Poet's block

"Many poets become "blocked" during the discovery of a poem. I have often been one of these blocked poets, stuck part way into a poem and unable to proceed for any number of reasons. Perhaps I have chosen a particularly attractive metaphor for my poem, but midway into the poem I have realized that the metaphor is inconsistent with my concept or actually contradicts my purposes. Occasionally I have discovered that what I thought my poem would say is not what it is really saying. My poem is not going to become the poem I sought. There are any number of ways in which a poet might be blocked, stumped or stuck while writing a poem.

How do we deal with this dead end? There is a sense of hopelessness that can overwhelm any poet who, prompted by a tremendous inspiration or idea, has sprung into action with pen or keyboard, then found that there simply is no way to continue. The euphoric inspiration that prompted the commencement of the poem makes the helplessness of being stuck even more profound.

Would we discard the discovery of a poem? How many potential poems have we left abandoned because although our initial inspiration was great, we simply could not see any way forward?

I think it's worth considering that our inspiration, our muse—even God—is using the dead end of our poem to prompt us in a different direction. A dead end is not supposed to make us lie down in the road and give up on our poem. We are not meant to shove the half discovered poem into the back of a drawer and strike it from our memory. A dead end can indicate not a termination, but a complete change of direction. As poets we dare not throw up our hands in despair at every difficulty our poetry encounters.

As God-inspired poets we recognize our inspiration, we have faith in the gift, we trust in the Giver and we look for another route to discovery. We do not discard our half-completed poems like poor starving orphan children just because we do not see any immediate way forward.

Let us keep this point in mind—and write it on the walls of our minds—being stuck or stumped or blocked in a poem is a gift the process of the poem brings to us. It ought not be the death of the poem. When we are stumped and see no way forward it's because we are likely headed the wrong direction.

Something Completely Different
The Discoveries author Alan P. Lightman's third commonality among great discoverers is that their discoveries came to them when they completely changed directions or thought about their problem in a new way. In the scientific world this change of direction could mean anything from discussing a problem with a scientist in a different field of science to having a dream in which a new way to proceed is revealed or hinted at.

The same principles apply to poets. When we are stumped by a poem, there are a thousand and one different ways in which to deal with the block. About the only way guaranteed to fail is smashing our heads against the blockage. When we do this we find ourselves writing and rewriting the same lines of our poem over and over, toying with words, toying even with punctuation.

What we need is something different. For every poet and every poem this "something different" may be unique. Perhaps we ought to see a movie which has absolutely nothing to do with our poem. Perhaps a visit to an art gallery will lead us to the solution. It's not impossible that discussing the poem with a friend could lead us to the answer. In fact, a person who does not understand your poem or what it's trying to say is just as likely to help you surmount your problem as a learned poet who knows exactly what you're trying to do.

In my case I have often found that listening to a sermon or a lecture that has nothing whatsoever to do with my poem will open a door to a new approach.

As Christian poets we must not discount prayer as a means God has provided to overcome our writing difficulties. I do not mean that we might expect God to divinely dictate or explain the way around our writing problem—though that is possible. What I mean is that when we turn to God and turn the problem over to him, he is able to have a free hand in directing us.

There is a sort of "giving up" on our poem that is okay: it's a giving up of our own preconceived notions of what our poetic discovery/creation will be! It's a surrender the poem, not only to divine God, but to our own subconscious mind which God can direct. This "giving up" on our poem assigns the problem to a different part of our mind where it can be dealt with more efficiently and creatively than we can possibly imagine.

The Conclusion
So here are the lessons we can take as poets from a book about 25 great scientific discoveries:
#1. Make sure we are prepared.
This means learning the skills, practicing them regularly, and having the tools at hand to accomplish the task. I consider minimal tools to be a good dictionary, a thesaurus and a collection of poetry books that we enjoy and aspire to emulate.
#2. View a problem as gift, not death.
This means we do not bang our heads futilely against the problem, but we understand that the problem is a sign to us that we need to change direction.
#3. Be alert for a novel solution.
This means we have open minds—not locked into a preconceived idea of where our poem is supposed to go. It means we are ready to take what seems unlikely as a solution and test it in faith."