The Weekly Atticus (04/21/2018)

Recognize the Fortunate Accident | The Weekly Atticus

A recap of the week at Atticus Review, along with some extras.

Dear ,

In my writing, I am prone to throat clearing. A lot of writers are. The cleared throat, full of discursive digressions and unfortunate alliterations, nevertheless appreciates the sound of its own voice. The cleared throat will make itself sound more important than it actually is by repeating the existence of its central throat-clearedness, inventing important-sounding words or concepts in the process. Throat clearing can pollute an entire first paragraph. Or it can sometimes extend itself into two. Sometimes I've realized I'm throat-clearing as I'm writing and I'll stop. But I know I shouldn't do this. We should allow the throat to clear. First drafts, like shit, happen. You have to let them happen and accept them and not edit it out as you go. I know this, and yet I've had a harder and harder time stopping myself from stopping myself.I was reminded this week of the importance of first drafts and of throat clearing because I was a guest teacher for two sections of a high school creative writing class. I was brought in, in part, because I was a published author, and when you are one of those types, suddenly you are expected to know shit and have wisdoms, and so I was brought in to impart those wisdoms into these young minds. I'm not sure if the students found my presence helpful, but I found myself and my wisdoms quite beneficial to myself, as I heard myself saying things such as: "Don't let fear stop you from writing something you want to say." "Write the first draft even if it sucks...because it will suck." "The real writing takes place in the editing."Over the course of the classes we listened to some jazz music. We talked about play. About improvisation. We discussed the importance of form, but the equal importance of breaking it. We talked about how sometimes art is the result of a fortunate accident, and that the trick is to be able to recognize when one of those accidents occurs. Part of learning to write is learning how to detect the good things and scratch out the bad things.And that's pretty much it, I told them. That's pretty much all you do, to varying degrees of success or failure. Over and over and over again. In between, you acquire influences. We did a few exercises that focused on the process. The class did some free-association writing based off of a few lines of poetry. Then I had them go back and circle the potentially good stuff and scratch a line through the bad stuff.It was fun because it reminded me I needed to do that, too.I need throat-clearing, in part because I almost never know what I'm going to say until I've said it. I usually find the thing I'm wanting to say by saying a bunch of other things that eventually lead their way to it. And when I get to the said thing, I justify all the throat clearing I did as a necessary element of having arrived at it. And I'm tempted to keep it. But then, sadly, I'll scratch a line through it. Don't scratch any lines through the writing we have below. It deserves your eyes.Thanks for reading. We’re glad you’re here.

David OlimpioPublisher & Editor-in-Chief

THIS WEEK AT ATTICUS

FERAL TOWN by Adam Gustavson

FICTION: YOUR FEEDBACK IS IMPORTANT TO ME by Rebecca McGill"My sister installs a suggestion box in my back after I tell her I’m open to anything."READ ON

CNF: BUOYANT MATERIAL by Matt Muilenburg"The wine corks smell like sex. Like the game night a few years back when a friend dropped our youngest son on his head..."READ ON

MIXED MEDIA: THREE VIDEOPOEMS FROM MARIE CRAVENMarie Craven assembles short videos from poetry, music, voice, stills and moving images by various artists around the world.READ ON

2018 POETRY CONTEST RUNNERS-UP

I TELL ANNE SEXTON ABOUT MY UTERUSby Darla Himeles"Everyone in me was a birdthose months I’d palm my belly& hum down the lane"READ ON

YOU REMEMBER THISby Ian C. Williams"Maybe it’s the homesickness. Maybe it’s the acheof growing up. But here you are, feeling small."READ ON

BIRTHDAY POEMby Robin Myers"...There are bones that ache forever, eyes blotted out by nitricacid, groins sundered in childbirth,a woman I knew from sixth-grade typing classwho died after subsisting on black coffee for longer than the lifespan of a periodic cicada."READ ON

PASTA NIGHT WITHOUT DIAGNOSISby Chrissy Martin"I tell you the doctor still saysshe can’t find what’s wrong & you make a frown & eat a meatball."READ ON

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