Feeling like the student-- the struggle is real

Yesterday, I was in an all-day writing class that focuses on the poet as storyteller, and I was hopeful of learning how --the nuts and bolts-- to write a narrative poem. Struggle? yep.

I love narrative poems, especially the ones that take the reader on a story arc and that use dialog. Frost's "Home Burial" is magical, in my mind. There is the Iliad and the Odyssey too-- epics, while book-length, are just (!!) long poems. That said, I have no illusions about writing an epic, but what I found entirely disconcerting was the fact that I HAD NO STORY TO TELL. At least, none that quickly came to mind. I can honestly state that the stuff I ended up writing was, for the most part, garbage. Mentally, I was lost. I couldn't find a story to tell. The second prompt we had went a little better; it was purely imaginative, and I was able to get into that one easier. But O, did I struggle all day with trying to write something that was not puerile, stupid, fat-headed dreck. 

Humbling. Very. 

It's good for me to feel like this. I try to be sensitive to my students' struggles, and I remember well how it felt for me in things like math or computer programming classes. I have rarely struggled like this in writing, though, and it left me feeling really out of sorts. I'm glad we had a break between the end of class and the evening reading time; I chatted with family, made dinner, and redid the first assignment. I think my brain just needed to figure out how to write a story that focused on a small item, a memory-trigger. I will submit this new poem draft to the revision session today; the other mess will never again see the light. It was awful. I felt awful writing it. I won't forget that feeling anytime soon.

Have a good day, and stay warm!

C