The Way In
By Julie Christine Johnson | January 15, 2025 |
“What is a poem?” The Poet asks. I strain to hear her soft voice over the rain pelting the conservatory’s glass roof. “How do prose and poetry differ?”
“There is more room for the reader in a poem,” I offer. “Prose fills the silences. Poetry lets the reader sit still within them.”
The Poet reads Eavan Boland’s Quarantine aloud and I sob, flayed open at the image of a husband and wife dying of hunger during the Great Famine, the man holding his wife’s bare feet against his chest to warm and comfort her as she breathes her last.
The Poet’s mellifluous voice takes me inside W.S. Merwin’s Thanks and I see what it is to weave bitter irony and anger into banal expressions of gratitude.
The Poet asks us to write poems of our own. “The real things of the world are the entry point to the imagination,” she says. “Keep your writing grounded by writing from a real place.”
~
I have come to this writers’ retreat center in Southwest Ireland to spend two weeks working in concentrated solitude. I’ll review the galley of my debut novel, just a few months out from launch: it’s my last chance to make any (minor) changes. I will also hike the hills and explore the villages that are the setting of my second novel, very newly under contract. Thirteen years have passed since my last visit to the Beara Peninsula, a remote and wild tongue of land that juts into the frigid Atlantic. I want to make certain I depict its landscapes just right. I work steadily on my galley from early in the morning until lunchtime, hit the trails that crisscross the hills between the villages of Eyries and Allihies in the afternoons, and in the evenings I write. If there is heaven on earth, this is it for me.
Then, just as I’m closing out the first week, the earth shifts. In a stunning turn of serendipity, the Beara’s own celebrated poet, Leanne O’Sullivan, arrives to lead a weeklong poetry workshop. It was Leanne’s poetry collections An Cailleach Beara and The Mining Road that inspired the themes and plotlines of my “Irish” novel, The Crows of Beara. After a breathless (me) conversation with the residency coordinator, a place is made for me as eight other writers arrive.
~
I am not a poet. As a writer of prose, I know the value of rhythm and form, of the carefully chosen word, the breath taken, the meaning conferred in a phrase or in the spaces in-between. But to actually write my own poems? I am rattled. How do I begin? What is my way into a poem?
Each day I search for something vital and tangible to ground me in my words. Here I am in this land of legends, where inspiration seeps from slabs of stone sculpted by Bronze Age hands—now scratching posts for the russet and inky-black flanks of Angus and Friesian. Yet I arrive each morning without a poem. I am anxious. Mortified. I wonder what I’m doing here amidst true poets, who bring work to share, prepared to critique and be critiqued.
I hear Leanne saying, “Poetry is the place where language cannot go. A waiting has to happen for the poem to come.”
And so I wait. I try to believe. I plead silently, “What is my way into my poem?”
It happens when I finally let go, stop searching. One afternoon I am high on a hillside, sheep scattering in my wake, boots soaked through with bog, pack cinched around my waist like a lover’s arms, watching as a storm blows off Slieve Miskish and hurtles toward Coulagh Bay. In that moment, I hear my poem. I sit on a rock in the field, pen and notebook in hand, observed with wary curiosity by the reassembled flock of sheep, and I find my way.
~
I wish I could say that I continued to write poetry after that transformative time studying with Leanne O’Sullivan and the wonderful community of writers I met there. Frankly, it’s been years since I’ve looked at the poems I wrote that week, tucked away as they are in a folder in a drawer.
What I did come away with are three practices I maintain to this day, ten years on, practices that have made all the difference to my writing life. I read from a poetry collection first thing each morning before I begin writing. It’s a way to center myself in beautiful language without interfering with my story brain, a meditation of sorts. Recalling Leanne’s declaration: The real things of the world are the entry point to the imagination, I keep a notebook of ideas, images, events that arrest my attention, be they from articles, overheard conversations, or memories. Riffling through the pages, I see how often I have mined it for story ideas. The third practice is to find my way into nature every day, whether it’s a walk with the dog, weeding the garden, or a paddle on my stand-up board in the Bay. These are the times, when I’m listening and observing but not actively creating, that I’m most open to my creative self. It is for me, in Leanne O’Sullivan’s words, the waiting place where language cannot intrude.
~
I invite you, in this new year, to incorporate poetry into your prose practice. Read poetry regularly. Highlight or write down those phrases that move you, perhaps use them as writing prompts. Poetry is a means for prose writers to connect to language, to themes, to the heart, to cadence and rhythm. It invites keen attention to detail, embraces specificity, and isn’t shy about asking questions that it may never answer.
Because poetry is so vast and tastes differ wildly, here are a few books on exploring poetry that I think are particularly valuable to prose writers:
Jane Hirshfield, Nine Gates: Entering the Mind of Poetry (1997) Mary Oliver, A Poetry Handbook: A Prose Guide to Understanding and Writing Poetry (1994) Pádraig Ó Tuama, ed., Poetry Unbound; 50 Poems to Open Your World (2022). Ó Tuama is also the host of the wonderful Poetry Unbound podcast.
Your turn! Have you incorporated poetic devices into your work? What are your experiences writing poems of your own? Perhaps you started with poetry and made the shift to prose! Who are favorite poets and why do they move you?
Julie is the author of the historical fantasy In Another Life, which was awarded the 2016 Foreword Indies Gold Prize for Book of the Year (Fantasy), and the eco-lit ode to Ireland The Crows of Beara. Her short stories and essays have appeared in several journals and anthologies, and she offers writing workshops and developmental editing services to fiction writers and memoirists. Julie hold undergraduate degrees in French and Psychology and a Master’s in International Affairs. She recently completed a work of crime fiction and is laying the groundwork for another historical fantasy, which may or may not feature Mary of Magdalene and the poet Rilke. A hiker, yogini, and wine geek, Julie makes her home on the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington state with four cats, seven chickens, a Labradane, and a painter.
Julie, I very much enjoyed your post. Thank you for sharing your lovely practices. They’re also timely!
My sister, also a writer, and I were just discussing last week our tools to dive deeper into our writing, including how to optimize them. My new take is to chart my tools (say a song) by the emotion I need to achieve in my writing. In my house (also in Washington state), we each have lists stuck to the fridge of those things that awaken our natural or best energy. A never fail for me is Angela Lansbury singing We Need A Little Christmas, as embarrassing as that is to share.
Poetry and song lyrics and melodies, as well as fictional characters, constantly speak up for me—while I’m driving, while I’m gardening, when my body feels something. You’d think I wouldn’t have made a note on my desk to not resist them—but I have!
Life presses us flat or into bunched folds, and it’s so easy to get distracted by the doing or the self-preserving. Like Star Wars characters trying to not get squished in the trash compactor.
But, I shall write. Poems and songs both are magical things hanging in the ether; I grab them before the air clears.
It’s going to be a great writing day because of your post. Thank you!
Hello Neighbor! Susan, you’ve inspired me with your beautiful comment. And reminded me, too, that I always land on a collection of songs, a soundtrack if you will, to each of my novels. Songs that speak to its emotion and themes.
“Life presses us flat or into bunched folds… But I shall write.” This is everything. Thank you.
And may your part of the state be sunny today!
And yours, as well! The sun is just now breaking through the marine layer. Rare January sunshine here on the Olympic Peninsula-I welcome every ray with relief and gratitude.
Julie, thank you for sharing your three daily practices; reading poetry before writing, a notebook of chosen impressions and a walk into nature.
I spent my teens and twenties writing poetry, and reading all I could get my hands on. Somehow, somewhere, life and my writing changed, but lately, I’ve been coming back to it. I’ve been adding poetry to my library take out stacks and allowing my prose to sometimes spill into poems.
Meanwhile, I’ve also been searching for a new starting routine for my mornings, which leads into my writing sessions. I love the idea of starting my day by reading a poem!
I’m going to start that today.
I already keep a notebook of things seen or overheard each day, and walking is a daily routine. Both have helped me in my writing and my appreciation of each day.
Thank you for the tips and also sharing the story of a dream workshop.
Ada, I’m delighted that you are finding your way back to earlier, meaningless, less-fettered practices. And gasp- allowing your prose to spill into poems. I love this. That open, child-mind having permission to create the way it needs to must be so exciting and gratifying. I wish you continued joy in this journey of exploration and reconnection.
Julie, your post really spoke to me. I agree reading poems, walking in nature and making notes are essential to open the imagination. I’m not a poet but love to read poetry and find poetic prose slipping gently into my novels and short stories. My current novel (a supernatural mystery) is about a sketch artist who illustrates the poetry of Rainer Maria Rilke. Very challenging—and exciting—because I had to learn about understanding Rilke’s poems at their deepest level and then translate the meaning into a visual for the character to create on her canvas for the story. Hirshfield’s Nine Gates and Oliver’s, A Poetry Handbook are on my shelf; I reread them because they are so inspiring. Right now I’m reading “A House of Gathering, Poets on May Sarton’s Poetry” edited by Marilyn Kallet. Lots in this book about the Muse and Sarton’s famous ‘silence’! Thank you for a lovely post today.
Paula, chills reading your comment. Rilke is finding his way into my current WIP, which is also something of a supernatural mystery/historical fantasy. I love your storyline! Just so excited to make this connection. Have you read Rachel Corbett’s biography, “You Must Change Your Life: The Story of Rainer Maria Rilke and August Rodin”? You must, if you haven’t- it speaks directly to your themes of visual art and poetry. And I’m putting A House of Gathering on my TBR list. Thank you!!
Yes, I did read “You Must Change Your Life” and “Dear Friend.” My study of Rilke’s poems and his life went on for about 5 years while writing the novel (Published by Crystal Lake Publishing). The story takes place in a haunted windmill. Your WIP sounds fascinating. I hope you tell us more about it. I love ghostly stories that are wrapped in poetry themes. I’m also reading “Shadows & Verse, Classic Dark Poems with Celebrity Commentary,” edited by Jonathan Maberry. I think you’d like it. Poems by Poe, Yeats, Donne, Swinburne, Lovecraft, and many more. It’s all haunted poetry, and the commentary about each poem is just divine.
Just added “Shadows and Verse…” to the list, Paula- thank you!
What a fabulous post! I am one of those who started with poetry long before I wrote prose. And its the form I return to over and over. For me, poetry is a form of journaling, a way to notice what is around me, a way to play with language, and it helps me sort out what I’m feeling. It’s also a way out of writer’s block when a story isn’t coming together. In 2021, when I was really struggling to get words on the page, I asked folks on social media to toss me 6 random words. Every morning for a month, I would choose a set of words and write a short poem incorporating them. It was a puzzle. A game. The poems always surprised me. And it helped me find my way back into the joy of writing again.
Some time ago, I used to run a workshop on using poetic tools to improve prose skills. It was always interesting to see the ‘aha’ moments when writers who would typically never write poetry see how useful it can be in their own work.
One of my favorite poets is Mary Oliver. Her poem “Wild Geese” is a touchstone for me.
Thank you, LJ! Your word game is just brilliant. I think your expression of surprise is so perfect- the words, stories, multitudes contained within you that needed a small, simple nudge to emerge and be heard/seen- what a magical experience.
I’d love to take your workshop! And Mary Oliver – oh my yes. What a treasure.
Julie, your post was a breath of fresh air–I love to sing and I marvel at the poetry of some of my favorite hymns by Robert Southwell, St. John Henry Newman, Reginald Heber. GK Chesterton wrote one of my favorite Christmas poems–The World’s Desire. Oh, how I wish I could write poems like that.
I write short little poems and some ideas manifest themselves more powerfully in a poem than prose. There is more space to breathe, to sit with it, as you say. I have a little book, each page having a little collection of words with space to write a poem using those words, similar to what LJ above asked from her friends. It’s always fun and a way to cleanse the palate when I switch projects.
I like your idea of starting a writing session by reading some poetry. I will have to try that because I go in phases where I read poems. It’s not a daily habit. I have several books by Mary Oliver, Myra Cohn Livingston, and compilations of poems and hymns by various authors. I also keep a notebook of quotes and ideas and enjoy walking (solo for now until we get another dog). Thank you, Julie, for your lovely essay on finding your way in.
Vijaya, I’m certain I recall your love for music and singing in other conversations you’ve had here on WU. I’m not at all surprised to learn that poetry is a part of your writing practice. And what a wonderful touch of serendipity that you have a process of responding to words similar to LJ’s!
Thank you for your lovely comment. I know the right 4-legged companion will find you when it’s time. I treasure my walks and hikes with our Daisy!
Julie, sorry I am late with my comment. I think many of us fall in love with words, when we are young. And thus, we write poetry. Even in high school I thought I might be a poet! But I soon learned, that first I needed to find my way through sentences that pleased my Creative Writing teacher. Since there, it has been a long journey, but I am still enjoying the process. And the lines of poetry that I read now and again…they help remind me of not only of the beauty of language, but also how it bends and twists when words follow words. Creativity is endless. Thank you for your post.
You’re not late at all, Beth! I’m just getting caught up after work. It’s wonderful to read your words.
Oh, high school, yes! I filled notebooks with darkly romantic and political poems. I wish I still had them, though I’m certain they’d all sound like U2 and the Smiths lyrics, as would be fitting for this 80s New Wave teen. :-)
I love the image of language bending and twisting as we put them together–words we all share, but through our experiences, emotions, and vision, we assemble them in different ways. Thank you for this!
What a wonderful post, Julie. Lots of inspiration here for all writers.
Like you, I’m not a poet, but I also believe that the poem comes in the stillness. I’ve written a few that I call gifts from my muse, and one of them won a small prize eons ago. The subject matter of each poem was someone so dear to my heart, that when I was silent, I believe they spoke to me.
At the time, I was in a critique group in Omaha, NE that always started with a short class, and one week out of the month the class was on poetry. That was my first introduction to really good poets, including some members of the group. The classes shifted my thinking that prose was the only vehicle for revealing truths about humanity.
Thanks for the reminder of the joy of reading good poetry. Sometimes I see a poem shared by a poet and it warms my soul the same way a wonderful painting or other work of visual art does.
Thank you for this beautiful comment, Maryann. I so believe in the power of stillness and leaning into that silence. I’m so glad your muse gifted you with the right words for a beloved! xo Julie