are muted and yet undeniable. The poet, above all other writers, must know how to edit out the extraneous, received, repetitious, and misleading. A poet will ask herself, “Why did I use that word, and how will that usage affect meaning later in the poem when the same word is used again? A similar word?”

The poet seeks perfection in every line and sentence; she demands flawlessness of form.

If the fiction writer demands half of what the poet asks of herself, then that writer will render an exquisitely written novel.

Think in terms of music. As Mr. Mosley states, “In poetry you have to see language as both music and content.” My husband, Glen King, is a songwriter and knows the importance of marrying music with content. Author Louise Erdrich, originally a poet, transitioned from poetry to fiction in 1980. Poetry infuses her beautifully written, lyrical prose.

In my long ago school days, I enjoyed reading poetry, particularly the works of Samuel Coleridge. I tried my hand at poetry as a way to cope with my considerable teenage angst. I still have those poems (don’t worry, I won’t share!).

So, take Walter Mosley’s advice and sign up for a poetry workshop. You may not become a poet, but you will come to appreciate language in new ways that will make your fiction come alive. If you can’t find a workshop in your community, check online sources.

Who knows … you may become a regular at poetry slams.

 Online poetry workshops
Key “online poetry workshops” in a search engine or visit the following sites:

Gotham Writers

Lighthouse Writers Workshop

Poets&Writers: Writers Conferences, Colonies, and Workshops

For further reading
Norton Anthology of Poetry 5th Edition

This Year You Write Your Novel by Walter Mosley

So--you're a romance writer... *snicker*

The two or three people who've read my work know me as a romance writer. Two of the three novel-length works I've published to date are contemporary romance/romantic suspense, and I tend to get a little defensive about my 'romance writer' label for two reasons:

• Romance writing is generally looked down upon by the rest of the writing establishment, and by academia. (See Romance Schromance: Do Romance Novels Have Any Literary Value?)
• And then there's this: romance is just one of the genres in which I write. 

I decided to count my genres when I read Che Gilson's post "Writing Bucket List", and realized I write in no fewer than seven of them.

I write mystery. I've started a mystery novel that I'm very excited about. It's set on a fictitious Caribbean island and explores the other side of the tourist destination ethos of the region: no smiling 'natives' serving drinks with umbrellas but real people with real struggles, out of control violent crime, white collar corruption, and yes, a little realistic romance.

I write memoir. I've written one on raising my son and it's awaiting a final edit before I submit it anywhere.

I write literary fiction. One of my short stories has been published in a literary journal, another was shortlisted for a lit prize, and several others are cooling their heels on my hard drive. One of my WIPs is a novel which draws on my family history and may be categorized as literary, women's fiction or mainstream. Not sure yet.

I write science fiction. Just one so far. Yup, surprised me too, but I woke up with the story in my head and could not get it out. So I wrote it. Not sure yet what exactly I should do with it, and don't know if I'll be writing any more.

I write poetry. I don't consider myself a poet, but I've always written 'poemish' things. Last year I took a poetry writing class and although I got an A I still don't consider myself a poet. Not too sure what I'll do with that collection of sonnets, haikus, tankas, ballads, acrostics, villanelles, dramatic monologues, modified forms and free verse, but it sure was fun writing them.

I write flash fiction. Submitted my favorite here, and I see more FF in my future.

Seven genres, and I've probably overlooked a couple others. I was told by a well-meaning friend years ago that I should stick to one genre and develop a fan base there before moving into other genres. But I'm wayward. I write what I want, when I want. And with the growth of indie publishing, I can also publish what I want, when I want. Am I making money doing my own thing? Very little thus far. Am I happy doing things my way? You bet I am.

Do you stick to one genre? Or do you juggle multiple genres like I do?

~Liane

Writing in a different format: the Epistolary novel

Ever since I read A. P. Herbert’s Poem, “At the Theater (to the lady behind me)” I’ve been toying with the idea of writing an epistolary novel--a story written just in the form of letters.  In Herbert's poem he starts out, “Dear Madam you have seen this play, I never saw it till today…” and he goes on to paint a picture of a very frustrated theater patron being disturbed by a woman who is narrating the play (you know how that feels).  You can feel the anger, the frustration and the disdain for the woman and her friend.

This is not a new format for poetry.  There are epistolary poems dating back to the 8th century, maybe even earlier.  But I read A. P. Herbert’s poem when I was a child and it made such an impact on me that I have written several poems in exactly that format.  You’d think writing the poems would quench my desire, but it hasn’t.  It is still my dream to write a full length romance just using letters.

A few years ago I read James Patterson’s novel, “Suzanne’s Diary for Nicholas” and that ignited the fire even more.  This wasn’t written as letters, but a series of journal entries as a young mother explains to her infant son how she met and fell in love with his father.  I loved that book … a masterfully crafted romance without one descriptive sexual encounter, yet so full of emotion.

Like I said I toyed with the idea many times, but never quite got around to penning it.  Why?  Maybe it’s the restriction of the format.  The POV is of only the writer and is further restricted by the relationship with the one to whom the letter is written.  Events that could impact those two people could only be written about from the perspective of the letter writer’s direct experience.  If not crafted properly it could leave lots of holes in the narrative.  Or maybe it’s my lack of confidence in my ability to write in a format that deviates from the writer as the omniscient narrator.

To improve and expand my writing skills in that area, I tried to do a little research on epistolary novels.  I found a short list of epistolary novels on Wikipedia, but not much on the craft of writing them.  If there is any of you who know of a resource that would help a person hone this specific skill, I’d like you to tell me about it.

Until I get the courage to leave the safety net of the omniscient narrator and write my love story as an epistolary novel, I will leave you with my epistolary poem written when I was a teenager.

To the Preacher

Dear Sir,
   I watch you very close,
   But you don’t know me, I suppose?
   I listen to the words you say to me
   And try to be what I ought to be.
   You speak the words of truth, I know,
   Because I search the bible to see if it’s so.
   But there is only one little flaw:
   What I heard, is not what I saw.

   So often you speak of humility,
   But I don’t know the meaning, you see,
   For when I look upon your side
   All I see is pomp and pride.
   Jesus was a lowly man
   Ate with sinners and publicans
   But because my father is a drunken man
   He is not welcomed to shake your hand.
   All this and more I see,
   Plus the church is filled with hypocrisy.
   We need a broom to sweep the floor,
   Starting from the pulpit, right to the door.
   But all this shouldn’t surprise me when
   The church is led by businessmen
   Oh my humble spirit longs to see
   Your destiny in eternity.
                 Signed: yours truly
                       Grieved within.
   P.S. I hope the broom sweeps out the sin!

10 Rules for Reading Your Work Out Loud

I go to poetry and fiction readings all the time. I host them, go to open mics, and often headline them. I do it for a lot of reasons. First, I want to promote my books. I write fiction, crime, and poetry, and it’s part of my job to sell the things. You can never and should never expect your publisher to do that for you. That’s not the job of the publisher. But I also go because I like them. They’re fun, and I love discovering new poets.

I’ve been going long enough to see a lot of people make a lot of mistakes, but I don’t want there to be any confusion here. I’m not going to make fun of anyone but myself in this post. All of these are mistakes that I have made at readings. A lot of people make them, but all of the examples are me. Here they are, The Rules for Reading Your Work Out Loud:

1. Don’t go longer than the organizer has asked you to go. You might have the best work in the world, but there’s only so much attention any one person has. The chairs are uncomfortable (always), and everyone has been working all day. Often the organizer has the space for a very limited duration because of insurance or the venue is going to close.

By the way, it’s generally a good idea to go too short. If people wished you’d read more, they’re likely to buy your books.

2. Time your bathroom visit. The very worst mistake was going to the bathroom a minute before the reading and then using the sink in the bathroom that splashed me in a strange place. Damn you Borders bathroom! Luckily I had tucked in my shirt, and I was able to untuck. I don’t know if anyone saw, but no one mentioned it.

3. Please don’t tell the crowd not to clap until the end. This is a common thing for a lot of readers to say, but it comes off like you’re saying that your work is amazing and that the crowd is going to waste a lot of time in needless adoration.

4. Thank the organizers.

5. Read the crowd and listen to the other readers. The last person who read right before you wrote about heartbreak and loss. People loved it. Be careful what you read.

6. Don’t swear or read about sex until you have read the crowd. Don’t read about sex if there is a well-used children’s section.

7. If you are the headliner, pay attention to the open mics. You should anyway, but you’re likely to be nervous about your headline reading and trying to deal with your nerves in way that people do, thinking about other things, joking with friends. You’re doing it innocently, but to everyone else it looks like you’re yawning and making fun of the readers. Flagellate yourself if you do this.

8. Humor should ONLY be self-deprecating. If you joke about yourself, that’s all right, but I’ve made the mistake of teasing friends and poking fun at students the way I would in the classroom or when we’re just hanging out. What comes off to you as friendly banter could be seen as a public attack -- if not by your friends, then by the audience members.

9. Read loudly and slowly. I’m a fast talker normally.

10. After the reading, chat with people. Listen to what they have to say. Be respectful. If you’re going to make a sale, this is when it’s going to happen, but that’s not the most important reason. By entering a reading, you have joined a community. Now is the moment when you enter into that community.

Guest author John Brantingham: What Writing Sonnets Taught Me about Writing Mysteries

John Brantingham

When some mystery writers find out that I was a poet before I wrote mysteries, they expect me to be a little snobby. I’m not sure why. None of my poet friends are ever surprised to find out that I love mysteries. Most of them do too.

Besides, I love to write sonnets.

The major misunderstanding of the sonnet is that it is a restrictive form of poetry with rules meant to inhibit the writer. Anyone who has worked with the form for any length of time has found the rules liberating. These are not rules that weigh the poet down but tools that help the writer find meaning. Because certain things must happen at certain moments in the sonnet, the poem writes itself.

What I love about the form of the sonnet is that it gives me the poem and the ideas. As long as I allow the tools of rhyme and meter to carry me along, I will always get a poem that is satisfying to me and the readers.

In fact, often the worst thing that I can do is to get in the way of those elements. It’s better to start without a clear idea of what I’m going to say in a sonnet and let the form write the poem. All I need is a word or two or a beginning idea and the form of the poem will help me find greater meaning. Wordsworth knew that. Shakespeare did too.

And Shakespeare would have loved to write a mystery novel.

The genre has built-in tools that help writers create meaning. When I write a mystery, I always come to that wonderful moment when the story takes over. I -- like the reader -- wonder what’s going to happen next.

That’s the form taking over as it does in the sonnet. If the form doesn’t take over, if I am forcing things to happen, then I know something is wrong. Perhaps, the characters have not been well drawn. Perhaps, there is not enough action to propel the story. Perhaps, the antagonist has no real complexity.

What the sonnet taught me to do was to lighten up and not be so controlling. It taught me to surrender to the process. If you like, it taught me to surrender to the muse. That’s served me well in writing mysteries.

I put the murder in chapter one and let the form pull me to the end.

Anyone who writes sonnets well appreciates mystery novels and appreciates mystery novelists. Sonneteers and mystery writers have the same love of form and have the same dedication to craft.

So here’s a question for everyone. Whoever answers first will win a copy of my poetry collection, East of Los Angeles. What important event happens in the last two lines of a Shakespearean sonnet? It not much different than what happens at the end of many mystery novels.

—John Brantingham


John Brantingham's work has appeared on Garrison Keillor's daily show Writer's Almanac, and he has had more than 100 poems and stories published in the United States and England in magazines such as The Journal, Confrontation, Mobius, and Tears in the Fences. He was nominated for a Pushcart Prize for a poem in his chapbook Putting in a Window, which was published by Finishing Line Press, and his second chapbook, Heroes for Today, was published by Pudding House Press. He is a full-time professor at Mt. San Antonio College in Southern California and one of two fiction editors of The Chiron Review, a nationally distributed literary magazine.

John's website: http://johnbrantingham.webs.com/index.html
His blog: http://johnbrantingham.blogspot.com/

Nothing Rhymes with Poetry

I dislike poetry.

I was never able to avoid poetry growing up, much as I tried. From junior high school through my first run at college every English or Lit course had an obligatory poetry element. Pretty much against my will many of those required poems have stuck with me, not so much as influencing forces but as bits and pieces of rhyming detritus lodged in unused nooks and crannies of my frontal lobe (of which there are legion); Frost with his horse in the snowy wood, Sandburg with his cat-footed fog, Kipling keeping his wits - all the standards are in there somewhere. And of course I can recite what every teenager thinks is the heaviest piece of writing they've ever seen, the single most quoted (and practically inescapable) poem in the English language, William Butler Yeats's The Second Coming. Fragments of that poem are everywhere.

Actually, I think I should specify I dislike reading poetry. Listening to it is fine; Shakespeare's plays, the lyrics of any song, all of these are poetry. Even some ad jingles, Lord help us. They are composed of words chosen for sound and imagery that have been carefully set in a structured cadence and rhythm to create a desired effect. (And cadence is not rhythm. If a poem's in iambic pentameter, iambic is the rhythm and pentameter is the cadence.) Even blank verse – a complete mess on the page as the poet tries to use white spaces and oddly positioned words to imply grammar and relationship – sounds good when read aloud by someone who gets what the poem is about.

I think my dislike of words scattered across the page is a function of my dyslexia; b, q, d, and p are the same letter to me, identical if presented without positional clues. I spent so much time learning to figure out what I was looking at growing up that I can sight-read a find-a-word puzzle. Really. You think a word like "disenfranchise" is hard to read when spelled backwards in an ascending diagonal? That's how it looks to me half the time anyway. Being able to read upside down as quickly as I read right side up was a real boon as a classroom teacher. (Doesn't work for reading in mirrors.)

After three point five paragraphs devoted to my dislike of poetry it should come as no surprise that I have favorite poems and poets or that I have had one (count 'em, one) poem published in my lifetime. It was written during my Bohemian period, the year I took off between high school and college. It was chosen by a regional literary quarterly that paid in copies and disappeared without a ripple three and a half decades ago. In other words it was not a professional sale, but at the time I was impressed with myself.

Something times One is said
to equal Something.

In math that
is called
Proof
of Identity.

I need someOne
to times with.

Pretty much adolescent angst on a stick, I know, but I hadn't yet turned twenty and was still mistaking doubt for depth and hormones for passion. An astute student of the late Beat period may notice the work shows influence of one of the first poets I 'discovered' on my own: Richard Brautigan. (Actually, you'd have to be a very generous student with intuitive skills bordering on the clairvoyant.) For those unfamiliar with his work, I recommend you start with his novel Trout Fishing in America and/or his collection of poems The Pill Versus the Springhill Mine Disaster. One of my favorites is the title poem from the collection, here in its entirety:

When you take your pill
it's like a mine disaster.
I think of all the people
lost inside of you.

I know some, like my brother who teaches English at a real university, dismiss most of Brautigan's work as word play. I'm going to come back to that idea in a moment, but first one more poet: Billy Collins. A former USofA Poet Laureate, Collins does atypical things with words. I don't think I'll ever get tired of his delightful Tension, for example. In fact, I think you should go read that now. I’ll wait.

"Tension" looks a lot like word play, doesn't it? But yet it's still with you, and will stick with you; just like "The Pill Versus the Springhill Mine Disaster." And they'll stick with you in part because, as I said of poems earlier, they are composed of words carefully chosen, balanced, and positioned to evoke a desired effect. This effect is amplified when the choice, balance, and position are unexpected.

The myth of the dreamy-eyed poet is as stereotypically erroneous as the myth of the starving writer. Writers and poets are craftsmen (mostly because I can't bring myself to use "craftspeople" and I can't think of a gender-neutral equivalent) who work at mastering the tools of their trade then use those tools to the best of their ability. And you know what? Poets are more disciplined than writers. They use fewer words to greater effect. For this reason alone every writer should study poetry. Listen to poetry if you have as much trouble reading it as I do. Go to a poetry jam – where poets face off, building on each other's words to create a new whole, the verbal analog of jazz musicians letting loose collaboratively when the mere hearers are gone, creating what won't be repeated. Study why poetry works, the nuts and bolts and wordplay that make verse memorable. Because, while you as a writer probably never have to be as spare and structured as a poet, knowing how to use the poet's tools will make your own work stronger.

The Healing Power of Poetry

Before I ever wrote a novel, before I considered publishing, I wrote poetry. I would not say that makes me a poet, but it was my way expressing those deep emotions within me during my teens and early twenties.

Last night I was feeling a little down. I dug up my old book of poetry. It’s an old orange Hilroy exercise book. The poems are written in pen with neat curlicue handwriting. Most of the poems are religious and there are little one-liners outlining what I was going through at the time they were written. This I guess was as close as I’ve ever come to having a diary.

As I read through I realized most were written as I was going through a period of transition and uncertainty. Many sought comfort in a confusing world. As I read them, my spirits began to lift. My faith in God and the goodness of man was restored. I was lifted from the doldrums. Those poems written decades ago still hold the power to cheer me up today.
I’ll share one with you:

Don't Worry Be Happy

Oft’ we’re burdened with troublesome life
Temptations, trials, heartaches, and strife
Yet when we think that all is amiss
God’s there to redeem us with salvation’s kiss
Don’t worry, be happy, God will provide
Who can prevail o’er us with God on our side?

Sadness and heartaches, violence and crime,
Overcast days, no sign of sunshine;
Be not dismayed, whatever you do
The good merciful Lord, will take care of you
Don’t worry, be happy, God will provide
Who can prevail o’er us with God on our side?

When low in the gutter, deep in the pit
Don’t shatter your life with a broken spirit
Put a smile on your face, say I’ll overcome
My Lord up in heaven will ne’er leave me alone
Don’t worry, be happy God will provide
Who can prevail o’er us with God on hour side?

Almost two decades ago when I came to this country I tried to publish the collection. I met with a stone wall; few publishers were willing to take a chance on poetry. But now as I read them I realize I would like to share them with the world. They may hold the power to lift another person’s spirits. So my question to you is: how do you go about publishing poetry?

Personal Retreat, Post 2

In my last post, I talked about how I would be accompanying my husband on a trip to Denver. He had business there for three days; I intended to spend most of those days immersed in poetry.

I did go to Denver; I did study poetry and even wrote some; I did eat lots of dark chocolate; I did have a nice break from my usual routine.

It wasn't the total poetry immersion I had imagined, though. A client sent some editing and pages to proof the night before we left. So instead of going to bed early and sleeping late as planned so that I would be well rested, I was to bed late and up early. Even so, we left for the airport late because we waited to make sure all the pages went through the fax machine. To make matters worse, that evening when we got to Denver, several emails from my client awaited me. The last several pages of my fax had arrived blank. I had to have her send me the file in Denver, then search out a printer, get up early to redo the work, and have the hotel fax the pages back to her.

As a result, I lost several hours I had planned to devote to poetry—partly because of the time I spent on the unexpected editing and partly because sleep deprivation led to my falling asleep repeatedly while studying. So much for a weekend free of distractions and interruptions.

That aside, I count the retreat a success. I started with Mary Oliver's A Poetry Handbook: A Prose Guide to Understanding and Writing Poetry, which explained the basics of poetry simply and in just over 100 pages. As I read, I realized I had learned much of the information in high school but had forgotten it, so this book was a good refresher.

Next I started The Ode Less Travelled: Unlocking the Poet Within by Stephen Fry. (Yes, that Stephen Fry, the British actor who was so great as butler Jeeves in the PBS series "Jeeves and Wooster.") What a fun book! Fry infuses every page with his sense of humor, and his instructions are detailed and clear and his exercises fun. Example: Write two lines about pesky tasks overdue in iambic pentameter with enjambment and at least two caesura. Write a poem about cows in dactylic pentameter.

Looking at my notebook now for the first time since Denver, I see most of what I wrote was awful, too awful even to give you an example of how awful it was. But I was—and am—amazed that I could do it at all. I thought expressing ideas in metered feet would be difficult to learn and take a lot of practice before I could do it. But I actually wrote directions to my house in anapestic hexameter on first try! How cool!

The last full day we were in Denver it snowed heavily. We had large windows and a balcony with a great view of the city. It was a treat to watch the snow blow and swirl and pile up in white mounds that stayed white because few people ventured out on the slick streets. We got to experience that absence of sound that only occurs on rare snowy days. The snow ended up the subject of several of my poem exercises.

Next, I need to finish Fry's book and its exercises and work on writing poems that don't suck. That will come with practice, I assume. My husband has another business trip this spring that I'm going along on, and finishing Fry may be a good project to work on then.

Next time I plan a retreat, I'll do things a little differently. I'll tell people that I'll be completely unavailable during my retreat and on the day before. That should allow me to get a good night's sleep beforehand and not waste limited retreat time on naps and work.


I'll be blogging again at Novel Spaces on February 5. I hope to see you back then.

—Shauna Roberts

Personal Retreat

Last February, a friend told me that writing poetry has helped her be a better prose writer. Writing poems has trained her to express her ideas more concisely and vividly. I was intrigued; I'm always looking for new ideas for improving my writing. I've rarely written poetry other than haiku, so I asked her for some recommendations for books on how to write a poem. I immediately ordered the instructional books as well as a book of African-American poetry a different friend had recommended. The books arrived; I put them in a pile separate from my other to-read piles; and . . . . nothing.

More-important writing projects, house repairs, trips, and life in general bumped poetry to the side. I looked at the pile of books longingly each time I walked by, sometimes picking a book up to look inside and smell the paper and ink.

Almost a year later, the pile still awaits. But now it awaits next to my suitcase. My husband will be taking a business trip to Denver this month, and I'm going along. I'll see some friends one day, but otherwise I'll be studying and reading and writing poetry.

And, of course, eating dark chocolate.

It will be like a writing retreat, except by myself. No workers to supervise; no phone calls to answer; no doctor appointments to go to; no meals to cook; no birds squawking next to an empty bird feeder—no distractions at all. I'll even skip exercising; it shouldn't be too harmful to go a few days without. Total poetry immersion.

I went on a personal retreat once before and was astounded how productive I could be when I wasn't being pulled in twenty directions at once. I came home from that retreat refreshed and eager to start writing the novel I had mapped out. I'm excited to try a personal retreat again with a project I've been looking forward to for so long.


Have you ever taken a personal writing retreat? How did you benefit (or why didn't you benefit)?


When I blog again at Novel Spaces on January 21, I'll let you know how my retreat went. In the meantime, I wish you many productive writing days.

—Shauna Roberts