Line Breaks in Poetry

Over on my tumblr (where I’ve been posting all my Napowrimo 2012 poems), my friend mermaidcomplex asked me how I approach line breaks in my poetry. Since, I ended up doing a longer, more detailed response, I thought I’d share it here, too.

Line breaks decisions really depend poem to poem, but essentially, they tend to be based on overall ton, visual elements, word emphasis, flow and rhythm, and (very much less so for me) formal meter or syllable counting considerations. Each reason tends to get wrapped up in the next, and I think the concept of the “pause” at the end of the line is connected to both word emphasis and flow or rhythm.

Tone/Feeling comes first for me, because it’s one of the first things I get a sense of as the words fall where they may. If the mood is calm and peaceful, then I tend to use more even lines, whereas if the poem is angry or in any way chaotic in mood, then I tend to use jagged lines, some longer or shorter, some indented in a seeming haphazard way, so as to suggest the disjointed feelings I’m trying to evoke. Though that’s not always the case, as the indented lines can also have a wistful, floaty feeling (which was what I was going for at the end of #9 napowrimo poem). Shorter lines tend to feel more immediate as they focus on only a few words at a time or they can feel more rushed, whereas longer lines tend to feel more stable, anchored.

As you noted, the Visual element can also play a part. This also ties into tone for me, as a poem that looks jagged on the page can immediately give a feeling of disjointedness even before the reader reads the first line. I’ve also seen poets, as I’m sure you have, take the visual element a level father by

say,
incorporating
the visual layout of
the poem into the metaphorical
images in the text, so that if you’re
writing about rolling down a hill, each line
can grow in length, so that the rolling hillside
is instantly present, even in the poem’s layout.

I don’t usually use the visual aspects of line breaks in that way, but it certainly can work well if the poem calls for it.

Word Emphasis is of equal importance, for me, to the tone or visual elements, and is also closely tied to Flow and Rhythm, which is really where the concept of the “pause” comes from (Allen Ginsberg was big on the idea of line break = pause, as determined by breath, and wrote all or most of his poetry with this in mind). I believe the pause is there. Even if you don’t actually sound out the pause while you are reading a poem, there is at the very least a visual break, as your eye stops at the end of the last line and scans back to the beginning of the next. For example, this poem, “Autum,” on the Poetic Asides page, I definitely pause at the end of each line while reading it, so that there’s a kind of rhythm as I take in the image in each line and mentally pause before moving on. (For me, the pause is stronger when the lines are shorter.)

I approach word emphasis, flow, and rhythm in several ways, including singling out short phrases or single words on a line, if necessary. But even in longer lines, I also look at what the last word is on the line, because the last word can sometime have increased emphasis, as well as to determine whether I want to break up a phrase or keep it whole. Take this not-so-inspiring example: “I don’t want to dance in the moonlight. Stop the buzzing of the bees.”

I don’t want to dance in the moonlight.
Stop the buzzing of the bees.

The above is too standard for my tastes. I don’t usually like to end on a period, because with the combined pause of the line ending and the stopping power of the period, it brings the line to a full halt, which is good sometimes, but most of the time I want more flow. So I would probably break up the lines like this:

I don’t want to dance
in the moonlight. Stop
the buzzing of the bees.

In this way, “I don’t want to dance” is a complete sentence on its own, which puts emphasis on “dance.” For a moment, however, brief it would allow the reader to feel a sense of conclusion, only to find there’s more to it as they read on. In the second line, by putting the period in the middle with the single word after it, my aim is to have the word, “Stop,” serve two functions at once. On the one hand, it relates to the sentence of the line it’s currently on, “I don’t want to dance in the moonlight,” so then “Stop,” it concludes. On the other hand, it also carries forward into the next line, as a part of a separate sentence and thought.

I rarely use Formal Meter and Syllable Counting (and by rarely, I mean, almost never). I cannot for the life of me wrap my head around meter or iambics — those who do, and do it well, are amazing. I only syllable count in very rare circumstances, as with my poem “Broken Cuckoo Clock“, in which every two syllable line is meant to evoke the “tick tock” sound of the clock with the final one syllable line bringing it to an abrupt stop.

So that’s pretty much my whole spiel on line breaks. Overall tone and feel of the poem tends to be the ultimate consideration for me. As I’m writing I usually go by my gut feeling on where a line should break, but during rewrites, I’ll play with line breaks, switching words back and forth between lines to get the combined tone, visual, emphasis, and flow that I’m going for.

[Cross-posted to my livejournal.]

I wanna write bad things with you*

Taking a line from Lisa Eckstein’s post, I’m going to share with you that I have been busy doing bad, bad things to my character in the short story I’m currently writing. I’ve been a little less compassionate about the bad things I’ve done to my character, in fact I approached the scene with a certain amount of glee as I attacked her with a multitude of spider-like things that crawled under her skin. (There may be something wrong with me.) Though, as I’m not writing a novel, I’m not as attached to this character as I might otherwise be.

The fun of typing up that scene, as well as other strange and surreal scenes (none of which connect into a coherent story yet) allowed me to plow through almost 2,000 words Wednesday night, which gives me a warm cozy feeling and makes me believe that I might actually finish this story, and have time to edit and submit it to Awesome Anthology.

What bad things have you done to your characters? Do you feel sorry for doing it to them?

*

In other news, Z-composition, a new horror, scifi, fantasy lit-zine I recently submitted to, is looking for artists to create a new fancy banner for their website. They’re hoping for bids (which I’m assuming means they will pay a bit), so anyone interested ought to check it out.

Also, here is a rather amusing post about the strange and funny things fans say and do around authors.

*I’m humming along to to the True Blood theme song, as I write this.

[Cross posted to my livejournal.]

just because it's done, doesn't mean it's done

Current Project: The Witch of the Little Wood
New Words: 5,254 new words over three days, which was brought down to 3,614 words after editing
Current Total Word Count: 17,304!
Goal: Complete the story (this short story is definitely a novlette).

Random Rough Sentence(s): Devan’s body felt like it was made of lead, so heavy that she couldn’t move, so heavy that she was sinking into the couch, sinking past the cushions, snapping springs and cracking the wood frame.

Notes: I’m calling this draft of the story done, completed, in its entirety — more or less. When initially outlining the story, I had planned on ending it on another scene. However, when it came to writing that scene, it felt far too much like an epilogue or the start of a new story, so I left it alone.

I think my ending scene works, but I’m not in love with it.

At this point, I’m going to put it aside and work on something else. In a few weeks (probably after I get back from Australia), I’ll look at the whole beast and assess how everything fits together, whether the scene breaks work, and if the past/present jumps are cohesive. Right now, I’m feeling that it doesn’t, that it’s missing something vital, and that the resolution isn’t strong enough. I tend trust my gut in writing, though I have to be careful and not confuse “gut” with “anxiety” or “fear of failure”. I’m pretty sure that my gut is guiding me true, though, and that the story does need work. I want to try to submit to magazines as a short story, so that will probably mean trimming it a bit, too.

While I’m letting that simmer, I’ll be throwing together a retelling of Cinderella in short-short story format, as well as doing some outlining for the Untitled Werewolf Novel, which I’m planning to launch into.

[Cross-posted to my livejournal.]

Showing Intimacy between Characters

Two Weeks Notice is an average romantic comedy in which Sandra Bullock plays a lawyer Lucy (a brilliant tofu-eating liberal) who agrees to work for George, a lazy, self-indulgent playboy, played by Hugh Grant at his corporation. After working for him for several months, she becomes so annoyed with being more like his personal nanny than his lawyer that she tries to quit.

As I said, the movie is average. Both leads are funny and charming and they play well enough off of each other to keep things entertaining. (The movie also has one of my favorite movie lines, when Lucy declares that she’s going to quit. George says he’s become addicted to her opinion and needs to know what she thinks. He holds up a pair of cuff links and asks, “What do you think?” She replies, “George, I think you’re the most selfish person in the entire world.” He replies, “Well, that’s just silly. Have you met everyone in the entire world?” Classic.) However, I never can’t quite buy their relationship fully. I know opposites attract is the point of many romantic comedies, but sometimes the connection isn’t always there.

But that’s not the point of my post.

While Two Weeks Notice is far from a perfect romantic comedy, it does have one scene that perfectly shows intimacy between the two characters. I don’t mean sexual intimacy. I mean the kind of intimacy that comes about when two (or more) people spend so much time together that they come to be very comfortable in each other’s presence.

At one point in Two Weeks Notice, about a third of the way through, Lucy and George sit down to an otherwise uneventful business lunch together. The conversation between the two of them is unmemorable, the same kind of “this meeting is when” conversation that anyone would have. What’s important is what they do while they are talking.

The waiter brings over their plates of salad — they both have the same thing — and without hesitation Lucy reaches over and takes the crispy noodles off of George’s salad. Once she’s done, George reaches over and takes the beets off of Lucy’s salad. Just like that.

I would never take food off of my boss’s plate without asking. I wouldn’t even take food off of a good friend’s plate without asking, and even then I would feel shy and embarrassed just by asking. But with my brothers and sisters, whom I’ve known just about all my life on the other hand, I would have no problem reaching over to take something off their plate.

Having Lucy and George share their food in such a manner makes it instantly clear that these two people know each other very, very well. So well that they are completely comfortable around each other and in their interactions.

When my friend, Jordan Dobbs Rosa and I were working on the script for Firecracker together (he plays the firecracker salesman, btw), he came up with the idea of having our MC reach over, take her boyfriend’s sunglasses off of his face, and put them on herself. “It’s that kind of gross intimacy,” Jordan said. “It’s when you know two people have been together too long.”

I don’t know about gross (sometimes I think it’s cute), but it definitely shows that two people have known each other a long time. That bubble of “this is my space / this is your space” is broken and becomes closer to “this is our space” or at least “this is communal space.”

It helps to remember this kind of thing when writing stories in which you have characters who know each other well. These little seemingly insignificant actions are excellent ways to show that they are comfortable with each other without saying so.

What are some movies or books you’ve seen that show this kind of comfortable intimacy well? How have you approached showing intimacy in your own stories?

[Cross-posted to my livejournal.]

Where My Writing's At

Current Project: The Witch of the Little Wood
New Words: ~4,000 new words in the last round of writing last week
Current Total Word Count: 13,690
Goal: Complete the story (this short story is turning into a novlette, I think).

Random Rough Sentence(s): Her hair was a nest of nettles, her skin gouged and wrinkled bark, her eyes the green of light pooling through leaves.

Notes: I’ve managed to get through two climactic scenes (very fun to write) with one major confrontation left to write and then several scenes of resolution to round things out. (I also have a scene that needs to be added to the beginning in order to make the mom more sympathetic.) Hopefully I’ll be able to get through all of those before the next Writing Gang meeting in a couple of weeks. That way I would have the first draft done before I head off to Australia, giving me time to let things simmer.

Writing a story that jumps between a past event and present events is an interesting process, because while the past influences and must reflect in the present scenes, it also has its own arc and own climax. I’ve been going back and forth between the past and present as I write, which has allowed me to discover parallels between the two arcs, which is kind of cool, but it also is a cause of anxiety for me because I’m not entirely sure the past and present mesh as well as they should (though my Writing Gang assures me otherwise). I guess I just have to get the whole thing written, so I can look at it in entirety and see what works and what doesn’t. The joy of revision.

The feedback I’ve been getting from the Gang has put a whole other idea in my head for this story, namely that it could be easily stretched into a novel — which has my head spinning. I had not thought of it before, but as soon as they said it, the idea started to germinate and now I have notes for starting to expand it. Making it novel is a scary concept, though, because it’s such a bigger work. It would require completely restructuring everything (the past/present alternation wouldn’t work, for example) and adding a litany of new characters and figuring out just who the Bear is and what he wants as my potential alternate villain.

So, in the meantime, I’m going to focus on finishing the story as a story, in the hopes of submitting it to various magazines (though there aren’t many that will accept this kind of length).

Other Projects in the Works:

The Untitled Werewolf Novel has been put on hold for the time being, while I work on “The Witch of the Little Wood” having settled firmly into the pre-planning stage. Don’t worry it’s not going to live there. My plan is to start getting chapters onto the page as soon as I finish the Little Wood short story. The Werewolf Novel keeps popping up every now and then tugging at my sleeve with new scene ideas and character arcs, so I won’t be able to ignore it for long.

I also have a couple of poetry manuscripts to work on. Astounding Beauty Ruffian Press is holding a chapbook competition, and it occurred to me that I have 10-20 pages of poetry that I could submit. I’ve been gazing at poetry chapbook competitions for a while now, thinking that I should submit to one, but haven’t felt like my work was cohesive or up to par enough to submit. Now I think I just might have a collection that would work — maybe.

You know those letter-poems I’ve been writing for the 30 Day Letter challenge that I never finished… well, I need to finish it, because I’ve been talking with the rather fabulous collage artist Jill Allyn Stafford about putting together a book that combines her art made out of international envelopes with my letter-poems. We’re both stoked on the idea (even though we’re not sure what publishers to approach about this sort of thing). First, I need to get those poems written.

And because I don’t have enough projects going on, there’s the Not-so-Secret Screenplay. I got an email about a script competition from Script Magazine, in which you have to come up with a script idea for a logline (which is: “After waking to find his wife dead in their backyard, a man conducts his own investigation and uncovers the hidden life of a woman he thought he knew.”) and submit the 15 pages.

Of course, instead of thinking, gee, I’ve got a lot on my plate right now, I think, gee, I can work with that, and my mind immediately started trying to put a supernatural spin on the story. So, yeah, now I’ve got a screenplay idea kicking around my head along with everything else. Deadline for the 15 pages is August 30th … we’ll see if I can pull it off.

[Cross posted to my livejournal.]