father/mother confessors of literary writers. Advice is given. Revisions are called for. This is a very important development which should do a great deal to improve the quality of Canadian writing, but it cannot take the place of that group of friends and fellow conspirators who used to demand revision and reconstruction before the work was sent out. The emphasis has been taken away from writing and put on publishing. I do firmly believe that what is important is writing the stuff, understanding what’s going on in your head, in the poem, in the poetry of your fellow workshoppers, in the literature of your time and language and place.
As a veteran of poetry groups and workshops, I feel that I am in a position to give a little practical advice to those just starting out. You’ll probably begin by calling up all the people you know of that write poetry and invite them to a meeting next Thursday at the public library. Well, experience has taught me that library space is not the best space for a poetry meeting. Still worse is university space. This is likely because the non-academic writers are intimidated by the learned surroundings, or they may feel, as I do, that Canadian poetry has suffered a great deal from the fact that so many of our poets are academics. What you want is a fair mix of ages, of interests, of backgrounds. Your own living room is probably the best place to meet; there your busdriver/waitress/doctor/grandmother poets can feel at home. Your professor/student poets will like it too. And when you get hungry or thirsty you are within easy reach of a pot of tea or a plate of cookies. Reading poetry is hungry and thirsty work, and it’s hell being caught in a bare room at the public library with only a water fountain between you and starvation, and with the disapproving faces of the Queen and Prince Philip staring down at you from an off-white wall.
The size of the group is important too. Three is a group, it’s true, but a better size is six to nine people. More than eight or nine will mean you’ll be at it until four in the morning if you want to give each poet a chance to read.
I have just a few more suggestions. The first is to avoid spite. Snide remarks won’t improve anyone’s poetry and may ruin your group. The second is to be gentle with newcomers and respect their shyness. You do not have to be dishonest to be kind. First tell the beginning poet what you like about her/his work, then explain how you think it could be improved. Next encourage the beginner to criticize your own work. Listen carefully; you are likely to learn something from a fresh, unbiased mind.
So much for the practical; and good luck with your poetry group when you’ve got it going.
I’d like to end on a more tentative note. In spite of enthusiasts like myself, poetry workshops are neither as easily organized nor as useful as they once were. Our way of looking at poetry is changing. Poetry itself is changing. The time of the spare bare poem is almost past. Poems are becoming longer, more complex, less personal. It is not enough any more to cut, cut, cut until only the bones of the poem remain. More diffuse and explanatory poetry is coming into vogue. This kind of work is much more difficult to criticize. It will be important to bring copies of work so that members may read it several times before they make their comments. As poems get longer groups will have to become smaller. They will then become less varied and perhaps less useful to the members. However, just because things are getting more difficult is no reason to give up workshopping our poetry. We shall just have to work harder at our comments and criticisms. For in the world of the complex ’80s poem we’ll need the help of our fellows more than ever.
(1981)
Excerpts from Prairie Mass
by Bob Haverluck and Anne Szumigalski
Editor’s note: Prairie Mass was performed three times in Anne’s lifetime, each time in Manitoba, with changes on each occasion.