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There is a myth that Van Gogh was self-taught genius whose greatest works were knocked out at the rate of five or six a week. The truth is that Van Gogh was, in my humble opinion, a genius and it’s true that he was prolific in the last few years of his all-too-short life. What is also true is that he spent the preceding years practising and perfecting his skills. He would paint and repaint the same landscape over and over until he got it absolutely right.
In a letter to his brother, Theo, he uses the phrase ‘Now my brush stroke is sure’. What he means is that constant practice has made his craft instinctive and that now he’ll be able to fully realize his vision.
And here I’ll pause for a quick word on the thorny subject of genius. Sixteen years of classroom teaching followed by thirty running writing sessions in schools, community centres, prisons, psychiatric units (locked and voluntary) convinced me that unless someone has actual physical damage to their brain, then they too have that potential. When I was a kid, my Grandad told me that the world was such a hard place, God gave every new born one gift to help them through life. I no longer believe that to be literally true but I do think there is truth in it.
So, am I saying that inspiration is a myth and that all art is nothing more than the product of techniques that anyone can learn? The short answer is yes.
Do I also think that the idea of talent is a bourgeois myth? That the pursuit and recognition of excellence is elitist? That there are no extraordinary individuals?
The answer (in my case) is no to all three. A good teacher can instil craft but they can’t instil talent. Like it or not some people write better poems, paint better pictures, compose better music than others…that’s where their gifts lie. Why some are better than others are the above is worth pondering but I suspect it’s due to a whole series of interconnected circumstances ranging from home life, education, an adult role model, economic circumstances…the list probably runs into dozens. It’s a subject I look into in a future article.
Some individuals are elitist but aiming for excellence is not elitist; quite the opposite. It’s the artist who does not have such deep contempt for “ordinary people” that they adopt the “that’ll do” school of art. It’s the poet who knows that content is not enough, that “ordinary” people are perfectly capable of understanding poetry that’s poetry and not simply chopped up prose or a series of worthy slogans. The view that it’s got to be simplistic, obvious and understandable on one skimmed reading is patronising.
It assumes hierarchy of intelligence; there isn’t one. People aren’t born either stupid or smart. We’re all born a blank page and our experiences shape us into the people we become. It’s true that there seem to be common factors in the early lives of poets – they include a solitary childhood, a rich fantasy life, a near-death experience…I know the full list by heart because when I was a teenager I read The Poet’s Calling by Robin Skelton.
In a chapter called ‘The Child and The Muse’ there was a long list of common factors in the early lives of poets. I eagerly read through it and found, to my joy, that I had the lot. Excellent, I thought. Everything I write will be brilliant! Five years and several hundred rejection slips later I decided to have a rethink.
I went back to Robin Skelton’s book and read the chapters I’d originally skipped. The ones about craft and study. The ones I thought I didn’t need to read. Why should I? I’d scored a perfect ten on the checklist so I was obviously beloved of the gods. So, again, am I saying inspiration is a myth? Well, again, no. So, if it’s not a myth, what is it? In my experience inspiration is that point in any piece of writing when craft, imagination and emotion converge and, as Ted Hughes put it, the words take care of themselves. It’s the intuitive leap that bypasses logic and amazes you, the writer, as much as it will amaze your readers.
It won’t grow out of software or templates any more than Van Gogh’s best work could have grown out of painting-by-numbers. You can believe that it’s sent by God, the muse or your subconscious; it doesn’t really matter. What does matter is that you recognize it when it arrives. And when it does arrive, you’ll need to have developed the necessary level of skill to be able to take that imaginative raw material and transform it, make it as real and vivid for your readers as it is for you.
The Daily Haiku
Can inspiration be induced? The short answer is no, but you can create conditions that will make you more receptive to it because like Van Gogh, you will gain from regular practice. You need to ‘sketch’ regularly. One very simple but incredibly useful exercise is the daily haiku. Haiku: three-line non-rhyming poem originally from Japan. It is usually 17 syllables – line one is five syllables, line two is seven and line three is five again. What it aims to do is capture a moment. For example:
Clearing the bar, she
Falls through silence and into
All that unleashed breath.
The above took me something like eight drafts and several days before I was finally satisfied. You may very well have the same experience.
The beauty of haikus is that they’re economical (and therefore help you practise economy), mainly visual (so sharpen up your use of visual imagery) and, if you get into the habit of writing them regularly, they will become instinctive. This, in turn, will carry over into your other writing.
There are two things to bear in mind here. Firstly, the rules regarding syllable count are blurred. If the haiku is a translation, then the syllable count can vary; but if they are new and original, as yours will be, then in my opinion it is non-negotiable. Anyone who tells you differently is, again in my opinion, simply wrong. If you stick to the rules, you’ll find that working within a strict discipline will make you more, not less, creative.
Secondly, don’t expect instant results. The chances are that to begin with your haiku will be very ‘So what?’ Stay with it and cultivate patience – think tortoise and hare here – because there is still a long way to go.
