I move back and forth. The Tribe book is easier. I have a proposal and a plan for that, so it’s easier to know when that’s done because there’s a hard end. There’s a certain amount of chapters, and that whole thing. But poetry books, at least in my experience, those tell you when they’re done. My first book told me when it was done. It told me when I had mined everything I could out of the emotional landscape I was trying to create, and it pointed me to an exit strategy. With poetry books, I have been lucky to have my poems do that. My poems tell me how they want to live in the world, when they want to live in the world, and when they’re done being played with… Sometimes, it’s over the course of a month with one poem, or sometimes it takes a little longer than that. I think the hard work is knowing when to pull yourself back so you don’t overextend or let your projects blend together.
Originally asked
The Creative Independent, to working artists, its interview series
A repeated process question in The Creative Independent, asked across visual art, music, writing, performance, and mixed media.
You answer as yourself. Nobody on FLAPSS answers as anybody else.
Scarlett Harris, The Creative Independent interview source ↗
Others on this question
View all 67 →It’s so weird. I feel like that’s so tough. You just know, you do. I feel like if I could explain that, I’d probably be better at writing songs or something. If I knew the trick to it, then I would just do it every time and just always land the dismount. I don’t think that every song I write is the song, but it’s part of the practice of staying in your expression and your expressiveness and just trying to find the nerve and hit the nerve well every time. You know when you hit the nerve, it’s like hitting a funny bone or on your knee when they’re doing the reflex thing at the doctor. It’s like you just know when you hit it and you know when you’re not hitting it.
Sometimes I know, sometimes I don’t. It depends artistically, or pragmatically, on the steps that I’m taking. “How am I creating this?” Sometimes I set parameters to cut myself off, and I find mixed results. For this album, specifically, I worked closely with Cooper Crain, who co-produced it. Most of the time, I wanted to go five steps further and he said, “No. This is it. It’s done.” I found myself trusting his judgment in that. In hindsight, I think it was important for this album. It would be totally different if I just kept digging and digging. A lot of times, I dig until it’s totally decimated. Really, I’ve just turned something into nothing again. For this album, I utilized Cooper as kind of a guide. It was much more collaborative in that way, where he was like, “This is done.” Or, “Let’s push this further.” He gave me that foresight.
I don’t think you can finish a poem in the same way I don’t think you can finish a feeling, but I can find a tolerable place to pause. I am a very neurotic self-editor, and in this book in particular, because there’s so much personal vulnerability in it, I felt the need to shave the poems so I could account for almost every move or word or turn or line break. With the more formally experimental poems, I sometimes stumble when I read them, and I think that’s a good thing: I want that stumble; I wanted the poems to be rough and off-kilter. So I worked very hard to shape them into very tight, vibrating forms.
More from Curtis Sittenfeld
View profile →In my own life I think there are times when I’m not in the mood to write, but I don’t consider that to be writer’s block. If I really don’t want to enter my own book in progress, I’ll try to think about why and find a way around that. So I start from the beginning cleaning it up. Almost treat it like it’s a messy room and clean it up. Or if there’s a scene that I don’t want to write because it bums me out, maybe I’ll just work on a different scene and come back to it. Or I’m having trouble writing because I haven’t done enough research. So I go do the research. I try to troubleshoot, or figure out what the underlying reason is.
At first I’ll think of stuff in my head for a while. The more I think of an idea, the more promising it is— it just naturally occupies space in my brain. Then I start making notes with pen and paper. If it’s a story, it’s more like a moment, or just it’s kind of a more fleeting idea. And if it’s a novel, it’s something that I can see approaching in a lot of different ways, and sticking with for two or three years. I might write a scene or two and just kind of see how it feels. Then I will type an outline. That’s when I really feel like I have a path forward, even though I don’t feel like I have to stick to the outline, but it is very reassuring to me to have it.
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