Poetry: Playing Games of Thrones with your Darlings
Poetry, a mess that you create, then learn how to organize.
I help you make a damn mess. Then I’ll recommend what to throw in the dumpster, which darling doesn’t make the cut. Then I’ll help you make the mess into something better, a sculpture. You can revive or destroy or preserve your darlings at your own risk.
I’ll also recommend symbols.
On Prose, and my prescriptions
Does the prose read like a song? First question I ask myself after reading a peer’s rough draft.
I’ll remark on the diction, the pacing, the character development.
I hate being prescriptive, like the sort of, ummmmm, why should the character go in this direction. However, I do get prescriptive, because I know in the end, my critiques are not law, they’re a guideline, a strong recommendation, not the mandatory remedy.
It’s all in the author’s hands. I just whisper inspiration.
Also, I worship the deity that is the Oxford Comma. Having been employed in an office that reviles the Oxford Comma in its AP format, I will defend the Oxford Comma like its my baby.
I have a compulsion to line-edit.
As a flash writer, I am a fan of sparsity. Whether I read a bad novel or even a classic Margaret Atwood book, sometimes I have the tingling in my fingers to line-edit words out, because I go, “The reader gets it, and this does not serve much.” As a Raymond Carver reader, brevity is my superpower.
I’ll explain my edits, but of course, you choose what you keep.
What I frequently preach about: