In her excellent essay on creative non-fiction subgenres, "Meandering River," Sue William Silverman writes:
"In the lyric essay, as in the meditative essay, the writer is not constrained by a narrative of action; the movement is from image to image, not from event to event. Here, the psyche works more in the mode of poets who 'let what will stick to them like burrs where they walk in the fields,' to quote Robert Frost."
For those who feel compelled by the concept or act of meditation, the lyric essay form might also appeal. Driven, as it is, not "by a narrative of action" but by a focus on imagery, emotion, and an effort to capture "the ineffable," the lyric essay allows the writer to spend time focusing on a moment, a feeling, or a fleeting sensation rather than on fleshing out a scene or creating a narrative arc. GD Dess, in the Los Angeles Review of Books, characterizes the lyric essay form in this way:
"The lyric essay partakes of the poem in its density and shapeliness, its distillation of ideas and musicality of language. It partakes of the essay in its weight, in its overt desire to engage with facts, melding its allegiance to the actual with its passion for imaginative form."
As such, poets reading this post might especially appreciate the lyric style—Silverman adds that "one reason writers use this form is to explore the boundary between essay and lyric poetry." For examples of the lyric form, visit the Eastern Iowa Review's list, here. Or, find two lyric essays in Asymptote Journal by Chen Li that might inspire or appeal. Finally, here are a couple of samples at Brevity Magazine, Dinty Moore's beloved publication of brief creative non-fiction.
When it comes to the "lyric," the writer gives herself permission to focus not on a story, a narrative, or a linear scene, but on something she deems to be "ineffable."
You may be asking yourself: What the heck is Kate talking about now? Fair enough. The lyric form, after all, is asking you to take a creative risk here, since the word "ineffable" is, inherently, defined by that which cannot easily be named. So, you can't name the ineffable, but you can write around it, towards it, shaping it with your words as you get closer and closer to its center.
Consider these remarks about the word "ineffable," from the Merriam-Webster Dictionary:
'Every tone was a testimony against slavery, and a prayer to God for deliverance from chains. The hearing of those wild notes always depressed my spirit, and filled me with ineffable sadness," wrote Frederick Douglass in his autobiography. Reading Douglass's words, it's easy to see that ineffable means "indescribable" or "unspeakable." And when we break down the word to its Latin roots, it's easy to see how those meanings came about. "Ineffable" comes from "ineffabilis," which joins the prefix in-, meaning "not," with the adjective effabilis, meaning "capable of being expressed." "Effabilis" comes from "effari" ("to speak out"), which in turn comes from ex- and fari ("to speak").'
To embrace the lyric, I recommend you begin by taking a few deep and calming breaths. Shake your body out and allow your mind to loosen. Then, spend about one minute coming up with a theme for your lyric practice - something "ineffable." For example, perhaps you'd like to examine a moment that left you feeling a certain powerful—but ineffable—way. Perhaps you'd like to describe a snippet of a relationship that contains something ineffable. Maybe the politics of the day have an ineffable but pronounced effect on you - something you can't name, but are certain you can feel.
Don't think too much about the focus of your lyric approach; this is a low-stakes introduction to the form, and no one has to read the end product but you. This is your chance to practice, let yourself ease into a form that, for writers past, present, and future, is characteristically difficult to define.
No comments:
Post a Comment