But I can’t talk about it yet. ARRR! Want to talk about it!

I have been a fiend on the music blogs recently and have been richly rewarded for it. I am listening to some great music. “Buildings & Mountains” by The Republic Tigers has been the best of the lot so far. (I’d credit the blog where I found it but I can’t seem to find which blog right now.)

I got a new laser printer and paper cutter for Christmas. To top it off, my new Bostich long-arm stapler arrived this week. I love my Swingline, don’t get me wrong, but I am hella looking forward to the sliding red guidebar which will give me a more accurate length on each sheet of paper. I get excited about these things. It’s a sickness, yes, but it’s a sickness I use to make magazines for you. You should subscribe.

Congratulations to Deborah Ager and 32 Poems– one of the poems they published this year will be in Best American Poetry.

Everyone and his brother has started a game of Scrabulous with me lately. I cannot possibly keep up with them all. But I will try. Just don’t expect much play during work hours, OK? I really have to get some work done.

I have not titled entries in this blog for a long time. I have not been titling my own poems well, either. So, since today is a writing day focused on annotations, I’m going to distract myself with some thoughts on the Science of Titles. Keep in mind that the advice which follows is written by someone who struggles mightily with titles.

Your poem’s title is like the first jab in a boxing match– you don’t have to knock the reader out, but you had better establish yourself as a formidable presence in the ring. A poem which is sharp, precise, and economical deserves a title to match. Sloppy, awkward, and abstract titles always raise the hairs on the back of my neck. Tight, concrete titles that locate me immediately in what is happening in the poem make me happy.

If there’s a clunky detail in your first stanza, it might be information that could be better conveyed to the reader in the title. Excess narrative information in the body of a poem, particularly early, irritates me– because they suck the poetry out of the poem. Titles that convey that information in a plain style remove the burden of exposition. Specific dates, locations, or people show up in titles for this reason.

Nobody wants to be told what to feel. People want the emotional stakes of the poem to be earned. So, if the poem is titled “Happiness” and goes on to describe happiness, that’s pretty lame. If the poem is titled “Happiness” and goes on to challenge the reader’s perception of happiness, carry on.

Don’t make every title the same. Pearl Jam’s first album has eleven songs, right? But take a look at the track list, and it’s mind-numbingly similar. When titling a poem, look at your related work, and see if you have any nasty habits when titling. If you find that every title is one word, or includes the setting of the poem, or is a borrowed line from Plath, vary it up. (It’s worth noting that, if you are looking at manuscript shapes, and you find a conscious and strongly patterned repetitive urge, that’s worth exploring. You may not want to ditch it too soon.)

A simple title can plug your poem into a much larger tradition very quickly. “Aubade” or “Alba” says a lot. (A funny aside– Wikipedia lists Eagle Eye Cherry’s crappy song “Save Tonight” as a modern example of aubade. Apparently, aside from one Philip Larkin poem, there are no other possible examples. This is what I get for being so fascinated with Wikipedia.)

Don’t telegraph the end of the poem in the title. I hate to be the guy who gives examples from his own work, but here’s one: if you’re going to have the speaker disappear at the end of the poem, a title like “Disappearing Act” or “The Vanishing” might announce your intention a little too much.

Great! Now that we’ve had this discussion, I hope never to see poems with titles like “My Mother Washes the Dishes, Folds the Laundry, and Loves Us Unconditionally” or “Childhood” ever again. At least not from the likes of you.

So what’s wrong with this entry? Check out that title! All the information within is repeated in the first couple lines of the blog post! It’s clunky and tiresome. It personalizes the entry, which isn’t mean to be entirely personalized.

What would a better title be? Comments are open!

Around this time of year, everyone you know is going to AWP. If you are not going to AWP, you are made to feel that you are left out of something that’s going to be terrific beyond measure. (Improvisers, this is the literati equivalent of the DCM.) The feeling that you’re going to miss something terrific is compounded each time you are asked “Will you be at AWP?” and you have to answer in the negative. You include, each time, affirmation that you will go to future AWPs, and that you would go to this one if you had the means to do so. But you know, you just know, that you are missing the greatest AWP in history. No other AWP will ever be this AWP. You are a fool to miss it.

Courtesy Wade:

I feel bad for you son.

I do not feel bad for you son.

Annoyances:

• haterade
• the possible end of Scrabulous
• factioning
• my own laziest impulses
• computer crashes
• missing AWP
• haterade, with regards to AWP
• haterade, with regards to MFA programs

Bright spots:

• correspondences with friends all over the world
• Mixtape Champions
• birthday parties
• blog commenters

People who reheat seafood in an office microwave– don’t you think there’s something wrong with them?