HOME FROM MOORHEAD FEBRUARY 25, 2005 - (2)

It's interesting - during

my presentations and readings, I'm getting pretty good at throwing stuff out of the boat when the boat is overloaded. I knew I had more stuff for my presentations and reading than I could use, but I like being thoroughly prepared; I'd rather cross stuff off the list, rather than take the risk of running short. I shudder at the thought of having nothing more to say and ten more minutes to say it. No one seems to notice the on-the-spot change of plans. This also allows me to leave out material that seems "out of tune" or "out of tone" with where the audience is at any particular point. I can simply eliminate pieces that don't fit the mood at that moment, and still maintain my direction. You can feel where you're at in what the audience gives back to you. There was an obvious case of this when I was reading from the Ben Zen series last night; I didn't use one particular poem because I had the audience laughing and the one I had marked would slap them to tears and I wasn't ready to jerk them quite that far.

I had 50-60 people at the Craft talk yesterday, and then again at the reading last night. These were held in the Library Porch, as they call it, a room off to the side that is suitable for such presentations. The setting was lovely, the audience was lovely. I felt they were soaking up everything I was offering, like a thirsty sponge taking up water. I could see that in their eyes and faces as I was reading. The moment of heaven for a poet is seeing that in front of you.

I would call it a rousing success, my experience as the Tom McGrath Visiting Writer this week. And Mark Vinz seemed happy with what I offered both days. I could get to like this sort of thing.

There was five inches of light, fluffy snow on Wednesday night. It fell during and after the MFA poetry class and while we were at the bar talking informally. It came as quite a surprise - it hadn't been forecast - but so far has presented no problems.

I look into my gunny sack of words this morning and there's nothing much in there. I intend to report on my visit with Floyd Bolin after I see him.

*

It occurs to me that I could develop and teach a class in "Writing Deep History," as one of the seminars or workshops I offer. I could discuss some of the strategies and techniques that I use for my Vagabond project. The goal would be teaching people to write local history using the tools of creative nonfiction and burrowing deeply into the area or region or community the way William Least Heat-Moon did in Chase County, Kansas. Parts of his Prairy Erth might be useful as text for such a course, as woould some of my own pieces. And there are be other texts as well that I'd want to incorporate.

Deep history? It's deep history because what you understand is beyond surface understanding. You burrow deeply into a place. If you went any deeper, it'd be archeology.

*

I don't understand why it is that I feel a need to be teaching. I am a writer. I should write. I have everything that I want. I retired from work that pulled me away from my writing and now I'm able to write twenty-four hours a day if I choose. Why do I keep putting obstacles in the way of that?

I'm afraid that's who I am. I'm the kind of fellow who makes things hard for himself. I take some joy in reaching out for things I don't have, in doing things I've not done, whether or not that's what I really need or want. What I should be doing is sitting at my desk and writing. I should lay myself hard into my work and refuse distraction.

To be continued....

Comments

[Abdul-Walid]

This comment is for this post, as well as for the one below it.

It's a pleasure reading these ruminations. I like the way your mind works, the way you take a long hard look, and are still able to come away with an attitude of joy.

You make it look easier than it actually is.

[maria]

I was interested in what you said about writing deep histories of place. Recently, I had to dig a bit deeper into the history of the place where I live, and I am hooked on its history now. The funny thing is that I went in that direction to gather a bit of extra background material for a discussion I am to lead on exploring the many aspects of what it means to be a Californian, as expressed in a number of poems in an anthology, but now my attention has been caught more by the history than its interpretations in the poems....

[Dave]

You never know where a poem is going to come from, that's the problem. I find that the more distractions I have, the beter my writing gets. And I think the impulse to share comes from a deep place; it may not be so much an impulse to teach, because you know as well as I do that the best students really teach themselves. You would be a guide at best.

[Tom Montag]

Abdul-Walid, thank you for your comments. I suppose a fellow should take some joy in his obsessions, else it'd be a hard life. And as for making it look easy, I don't know. I suppose it's like the waitress looking like there is nothing else she'd rather do than take care of you, though her feet are killing her, her ankles are swollen, and one knee has locked up....