2015 ALABAMA WRITERS CONCLAVE CONFERENCE University of South Alabama-Fairhope July 17-19, 2015 Hearing the Literary Voice in Speculative Poetry John C. Mannone What is Speculative Poetry? Especially after Hollywood promoted its brand of science fiction, fantasy and horror, a new term was coined to give more respect to the genre and science fiction writers no longer wanted there worked to be called scifi but rather sf. But the stigma of the scifi ghetto prevails. Especially after Hollywood promoted its brand of science fiction, fantasy and horror, a new term was coined to give more respect to the genre and science fiction writers no longer wanted there worked to be called scifi but rather sf. But the stigma of the scifi ghetto prevails. In my categorization, I consider science fiction, fantasy, surrealism, and the much broader, what if (I consider horror and humor as styles/tools applicable to all genres, including literary) In my categorization, I consider science fiction, fantasy, surrealism, and the much broader, what if (I consider horror and humor as styles/tools applicable to all genres, including literary) Modern Speculative Poetry Hard and soft science fiction and its subgenres like alien worlds, space/time travel, alternate history, apocalyptic, utopia/dystopia Hard and soft science fiction and its subgenres like alien worlds, space/time travel, alternate history, apocalyptic, utopia/dystopia Hi and low fantasy and its subgenres like magic, sword and sorcery, mythical creatures, weird Hi and low fantasy and its subgenres like magic, sword and sorcery, mythical creatures, weird Horror (as a genre): monsters, gothic, paranormal, supernatural, psychological Horror (as a genre): monsters, gothic, paranormal, supernatural, psychological Surrealism: dream world trumps logic, deeply symbolic, truth resides in the subconscious Surrealism: dream world trumps logic, deeply symbolic, truth resides in the subconscious Lifting SF into Literary Use of poetic words is not not enough, to be a poem, it must transcend those words. Use of poetic words is not not enough, to be a poem, it must transcend those words. Chopping up prose and arranging it to look like poetry is even worsestructure complements the content, not the other way around. Ted Kooser said you need more than story to lift an anecdote into poetry. Chopping up prose and arranging it to look like poetry is even worsestructure complements the content, not the other way around. Ted Kooser said you need more than story to lift an anecdote into poetry. Green Bank Telescope Beyond the Stars Standing alone in the silent hills, hands folded on the controls of a great radio telescope, I pray to hear what the heavens declare. My ear, lifted in reticulations of steel, presses its aluminum timpani to her bosom, the soft hiss of her breath like a kiss in the night. I touch her face, every smooth piece of sky, every wrinkle of starlight. I cannot see with my eyes but feel the Braille of her, with the tips of my fingers telescoping the dark, read her contours with oscilloscopes every jot and tittle that fabrics the heavens. I do not know how to hear her susurrations, but I cup my ear, point the antenna-stethoscope toward her heart. For a moment, I understand why Robert Frost would choose something like a star, but I plead beyond the stars. I feel her pulse, sense the cosmic echoes there, listening with my own heart. I hear the small still whispers. Mystic Nebula Jan 2014 Poetry much more than prose Its special and is the most effective vehicle for emotional impact and delivery. A poem is often charged with emotion and reveals something very important about us or our world. It is layered with different meanings, uses poetic devices (especially sensory details) and expresses, in a few words, what you need to say (not merely want to say). Words should be fresh and arranged with a re-enforcing structure; they must flow smoothly and with rhythm. Extinction Level Event Like looking down the barrel of a Browning thirty-ought-six, with just enough time for one supersonic thought, hot lead spiraling down the barrel, searing hope against the rifling. I peer through the scope aimed at heaven; the stars blur. I suppose airs dew dapples the silvered glass, glaring its wet light into my eyes. Even tears need a gram of dust to coalesce all their shimmers. Its funny how the deep space cold does that.. The hot-as-hell sun, desperate, intumesces against the gravity. I dont see Althaeseon anymore, now lost in its red swell. I remember holding you last night, you, hotter than that flare. I twinge at tomorrowyour red hair, and cries from Jupiters burning. What is left to be said? The triggering of frozen graveyards will resurrect a million comets each with its fusil tail drenching the universe, you, and me looking down the barrel, the long cold barrel with fire inside, flashing my last thought. Abyss & Apex Oct 2010 ( Apocalypse ) Our Sun will become a Red Giant in 5 billion years Physics & Poetry Physics always asks the big questions, even the ones we cannot answer, but Poetry always tries to answer them anyway. Poetry attempts to express the inexpressible. Elements of Poetry necessary for good genre poetry Languageleft-brainlogical Imageright-braincreative Musicright-brainlogical Structureleft-braincreative Language Compressed, fresh, sensory, textured, layered Image Symbolism, proxy for abstractions, enriched detail, metaphor, surrealism Music Rhythm and flow, meter, aural devices such as assonance, consonance, rhyme (internal/end), omanotopiea Structure Traditional forms, free verse, line breaks, verse breaks, white space, concrete verse, syntax (Recall the line breaks and enjambment in Extinction Level Event) Elements interconnect & re-enforce each other Form should serve function (not the other way around) Music may set mood/tone Image resolves abstraction (but so can other devices like personification, pathetic fallacy, etc.) Language works hand-in-hand with the other elements To lift genre into literary, the poem must matter To lift genre into literary, the poem must matter This is what I call literary depth (those other elements are essential for literary quality) This is what I call literary depth (those other elements are essential for literary quality) It answers the so what question It answers the so what question Often makes an emotional connection by making it personal (as opposed to an external/uninvolved observer Often makes an emotional connection by making it personal (as opposed to an external/uninvolved observer But says something bigger than self But says something bigger than self Literary poetry uses more than descriptive language Need more than a poetic description of nature when describing the sun, moon, stars (prose does that, but poetry does it more) Need more than a poetic description of nature when describing the sun, moon, stars (prose does that, but poetry does it more) Aside: the use of poetic words to describe nature is not a nature poem, but actually creative non fiction; the same with describing science The Lord of Flies It was a pleasure to burn. It was a special pleasure to see things eaten, to see things blackened and changed. Ray Bradbury They came in massive spaceships, bulbous discs rotating against the wind. Hovered over cities, extended tripod legs piercing the brown air, anchored asphalt with hook-like landing gearjust like viruses invading thin-skinned cells. Earth crumbled under weight of spaceship-turned-robots marauding streets. Lasers, greener than devils eyes, burned all in the way: tanks melted, airplanes flashed to plasma, soldiers vaporized. We didnt believe in the devil until we saw flies with horns, with the red-scaled skin of dragons; until we heard their voices buzz in our heads. Apocalypse Sonnet-like: 14 lines, volta in the last few lines answer the implied question of what are these invaders and whythey are not mere aliens, but perhaps supernatural/evil. No iambic pentameter but with non rhyming 9- syllable lines (on the average) and w/o regular meter. Note the ubiquitous hissing sounds, reminiscent of snakes (a symbol of evil) Workmanship Metaphor Poetry magic happens when we mix the elements (language, image, music, structure); the organic evolution of how this happens is still a mystery. This alone gives rise to potentially good genre poetry. Now infuse layers of meaning, give it literary depth. Are we not all made up of elements of matter that come together in a beautiful and complex way? But that isnt enough to make who we are. What about the heart, the soul, the intellect? It took a Creator to inspire those things. We are His workmanship (the Greek word is transliterated poiema !) We too are creators of poetry. Subterranean Poetics The river writhes through narrow chambers, crisscrossing into reticulation of arteries mapping the heart of earth. For a moment, Im smaller than a drop of that water dissolving through rock; smaller than a microbe propelling inexorably to the source of life, to the laughter of rain, to the brass-brilliant sun, to the hero of creation. Subprimal Poetry Art Dec 2014 My minimum requirements Clarity Clarity Rhythm Rhythm Depth Depth So how do we hear the literary voice in speculative poetry? First, speak to your speculative poems; they will learn, just as a mother bird speaks to her baby birds who will learn by imprinting, so too will your poems sing. And you will know their voice. My stories are hungry Man shall not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God Matthew 4:4 An earthquake ripped the thick mantle covering of my heart, I opened the book and fell into pages of history of the prophets and priests. I was devoured by the stories and I saw Adam and his lovely Eve in the Garden; no snakes just a couple of trees. One, a tall spruce with the scent of pure pinefragrance of prayer. The other, with golden quince, quaked and rattled in the wind, whispered promises. They heard the naked truth and that story swallowed them, too. My heart convulsed when I heard the devils laughter, when I saw the Evergreen shed its leaves to cover them. Before the storm, heaven had cracked and the sky spilled empty, without His voice. And the wind blew the book in my hands before I could see, but tasted each page. I ate it too; savor of a better promise seeped througha wet rainbow pressing on my tongue. I could not speak, but listened to the prophets. Every time they spoke, a scent of crushed pine sifted through their voices. Even Johns honey and locust wasnt as sweet, a bitterness settled at the same time and my heart started to melt as wax and my blood oozed like lava. Yet I was still hungry, and I ate more of the stories until I tasted the flesh of my own thoughts from a cup put to my lips for a moment, for only the briefest moment, before that scent of pine purged the vile dregs from my mouth. I did not want to eat that story. But the wind blew me with the pages to a place on a hill. The smell of pine heavier on my nose. There, the pages were stained and torn, I wept as I tried to read. I could not see the words, for my eyes were closed in the rain. A scarlet rain washing me and all the bitterness I had tasted. And when it was finished, the sky wasnt cracked anymore.