I’ve been working with Julie and Howard (thanks guys!) on the sonnety thingies that leaked out of my fingers during NaPo and afterwards. It’s interesting to have somebody else look over your stuff, especially formal stuff, because neophytes like me don’t catch all the bits and pieces. Howard gave me some cool feedback on a number of them, specially some of the Lilys, which alerted me to some strange tics that turn up again and again. Have to go off and think about them, what was happening, because they can’t be accidental.
But Julie pointed out something completely obvious to which I was completely oblivious: that this poem, which I’ve been thinking of as my cat sonnet, actually has fifteen lines.
Well hell. I didn’t mean to do that. I thought I was writing a sonnet.
Lucky for me Julie also suggested a fix, which I’m probably going to play with. Why? Well, duh. Or maybe doh! would be more appropriate. Because I don’t yet know what I’m doing with the form, and so I’d rather stay within it till I do know what’s going on. Julie did tell me that there are people who write fifteen line sonnets, and I’ve seen them, as well as sonnets in tetrameter, and sonnets with irregular lines, and sonnets doing all kinds of unsonnety things, but I have no idea what the point is. As a reader, I could play round with it, some up with some ideas, and be able to justify them. But as a writer — hm.
What was most interesting to me, though, was how I had no idea I’d written fifteen lines. I was pretty sure I was writing fourteen.
This is what happens when you churn out a poem a day — or try to — before the clock strikes twelve.