Please tell us about the making of “Newly Wed.”
“Newly Wed” comes from the section of my book set in 1910 in the Black town of Slocum, Texas. I had just read a book on African American history and there was a section where they talked about the majority black towns where there were middle/professional class black folks, doctors, teachers, etc., as well the working and impoverished class people that we see so frequently in photographs in grade school history books. I was taken by the idea of an insular independent Black town, and I wanted to write poems from the voices of folks in the town. “Newly Wed” came me asking what it would be like when people in the town married between classes. Particularly, I was imagining what the experience of a woman raised with middle class privilege, whose parents had expected her to become a teacher or wife to a professional, would be once she married a man living near poverty. I also was interested in what it must have been like to be a young bride back in 1910 when women, especially Black women, had so little space in the world. I imagined it must’ve been nerve racking to think you’re supposed to spend the rest of your life trying to keep some man happy. Essentially, “Newly Wed” comes from me trying to travel back through generations and figure out what it means to be and do and exist in a time that’s so different from our own.
What does a typical writing session look like for you?
My writing practice is pretty fluid in that I almost never write a poem from start to finish in the same location. I typically start a poem in a public place, usually a cafe, and I normally will flip through the notes on my phone where I keep any half-baked ideas I want to write about. Once I’ve decided on an idea, I normally pull out a notebook and write by hand as I look for a way into the poem. This part of the process is typically pretty frustrating for me because starting things (especially poems) is hard for me, and until I’ve found my first line, the poem can often feel shapeless and impossible. That said, the beginning of a poem and my entrance into the poem are not necessarily the same thing. There are plenty of times where I’ve found my entrance into the poem and I’ll get half way through the revision process and realize that the first line I have is actually not the beginning to the poem, and then I will start obsessively re-ordering everything. Finding my entrance into the poem is a big part of the process, though, because it lets me know what the line lengths, tone, and cadence of the poem will be.
Once I’ve found a way into the poem and have a few lines and some momentum going, I usually switch to working on my computer and will try to bang out a full draft or at least get to the turn in the poem before coming home.
Most of the real work of crafting and reorganizing and shaping the poem usually happens at home in my bed, usually between 8:00 p.m.-12:00 a.m. While at the coffee shop, I’m usually complaining to myself and on social media about how hard it is to start a poem. At this stage, I often become a little obsessive, like I can’t go to sleep or do anything else until the poem feels right.
Do you practice another form of art? If so, do you find that it competes with or complements your writing?
Sometimes I draw in my spare time, and I used to be in band when I was in high school, though I rarely play these days. When I do, though, I find that drawing and playing music can put me into a meditative/open head space that allows for poem ideas to happen.
Do you have any poems in mind that you would like to write, but you know they are not ready to be written yet?
Yes, I definitely do. I frequently have ideas for poems that I know I want to write, but also know I’m not the person/poet I need to be to write it yet. For instance, once in grad school when I was working on my first book, After Jubilee, I discovered this image of Laura Nelson, an African American woman who was lynched in the early 1900s. I knew as soon as I saw the picture that I wanted to write something about it, but I also knew that I couldn’t yet. I needed distance from the rawness of having just seen that image for the first time, and I needed the will to access that emotional space of memorializing a woman who was lynched alongside her son for trying to defend him. I didn’t write that poem until at least six months after having first seen the image. And then one day I sat down to write and reached for a poem, and that one came.
How do you approach revision?
Obsessively. I’m pretty bad at revising poems after they’ve sat for more than a month. But in the first three to seven days after writing the initial draft, I can easily come up with seven or eight different drafts/revisions of a poem. When I’m revising, I’m normally in my room, reading the poem aloud over and over again and changing things that don’t sound right and figuring out where I need to cut or add more. It’s strange, but sometimes I can literally feel in my body when some part isn’t working or needs to be cut, but I’ll occasionally be resistant to cutting a line or phrase because I like it so much. Inevitably, though, after reading the poem several times aloud and stumbling or grimacing over the awkward line, once I cut it, there’s this feeling of relief, like OMG, this feels so much better now.
I’m also a very big fan of writing in community. When I lived in Boston, I used to meet up with a group of poet friends to workshop poems once a month, and now that I’ve moved, I still send them my work. Whether I take their advice or not (and I usually do eventually), it’s good to have another set of eyes on a poem to confirm for me whether something is or is not working.
“Newly Wed” comes from the section of my book set in 1910 in the Black town of Slocum, Texas. I had just read a book on African American history and there was a section where they talked about the majority black towns where there were middle/professional class black folks, doctors, teachers, etc., as well the working and impoverished class people that we see so frequently in photographs in grade school history books. I was taken by the idea of an insular independent Black town, and I wanted to write poems from the voices of folks in the town. “Newly Wed” came me asking what it would be like when people in the town married between classes. Particularly, I was imagining what the experience of a woman raised with middle class privilege, whose parents had expected her to become a teacher or wife to a professional, would be once she married a man living near poverty. I also was interested in what it must have been like to be a young bride back in 1910 when women, especially Black women, had so little space in the world. I imagined it must’ve been nerve racking to think you’re supposed to spend the rest of your life trying to keep some man happy. Essentially, “Newly Wed” comes from me trying to travel back through generations and figure out what it means to be and do and exist in a time that’s so different from our own.
What does a typical writing session look like for you?
My writing practice is pretty fluid in that I almost never write a poem from start to finish in the same location. I typically start a poem in a public place, usually a cafe, and I normally will flip through the notes on my phone where I keep any half-baked ideas I want to write about. Once I’ve decided on an idea, I normally pull out a notebook and write by hand as I look for a way into the poem. This part of the process is typically pretty frustrating for me because starting things (especially poems) is hard for me, and until I’ve found my first line, the poem can often feel shapeless and impossible. That said, the beginning of a poem and my entrance into the poem are not necessarily the same thing. There are plenty of times where I’ve found my entrance into the poem and I’ll get half way through the revision process and realize that the first line I have is actually not the beginning to the poem, and then I will start obsessively re-ordering everything. Finding my entrance into the poem is a big part of the process, though, because it lets me know what the line lengths, tone, and cadence of the poem will be.
Once I’ve found a way into the poem and have a few lines and some momentum going, I usually switch to working on my computer and will try to bang out a full draft or at least get to the turn in the poem before coming home.
Most of the real work of crafting and reorganizing and shaping the poem usually happens at home in my bed, usually between 8:00 p.m.-12:00 a.m. While at the coffee shop, I’m usually complaining to myself and on social media about how hard it is to start a poem. At this stage, I often become a little obsessive, like I can’t go to sleep or do anything else until the poem feels right.
Do you practice another form of art? If so, do you find that it competes with or complements your writing?
Sometimes I draw in my spare time, and I used to be in band when I was in high school, though I rarely play these days. When I do, though, I find that drawing and playing music can put me into a meditative/open head space that allows for poem ideas to happen.
Do you have any poems in mind that you would like to write, but you know they are not ready to be written yet?
Yes, I definitely do. I frequently have ideas for poems that I know I want to write, but also know I’m not the person/poet I need to be to write it yet. For instance, once in grad school when I was working on my first book, After Jubilee, I discovered this image of Laura Nelson, an African American woman who was lynched in the early 1900s. I knew as soon as I saw the picture that I wanted to write something about it, but I also knew that I couldn’t yet. I needed distance from the rawness of having just seen that image for the first time, and I needed the will to access that emotional space of memorializing a woman who was lynched alongside her son for trying to defend him. I didn’t write that poem until at least six months after having first seen the image. And then one day I sat down to write and reached for a poem, and that one came.
How do you approach revision?
Obsessively. I’m pretty bad at revising poems after they’ve sat for more than a month. But in the first three to seven days after writing the initial draft, I can easily come up with seven or eight different drafts/revisions of a poem. When I’m revising, I’m normally in my room, reading the poem aloud over and over again and changing things that don’t sound right and figuring out where I need to cut or add more. It’s strange, but sometimes I can literally feel in my body when some part isn’t working or needs to be cut, but I’ll occasionally be resistant to cutting a line or phrase because I like it so much. Inevitably, though, after reading the poem several times aloud and stumbling or grimacing over the awkward line, once I cut it, there’s this feeling of relief, like OMG, this feels so much better now.
I’m also a very big fan of writing in community. When I lived in Boston, I used to meet up with a group of poet friends to workshop poems once a month, and now that I’ve moved, I still send them my work. Whether I take their advice or not (and I usually do eventually), it’s good to have another set of eyes on a poem to confirm for me whether something is or is not working.