MoPoWriMo

So, I invented this thing.

I have to give partial credit to James Goldberg, who gave me the idea years ago in some AML (Association for Mormon Letters) session or other, or maybe it was at a New Play Project talkback. The thing he said, which I remembered while pondering the relationship between talent and consecration and the "building up of the kingdom," was something about the concept of "tithing" talent. What this might look like for a writer, he suggested (or I remember him suggesting, or I thought to myself at the time), would be to try to make 1/10 of one's writing projects spiritual in topic or theme. Writing a gospel-centered poem, for example, every ten poems. Or (and again—I'm not sure if this was my own thinking in response to his suggestion or his suggestion), another option is Sabbath-oriented. For example, a writer would commit to writing something spiritual every Sunday, while writing other stuff on other days.

Whatever it was he meant, the concept behind it—that of setting aside time to use my talent to explore spiritual things as opposed to trying to write a killer poem that I could publish in the world (in order to get national exposure, perhaps, or to build my CV to make me more employable)—has sat on a stool in the back of my mind, clearing its throat every once-in-a-while, just to let me know it was still there.

So I got an idea. I have, at times, participated in NaNoWriMo (you can read about that here on my blog) and variations thereof. One of the variations that has proven very successful for me is having a goal to produce a poem a day for 30 days. So I decided to take a month and dedicate it to spiritual writing. The goal was to produce a poem each day which arose from my spiritual beliefs and culture. This was going to be good! I always produce better when I have an assignment. I also produce better when I have someone to be accountable to, so I asked James and a few others if they'd like to take up the challenge with me. And they asked a few friends. And they told two friends, and they told two friends, and so on, and so on.

I started a facebook group and invited everyone interested to join. As far as reporting to the group was concerned, the goal was simply to post each day. If you want, I said, you can post the poem you wrote. Or you can just report on what you did. But check in each day, if possible.

That was all the instructions I gave; everyone was welcome to set his or her own assignment and report as he or she wished.

What happened was monumental, at least for me. First of all, I produced a lot of work. In fact, after I was done with the month and began revising, I saw that, with my new work added to stuff from my thesis and before, I finally had enough work to make a collection, and went on to spend the next six months assembling what has become my first book. During the month, I didn't produce a finished draft each day, but I did so on many days, and on other days I got some good prewriting done that later led to poems. Of the 30 efforts I made during that month, I've gotten at least 15 solid, finished poems, and a bunch of other work that still might end up being used in some way. That's a fantastic percentage, I think.

Another thing that happened was that I felt more creative, more skilled, and more productive at the end of the month than at the beginning. Something happens when I am working hard and regularly. The more I write, the more ideas I get, the more "poetic" I feel, and the more "poetic" my first drafts feel. (By "poetic," I mean, in part, "surprising." As in, "No surprise for the writer; no surprise for the reader" [Robert Frost].  And surprise is a difficult thing to "work on" as an artist.) I found myself more interested in my work, and my work more interesting.

My favorite thing that happened was the sense of community that arose among the participants. There was a synergy. I believe that we were all writing better because we had each other to write for. It was not a critique group; it was simply a group of people who were an appreciative audience for each other. For me, anyway, there was a great sense of excitement, as I worked on my daily poem, in knowing that I would be sharing the draft that very day with others who would comment on it (but not critique it).

An audience is powerful. I think back to the time in my life when I felt ready to try writing seriously, and what a big impact the AML List played in that decision. (I've written about that here before.) I will be forever grateful for my AML friends who became the people I wanted to write for as well as about. They have always been the ones I have in mind as I write. Anyway, this group of people that came together for what I named "MoPoWriMo" (Mormon Poetry Writing Month) gave me a reason to write, to keep generating every day, to push myself to greater freshness. I loved the results.

So we did it again this year. Between the two events, President Nelson asked us to use different words to indicate members of the church, but I've kept the name the same because I want to communicate that we are talking about the culture in general, not anything official regarding membership or doctrine. We've switched from May to February, because May was a crazy-busy month for many, and February is just always in need of a reason for existing, right? (Being shorter helps, too. We don't mind being done a day or two early.)

This year, I put less pressure on myself to make the topics directly relevant to the church, its doctrines and culture, though I usually consider those topics first. The fact is that most of my life is infused with my worldview and beliefs, so most poems end up being spiritual in some way. But poetry is better with energy behind it, so I've learned to seize whatever impulse is strong and run with it. This year, especially, I've become more aware of the importance of taking care of my reading while I am participating in this project. Just as a runner training for a marathon needs to pay attention to nutrition, when I'm doing MoPoWriMo, I perform a lot better if I increase the quantity and quality of my poetry reading each day. I found, this month, that reading poetry that is quite different from my own style was especially helpful. It pushed me new directions, infusing energy when I was lagging in the last week or so.

One of my favorite things that happens during MoPoWriMo is what I call "sparking." It's when a line or image or subject from one person's poem sticks in the head of another writer and then makes an appearance somehow in the second writer's poem. One example I can think of actually happened as the month ended. Eric Jepson, eager for the hard work of the month to be over, posted one day about being glad that, come March, "trees will just be trees," not symbols for anything. I loved the phrase and the idea, and wrote a poem the next week about it. Someone else took a line from one of my poems complaining about February and wrote an entire poem about February. I love this synergistic phenomenon.

I recommend that all artists find ways to create challenges and assignments for themselves, but doing it within a community for a set period of time has brought me joy and greater productivity. Also, it has brought me new friends. What's not to love?