What are you working on?
I recently finished re-editing my first full-length poetry manuscript, Love is a Place but You Cannot Live There, which is about how geographies shape our identities and relationships, and sent it off to a few publishers. (Wish me luck.) I'm currently writing my second full-length poetry manuscript, which looks at various forms of labour, my first full-length short speculative fiction manuscript, and my as-yet-untitled novella for my Master's degree. I am also part of MA|DE, a collaborative writing group.
Showing posts with label Jade Wallace. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jade Wallace. Show all posts
Friday, 19 June 2020
Friday, 12 June 2020
Jade Wallace : part four
What do you feel poetry can accomplish that other forms can’t?
I heard once that poetry is the language that refuses all other categories. That's not a direct quote and I don't know whom I'm paraphrasing but I like that description. It suggests that poetry exists to try to fulfill any unmet needs we have for words. (Sometimes what we need is for words to be completely undone.)
I heard once that poetry is the language that refuses all other categories. That's not a direct quote and I don't know whom I'm paraphrasing but I like that description. It suggests that poetry exists to try to fulfill any unmet needs we have for words. (Sometimes what we need is for words to be completely undone.)
Friday, 5 June 2020
Jade Wallace : part three
How do you know when a poem is finished?
A poem is finished if it sounds like birdsong, if no words in it make me wince, if I get bored of it, or if I destroy it.
A poem is finished if it sounds like birdsong, if no words in it make me wince, if I get bored of it, or if I destroy it.
Friday, 29 May 2020
Jade Wallace : part two
Has your consideration of poetry changed since you began?
Yes! In at least three ways:
1. Politically—I have always appreciated poetry that is politically engaged. When I was young, that tended to mean poetry that took a clear stance and argued for it. Now I prefer poetry that sharpens my consciousness and forces me to confront new ideas without being didactic. I usually distrust people who are dogmatic about their politics and claim to have definitive answers, even if the person in question is me. Beyond a basic imperative to care about each other and try to limit suffering, I am not sure that there is much I find to be absolute about human relations.
2. Aesthetically—I used to read and write as if poetry's primary purpose was to express truths, as if it were a mere vessel for some important idea. During this phase, someone suggested that my poetry, perhaps, lacked adornment. I fixated on this word, adornment. It was soon after that I started dating my now-partner, who is an artist, so I found myself spending more time in art galleries and antique shops. My partner would often use a particular phrase for things he liked: “that's a beautiful object.” I thought about this phrase a lot as I looked at things that seemed kind of useless but were also inexplicably transfixing, like a century-old Art Deco compact. I began to get enamoured with craft in a way that I hadn't been before. What if poems could also be as ornate and stunning as any other tiny trinket you might see and wish to carry in your pocket because it is so lovely?
3. Cryptically—When I was about ten I bought an anthology of poetry because I wanted to learn how to read “adult poetry.” By adult poetry I meant things that didn't sound like nursery rhymes and that didn't have immediately obvious meanings. I read the whole book while I was on a road trip with my parents. I'm not sure I understood much of it; mostly I was annoyed by it. Yet I would often return to that book after reading others and find that more and more of it made sense to me each time I came back. I now read and enjoy many of the poems, though ironically a lot of them seem over-simplified and sentimental. I still don't much enjoy poetry that I can't understand at all, but the more I read, the more I appreciate poems in which meaning slips elusively in and out of sight, always evading but always returning.
Yes! In at least three ways:
1. Politically—I have always appreciated poetry that is politically engaged. When I was young, that tended to mean poetry that took a clear stance and argued for it. Now I prefer poetry that sharpens my consciousness and forces me to confront new ideas without being didactic. I usually distrust people who are dogmatic about their politics and claim to have definitive answers, even if the person in question is me. Beyond a basic imperative to care about each other and try to limit suffering, I am not sure that there is much I find to be absolute about human relations.
2. Aesthetically—I used to read and write as if poetry's primary purpose was to express truths, as if it were a mere vessel for some important idea. During this phase, someone suggested that my poetry, perhaps, lacked adornment. I fixated on this word, adornment. It was soon after that I started dating my now-partner, who is an artist, so I found myself spending more time in art galleries and antique shops. My partner would often use a particular phrase for things he liked: “that's a beautiful object.” I thought about this phrase a lot as I looked at things that seemed kind of useless but were also inexplicably transfixing, like a century-old Art Deco compact. I began to get enamoured with craft in a way that I hadn't been before. What if poems could also be as ornate and stunning as any other tiny trinket you might see and wish to carry in your pocket because it is so lovely?
3. Cryptically—When I was about ten I bought an anthology of poetry because I wanted to learn how to read “adult poetry.” By adult poetry I meant things that didn't sound like nursery rhymes and that didn't have immediately obvious meanings. I read the whole book while I was on a road trip with my parents. I'm not sure I understood much of it; mostly I was annoyed by it. Yet I would often return to that book after reading others and find that more and more of it made sense to me each time I came back. I now read and enjoy many of the poems, though ironically a lot of them seem over-simplified and sentimental. I still don't much enjoy poetry that I can't understand at all, but the more I read, the more I appreciate poems in which meaning slips elusively in and out of sight, always evading but always returning.
Friday, 22 May 2020
Jade Wallace : part one
How did you first engage with poetry?
When I was in the third grade, we were assigned the task of writing a poem. I wrote a long series of rhyming couplets that began “I took a train to an open prairie./ Everyone there was very merry.” Shortly after that, I woke up in the middle of the night, feeling compelled to write a poem about a river. As I started writing about the river, I had one of those renegade epiphanies you have when you're a child. I realized that I didn't have to make the words rhyme, I could just do whatever I wanted. Such power. Poetry still wakes me up at night.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)