Advice to Young Poets and a Poem by Kelli Russell Agodon [by Nin Andrews]

Recently I’ve had the honor of being asked to Zoom with several graduate poetry classes. It’s been a while since I’ve been in a classroom by Zoom or otherwise, and I’m less practiced at answering the predictable questions such as—how/when/why do you write and where do you find inspiration, and what is your writing process, and what advice do you have for young writers, and . . .

In one class, a fellow guest-teacher and poet offered the advice: write from the heart. And don’t wait around. Life is short. Such good advice! I thought.

But I began to wonder, Do I do that? Or do I just write out of habit? Wasn’t it Flaubert who said inspiration comes from sitting at the same desk at the same time of day every day?

Or do I write from anxiety? Or existential discomfort? Like Anne Sexton, I’m always trying to get rid of the rat inside me. But what about those days when inspiration never happens? And the rat keeps running and running on its little wheel?

I was reminded of the Amor Towles story, The Ballad of Timothy Touchett, in which Timothy Touchett dreamt of literary fame but discovered he had nothing to write about. He blamed his lack of suffering. “How could one expect to craft a novel of grace and significance when one’s greatest inconveniences had included the mowing of lawns in spring, the raking of leaves in fall, and the shoveling of snow in winter?” “Timothy’s parents hadn’t even bothered to succumb to alcoholism or file for divorce.” So instead of writing, Timothy studied the habits of famous writers.

Like Timothy Touchett, I enjoy studying other writers’ habits. I want to know what kinds of sorcery they employ. As a result, I can tell you that John Updike ate so much when he wrote, he didn’t like to go out to lunch and worried about his figure. He was partial to oatmeal cookies. Joan Didion edited at the end of the day with a drink in hand (Liquor, of course, played an important role for a lot writers—no need to list them all here.) John Ashbery enjoyed a nice cup of tea and classical music when he wrote, which was usually in the late afternoon. Charles Simic enjoyed writing when his wife was cooking. Eudora Welty could write anywhere—even in the car— and at any time, except at night when she was socializing. Flannery O’Connor could only write two hours a day and her drink was Coca Cola mixed with coffee. Simone de Beauvoir wrote from 10AM-1PM and from 5-9PM. Louise Glück found writing on a schedule “an annihilating experience.” A. R. Ammons wrote only when inspiration hit—he compared trying to write to trying to force yourself to go the bathroom when you have no urge. Anne Sexton took up writing after therapy sessions. Jack Kerouac had various rituals at different times—one was writing by candlelight, and another was doing “touch downs” which involved standing on his head and touching his toes to the ground. Ernest Hemingway and Virginia Woolf wrote standing up. Wallace Stevens composed poems while walking to work. Gabriel García Márquez listened to the news before writing. Amy Gerstler sometimes listens to recordings of rain while writing. I tried that once, and the rain put me into a deep and dreamless sleep.

I have only one rule. Never write after dark. If I do, especially if I try to edit, I destroy whatever I’ve written, line by line, word by word, until there is nothing left. It happens quickly.

I also have a ritual. If I am stuck, I ask the muse for help. Then I read a personal forecast of some kind. Shake an 8-ball. Check out my astrology. Flip open a book of poetry at random and find one line to use as if it were an instruction or a secret message. It’s surprising how much help is available, should one ask for help.

My most recent source of advice/instruction came from this poem:

Surrealist Angel

by Kelli Russell Agodon