On Games [by Lauren Hilger]

In writing poetry, I’ve found that occupying three different positions is important: cold editor, kind tutor, and just a writer. In looking at my poems as a cold editor, I’m impartial, ruthless, determined. Cold editor is necessary at the end but not before. That role can’t be assumed too soon. Before then, if I’m writing but stuck, holding back, or can’t get where I want by my current methods, I require the kind tutor, and have to act as one to myself and my writing. The kind tutor role offers opportunity through games; yes it's still me looking at the same drafts but changing perspective points out different routes, and doesn’t take it so seriously. 

When I think about doing the crossword, for instance, it never feels like my brain’s time-off so much as part of my brain resting, perhaps, while another tests itself. Trying games with your drafts or to generate writing is a way to see if something unexpected can open up. Braiding what you know with what you don’t. In play, a lot will be addressed. As such, today, I offer five votes for games:

1. Lower the stakes: If you’ve taken a class with me you’ve heard this. Beyond being my thesis as a teacher, I take this stance toward poems. I don’t think pressure allows me to write my best work. If I intend to write something meaningful or “good” the stakes can feel immobilizing. Frankly, it doesn’t matter if I've played this game before, it works. If I say to myself “this is an experiment; none of this will be seen; it doesn't matter; anything you do here is a win” I feel I can write more bravely. If I get there in the end, I don’t mind that I have to trick myself. Here, give this one a try: set a timer for two minutes and give yourself this constraint – try to write monosyllabically. It may be bad but that’s fine. Only up from here. You may find new ways to say what you mean. And I love low, brute words. We have the rest of our life for high Latinate multisyllabic choices. I like that this game forces us to regress verbally. Try it and get back to me. 

[Keats on light and shade]

2. Adding light to shade. A game: set a timer. For five minutes you have to address an individual, could be anyone, but write to them as if you are in the best mood possible. As if you’re feeling incredibly positive. What if you gave yourself this constraint every day for a week? Sometimes I feel like only what’s broken my heart is worthy of my words, so this exercise reminds me I can still write in a way that fights that. Even if you try to write only the good, the shade (what hurts) is still present, so see how much light you can get in.

3. Throw it away. Nothing’s that precious. No one has to see the pages you write from these games. It’s important to be reminded of that. Sometimes a piece can look too done too soon. These practices remind us that it’s beneficial to toss a lot and keep what matters. 

4. Just set a timer. Listen, it’s amazing what you can do in three minutes. This may not sound novel but I’m ALWAYS surprised by how long this amount of time can feel. I can never tell it’s that short. What this teaches me is I still have time to write even if I’m exhausted at the end of the day. Only thing is you can’t stop typing or moving your pen. Try to keep going. It’s brief! 

5. Reconsider Productivity: My earliest memories are of playing house, Jersey Shore arcade games, frog bog, carnival games, video games, and art was a game then too. We know play is important for developing brains – we are searching for limits as children. We learn to trust things if we see it isn’t so bad first, and games can teach us losing isn’t the end of the world. We could use that same attitude toward our work. A game: set a timer for two minutes and free write. Once it goes off, spend equal time writing without using any adjectives or adverbs. Timer goes off: now try to include a color in every line. The same color. Lastly, free write again with no constraints. How did it feel to go back to writing without any rules? How did the free writes vary? Did they feel different from one another? Which felt more free, the first or the last? All right, let’s say you got a few lines you can work with here, you won. If you hate what you wrote, guess what? You had to write through what’s obvious and boring first to get anywhere else. You’re a step closer. 

Comments

[Ursula Levin]

Excellent column. Thanks!

[annakarenina]

Interesting perspective on creativity!

[annakena]

This piece offers a refreshing perspective on creativity and playfulness in writing. It's like the rice purity test for our artistic endeavors—challenging us to explore our limits and embrace the unexpected!

[Wilhelm Reich]

Like many books
Dante's Inferno
depends on you.