Showing posts with label Adam Meisner. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Adam Meisner. Show all posts

Monday, 23 May 2022

Adam Meisner : part five

When you require renewal, is there a particular poem or book that you return to? A particular author? 

I find renewal, to write, in the poetry of John Ashbery. His work reassures me of poetry’s possibilities – especially for play, humour, and queerness. If I feel pressure to write more like others, Ashbery sets me back on my own track. 

I also find the work of Keats – especially reading it aloud – reminds me to breathe more fully, and that’s restorative both in terms of writing and living more generally. 

If I’m looking for renewal in a more general sense, and not just as a writer, I find it in the forest. I grew up next to a forest along the Ottawa River where the trees taught me that their company is a great salve for the weary self. Most of my best ideas for writing come when I’m alone (or quiet with a friend) in a forest or near some trees. 
 

Monday, 16 May 2022

Adam Meisner : part four

What other poetry books have you been reading lately?

A few books of poetry I’ve thoroughly enjoyed recently: Richie Hofman’s A Hundred Lovers; Raymond Antrobus’s The Perseverance; Carl Phillips’s Then the War

I also recently listened to Susan Howe and David Grubbs Woodslippercounterclatter while driving through the countryside at dusk – an inspiring, chilling experience. (It’s on Apple Music, but I think it can be found elsewhere online, too).

Monday, 9 May 2022

Adam Meisner : part three

What poets changed the way you thought about writing?

Carl Phillips taught me in a Kenyon Review Writers Workshop several summers ago – a defining moment in terms of how I approach writing. Chiefly, he taught me how to read poetry as a writer of poems, fostering an eye for what I might borrow from others for my own work. But I also think he gave me a lot of permissions, if you will: permission to trust my impulses, permission to have fun with poetry, permission to share my poetry. 

I’ve read too many poets whose writing changed how I think about writing to list here. That said, I read Michael Ondaatje’s The Cinnamon Peeler at 16 and felt overwhelmed by both its beauty and sense of play and fun. That inspired my early attempts at poetry, beyond those from childhood. And after I stumbled away from writing poetry for a few years in my early twenties, the work of John Ashbery drew me back. I often return to his poem “How to continue.”

Monday, 2 May 2022

Adam Meisner : part two

What do you find most difficult about writing poetry?

Recognizing the difference between genuine creative impulse and habit. The latter often seems like it’s the right path, but it almost always leads me astray. 

Also, being patient with a poem: sometimes it’s several years before I know what a poem needs – even poems that burst out of me at first with a sense of urgency need time.

Monday, 25 April 2022

Adam Meisner : part one

Adam Meisner’s poetry has appeared in literary journals throughout North America including Copper Nickel, The Puritan, and Ninth Letter, and this year Adam was a finalist for the Tennessee Williams New Orleans Literary Festival Prize for the story “Vanity of Vanities.” Adam’s play For Both Resting and Breeding was performed by Talk is Free Theatre in Barrie, Ontario, and the company toured the production to the Adelaide Festival, in Australia, in early 2020. Adam received an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of British Columbia in 2020, and presently lives in Ottawa. 

How does a poem begin?

A poem usually begins for me with a phrase – often something curious I’ve heard or read in the world, something that at first stands alone but that invites me to explore further and add onto. 

If I’m more intentional about writing a poem, a poem begins with a challenge I set up for myself. I might see something in another poet’s work that I want to try in my own way, or I will find several disparate things – an image, a word, and a poetic device, for example – that I decide would be fun challenge to bring together in a poem.