[Tamara Cross]

Bill, wasn't going to post anything - then read your contribution. Thx. Odd ducks are herd animals - most don't know that.

I have 'almost always only ever' (like that string?) allowed myself to compose anything... *on a paper towel*. Yes, the kind you wipe up spills with. I was wondering what form of Pavlovian conditioning made for your uniqueness ("No soup for you until you write a poem!") and then realized I have no answer for my own oddness. Something to do with the ability to pretend it's not important to me, and the ease of disposal... sheesh. Maybe I don't wanna know!

Eric, will try to take the survey in the next few days - have Firefox, located in the US, we'll see how it goes.

All, it has been very, very fun for me to get a tiny peek into how you write. In this semi-blindfolded environment I make huge guesses and assumptions about some of you, get to read the blogs or peruse the art galleries of others, and closely watch the interactions of the rest - but your personal revelations are the most delightful, as your pictures fill in with greater detail and depth. Enjoying myself.

Tamara

[Janice D. Soderling]

This is just to say that the survey was doable from Sweden--a place where I am often refused movies and UTube because of illegal file streaming.

But while I am on the line I will tell you how my creative process has varied over the years. I used to think I couldn't be creative without puffing on a life-shortening cigarette. That was incorrect. I learned it was possible to write and not smoke when I fell in love with a man who kindly asked if I had to smoke in bed. This led to me kicking the habit, the man is gone, but the habit stayed gone too and for that I am forever grateful to him. The purpose of this anecdote (apart from practice for participation on a reality show that might give cash input) is to say that all these fetishes without which writers think they can't write, they can. Yes, you can.

My old fixed method of capturing the elusive muse by banging away at a manual, then electric, typewriter with a cigarette in the corner of my mouth, correction fluid at the ready, and hungry children crying because supper was burning on the stove, is a thing of the past.

I was employed for nearly two decades to translate and write about technical and corporate things, freelanced on the side, while mothering three strong-willed children and attending university classes at night. Yet I wrote--most of it pretty stinking, I'll grant you, but everybody has been there and done that.

During this lengthy period, I went through stages: turning over the poem in my head while walking to work was one, another was scribbling in a pad while waiting for or riding the bus, yet another was ushered in by the life-changing personal computer and a life without whitener, carbon copies and small notepads that entered the washing machine full of brilliant notes and exited as empty metal spirals.

Then one fine day, the children were fledged and flown and since no one would then starve but me, I set up my own business with the idea of having more time to “write” my own brilliant stuff. That ideal situation did not happen. However being my own boss (whatever that means) meant I could jiggle my time and squeeze out poems and the occasional story while pursuing a client deadline.

Now it is time to cut to the chase and confess the methodology of how I work today (being officially, though perhaps temporarily, retired since about a year ago).

With few exceptions, I start my day with paper, pencil and eraser (with or without an idea, just like commercial copywriting) while drinking my first cup of java. Often I jumpstart by reading something, anything, poetry, the newspaper or what I turned out the day before. The paperwork part might involve setting up a rhyme scheme, then finding a first line, and when it gets hot and I can’t keep up the flow, I move to my PC. I compose both poetry and prose there. I am still talking about the draft stage.

After the text starts to solidify—now we are no longer in the drafting stage but in the consolidation stage—I alternate between printout & pencil and the text in the computer. I save my printouts of the various versions until I think I am done. Sometimes there is afterwork a month or years later, but that is another story that will wait for another survey.

[Roger Slater]

Originally Posted by Maryann Corbett

What's remarkable to me is that the questions seem to assume that there will be folks who compose poetry, from the outset, with a word processor.

**

I'm curious to hear from people who start out at the screen.

What's the mystery? I start at the screen and stay there. Even before word processing became common, I always felt more comfortable writing with a typewriter instead of a pen. It removes all physical exertion, since I can type quickly, effortlessly, and with none of the stiffness and blisters and ink stains of the quill, and it's also easier than using a hammer and chisel to carve letters on cave walls.

For me the visual element of how a poem looks on a page is important, and I've never been good at picturing how handwriting will translate into typeface, so the instant gratification of seeing the typeface on my screen is invaluable as well.

The only exception to writing at the word processor for me happens on those rare occasions when I write something in my head and have no alternative. This usually involves an unexpected idea that comes to me unbidden, but sometimes I will work from memory on improving a line or two in something I've already written but have been having trouble nailing down.

These are my own methods. I wouldn't presume, however, to advise anyone that they ought to do the same, nor can I understand why anyone should be mystified that we all do not go about writing in the identical manner.

[Maryann Corbett]

I'm not mystified either, Roger. I simply find it worth remarking--worth noticing and considering. I'm curious about the different mental structures/organizations that allow many people to "think in poetry" at the keyboard, but keep me from doing so. Now I know there are quite a few of those people, and my limitations may be unusual. That makes me even more curious about them.

[Roger Slater]

Well, I think I mentioned a couple of factors, such as by-passing the need to visualize the way the poem will look on a printed page and avoidance of the physical effort of pushing a pen across paper. I'd add to that the speed factor. I can type much, much faster than I can write with a pen, and if I think of a line to write down, having to use a pen to write it out on a piece of paper interrupts the inspiration and the rhythm I am developing and causes me to have to take what amounts to a time-out from creation in order to tend to the chore of pushing my pen across the page. It's almost like having to stop after every line to take out the garbage or do the dishes. For me, the physical act of writing with a pen is pure drudgery. But typing on a keyboard is second nature, effortless and automatic, and leaves me with a perfect and instantaneous vision of my words as they would appear on the page. I am not interrupted from the mental processes of writing by the physical chore of recording what my mental processes come up with.

[David Rosenthal]

Frankly, I find that most writers I know compose on the screen. I am the oddball composing multiple drafts by hand. Often other writers seem surprised to hear that I do it that way.

David R.

P.S. -- I took the survey, but haven't received any email interview of any kind.

[Seree Zohar]

puter.
love the ability to colorcode, love ctrl-x/ctrl-v, and putting bits in 2-3-4 columns side by side, to compare; almost never print out but very careful about saving version numbers & dates.
At 16, I learned speedwriting. It still comes in handy - a lot of words can get written on the back of a hand or inner wrist while on the move, with speedwriting.
Janice - there's a poem in all that story o yours somewhere.... and you're right: freelancing doesnt mean more time to write, necessarily; it just means the boss wont yell at you when you stop midsentence to write something else, and there's no need to quickly minimize your poem screen so you can pretend you're working.

[Eric Webb]

All,

This discussion has been interesting and insightful. I have been trying to stay out of the way to hopefully keep both you and I from being influenced as far as the study goes, and I hope you understand.

I want to apologize for those of you who have had issues accessing the survey. It seems that these problems have centered around Great Britain/England. If you do want to participate still, I can email the survey questions to you... Otherwise, I appreciate your interest, and will use one of the more accessible survey-engines next time.

If any of you have volunteered for the followup interview and have not received it, please email me at ewebb002(at)odu(dot)edu. I have sent one round of emails out, and will be sending another this afternoon for those who have taken the survey recently. If you still haven't received an email by 7pm tonight, please check your spam folder/filter.

For those of you who volunteered to submit a writing sample(s), thank you. Unfortunately, because of time constraints, I'll be removing that portion from the current study. However, I am still interested in continuing this past the deadline, so I may be contacting you next week in regards to this. If I do try to publish this, I want to include these writing samples as part of the study.

At any rate, this is just to let everyone know that if you haven't taken the survey yet, and still want to, that I'll be closing the survey tonight, December 4th, at midnight EST. I've gotten plenty of responses for this portion of the study, so don't feel guilty if you haven't had time.


Thanks again,

Eric Heald-Webb
ewebb002 (at) odu (dot) edu

[Adam Elgar]

Thanks, Eric, for prompting such an interesting exploration of writing methods. Best wishes for the rest of your research!

[John Whitworth]

Yeah. email it to me at jwhitworthpoet@talktalk.net