Decisions and Revisions Which a Minute Will Reverse

I didn't do a lot of revision before starting my mfa. This isn't because I didn't see the value of revision; it simply didn't occur to me as necessary. Poems were accepted for publication or not accepted. If a poem didn't work, I set it aside. Sometimes I revisited or mined lines from it, but apart from that, that was pretty much it.

I still think revision can only be applied to certain poems and within certain spans of time. Some poems "go cold" and need to be completely molten down and recast. Some can be significantly strengthened by exchanging and replacing a few parts, or altering the structure.

Either way, I've been doing a lot more of it. Three of my most recent poems have benefited enormously from the workshop and from serious revision, which I think points to a couple of things.

1. I'm bringing the right things to workshop. I think the poems are less refined than what I'd like to bring, but that's probably the point. They engender discussion, which I think is good. I'm learning to be less attached to something just because I put it on a page. Which leads to my belief that:

2. I'm getting better at revision. I'm more willing to cut something apart once it's written down, whereas I used to roll poems around in my head for weeks or months before committing them to paper. Once they were made corporeal—"made flesh," to borrow from Craig Arnold—I rarely changed them. I think going through several drafts has improved some (but not all) of my poems. Meaning:

3. I'm getting better at knowing what to revise and how. Some poems, as I mentioned, need to be entirely recast, otherwise later alterations will look "scotch-taped on" (thanks, Billy Collins). Others can have parts swapped out, and still others can benefit immensely from a small change in structure, syntax, or word choice. I also think this has to happen in a certain temporal or emotional space, meaning (finally):

4. Revision only works insofar as it's an actual "re-visioning" of the original poem. A revised poem has to get closer to what the original poem was driving at. It has to be clearer, leaner, more complete (whether by the omission, exchange, or addition of words/ideas). In order to accomplish this kind of revision, I find I can neither be too close nor too far from the poem, either temporally and emotionally. Too near the poem, and I can't be objective; too far removed, and I can't return to the state I was in when I originally wrote it. I may betray the poem in this way.

Overall, I think I'm getting better. I have, in large part, my cohort and professors to thank for that.

(Next) Next Reading

I'll be reading at KGB Bar on Friday, May 6th at 7:00 pm as part of the Emerging Writers Reading Series (map here).

Next Reading

My next reading will be at the Cornelia Street Café on Tuesday, January 25, 2011 at 6:00 pm. (Map here—close to the 1, 2, A, C, and E trains.) Hope to see you there!

Two O'Clock And All Is Well

Finally, the long-promised update on my mfa experience thus far—

For those not familiar, New York University's mfa program is (full-time) two classes per semester for four semesters. Four workshops are required and no more than one workshop can be taken in one semester; further, at least one craft course is required, although up to four craft courses can be taken for credit toward the degree so long as they're all taught by different instructors.

In short: if you're enrolled full-time, you have to take four workshops in four different semesters, as well as at least one craft course. The remaining three courses can be craft courses, but needn't be. You can take any graduate-level course as long as both the creative writing program and the department in which that course is offered approve. Being a big fan of intellectual cross-pollination and interdisciplinary work, this was a huge draw for me when I was applying last year.

Also, before I get into specifics: I'm enrolled full-time and working full-time, so it's definitely possible to earn your mfa at nyu without quitting (or precluding the possibility of) a full-time job.

So!

This semester I'm taking a poetry workshop with Breyten Breytenbach and a craft course with Anne Carson. Breyten's workshop has helped me tremendously with my writing in the nine weeks I've been attending. My cohort is tremendously talented and helpful, Breyten is a fantastic workshop leader (as well as an attentive reader and incisive critic), and the workshop environment (complete with deadlines! Real deadlines!) has revitalized my writing schedule, despite my being fairly regimented in the years between my undergraduate and graduate writing classes.

Anne's craft course is an interesting animal: highly collaborative, chiefly performative, and very much hands-off in terms of instruction. I think I've only written one or two poems for her class so far, but the class has 1.) gotten me to work closely with other writers, which I've never done before, and 2.) forced me to think in ways I generally don't via exposure to other artists' creative processes. Both have been, I think, healthy for me as a writer, though I suspect I have yet to realize the full benefit of the course, which may take months or even years. I've also learned a thing or two about other artistic disciplines (performance art, painting, dance, theater, &c), which has also been to my advantage.

The program in general hosts a reading series and a number of literary events throughout the semester and academic year; I've had the pleasure of introducing poets such as Howard Altmann and D. Nurkse, attending events co-sponsored with The Academy of American Poets, and working on the graduate creative writing program's literary journal, Washington Square Review.

I love the program at New York University so far and am tremendously glad I decided to attend; if anyone has any questions about the program, please don't hesitate to leave a comment here or e-mail me at eric [døt] q [døt] weinstein [åt] gmail [døt] com, and I'll be happy to answer them as best I can.

Thoughts on the MFA

First: I just realized I inadvertently stole Amy King's blog subtitle when I created multitudes. Two weeks out of the gate, and I already need to rethink the name of this place. Quel fromage.

I'll be starting the mfa program at NYU in the fall, and while I'm absolutely excited, I'm also a little nervous. Most of my friends in college were engineers, and I've only recently become moderately comfortable identifying and labeling myself as a poet. I've never really spent time with other poets, and while I've always done well in undergraduate workshops, I think I viewed them as being populated by college students with an interest in creative writing/poetry rather than... poets-in-training? I'm not sure if that makes sense, but I do wonder whether the mfa experience will be a little intimidating at first.

It's also been awhile since my reading and writing habits have been externally structured or formalized in any way, so I'm really interested to see how my writing evolves simply as a result of my being required to read certain texts, write certain (amounts of) material, and come prepared to discuss and dissect poetry a couple of times a week. Will I realize my writing is improving as it happens, or will it be a few months before I start to notice it? Will I see an increase in the number of poems I have accepted for publication? How long before I manage to land a book deal? &c, &c. I know a lot of this depends on me (hard work, ability, attention to craft, and so on), but there are a number of x-factors involved (including, but not limited to, dumb luck) and I'm just really curious as to where I'll be in May 2012.

Assuming the world doesn't end before then, that is.