Hey there all (however many people that may be), this is Tyler, once again breaking that poetic fourth wall to talk about some stuff I find important (i.e. fun).
This post is about style, as much as it applies to my poetry. I've already gone all formal with the sestina, so it's time to discuss my handling of my more commonly free-form writing. It's like my writing theory, but without all of the validating jargon or high-minded philosophy of "good" poets.
My theory of style comes from the practical tendencies of my writing: sketching what I see and journaling my perceptions into rambling free-verse vignettes. Most of my poems come from organic diatribes, and build themselves out of lists of perceptions, like diary entries about the things around me, and inside of my head. I write this way partially because A) I'm not terribly organized, and B) even if I've got writer's block, just by writing whatever comes into my head I can get out material and practice descriptive techniques without necessarily worrying about if the "poem" is "good". Often, something cool or useful will appear, if not the skeleton of a viable poem. This is why, if you have writer's block, my advice is to write anyway. It's important to take breaks if you're at an impasse, but practice is important too; you'll find that discovery occurs even when the muse isn't in the mood.
So, from this, comes a style I characterize as the "mundane". That's not to say I prefer boring things, or things that lack descriptive energy; I rather find that the "normal" (a misnomer, but useful for explanation) contains amazing qualities of universal humanity packed within the unique characteristics of personal experience. I liken it too Virginia Woolf's prose style, where everything that affects perception, from the hugely consequential to the smallest particle of light, is important and colors life, contains meaning. I try not to be so high-minded about it. It's the mundane, after-all; it's the soaring highs and the caked shit with which people deal.
Which brings me to my next step: disgust. Parts of "Tired Tyler" illustrate this best, but i want to say it here: I find the gross, or disgusting elements of life to be incredibly rich in descriptive power, and not in a sense of depression; the grotesque in life is there, all the time, a universal equalizer reminding us of our humanity, our organic bodies, and the freedom of imperfection that surrounds us. Did I mention how descriptive gross shit is? Nothing polarizes quite like the broken form of a partially decayed raccoon, it's intestines burst and trailed in the zig-zag impressions of the tires that killed it. We see these things, and we see them everyday. They are a part of our lives, yet we often ignore their power.
So, yeah, that's sort of the style I'm attempting to build right now. I phase in and out of it. My inspiration is partially due to a friend of mine (a quite talented playwright whose name I haven't asked permission to mention), and partly due to writers who exemplify the grotesqueries of the real. Sylvia Plath's anger and venom will always affect my writing, and the work of Patty Smith (both in and out of music) speaks to the style, as well as William Carlos Williams, a nod to Chuck Palahnuik, of course Virginia Woolf, Vladimir Nabokov, Thomas Pynchon (see "The Through-Trajectory") and many others. Thanks, and now to go write some poetry.
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