Emily Coppella : part five

How does a poem begin?

For me, I’ve found that it’s usually a single word or an image that I begin a poem with. It gets me past the blank page and then I wait to get lost in the flow. Usually I don’t know where my poem is going at all until I really dive into that original word or image that has sprung into my head.
Sometimes a poem begins with a word like “tongue,” and then I attach a seemingly incongruous word to it: “rusty tongue.” Other times I look at the dirty dishes in my sink and think there’s definitely a poem there.

Sometimes that first idea becomes a focal point, a fulcrum that the rest of the piece centres around, other times I ditch the concept entirely by the end of the poem. Most of the time, it’s just a little background noise to get me to the last line.

Emily Coppella : part four

What do you find most difficult about writing poetry?

Creating language that is clear and concise, yet beautiful. I think those are the only guidelines I put on myself as a poet. I want my language to be specific and accessible as well as ambiguous without being obscure. My strong aversion to purple prose helps keep me in check.

Emily Coppella : part three

How does your work first enter the world? Do you have a social group or writers group that you work ideas and poems with?

My poetry process is a lot different from my prose process. A lot of my fictional prose is edited in whichever fiction workshop I’m taking, or through a group of close writer friends that I have. We message each other to ask for advice and occasionally meet up to chat about our work among other things. On the other hand, I don’t seem to share my poetry as often. It’s not so much an issue of insecurity as an issue of intimacy. I’m not afraid to share my work, it’s just that many of my poems seem so intimate that I like to be with them by myself for a while, maybe for too long.

Emily Coppella : part two

How do you know when a poem is finished?

When it doesn’t feel like it only belongs to me anymore. Getting to that point is hard to define. Sometimes I reach that place, then return to that “completed” piece months or even years later, only to change it again. Maybe I’ve come to the conclusion that when I think my poem is finished, it’s really just “complete…for now.”

Emily Coppella : part one

Emily Coppella is a writer, yoga student, and feminist from the GTA. She is currently studying English Literature and Language at Carleton University. She plans to gradate with a concentration in Creative Writing and a minor in Women and Gender Studies. Her poetry has been published by Coven Editions, In/Words, and has won 2nd place for the George Johnston Poetry Prize. Film, music, and social justice are some of her other passions.

What are you working on?

Honestly, I’m working on showing up for myself as a writer. I’m trying to take pen to paper most days and see what comes up for me. Poetry comes a lot more naturally to me than prose right now, so I’m leaning into that. By not setting any clearly defined goals except just to write, I feel like I’m allowing myself to write whenever and about whatever I want, which makes my work feel a lot more exciting. I didn’t make any resolutions for 2020 except for the intention to focus on one word: “allow.” I’m allowing myself to understand that I’m a writer even when I’m not writing.