Please tell us about the making of “still life with pedigree.”
This is a poem that formed around the last line of the first stanza (“do you really think / he’s like us”) and grew outward. I was interested in playing with white space and brackets to create pacing for the reader and also to explore the power of what is unsaid, and how we fill in the gaps to construct a narrative. The poem’s form evolved quite a bit over the course of revisions. Initially it comprised all short lines justified to the left, but when I brought this poem to my writing group, they helped me to think more critically about how to formally reflect what the poem is — a still life.
What does a typical writing session look like for you?
It’s 11:00 p.m., and I’m sitting on my couch, surrounded by my laptop and half-read books. I’ve been reading poetry and prose by various authors for the past couple of hours and now I’m ready to write. There’s a cup of hot tea (rooibos, peppermint, and turmeric ginger are my favorites for this time of day) on the floor by my side, and a bar of super-dark chocolate (80-85% cacao) within arm’s reach. If I don’t have to get up early in the morning, I’ll write and sip and eat chocolate until 12:30 or 1:00 a.m. I am most productive late at night, and my creativity thrives on ritual and routine. I tend to write my first drafts in a single sitting, but I have to design the right circumstances for them to emerge.
Name some influences on your writing that are not literary.
My work as a physician inspires me. It isn’t the subject matter, per se, but this job gives me access to fantastic vocabulary and a particular way of thinking about embodiment/bodily experience. The natural world and the sciences of biology and geology also deeply influence my work; the title of my first full-length collection is an esoteric geological term — orogeny. On the other hand, the new collection I’ve just written is based heavily on (family) history, and over the past couple of years, much of my writing has been inspired by history books, archives, and family stories. Taken together, I suppose it’s my curiosity that inspires me to write into these thematic rabbit holes.
The visual arts, music, and culinary arts also inspire me. I don’t write much ekphrasis, but experiencing other art forms helps me to imagine possibilities. I love to cook, usually without recipes, so the kitchen is another space where I get to be creative. Finally, exercise and yoga on a regular basis keep me balanced; without these practices, I don’t think I’d be as creative or productive a person.
What are you working on now?
I am currently seeking a home for my next book, a poetry collection about (family) histories of New Orleans Creole women of color. It’s a multigenerational story told through poems that are preoccupied with inheritance, migration, belonging, and the ways in which cycles of trauma are broken.
I’m also working on a set of poems that will probably coalesce into a third collection, although I’m trying to focus more on the poems as individual projects instead of the book as a whole. I spent so much time thinking about the family history book as a cohesive endeavor that I’m curious about how my writing might evolve if I don’t commit these new poems to a specific project just yet. I’ve been composing some memoiristic, creative nonfiction mini-essays as well, which might grow into a thing over the next few years.
Do you find prompts to be helpful?
It depends! I like prompts that are general rather than specific — maybe these are better termed “challenges” — i.e., to write a very long or very short poem, or to write a “deep image” poem. I struggle with more specific prompts because I don’t tend to enjoy writing from a place of proscription. I generally tend to eschew forms (unless I’m inventing the form) for the same reason.
Maybe it’s because so much of my working life as a physician involves protocols and guidelines, and so is highly formal in a way, and writing is a space where I get to play and invent things from scratch without consequence. That being said, I do want to try my hand at sonnets and sestinas and other forms I’ve been avoiding, because I suspect that kind of structural restraint will challenge me and ultimately strengthen my writing.
This is a poem that formed around the last line of the first stanza (“do you really think / he’s like us”) and grew outward. I was interested in playing with white space and brackets to create pacing for the reader and also to explore the power of what is unsaid, and how we fill in the gaps to construct a narrative. The poem’s form evolved quite a bit over the course of revisions. Initially it comprised all short lines justified to the left, but when I brought this poem to my writing group, they helped me to think more critically about how to formally reflect what the poem is — a still life.
What does a typical writing session look like for you?
It’s 11:00 p.m., and I’m sitting on my couch, surrounded by my laptop and half-read books. I’ve been reading poetry and prose by various authors for the past couple of hours and now I’m ready to write. There’s a cup of hot tea (rooibos, peppermint, and turmeric ginger are my favorites for this time of day) on the floor by my side, and a bar of super-dark chocolate (80-85% cacao) within arm’s reach. If I don’t have to get up early in the morning, I’ll write and sip and eat chocolate until 12:30 or 1:00 a.m. I am most productive late at night, and my creativity thrives on ritual and routine. I tend to write my first drafts in a single sitting, but I have to design the right circumstances for them to emerge.
Name some influences on your writing that are not literary.
My work as a physician inspires me. It isn’t the subject matter, per se, but this job gives me access to fantastic vocabulary and a particular way of thinking about embodiment/bodily experience. The natural world and the sciences of biology and geology also deeply influence my work; the title of my first full-length collection is an esoteric geological term — orogeny. On the other hand, the new collection I’ve just written is based heavily on (family) history, and over the past couple of years, much of my writing has been inspired by history books, archives, and family stories. Taken together, I suppose it’s my curiosity that inspires me to write into these thematic rabbit holes.
The visual arts, music, and culinary arts also inspire me. I don’t write much ekphrasis, but experiencing other art forms helps me to imagine possibilities. I love to cook, usually without recipes, so the kitchen is another space where I get to be creative. Finally, exercise and yoga on a regular basis keep me balanced; without these practices, I don’t think I’d be as creative or productive a person.
What are you working on now?
I am currently seeking a home for my next book, a poetry collection about (family) histories of New Orleans Creole women of color. It’s a multigenerational story told through poems that are preoccupied with inheritance, migration, belonging, and the ways in which cycles of trauma are broken.
I’m also working on a set of poems that will probably coalesce into a third collection, although I’m trying to focus more on the poems as individual projects instead of the book as a whole. I spent so much time thinking about the family history book as a cohesive endeavor that I’m curious about how my writing might evolve if I don’t commit these new poems to a specific project just yet. I’ve been composing some memoiristic, creative nonfiction mini-essays as well, which might grow into a thing over the next few years.
Do you find prompts to be helpful?
It depends! I like prompts that are general rather than specific — maybe these are better termed “challenges” — i.e., to write a very long or very short poem, or to write a “deep image” poem. I struggle with more specific prompts because I don’t tend to enjoy writing from a place of proscription. I generally tend to eschew forms (unless I’m inventing the form) for the same reason.
Maybe it’s because so much of my working life as a physician involves protocols and guidelines, and so is highly formal in a way, and writing is a space where I get to play and invent things from scratch without consequence. That being said, I do want to try my hand at sonnets and sestinas and other forms I’ve been avoiding, because I suspect that kind of structural restraint will challenge me and ultimately strengthen my writing.