My piano teacher used to say that perfect practice makes perfect. No pressure. When my daughter speaks of yoga practice or meditation practice, I think of showing up, arriving with your full self. And isn’t that what we want to do when we write? Show up to the page with our whole selves and create something that we’ll be able to believe is worth sharing?
Speaking for myself, it ain’t easy.
In November, after reading memorials to Lucie Brock-Broido, I took out her book Stay, Illusion and started a practice of pulling one image or line from a poem and writing from or in response to it. Will any of this turn into “real” poems? Maybe. The point is less about the results and more about showing up to give her poems time and attention and to experiment, play, and try writing in a way that doesn’t feel familiar to me.
I confess that I have not followed this practice strictly. Some days, other poems insist on being written. Some days, I fail to carve out the time. Most days I have a momentary panic that nothing will come. But it’s a practice, so I take a breath and start with something, anything, because I do believe in showing up, in reading as much as possible, in writing as close to daily as possible, in helping poetry to get into my body so that when the magic happens, I’m there for it with my whole self.
Today is day fifty. Only fifteen more poems in the book, and then it will be time for a new practice. I don’t think it needs to be grand or burdensome. It could be writing one sentence or one list of words. It could take ten minutes, or five. It could be reading one poem—and over at The Poetry Department, you can find an impressive list of daily and weekly reading resources.
What is your practice? Or what would it be, and how can you make that happen?