tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post765104207115321837..comments2023-10-03T11:41:21.191+01:00Comments on The Truth About Lies: Poetry as self-medicationJim Murdochhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12786388638146471193noreply@blogger.comBlogger25125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-83878940773085418712010-03-12T11:37:33.250+00:002010-03-12T11:37:33.250+00:00Thanks for the feedback, Jerry. I always knew this...Thanks for the feedback, <b>Jerry</b>. I always knew this would be a topic that would get people talking.<br /><br>Jim Murdochhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12786388638146471193noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-169578453933403072010-03-02T10:46:08.441+00:002010-03-02T10:46:08.441+00:00Now that's what I call a reply!
Thanks Jim. ...Now that's what I call a reply!<br /><br />Thanks Jim. :)Ken Armstronghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07775956557261111127noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-1211680481689763292010-03-01T11:24:40.564+00:002010-03-01T11:24:40.564+00:00Yeah.Dick, ‘Remember’, now where did that one come...Yeah.<b>Dick</b>, ‘Remember’, now where did that one come from? It’s an evocative little piece, isn’t it? It’s always nice when you read something you’ve written and it still pleases you. Can’t believe it’s a year old already. And as for the plug, you’re very welcome.<br /><br>Jim Murdochhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12786388638146471193noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-73315935279889517662010-02-28T23:14:38.186+00:002010-02-28T23:14:38.186+00:00Wonderfully discursive, but always en route as eve...Wonderfully discursive, but always en route as ever, Jim. I particularly liked 'Remember'. A very fine poem for this reader, even if it didn't self-medicate for the writer!<br /><br />And thanks for the buzz.Dickhttp://patteran.typepad.comnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-32798398782966232212010-02-28T11:34:17.550+00:002010-02-28T11:34:17.550+00:00Straight lines, eh, Ken? I have three poems that c...Straight lines, eh, <b>Ken</b>? I have three poems that contain the words “straight line”, once talking about time, once about love and this one, which opens:<br /><br /> <b>The Gospel According to Sweet William</b><br /><br /> What do you do when you've seen?<br /><br /> Look again. See more. It pays to be sure.<br /> Of course, three time's the charm,<br /> three points make a straight line<br /> and we all know where they lead.<br /><br />Yes, I know, the shortest distance between <i>two</i> points is a straight line but I had a maths teacher who said that it was better to have three – to be sure.<br /><br />I also have one poem with parallel lines in it.<br /><br />I do like straight lines. And right angles come to think of it.<br /><br>Jim Murdochhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12786388638146471193noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-40935811249320871672010-02-28T10:39:21.084+00:002010-02-28T10:39:21.084+00:00Great read Jim. Your own material stands out in t...Great read Jim. Your own material stands out in this piece - for God's sake don't ask me why, I dunno. :)<br /><br />Looking at your box within box doodle, I wondered - have you ever considered your relationship to the 'Straight Line'. It is something you seem to use in a number of ways.<br /><br />Knowing you, you've written a bloody treatise on it and, knowing me, I've read it. :)Ken Armstronghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07775956557261111127noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-50572208545726557452010-02-28T09:35:33.210+00:002010-02-28T09:35:33.210+00:00Yes, Dave, I’ve always wondered how much poetry I ...Yes, <b>Dave</b>, I’ve always wondered how much poetry I would read if I never wrote the stuff because, quite honestly, most of the poetry I read is by people like your good self. I have rarely gone out of my way to buy books of poetry. I’ve looked at hundreds but very few ever make it all the way to the checkout. But writing it, ah, now that’s different. <br /><br />Why poetry though? Why not just pick up a piece of paper and write down what’s bugging you without trying to be clever about it? I think it has to do with the essentially metaphorical nature of poetry. Even in my most stripped-down pieces there are metaphors at work. I honestly think that we could never think about higher matters without metaphors. Yes, there are millions of words, and new ones are being invented every day, but there are so many things for which there are no adequate words. When I wrote the ‘Drowning Man’ poems I was confused. I was going through a rough patch in my life. But ‘confused’ didn’t really cut it. I was emotionally drained. Yes, that’s a bit better. But it wasn’t until I write the first of those poems that the notion of drowning in emotions hit me. <i>That</i> made sense to me. I could have written thousands of words – I certainly <i>spoke</i> thousands of words to anyone who would listen to me but what I needed to do was distil those words into a handful that I could process and resolve. Hence the poems.<br /><br />And, <b>litrefs</b>, no great surprises there. The more I read about writers the more I realise what a screwed up bunch we are. I know most people are screwed up these days but being screwed up seems to be a prerequisite for the job. What puzzles me if that I didn’t come to writing sooner. I’ve read of so many writers who literally started to write as soon as they were big enough to hold a pencil. Not me though. <br /><br />“Exceptional,” you say? Most people would think that’s a good think – “an <i>exceptional</i> wine” – but really “exceptional” just means “deviating from the norm”. It’s normal not to write. Millions don’t. I know millions do or try to but we’re still a minority. In my day-to-day life I’m the only writer I’ve run across (bar one teacher) in fifty years! Now tell me that’s exceptional.<br /><br>Jim Murdochhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12786388638146471193noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-184672106471544822010-02-27T20:17:07.452+00:002010-02-27T20:17:07.452+00:00It's a bit chicken-and-egg though.
Yes, writin...It's a bit chicken-and-egg though.<br />Yes, writing can be therapeutic - e.g. "After being given either fiction or non-fiction from the New Yorker, those who read the fiction piece scored higher on a test of social reasoning" ("The Psychologist", V21 No12, p.1030-1).<br />But I think one might also claim that compared to the general reading public and even to other creative people, writers might have more need of these benefits - e.g. "Nancy Andreasen has tracked 30 students from the University of Iowa Writer's Workshop. 80% had mood disorders (30% is average amongst similar people who are non-writers). 43% had some degree of manic-depressive illness (10% is average). 2 committed suicide over the 15 years of the study" ("Psychology Today", April 1987).<br />Labelling oneself a writer can be a way to excuse one's social inadequacies - "Seizing on a traditional trope of the poet as exceptional individual, certain individuals receiving health-care who feel themselves to be exceptional apparently adopt poetic discourse as part of that role", (Fiona Sampson, in "Kicking Daffodils", 1997). <br /><br />http://litrefs.blogspot.com/2010/01/psychology-psychiatry-and-writers.html has more refs.Tim Lovehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00578925224900533603noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-30944726391212628772010-02-27T15:08:20.836+00:002010-02-27T15:08:20.836+00:00I have always thought poetry to be in some sense t...I have always thought poetry to be in some sense therapeutic for the writer. I doubt that was always so, but I am sure that in modern times it is. Art and music may also be to some and to some extent, but poetry I think most definitely so. It seems to me that that is one reason why more people are writing it than reading it. It is the perfect medium for grappling with inner conflicts. <br /><br />Your memory poem resonated with me and sent thoughts off on all kinds of tangents. I shall need to come back and read the post again - too much to take in in one go.Dave Kinghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08430484174826768488noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-22931364623515663052010-02-27T12:55:02.679+00:002010-02-27T12:55:02.679+00:00I don’t think there are any rules, Art, it’s just ...I don’t think there are any rules, <b>Art</b>, it’s just whatever works for you. I think we do have to consider intent. Why do we write? That the effect might be therapeutic is one thing, a bi-product. I’ve never thought about any of my writing as a way to get better but I do see it as a way to understand better. If I was drawn to autobiographical prose it might be different but I’m not. I know a lot of me goes into the writing and I have gained some insight into myself from the four novels especially but that was not the reason for writing them. <br /><br />You’re more comfortable with abstracts than I am. I want to translate everything into words even if those words are metaphors because there aren’t any words for what I’m trying to understand.<br /><br />And, <b>Elisabeth</b>, I think the whole idea of a shift in perspective is an interesting way to look at healing although I’m not sure how well that would sit with a physical ailment. In many respects writing for me is something to do when there’s nothing to do. The link I sent you earlier has some interesting thoughts in <a href="http://www.onfiction.ca/2010/02/painful-emotions-as-pleasurable-new.html" rel="nofollow">a recent post</a> talking about catharsis theory:<br /><br /><i>Emotions are at their core only bodily states of arousal, of readiness for fight or flight, etc. [...] The most controversial issue in catharsis theory is the attempt to answer the question of what to do with the energy and adrenaline that is aroused if you don’t fight or flee.</i><br /><br />A lot of the time I write about stuff that I can’t <i>do</i> anything about, getting old, losing my memory – I can’t fight and flight’s not an option either. So I write.<br /><br />I’ve read <i>Negotiating with the Dead</i> but I don’t remember much about it.<br /><br>Jim Murdochhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12786388638146471193noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-54965010404231986502010-02-27T10:38:40.128+00:002010-02-27T10:38:40.128+00:00I don’t know about poetry, Jim, but certainly the ...I don’t know about poetry, Jim, but certainly the idea of writing as having therapeutic value is commonly accepted these days. I tend to say that writing is not therapy, but writing can be therapeutic. <br /><br />Coincidentally, I’ve been reading Lousie DeSalvo’s book, ‘Writing as a Way of Healing’. One of her opening quotes is from Mark Doty who writes in ‘Heaven’s Coast: ‘What is healing, but a shift in perspective?’ <br /><br />To my way of thinking, it is this shift in perspective that writing enables, both in poetry and in prose, and which brings about the therapeutic benefits. <br /><br />Writing is enabling. It is, as you suggest, a way of getting out what’s inside of us, what torments us inside, onto the page where it changes. It offers us and our readers ‘a shift in perspective’. <br /><br />Our perception may be distorted but given that no one, not even ourselves, can have access to that inner self in all its thinking and detail, then no one can write the truth about themselves except as a fiction. As Margaret Atwood in ‘Negotiating with the Dead’ argues ‘The mere act of writing splits the self in two’. <br /><br />I think this creation of two and/or more personae is exhilarating and enabling for us as writers. To me this is the essence of the therapeutic. It brings about a change, however temporary, in our state of mind and we can build on that change if we’re lucky. <br /><br />This is a terrific post, Jim and one that bears revisiting. Thanks.Elisabethhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04015624747225433940noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-73930722353281070442010-02-27T09:47:11.948+00:002010-02-27T09:47:11.948+00:00In many ways I feel the opposite: my poetry always...In many ways I feel the opposite: my poetry always tells a lot of truth, while my prose tends to wear masks. For me prose is more about thinking, and poetry is more of a response to being. Perhaps that makes it more therapeutic, or at least cathartic and transformative. It is a tool, like other kinds of art I make, for finding out what exactly I'm thinking and feeling, and for expressing that to myself in a way that makes emotional if not always grammatical sense. I become less and less attached to the idea that my default response to life is, or must be, verbal and/or intellectual. Quite the opposite: somatic, sensual, aural.Art Durkeehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07463180236975988432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-30765033363145791902010-02-26T18:17:39.431+00:002010-02-26T18:17:39.431+00:00Kass, the dedications to my first two novels are a...<b>Kass</b>, the dedications to my first two novels are as follows:<br /><br /><i>Living with the Truth</i>:<br /><br />For my father<br />despite the fact he never finished it<br /><br /><i>Stranger than Fiction</i>:<br /><br />For my mother<br />who never read a word I wrote<br /><br>Jim Murdochhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12786388638146471193noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-66360830659073506742010-02-26T16:06:51.156+00:002010-02-26T16:06:51.156+00:00Jim - I would be very interested to read the 10 wo...Jim - I would be very interested to read the 10 word dedication to your mother from the book you sent Sorlil (as my days have been filled with mother-thoughts).Kasshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05233330248952156754noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-82323523288029489372010-02-26T14:47:37.515+00:002010-02-26T14:47:37.515+00:00I guess no treatment is a cure-all, Sorlil. I find...I guess no treatment is a cure-all, <b>Sorlil</b>. I find writing poetry very therapeutic. Not so much the prose. Prose takes too long. Poems have a very narrow focus. They deal with one problem, or part of a problem, at a time. Only occasionally do they “cure” anything. But a few have got under the skin and to the root of the problem. I remember when I wrote the ‘Drowning Man’ series of poems. The central image of a man drowning in emotions made so much sense to me. It didn’t solve my problems but it converted how I felt into words. It’s like being depressed – “depressed”, that single word, explains so much. Ask a kid how they are and they’ll say, “I don’t feel very well,” and that’s really not very helpful. Before I wrote the ‘Drowning Man’ poems all I knew what that I didn’t feel very well but that was it and I had no idea how to make myself feel better.<br /><br />Glad you’ve got the book. Take your time over it. Did you compare the two dedications by the way? The next one will be, “To my wife – who has read everything I’ve ever written,” or something close to that.<br /><br />Yeah, <b>Poet in Residence</b>, I think Bukowski might have appreciated that one. I don’t get angry very often but this poem is rooted in frustration because no matter how many poems I write, because of their nature, I never really solve anything. I treat one spot and others erupt elsewhere. I can see why Plath and Sexton did what they did. Not all treatment has to do with finding a cure though. I get a lot of back pain, much of it is muscular but some of it is “boneular” (our pet word for it). Rubbing brings me a lot of comfort but it’s not a cure. And the same with the poems. They make me feel better, if only for a wee while.<br /><br />At your leisure, <b>Elisabeth</b>. No doubt by then you’ll have a few interesting comments to think about too. I got <i>Words and Silk</i> a couple of days ago and Carrie and I watched it yesterday. Most enjoyable. Now I need to work out how to extract a couple of clips for my next post on him. I’ve done it before but it was a while ago and I’ve forgotten how.<br /><br />And, <b>McGuire</b>, I like the quote. I’ve wondered often what life must be like for people who don’t have a creative outlet. The mere thought of it makes me shudder. A lot of “life writing” is naval gazing but sometimes that’s all people are capable, looking at the obvious, stating the obvious. It’s only when you get bored with the obvious that you start to look under the skin. Where I began to improve as a poet was when I did my entire navel gazing off the page and only tried to write a poem when I had something worth saying. That’s when my output dropped dramatically but the quality improved immediately.<br /><br>Jim Murdochhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12786388638146471193noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-49614076546587073042010-02-26T11:35:45.144+00:002010-02-26T11:35:45.144+00:00Interesting subject, lots of recovering alcoholics...Interesting subject, lots of recovering alcoholics are encouraged to write to sort out their past, to overcome the carnage or waste of their 'dead' years. Some like 'life writing' i.e. not for literary success, but literally, to catalogue and record your life and its machinations. <br /><br />Other examples, writers in prison, who work through the thoughts, and what crimes they committed and why. <br /><br />Found this wee quote: 'Writing is a form of therapy; sometimes I wonder how all those, who do not write, compose, or paint can manage to escape the madness, the melancholia, the panic fear, which is inherent in a human condition.'<br /><br />Then many might say, it's the maladay of the middle classes, to be so neurotic and navel gazing, hard to kick pretense and gamble with new frontiers - so we settle for the quiet life and regret it. Thus comes theraphy. Hmmm, not sure I made sense, some thoughts anyway...McGuirehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03095242258892600138noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-89762850313441625142010-02-26T10:36:18.444+00:002010-02-26T10:36:18.444+00:00Hey Jim, it's late and I've just reached t...Hey Jim, it's late and I've just reached this blog which I want to read thoroughly and honour with some thought. <br /><br />Tomorrow I have a conference but after that I shall respond to yet another of your posts that looks to be 'right up my alley'.Elisabethhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04015624747225433940noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-73090582878446585502010-02-26T08:11:40.352+00:002010-02-26T08:11:40.352+00:00There's a lot to take in here. But first react...There's a lot to take in here. But first reaction; like your SHIT poem. I reckon your old friend Bukowski would manage a wry smile. He'd be proud to have written that.<br /><br />I think poetry as therapy is a proverbial two-edged sword. Yeah, Bukowski churned it out as a therapy. well and good.<br /><br />But on the other hand we have inevitable disasters like Plath.Gwil Whttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03305768121713053837noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-33839067763151692452010-02-26T01:17:12.149+00:002010-02-26T01:17:12.149+00:00Anne Sexton is probably the most famous poet who s...Anne Sexton is probably the most famous poet who started writing when her psychiatrist suggested it to her as a form of self-therapy. Despite turning into a successful and award winning poet she still committed suicide in the end...<br /><br />I don't write for therapeutic reasons but writing does keep me sane and emotionally balanced. I'm not entirely sure why that is, but on top of that, the total high I get from writing a poem that I'm happy with is unbeatable!<br /><br />Your book came in today, thankyou :) I read the dedication to your mother and was amazed at the emotional weight you managed to squeeze into those ten words, I thought about it all day.Marion McCreadyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04657757253873577465noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-23426025513228757192010-02-25T17:55:24.391+00:002010-02-25T17:55:24.391+00:00All I have to say to that, litrefs, is I can quite...All I have to say to that, <b>litrefs</b>, is I can quite any time I want to. Of course I can. I can stop right now if the mood took me, right in the middle of this sentence even . . . but it just so happens that I don't want to just now. Maybe tomorrow. Or the next day. I have a lot to say. You can't rush these things. Besides, people need a reason to stop writing. Just because they can isn't a good reason. I could jump of a cliff. I could. But just because I can doesn't mean I should. I mean there's no reason why I should stop writing. Is there? Huh?<br /><br>Jim Murdochhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12786388638146471193noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-70239293516839044142010-02-25T17:27:40.417+00:002010-02-25T17:27:40.417+00:00The other side of the coin is "Writing as Add...The other side of the coin is "Writing as Addiction" - <i>The person recognizes their excessive use of the substance, may have tried to reduce it but has been unable to do so</i> ... <i>Much of the person's time is spent in efforts to obtain the substance or recover from its effects</i> ... <i>Much of the person's time is spent in efforts to obtain the substance or recover from its effects</i> ... <i>the substance or behaviour tends to produce an initial affective state (euphoria) which is then followed by an opposing state (dysphoria)</i>. Then there are the risks of cross-addiction - music, films, etc. It's a tough life.Tim Lovehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00578925224900533603noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-68017783734100547172010-02-25T16:17:55.088+00:002010-02-25T16:17:55.088+00:00Glad you liked that bit, Willow. It made a good pu...Glad you liked that bit, <b>Willow</b>. It made a good punch line.<br /><br />It doesn’t have to be just poetry, <b>Ann</b>. There are plenty of sites online where people write about the various traumas they’ve been through or may still be going through. Writing helps, without a doubt. I just can’t see my doctor telling to go home and write a couple of poems and I’ll feel better in the morning.<br /><br />And, <b>Kass</b>, if you want the poem to be about you then that’s perfectly fine by me. You can adopt all my poems if you like as long as they have a good home. When I finish with a poem I’m truly finished with it. To be very honest if you want to print out a couple and tear them up then that’s fine by me. I write for me, the writing process is what <i>I</i> need. I’m not saying that I never read my own poems but they might as well be someone else’s by that time; all the thought and feeling that went into the piece has gone. I don’t remember writing ‘Remember’. When I read your comment I couldn’t remember which poem about memory I’d included in the article. Writing is an experience; a poem is a thing.<br /><br>Jim Murdochhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12786388638146471193noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-77243052135451195492010-02-25T15:06:33.929+00:002010-02-25T15:06:33.929+00:00I know reading and writing poetry makes me feel be...I know reading and writing poetry makes me feel better, but it's not immediate. I usually discover in retrospect that my life feels richer, more complete. That sounded sappy, but it's true.<br /><br />Your <i>Remember</i> poem really hit a chord for me. I didn't read it thinking the theme was about forgetfulness. I got very selfish about it and made it be about me. I think that's why we narcissists love poetry.Kasshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05233330248952156754noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-18746601366876792992010-02-25T14:16:08.829+00:002010-02-25T14:16:08.829+00:00Wow, you bring a some interesting point. I've ...Wow, you bring a some interesting point. I've never considered poetry as therapeutic probably because I've never understood it but you've caused me to see differently. I'm going to have to give some more thought to what you've said here.<br /><br />anAnn Elle Altmanhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02192162600274764681noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-77521848096728291992010-02-25T13:15:43.885+00:002010-02-25T13:15:43.885+00:00"the taste of youth gone off" jumped out..."the taste of youth gone off" jumped out and grabbed me. As always, excellent post, Jim.Tess Kincaidhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04889725786678984293noreply@blogger.com