Miller says, “For some writers…the conscious use of
form can sometimes be the only way certain types of truths can be approached at
all.” I’ve been enjoying my poetry class this semester; I can hide truths in the
shitty poems I write, can send them off into the world and no one is the wiser.
But I feel better.
I’ve been using this idea to write creative nonfiction
lately. It still feels very vulnerable, but I can’t stop. I have to write the
things I’m writing, and I realize now that the lyric essay has been helping me…not
hide, exactly. But package the truth, I suppose. It’s snowballing, though, and I
keep writing and it keeps getting weirder and I’m discovering things but I’m
also feeling like it is cathartic.
“Mr. Green Jeans” is a little overwhelming, but I get
it. Juxtaposing facts about others with some vulnerable truths makes them
easier to present. I see that. The small truths the readers are allowed makes enough
of an impact. We see that the speaker has an abundance of emotions and
experience that he isn’t sharing—so we can feel the weight of the smaller doses
and we can infer the rest.
I’m rethinking my own form use. I don’t know what it
will look like yet (as I’ve already got some wonky form thing going on), but I feel…liberated,
maybe? I’m doing a thing already that Brenda Miller says is…appropriate?
Writerly? It still scares the shit out of me, and maybe I’ll never actually
share what I write. But there are options for me when I want to write the hard
truths. When I want to send things off into the world to make myself feel
better or whatever.
I write vulnerably. It’s just what I do. But it’s
hard, sometimes, because writing vulnerably also puts you in a super fragile
place. You want it to be good. You want people to understand. You want to be
less alone. Essentially you’re at the mercy of your readers. You can not give a
shit. But you do give a shit. That’s life.
So covering some vulnerable parts with a form/shell is
good. Your readers have to work harder, so that makes them vulnerable, too. Not
as vulnerable as you, but less in control as they would be if you just served
them the truth straight-up. With no packaging to work through. I like that.
I like this idea that form can "package the truth" in ways that make the writer feel less vulnerable, and as I mentioned in class, that is exactly what Ander Monson says draws him to lyrical forms. Whatever helps you be honest! But as a confessional essayist, one who has tried to get used to the vulnerability of the form, I have to admit that seeking cover in ambiguity (is that what it is?) makes me a little uncomfortable. I guess I just want nonfiction writers to say what they mean, even if it feels risky.
ReplyDelete