March 25th, 2019

"Playing! Curiosity! Vulnerability! Stretching"

A Conversation with Carolyn Zaikowski on Process & Poetry

​by Cressida Richards

"To me, there’s not a whole lot of evidence that the creative wellspring was made to be harnessed with super strict, planful routines. I suspect that creativity needs a lot more air, space, breath, and trust than we tend to give it in modern America. Not that routines should be thrown away—just that there’s something very American (dare I say capitalist) about the particular way we’ve started discussing art as work/plan/routine. Now, ritual I can get with." - Carolyn Zaikowski

So, Carolyn, although you’re leading a poetry workshop in May, you’re a bit of a genre magpie. Is there a genre you feel closest to?
 
Ha! No, there really isn't. My assumption has always been: I’m just the middleman; what do the words want? As opposed to a pre-conceived container which they may or may not end up fitting in. It’s not that people shouldn’t have preferences, or that genres aren’t useful concepts; it’s the identification aspect that worries me—I have so many students who say things like, “No. I just don’t do poetry” or “No. I just don’t read science fiction.” That makes me feel sad. It’s not that preferences aren’t acceptable; it’s that the human mind-heart naturally came up with so many different ways to use language, and there are so many opportunities to get great at writing by studying different forms. Genre and gender have the same root word. In truth, almost everything in writing is spectrum and gray-area if we look close enough.
 
The saddest I get is with identification-stuff like: “I’m a fiction writer and haven’t finished my novel therefore I am an awful person.” Or: “Oh god, I was supposed to write flash fiction but this is 1,200 words!” I just want to be like, “Oh, honey.”
 
Right! The whole writing schooling process contributes to that perception a lot, I think. I once took a class in undergrad that was poetry and fiction—because those things are total opposites, right? —and there was this weird polarization and judgement happening between the students. I was like, guys, we’re 20 what is with this weird ‘genre loyalty.’ Anyway, so when you write, regardless of genre, do you have any rituals or routines?
 
I often refer to my writing process as "obnoxiously intuitive" because I know how it sounds when I talk about it. I cannot explain my writing process other than that I have bouts of feeling taken over by something that's not exactly me. Often, I cannot stop writing once this happens, and will write for many days or even weeks. It sounds romantic, but it's actually pretty unhealthy and I don't recommend it because I'll literally forget to eat, drink water, or go outside. It also leaves me in this position of not being able to find a reasonable balance. I’ll try the routine that Google tells me xyz famous writer did, but then I get into my state again. The good side is that I am very productive and feel a genuine spiritual connection to my process and content.
 
I love that writing routines seem to work for some people, but I think they work for a lot less people than admit it. It’s completely acceptable to not have a writing routine, and having one is not neutral/correct, it’s just one way. To me, there’s not a whole lot of evidence that the creative wellspring was made to be harnessed with super strict, planful routines. I suspect that creativity needs a lot more air, space, breath, and trust than we tend to give it in modern America. Not that routines should be thrown away—just that there’s something very American (dare I say capitalist) about the particular way we’ve started discussing art as work/plan/routine. Now, ritual I can get with. I don’t have writing rituals, but maybe I should get some.
 
 
I agree ten thousand percent. Routine can be a scary concept, and it can absolutely conjure images of work, drudgery, boredom, all that. Ritual is a better word—ceremony, even. Okay, so what writers are inspiring you right now? 
 
Oh! So many. Elena Ferrante blew my life open a few years ago and continues to. Shelia Heti's Motherhood. Akwaeke Emezi's Freshwater was the best book I've read in years in terms of the sheer quality of the sentences—just mind-blowing.
 
 
You are the second person this week to mention Freshwater to me. This is a sign—it’s now top of my list! Okay, switching gears to poetry. You are very interested in form and syntax and its potential to represent and communicate trauma. How do you see this working in terms of a poem’s “nitty gritty”—as in, line breaks, white space, rhythm?
 
Ultimately, the human mind created language in order to map and hook something internal onto an external, tangible reality. We’re doing this constantly, so it’s fun to get conscious of the process. White space as silence, wordlessness, breath, void. Flatness or sharpness of word choice, sound choice, and syntax as dissociation, numbness, surprise, pain. Mania or slowness of words. Word vomit, word dearth. Attention to punctuation, the page’s body language. Repetition—of words, sentences, sounds, syntax. I love repetition. Repetition compulsion can be the obsessive quality of a spinning mind that's trying to master something, with each take just slightly altered from the next, like, “THIS time it will work! THIS time I will fix this problem!” Or, repetition that's not obsessive but more like the repetitions of a trance state, prayer, or incantation.
 
Yes! Repetition is a favorite tool of mine, too. Are you a lover of repetitive forms, as well—pantoums, sestinas, villanelles, etc.? Do you ever use them?
 
Now that you mention it, I realize I don’t actually use these forms myself, even though I love reading them. Sometimes the algebraic element overwhelms me—sestinas feel way too close to Sudoku for my comfort. I’ve got the number sense of a third grader; I’m not even sure if I just used “algebraic” correctly. But I could totally roll with a sonnet, villanelle, or quatrain. Thanks for the nudge.  
 
Sure thing! Now, what do you find to be the most exciting aspect of poetry workshops, specifically? 
 
Playing! Curiosity! Vulnerability! Stretching! Being held in a safe space of other writers where we can learn and be learners and help each other figure out who our best poet-selves are. 
 
Beautiful. They really are such special, unique spaces in that way. Now, the final question: what are you working on right now? 
 
I'm working on acquiring an agent for my recent novel, and am in the last stages of a poetry manuscript… 

Discussion: Tell us about your creative process! Where, when, and how do you write? Also, what do YOU find to be the most exciting aspect of poetry workshops?
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Study Short Story Writing With Carolyn This Fall:
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• 6 Weeks: 10/8 - 11/12: Short Story Writing Intensive

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​CAROLYN ZAIKOWSKI is the author of the novels In a Dream, I Dance by Myself, and I Collapse (Civil Coping Mechanisms, 2016) and A Child Is Being Killed (Aqueous Books, 2013.) Her fiction, poetry, and essays have appeared widely, in such publications as The Washington Post, Denver Quarterly, The Rumpus, PANK, Dusie, Huffington Post, and Everyday Feminism. She holds an MFA from Naropa University’s Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics and is currently an English professor. Find her online at www.carolynzaikowski.com.

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​CRESSIDA RICHARDS holds a BA in English Literature and Creative Writing from the University of Massachusetts Amherst. She was awarded the Class of 1940 Award for Poetry and has represented her University at the annual Five College Poetry Festival. She has been accepted to the University of Massachusetts Boston's MFA program and plans to attend in the Fall of 2019. ​She's currently an intern at Pioneer Valley Writers' Workshop.