The Pleasure Principle

William Carlos Williams said, 'If it ain't a pleasure, it ain't a poem.'

Last Sunday, during the Oscar broadcast, the talented Idina Menzel performed the Oscar-winning song, 'Let It Go'.  She appeared nervous and her voice screeched, making the performance almost unbearable.  The following night, she sang here with Jimmy Fallon accompanied by children's musical instruments and she soared; smiling and laughing through the song, clearly enjoying herself.

If it ain't a pleasure, it ain't a poem. Or a song. Or a painting.

I don't believe in bleeding as an artist.  It's messy and makes the keyboard stick.  When I sit down to write a poem it is usually caused by a spark; a turn of phrase, a word, or the way the light hit the side of a building. I approach a poem like a crossword puzzle; a game to be bested by finding the right words, line breaks and images to bring the poem to life for the reader.

Mostly, I have a little fun with language.

I'm not particularly prolific as a poet. I try to write a poem weekly (right there, that sounds like a chore), though lately I haven't been inspired by much. It is easier to let go of the guilt of not writing when you write for pleasure.

Don't be fooled by that last statement. I consider myself a serious poet. I submit work regularly and I've had many poems published. I revise and edit. I put together manuscripts for competitions. Last week, I applied for an MFA program (there, I said it).  I just think you should experience joy when you write.

If it's so much labor, so much pain and head-banging to get a poem onto paper, then why not just dig ditches?

It Could Have Been Verse

I've been on hiatus the past two weeks; the first week was a scheduling adjustment, waking up at 3am most mornings.  It was a busy week that included a catering job which led to the second week of down time.

I'd fended off a cold for most of January.  The catering job required a lot of loading and unloading from my vehicle to the venue and back again in near zero temperatures, and the morning after, I awoke with a minor ear infection, which blossomed into a severe sinus infection and both ears infected.  A wracking cough developed, and it felt as though my head were being held underwater.

I missed a couple days of work, too sick and too miserable to do much more than wish I were better.

And that is what this post is all about.

Rita Mae Brown once advised writers to live healthy, that it required stamina and physical well-being to sit at the keyboard or confront the blank sheet of paper.  She said a writer should never write when drunk or under the influence of any drug; it might seem to lead to creative thought, but your thoughts are not clear.

I can say the same for illness.  Despite the down time spent lying on the sofa or in bed, time I might have otherwise used to write, or even read, I felt so miserable that all creative thought was banished, replaced by an endless prayer for relief.

Even with prescribed antibiotics and the slow return to normal, my creative mind is sluggish, clogged with the virus.

Here I am though, writing away the cobwebs, the sludge of a cold and feeling better each day.  There are notes for a poem, more ideas for future blog posts and the other night, I was able to sit down and do some editing on the poems written in November.

I might have experienced some guilt for missing a couple weeks of writing, but I have let that go with the realization that when you are ill, or dealing with a new stress (like waking up at 3am every day), it's okay to put your creativity aside.  If you see poetry everywhere around you, if you imagine whole stories in the atomic split of a second, if you find wonder in words, you will return to your creative self when you're ready.