I write in all three forms too. I would say if writing was like the Olympics, novels are the 100 metre pool, short stories are the diving pool, and poetry is the synchronised swimming.
I think writing generally is a bit of a solo sport, yes, but poetry's feeling different these days. The only time I am asked to read a poem is at a wedding or a funeral, when people seem to turn, collectively, to the desire to hear a poem touch on some of the usually unsayable things. It's different from reading a piece of prose aloud too - say an extract from a novel or a whole short story, if you're ever lucky enough to be asked to read a story aloud to a group of listeners. Usually, with prose, I'm conscious that I'm in my room silently writing and a reader somewhere out there, at some point in the future, is in their room silently reading - we sort of 'meet' only on the page. But I definitely feel something collective, and something synchronous, happen when a poem hits the air, especially at a funeral. It's a momentary sense of everybody taking a breath together, moving along the same lines together. Maybe it's because I get the sense there aren't as many people reading poetry silently to themselves in their room any more (they're certainly WRITING it there, but maybe not reading it, as a solo act?) that a poem now doesn't really feel finished till it's read aloud, in an attentive, attuned space where people are gathered together in "synchronised" meaning, whereas with prose, once it's on the page and out in the world, is kind of its own envoy, finding its own readers.
It's partly that, and partly something...temporal. I've been very interested in what you have to say about narrative prose, Toby, and how it needs to propel itself forward so we are reading on, seeing where it takes us (the daisy chain, the dominoes!). I have been thinking with poetry that it can achieve something different, making us just stop and dwell in a single spot for a minute, with no obligation to find a narrative thread, like an impression or snapshot of a singular shared feeling. Rather than moving us forward on a narrative path, it arrests us, makes us stop and recalibrate. This isn't true of all poetry, of course - and I love narrative poetry as much as I love narrative prose, and the way we can make it turn and push a story forward - and there's plenty of collective or 'co-creation' emotion in that experience for a reader, but yes, it does seem to magnify a moment in time a bit more, when there's a communal 'yes', if that can be shaped into words. Maybe I'm talking about something else here (spoken word? performance poetry? singing to the choir?) but I think it's closer to a song than a story, somehow.
As a short story, poetry and novel writer I find this a very effective way to view the various forms and their related endeavours. Perhaps the phrase 'It's the reader, stupid' should be wielded more openly and vigorously. Although I suspect the marketing folks might take umbrage at the additional effort of discovering who actually buys what.
Million Dollar Question (Ah, well, adjusted for the short story medium, and then factoring in exchange rates... 'The £6 Question' might be about right):
Toby, what's your favorite short story of your own creation?
Finally got around to reading "The Retreat" (agreed with Jon McGregor's comments - hard to pull off that 'ensemble cast' in a short story, but wow. Very much enjoyed the intermingling of humor and empathy here as well) – and I'm fascinated by the role that silence plays in both this and in 'Patience', that two of your own favorite works revolve around it. Written around the same time, more or less, yes? Did "The Retreat" stem from silent 'research' for 'Patience'? Curious!
Love this.
I write in all three forms too. I would say if writing was like the Olympics, novels are the 100 metre pool, short stories are the diving pool, and poetry is the synchronised swimming.
Interesting. Would you elaborate on the synchronised swimming? Isn't it a solo sport?
I think writing generally is a bit of a solo sport, yes, but poetry's feeling different these days. The only time I am asked to read a poem is at a wedding or a funeral, when people seem to turn, collectively, to the desire to hear a poem touch on some of the usually unsayable things. It's different from reading a piece of prose aloud too - say an extract from a novel or a whole short story, if you're ever lucky enough to be asked to read a story aloud to a group of listeners. Usually, with prose, I'm conscious that I'm in my room silently writing and a reader somewhere out there, at some point in the future, is in their room silently reading - we sort of 'meet' only on the page. But I definitely feel something collective, and something synchronous, happen when a poem hits the air, especially at a funeral. It's a momentary sense of everybody taking a breath together, moving along the same lines together. Maybe it's because I get the sense there aren't as many people reading poetry silently to themselves in their room any more (they're certainly WRITING it there, but maybe not reading it, as a solo act?) that a poem now doesn't really feel finished till it's read aloud, in an attentive, attuned space where people are gathered together in "synchronised" meaning, whereas with prose, once it's on the page and out in the world, is kind of its own envoy, finding its own readers.
That's very interesting. You're aware that the poem must express a collective emotion, then.
It's partly that, and partly something...temporal. I've been very interested in what you have to say about narrative prose, Toby, and how it needs to propel itself forward so we are reading on, seeing where it takes us (the daisy chain, the dominoes!). I have been thinking with poetry that it can achieve something different, making us just stop and dwell in a single spot for a minute, with no obligation to find a narrative thread, like an impression or snapshot of a singular shared feeling. Rather than moving us forward on a narrative path, it arrests us, makes us stop and recalibrate. This isn't true of all poetry, of course - and I love narrative poetry as much as I love narrative prose, and the way we can make it turn and push a story forward - and there's plenty of collective or 'co-creation' emotion in that experience for a reader, but yes, it does seem to magnify a moment in time a bit more, when there's a communal 'yes', if that can be shaped into words. Maybe I'm talking about something else here (spoken word? performance poetry? singing to the choir?) but I think it's closer to a song than a story, somehow.
As a short story, poetry and novel writer I find this a very effective way to view the various forms and their related endeavours. Perhaps the phrase 'It's the reader, stupid' should be wielded more openly and vigorously. Although I suspect the marketing folks might take umbrage at the additional effort of discovering who actually buys what.
Million Dollar Question (Ah, well, adjusted for the short story medium, and then factoring in exchange rates... 'The £6 Question' might be about right):
Toby, what's your favorite short story of your own creation?
You've made me think. Thanks for asking. I haven't really considered this. My favourite thing of all is 'Patience', my novel. Of the stories, I'm less sure. Perhaps still 'The Hare', which was in the Granta anthology. But I enjoyed writing 'The Retreat.' That's there - https://www.shortfictionjournal.co.uk/post/2020-short-fiction-university-of-essex-prize-winner-the-retreat-toby-litt
Finally got around to reading "The Retreat" (agreed with Jon McGregor's comments - hard to pull off that 'ensemble cast' in a short story, but wow. Very much enjoyed the intermingling of humor and empathy here as well) – and I'm fascinated by the role that silence plays in both this and in 'Patience', that two of your own favorite works revolve around it. Written around the same time, more or less, yes? Did "The Retreat" stem from silent 'research' for 'Patience'? Curious!