You Can Write Poetry - Jeff Mock [51]
Editing your poems, revising them, can be a ruthless task, striking out words you labored to put on the page. But it's absolutely necessary. Revision takes three general forms: immediate revision, which you do as you write, trying out different words and lines; spot revision, in which you revise small sections of a draft, fine-tuning it; and comprehensive revision, in which you approach the entire draft, its language, content, structure and focus. After completing a first draft, I spot-revise, tinkering with the poem, making small changes to improve it. After that I wait a week, or two, or a month, before returning for comprehensive revision. The wait is necessary for the passion and thrill of writing the draft to subside. It allows me to gain perspective, to see and understand the draft better. That's what revision is: re-vision, from the Latin revisere, "to look back." In revising, we see what's in the draft, what isn't in it, what shouldn't be in it and what should be.
Revision can be ruthless. That's why I wait a while before revising. I need to separate myself from the draft, to forget about owning it. It helps to think of myself not as the writer who put the words on the page, but as a rewriter, someone who finds the draft and says, "I can make this better." That's what revision does—makes the draft better. It makes the draft a poem.
Here are questions and comments to keep in mind as you approach drafts for revision:
• Are the grammar and punctuation proper? If not, do they break the conventions for a purpose?
• Is every word the best word? Does each mean (denote) and suggest (connote) just what it should?
• Is the language mainly concrete-specific? Is the abstract-general language effective, or is it airy and imprecise?
• Are the images as detailed as they need to be? Which contribute to the draft? Which don't?
• Are the figures of speech well crafted and fresh? Do they contribute to the draft, or are they just flashy ornaments?
• What are the draft's most interesting sounds? Are they repeated to create alliteration, assonance and rhyme? Should they be?
• If the draft is written in meter, does the predominant meter create an effective beat? Do the substitute feet—pyrrhic, spondee or trochee—vary the meter for good effect?
• William Butler Yeats said, "Never employ two words that mean the same thing." Is the language as precise and concise as it can be? Which words, phrases or lines can be cut from the draft?
• Avoid archaic diction (o'er, 'tis, thee; contemporary writers use contemporary language), archaic inversion (Upon the cliff I did walk; use contemporary syntax) and cliches (white as snow, dead in my tracks, eyes as deep as pools; if a phrase comes too easily, be suspicious of it).
• Don't describe the obvious. Which details will the reader understand without them being pointed out? Make use of relevant details; cut the irrelevant.
• Don't explain. The reader takes pleasure in recognizing the relationships the poem suggests.
• Avoid pat emotional descriptions: trail of tears, gentle caress, smiling eyes.
• Avoid ellipses that fill in what's too embarrassing to say. If you wouldn't write the words, don't use ellipses to insinuate them into the poem.
• Avoid unwieldy abstractions: Time, Life, Truth, Beauty.
• Treat your subjects honestly (as they are); don't heighten the emotions and ideas to make them appear important. If they're important, the reader will recognize their significance.
• Combine sentences, divide them, extend them or shorten