Announcing Fierce Writing!

When you see the word fierce, do you imagine a wild animal with its fangs bared, maybe blood
dripping from them? Fierce Writing is not violent, but it is wild because it’s free and uncensored, with
no thought of whether the writing is good or polite but whether it is real and true.

Here’s how it works.

See the sessions I’m offering here!

My story:

For about the past 2 1/2 years, I have practiced Wild Writing, developed by Laurie Wagner. She has taught it for the last 25 years. My journey began when I left my former position as an English professor and took on work that didn’t require as much time outside of work hours or as much of my mental energy. I became intrigued about Wild Writing after seeing a post on Facebook. This practice uses poetry for inspiration—not to create a certain type of writing, like a poem or story, but to tap into your thoughts about your current life, past experiences, and future, uncovering what inside you hasn’t otherwise been prompted to surface.

Since poetry and writing have been my life for quite some time now, the idea of writing without a specific goal, but potentially using that writing for other purposes, really appealed to me. I gave it a try, and it soon became a daily practice. Every morning (except weekends), I watched a video of Laurie reading a poem and providing “jump-off” lines. Then I set a timer and wrote for 15 minutes based on those lines and whatever came to mind. I started filling up journals and finding lots of material for poems, essays, etc. Most importantly, I learned more about myself, like how my past influenced my choices, how the path I had taken led me to where I was, and what could be the most fulfilling path for the future. This type of writing isn’t meant to provide answers, however. It’s more like deep-sea diving: plunging into the depths to uncover treasure, then bringing it to the surface to share with others.

I also started attending Wild Writing sessions online, where Laurie led a class of women who followed the steps I just described but then read their writing to each other, not judging or critiquing it, but just listening attentively and providing positive affirmation. I was surprised by the connections I felt with these women when I shared what I had written from the heart, and they silently showed their support. Listening to them helped me realize some of the different challenges we have, but also how we have similar concerns, preoccupations, reasons for joy, etc. This creates a bond that small talk and even everyday conversation just don’t–and with women who would otherwise be strangers or even women we already know.

After experiencing this kind of community online, I was intrigued by a trip Laurie was offering to San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. It would involve sitting around a table with women, following the same steps described above, but face-to-face for a couple of hours each day, and having the rest of the time to explore a beautiful World Heritage city. I was amazed at the energy I felt from the women as they shared intimate experiences from their lives with such courage and vulnerability, even crying at times, but being held in a safe space where they could feel accepted and even loved. I was amazed at what I was willing to reveal. Knowing me, you probably would not use the word “demonstrative” to describe me, and writing this way didn’t make me more demonstrative outwardly, but it really got me to open up and put it on the page, then share what I had written about thoughts and experiences that I hadn’t even shared with friends. That felt courageous and empowering to me.

Now, after training to be a Wild Writing teacher for the past several months, I want to share this practice with you, calling it Fierce Writing because I believe it takes fierceness to write what is real, honest, and true for you, and then have the courage to share it with others. I believe that if you experience this writing for yourself, you will feel how it can benefit all aspects of your life. Rather than seeming like another task on your to-do list, it will probably become a priority. Most of all, it will put you in touch with yourself and help you form connections with other women that go far deeper than the surface, creating a support system stronger than you could have imagined. We skip the small talk and go straight to the good stuff.

Leaving the Stage

I wrote this in response to a poem called “There’s No Stage Here” by Julie Barton for my Fierce Writing practice.

When I sit down to write, I just need to remember, I am just here to pay attention. There is no one to impress, no one to please, no need to perform or appease, just to put words on the page, see and listen to how they work together, and whether what I’m writing is true, that is, true to what I am trying to capture, not necessarily factually accurate. That’s why it’s called creative license, freedom to embellish or state something completely false factually, unless you’re writing a memoir. Then it gets a little more tricky. Also, the point is to enjoy myself, to play with ideas. As I’ve told students many times, the first draft is not the final draft. There doesn’t even need to be a final draft–unless you have a deadline. Even then, you can make changes afterwards, as I’ve often thought of after a poem is published. We and our words are continually evolving from a biological standpoint and a psychic one. We are not the same today as we were yesterday. New cells are forming and rearranging. Every experience we have shapes us, so why should our writing ever be in its final form? Trusting intuition is extremely important. I need to listen to mine more, especially when writing poetry. Yes, I can read books about how to break lines, what to look for when revising, and experiment with different forms, but ultimately I need to listen to where my mind is telling me my poem should go based on what I already know about how to write a poem. That’s why I do it anyway. I live recalling an experience and trying to recreate it on the page in a way that resonates sonically and that I think will make the reader recall his/her own similar experience. Those are my goals–not to publish so many books by a certain year, win a prize, or get published in a prestigious journal. I wouldn’t know how to write a poem to meet those goals. I suppose some people study to see what wins and what gets published, then write poems like that, but that would be drudgery and pointless to me. Poetry doesn’t even pay unless you get to legendary stature. Even then you could make much more money doing something else, if that’s what you want, so you might as well have fun. That should be my mantra, especially when I envy those whom I consider more successful than I am when it comes to poetry. More and more now, I am happy for them as I know what it takes to devote yourself to poetry, and I have been somewhat of a dilettante.

Painting by numbers to get out of my box

I remembered how much I liked paint by numbers when I was a kid, maybe because I was the kind of kid who always colored inside the lines, and “freestyle” painting just seemed like a free-for-all to me. I started that way with poetry, too, thinking Robert Frost was right when he said that writing free verse was like playing tennis with the net down. Then I felt as if I were being restrained and sought to find my own “voice,” as so many poets do. Then I realized I could write in many different voices and styles, that my poetry would evolve over time. I would just need to keep learning and experimenting. I’m glad that I decided to try paint by numbers again. I’m going to frame this to remind myself that I don’t have to be good at something to do it. I can just do it for fun (and relaxation, as I found this very relaxing, especially while listening to music).

Am I complicit?

Wild Writing has taught me so much. Writing continuously, pen never leaving the page, not listening to any critic or censor trying to butt in, has uncovered so much in my psyche, and I have used that as material for poems or just material for reflection and improving my understanding of myself. Through doing it most days for about 2 1/2 years and being in training to be a Wild Writing leader for the past several months in preparation for leading my own Fierce Writing groups, I have made it a practice. Some days I feel inspired to write and inspired by my writing. Other days, not, but the poem Laurie Wagner, creator, leader, and teacher of Wild Writing, read today resonated with me and unlocked me in a way that I don’t often experience. Here’s the poem by Teri Ketchie, a fellow Wild Writer:

Complicit

I never asked for this addiction to comfort, yet
here I am, a sucker for slow seduction,
in sweaters made in sweat shops, industries’

bewitching promise of newer dresses,
better groceries, easier ways to travel.
I never asked for designer anything, but

this lotion makes my legs glow in the skirt
that hugs my hips on the fast track
to fitting in, maybe even belonging.

When I was fresh and wanting
to make the planet a healthy place,
I carried my life in a backpack.

That was before marketing beguiled me,
before I succumbed to denim, silk, linen, lace
couches, drapes, floors from the wildest places.

I don’t need a thing, but flooded with desire,
I am consumed by what I have consumed,
aware that few bread tags

are recycled and the beaches of Ghana
cannot breathe under layers of scraps
where children search for anything to sell.

I don’t scream about it.  I know I should,
and, on my latest trip to paradise,
in the taxi from the airport to town,

past open burn pits of plastic debris,
I held my nose, mulled over toxic
trespass and tenable solutions,

Until I got to the hotel

where they offered me a drink
and a hammock to swing in
at the edge of a sweltering sea.

How It Works

In Fierce Writing, the leader reads a poem aloud first and then chooses “jump-off” lines from the poem as prompts plus another line or two not in the poem that could be a good one to get the “juices” flowing or “recharge” writing. Fierce Writers are free to use any, all, or none of the prompts or choose different lines from the poem. Then we write for 15 minutes or another length of time that the leader decides. Then we read our writing with each other if in a group. In my daily practice alone, I usually don’t share my writing with anyone unless I decide to use it in a poem that I submit for publication. When we share our writing in groups, we give each other undivided attention, with one person at a time reading and no verbal comments afterwards, just non-verbal gestures of support. Here are the “jump-off” lines Laurie chose for this poem:

“I never asked for the addiction to comfort, yet…”

“I still don’t need much, but…”

“I’m not sure how I got here.”

Here’s what I wrote in 15 minutes today:

I never asked for this addiction to comfort. No one does. you’re American, you’re born into it, not necessarily because everyone’s comfortable, but it’s our culture to strive for comfort or more comfort with consumerism. Look at the commercials and catalogs. Imagine what it would be like if you had those products and lived like the actors and models. To get those products, you need money. To get money, you need to work for it, unless you were born into it, in which case, you need to focus on holding on to your money and acquiring more of it by exploiting others, finding loopholes, hoarding it as much as you can. I’ve cut back quite a it, now that my income is about a third of what it was when I was a university professor. I have traded income and insurance for peace of mind and time to do what I had been putting off for 25 years. Yet I am able to do that because I sold my house and moved in with my boyfriend, who pays the mortgage on his house, which I still consider his since he bought it, although I do pay for gas and electricity, utilities, and food. I also have an inheritance and the money from my 403b. Even with all of that, I qualify for Medicaid due to low income. A sweetheart deal, if you think about it. Yet I have become more frugal, not really for ecological reasons or because I want to donate more to causes I believe in that help the non-privileged. I do it so I can have more when I am unable to work, which may be sooner than later since job opportunities seem to be decreasing every day. I am not hoarding things, actually donating quite a bit, not so much money because to me it represents security. That is a major shift, since before I quit my job, it represented the clothes and jewelry I could buy and the trips I could take. Quitting my job has made me realize that I was using those things to counteract the stress and depression I felt at that job, my need to present myself as having it together while I was falling apart. Now I work from home, unseen, where image doesn’t mean a thing, and when I go out, I feel no need to stand out, in my appearance of my affect. I keep a low profile, stay under the radar, happy to be invisible, my new superpower. It’s a freedom that is new to me, this lack of concern for how I appear, whether others like me, whether they see me as successful as defined by this society’s terms. It feels subversive, and I like that, as I have always admired those who are different than they appear, as if they’re keeping a secret, and only those who really want to know will bother to unlock it by looking deeper.

Why I’m Sharing This

Not because I think it’s a high-quality piece of writing. If I were to submit this for publication, I would revise it substantially. That’s not the point with Fierce Writing, though. It’s to write what’s true for you, uncovering that with the help of a poem and where it takes you. I was impressed with what the poem was unable to uncover in me and how my thoughts just flowed from my mind onto the page. It revealed some things to me that I hadn’t realized. And that’s why this practice has become part of my life.

Democracy’s Urgent Call!

I’m so happy to say that my poem “A Pilgrim’s Progress” has been included in this anthology celebrating the 250th birthday of the League of Women Voters. I’ve been a member for eight years and held the offices of secretary and president in Ohio, preparing for a new position in Michigan. I’m delighted but not surprised that LWV now has a poetry anthology dedicated to upholding democracy! Thanks to Christy L. Schwan and Eloisa Gomez for putting it together!

Anthology acceptance!

I just learned that two of my poems, “Tijuana” and “Breathing Room,” have been accepted for WAVES: A Confluence of Women’s Voices, an anthology that will be published by A Room of Her Own Foundation. It is an honor to be included.