World Class Poetry Blog

Conversation With Poet Bob Hicok
20 May 2008, the poet @ 9:46 pm

I got my Summer 2008 issue of Rattle today. As usual, I wasn’t disappointed.

After reading through some of the poems I turned to the back and read the interview with Bob Hicok, a poet I have grown to like a great deal. From time to time he writes something that I don’t care for, but I usually like what I read. There are times when I think he is a bit too conversational, but I forgive him. Nevertheless, I really enjoyed the interview and I discovered that he and I have a bit more in common than I expected.

There were a couple of things he said in the interview that really stuck out in my mind. One of them was this:

(But) one of the first things I say on the first day of class is, “Most of what you’re going to hear here is bad. Most of everything that will be coming at you will be criticism.” I tell people, “Begin with what is working for you, do not begin by saying what does not work for you, but if you have nothing that you like, nothing you think is working, don’t lie.” And I periodically remind them of this fact, and I tell them it’s this way for all of us, that most of what you try to write isn’t going to work, most of what you write, even if it works, it’s not going to be absorbed; people will probably not be interested in it, it’s just the nature of doing this, and that you have to proceed anyway.

He’s talking about teaching his creative writing class at Virginia Tech. Now what strikes me about this is he takes the time to point out right up front that there will be criticism. I do not recall my first poetry workshop instructor every mentioning that warning. But I do remember that there were some folks in my class - in the late 1980s - who were shocked to receive such criticism. You have to have a thick skin to be a writer and you have to be willing to accept that most of what you produce just isn’t worth publishing. Even the best writers end up not using the bulk of what they write because that’s just the way it is.

Non-writers don’t understand this. They think that somehow writers just sit and write and create and daydream and that there is no sweat involved. Either you have it or you don’t. But that’s like saying Olympic ice skaters just walk out on the ice on competition day and start skating. No preparation. Just a big gold medal at the end. No one ever achieves anything of note in any profession, whether it be writing, ice skating, or knitting, without putting in some hard work and if you aren’t willing to put in that hard work then you shouldn’t expect the rewards that come from producing great writing. A part of that hard work is the criticism you’ll get - many times from other writers - for work that isn’t up to par. Just live with it.

Another thing he said in his interview with Alan Fox was this:

I’m fortunate in that I’ve never really had to work at coming up with something once I sit down and get going. For whatever reason, I seem to just - I’m able to turn that on. I don’t really understand why. I generally don’t know what I’m going to write about. What draws me isn’t a particular subject matter, a particular poem, it’s the act itself. And I’ve come through writing so much to trust that something will show up. Whether that poem will be of value, whether it’s one I’ll keep or not, who knows, but something invariably shows up.

I can’t think of a time when I’ve had writer’s block. I’ve heard writers claim that they can’t think of anything to write about. It’s evidently a widespread problem enough that many writers have it. I don’t and never have. I just seem to be able to get in the groove. I have had times when I didn’t feel like writing, but I am always able to jump myself off and start writing anyway. I don’t have blocks. And for a poet like Bob Hicok who started so late in life (he started writing at 20 and talks about not having the slightest bit of interest in reading or writing as a child) to not have a problem writing things down is incredible. Most of us, I think, get the bug earlier in life. If you are like me and you started writing as a child as a way to make sense of the world and as an escape from the drudgery of life then writing is like second nature. But if you started writing as an adult, my sense is that you’d have to develop the habit, not just the writing habit, but also the thinking habit, and that’s a hard thing to start as an adult.

I found Hicok’s interview to be very rewarding reading. I think it helps to see where other poets and writers are coming from and to see what you can take from their own experiences to improve your own.

3 Comments a “Conversation With Poet Bob Hicok”

1. Jim Murdoch — May 21, 2008 @ 7:03 am
   

   I think one of the problems younger writers have is that they feel they everything they write should be world-changing and most of it is not. I think it’s very much like getting an alcoholic to admit he has a problem. There should be a Writers Anonymous – “Hello, my name is such-and-such and I write crap.” I used to write so much crap. Nowadays I don’t. I know when to stop. I suppose I could keep going for the sheer heck of it but I really don’t need the exercise like I used to.

   Writer’s block is an odd complaint. I believe, like depression, it manifests itself differently depending on who you are. I’ve suffered from it from time to time. To my mind writing is a product: if certain conditions are fulfilled then writing is produced, it is a natural result. There are times when my life was going through a bad patch when my mind wasn’t in a fit state to write anything.

   I’ve been depressed and it’s different. I wrote the first drafts of my first two novels whilst depressed. Just now I’m stuck on my fifth novel. I haven’t written a word for months. I’ve thought about it constantly and I have learned that I have a very long gestation period so I’m not worried. I’ve written stories and poems and blogs (they count too) in between and I know I’ll come back to it with a fresh head in time. This happened with my third novel. I had a gap of two years between Part One and the rest of the book.

2. the poet — May 21, 2008 @ 11:48 am
   

   You are right about young writers, Jim. I had that problem in my college days, but you get over it. Although, on the writing crap part …

   I probably write more crap now than I did then (in terms of percentage crap to material produced). I had so much to unleash in my 20s that much of it was good material. Now, I stretch myself to be compelling and I don’t know if it’s because what I tend to write is so familiar to me that it seems like it’s not fresh enough or if it truly isn’t fresh enough. Judging by reactions from others I’d say it’s likely the former, but one is usually not a very good judge of one’s own work. That’s why I tend to like workshops, but even then you run the risk of other workshoppers trying to rewrite your work the way they would write it and that’s not helpful either. On the whole, I think you have to learn your own tendencies and figure out what it takes to overcome them. It’s a lifelong process.

3. Tim Green — May 22, 2008 @ 4:03 am
   

   Hi Again–

   As I mentioned in my other comment, I came here after someone finding a link to your review of our review by Luna Park. Then I click on the main page and see another mention of the new issue. Really appreciate the attention.

   I really love the Hicok interview. More than any other poet I’ve known, I feel like we share the same kind of writing habits. I didn’t start writing until I was 20 or so, either, and like Bob, I never know where I’m going, just get into the right zone and go. Believe it or not I don’t have a copy of the issue here with me or I’d quote from it, but his process is my process, and it’s not the kind of thing most poets say, so it was very affirming to hear it coming from the mouth of one of my favorite poets.

   And as a poet, Bob just amazes me. A friend of mine and I were joking the other day that it seems he has a perpetual stream of poetry running through his head 24/7, and just stops periodically to transcribe. With his newer stuff, there’s almost not beginning or end, and he makes such leaps within each poem that it’s like they’re all slices of one long opus. I don’t know if there’s another poet like him.

   Tim

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