"Out!" "You're crazy! It was on the line!" "Still out."

If you're playing poetry "tennis" without a net, it's not tennis anymore. It's still poetry, but it's a new game. Now, what are the rules for the new game? Do you make them up as you go along? Do you change them as the service changes? Do both players agree to the changes beforehand, or is it more fun to figure them out as you go?

Each of these questions, and many more, must be answered, if the game is to continue. And that's what writing in free verse is all about. You, the author, read your latest draft to the coffee house audience on "open mic" night -- and you decide the next move based on the reaction you get: trash it, rewrite it, or type it up and stick it in your "chapbook" folder. Or your poetry circle's reaction helps you decide that next step. Or your best friend's. Et cetera. It's all part of the game: the audience in each case knocks your serve back to you, and you decide what to do with it. Not that you need a positive reaction to make that decision: you can decide that maybe the audience is wrong, or that your point was not to be liked in that case. (Some people thrive on others' hatred, as long as the hated is in control of their reaction, usually. Trust me on that one.)

But when you're writing in traditional meter (and rhyme), you've got the net up: you're playing The Game. You're not doing "word jazz" anymore, you've gone classical. Not that you can't read your trad stuff aloud on Open Mic at the cafe -- it's just maybe a little odd. Either the audience members tune you out, or they go: "What did you just do?" You put the net up, that's what you did.

So, trad verse is going to have some different expectations when you start to show it, or read it, to someone else. Which you're eventually going to do, right? OK, they may fish it out of your humble possessions after your wake, but they're going to see it. So before you write anything down (or just get it going in your head), you've got to start with those expectations in mind. The net is going to be there. Then what?

You decide. That's poetry, man.

A Different Game

I think it was Robert Frost who called writing in free verse "like playing tennis without a net."

What I believe he meant was that, once you remove the net, you don't have tennis anymore. You have a new game: it might be on the same court, using the same ball and racquets -- but you'll need to change the rules (as you go) to keep the game interesting enough to continue playing.

Because writing in "traditional" verse (using the net) is so long out of custom, it becomes a new game when we take the net out of mothballs and start playing tennis again.

To me, writing poetry is a game: words, images, metaphors communicate (serve) the meaning (thoughts, feelings) from poet to reader (or listener). The rules are understood by both parties: it is a game played by intuition.

And (re-)introducing the net changes things. But, no matter which form of the game you're playing, if played fairly, both sides win.

Here We Go (Almost)

This blog is a work in progress. So stay tuned, because I intend to post at least once a week.

I'll be writing for other writers, especially other poets who feel they're successful in writing free verse, but have found writing in rhyme and meter frustrating.

There are no quick fixes: nothing worth doing comes without practice. But I can point you in the right direction, so that "traditional" verse will be an option for your expressive instincts.

See you next time.

What Is In It (Is What Is In It)

The purpose of this Blogger account will be to discuss how to write "traditional" verse. It will be very non-traditional -- that, dear reader, I can promise. We'll get started in earnest next time.