Many Years Ago, in a Galaxy Far, Far Away
Delicate Sensibilities
For real poets, it’s more like carpentry
Once upon a time, I ran an online poetry workshop. This was around the same time I was naively talked into running an “adult writing workshop,” but that’s a story for another time.
My partner-in-crime (we’ll call him R____, since he’s probably still in the Witness Protection Program) and I were musing, one day, about how to help aspiring poets (as they all claimed to be aspiring poets) improve their craft, while protecting their delicate sensibilities. We did not want to squash their dreams or their poetic souls.
“Their poetry kinda sucks.” I’m not sure which of us said it first.
“It makes no sense,” we agreed.
“But how do we tell them?”
First, I consulted with a former professor of mine, someone I knew from experience gave ZERO fucks about anyone’s delicate feelings, and only cared about the work they were willing to put into the craft of writing. She is, or was, the editor of a prominent university poetry journal. We worked out a checklist of points to examine in order to give effective, constructive critique of poetry. Publishable poetry, like any other form of writing, involves work. It involves using all the…
