Write WHAT you know but not always in the same WAY you know

Dave Smith, poet, mentor, and one of the most intelligent humans I have ever met, studied poetry in part by imitating the styles of numerous poets. In this way, he learned form, meter, purpose of language, and more. He also developed a distinct voice that resonates with power and history. Some writers worry about taking on too much of another’s voice, but once you dip into the stream of writers’ history, I believe you soak up the elements of each writer that feel at home for you; this amalgamation, added to the individual’s initial impulses to write, results in the essence of a writer.  

I see influences in my favorite writers (how could there not be influences?), but I admire those and see it as Eliot did in his “Tradition and the Individual Talent.” We add as much to the past as the past added to the future. The timeline changes each time we write and post and share and add to the jet stream of the written oeuvre. Also, in essence, “we shall often find that not only the best, but the most individual parts of his work may be those in which the dead poets, his ancestors, assert their immortality most vigorously. And I do not mean the impressionable period of adolescence, but the period of full maturity” (Eliot, Tradition.)

Once, I asked Dave Smith, “How do I change my voice?! It feels too immature and weak.” He replied, “Change your life; that is how you change your voice.” My life had been one heck of an adventure up to that point, but I had not reached a point where I could reflect on it as yet. 

The first poem we workshopped of mine in Dave’s grad class was a bit of a sentimental mess…the comment I received from Dave in workshop? “So what?” as he dropped the poem to the table and moved onto the next poem. This might seem harsh to an outside observer, and it is not my method of teaching, but I got the message. I did not, however, know how to satisfy the “so what.” Later, he told me I had a good eye for the setting of the poem, a good donnée; however, we both knew that the kernel failed in its attempt to punch through the dirty overgrowth. Why? Because I did not have enough knowledge of HOW to express my story. I knew my SUBJECT well — perhaps too well — but I did not know the availability of forms and vehicles with which to carry my subject to the reader.

I also did not know enough poets. I had read sparsely and only what appealed to me immediately. I did not struggle with any poet, wrestling with meaning and subtlety, cadence and purpose; I had failed myself in that regard.

In a way, writing what you know can thwart you if you also write the only way you know. My suggestion? Read widely and try some imitations. Play with form and themes; write from 1st person, 2nd person, and 3rd person; try past and present tense. Save many drafts of the same work written in a variety of styles — write a story through the vehicle of a poem, an essay, and a short story See what works best. Keep writing until the content finds the very best form for its expression.