It’s been weeks since I went to the gym. Every day, I think, “Tomorrow’s going to be the day.” But not yet…

In the meantime, my poetry muscles need a workout, too.

Today’s exercise:

Look around, or if you’re walking to work or the bus or a bakery, keep a close eye on the little details. Choose one concrete thing–on the sidewalk or in the grass or hanging from a tree limb. Start your writing from it, and see how fast you can jump from it and where you can go.

I always think everything around me is ordinary, so this is a good workout for moving past the surface and connecting with associations. I hope.

This is how one of my sons exercises.

We all get into habits, ruts, crutches. Today’s two: “of” and “is.”

Without writing of

A while back, Anne Pitkin helped me by pointing out one of mine: a tendency to say _____ of _____.

It isn’t that you can’t say that, but it’s easy (for me, anyway) to get into a rut and suddenly find my poem peppered with those “of” statements. And it’s even more dangerous when one or more abstractions are involved. “The intention of annihilation” might sound intriguing, but I think it’s going to get heavy fast.

So today’s first exercise: Write a poem without using the word “of”–anywhere. Or look at an existing poem and circle all instances of “of,” and then replace them.

At this point, you might be thinking that I have one of those small minds that’s haunted by consistency and other petty issues. You’re probably right. (I also tend to follow extreme rules about breaking a line with a word like “of,” although it’s been pointed out to me that other poets have done this brilliantly.)

Let verbs do some heavy lifting

The next common crutch and pet peeve: “There is…”

Again, it isn’t that you can’t use it or shouldn’t use it and that it isn’t beautifully used sometimes by someone. But really, we have stronger verbs. In fact, a friend pointed out that Finnish doesn’t even have a verb for “to be.”

Today’s second exercise: Write a poem without using any is/are/was/were–or take an existing poem, circle those pesky “to be” conjugations, and think of all the other verbs you might use.

Do these exercises change your poem, change your writing? Do they lead you to new images?

Let me know how it works for you. And I’m curious: Do you have any pet peeves or hobgoblins?

Also, I’ve been tinkering again with comments–trying to get them to work without getting hundreds of spam comments. If you have time to test leaving a comment, I greatly appreciate it.

And Happy September!

Adjectives, adverbs, and abstractions. Sure, they’re helpful when we’re trying to describe a house or a tree or the way we felt after an argument.

But they’re dangerous–so easy to overdo.

I think of adjectives as accessories, along with the advice to “take one thing off.” They can compress, but they might not be as specific as an image. Think of an old house. Think of a house with paint peeling from the window sills. The second example is longer, but it’s also more visual. Think about why the house being old is important.

Adverbs, for me, are a little easier–where there’s an adverb, there’s likely another verb lurking, with more punch to pack. Verbs add momentum and power. The verbs you don’t expect can make a poem sing, steal a reader’s breath away.

Abstractions can sneak into your poem. The easy ones are words like happiness, inspiration, redemption. They’re fine words, but you can’t see them.

Could you replace those words with an image you can see or hear or smell or touch or taste?

And the tricky ones are words like dream. A dream you had last night feels concrete enough, so you think you’re safe–but then those dreams of being famous slip in. Harder to see, ripe for an image.

Recently I received a rejection letter, noting the poem that seemed to come closest still seemed like it needed spicier language. Hmmm… When I looked at the poem, I saw that word dream and thought maybe I needed an image instead.

Exercise

Try it. Pick up a poem that’s been giving you trouble. Cross out all the adjectives and adverbs. Circle all the nouns and verbs they modified. Circle the abstractions. What new verbs and images can you find? How does it change your poem?

Just for fun

Kill the Adjectives
from an NPR report, March 12, 2004

The movement would have you remove them.
Spokesmen speak nothing of adverbs,
posit only that adjectives are too many,
an embarrassment, a waste of riches,
and must be cut by the careless
or by the neophyte. If you won’t use them,
you’re allowed to try. If you string them
together like beads, in phrases of two or three,
you have over-accessorized.
(Take one modifier off.)
They expect only experts
to describe with qualifiers,
craft sentences with discernment,
and balance their weight in verbs.

Originally published in Plainsongs.