Writing through the readers' eyes

This post is an extract from an email conversation I had with Henry Stead, which came about as a response to my poem Flight to the Imagination. Some of the early exchanges can be found at the foot of that poem. It got a bit silly to keep posting comments, and I thought this one was blogworthy.

When we write poetry, perhaps our primary concern should be how each word will look to the new reader at the expense of everything else. It's very hard to pretend you're not the author of a poem that you're writing and to look upon it with fresh eyes. But if you can, you have the freedom to depersonalise completely, and leave everything out of the poem that isn't 'affecting'. If you were to get really good at this, it would be like pressing buttons inside readers, making poetry happen in their hearts/minds/pricks/ bits at the instant of reading.

Certain words in a certain order will produce effects different to other words placed in other orders. Now I've always come to poetry with a desire to put myself into it. That's been my standard of 'rightness' for a long time. I tried to describe a sentiment using imagery and pretty phrases that evoke something close to the original feeling. With the new approach, there's no need for personal experience or indeed personal sentiment. You just have to be a wordsmith with a very clear idea of how people will react to certain words and phrasings.

Instead of telling a 'true' story of how you feel, which has it's merits, you can sacrifice this on the altar of effect. Meaning you can write about absolutely anything. Your experiences and feelings will however inform your word choice because your emotional intelligence will allow you to understand how readers will react to that word.

In essence, this is how poetry 'works' anyway, right? That explains why certain poems (and indeed much art and music) have more meaning at certain times in your life. As you say, people bring their own potential for poetry to texts. Some things will only resonate with some people based on what's going on inside their heads (in terms of experiences). I think the best poets tap into this potential for poetry, sometimes subconsciously, on a wide scale, or if you will, a fundamental level. Usually when we talk about a 'great' poet, we're talking about those who 'speak' to most people.

Possibly, members of culture are very similar. We will react in similar ways despite our different experience. The poets who are remembered don't divide; instead, they unite.

With Imagination the buttons I've identified are those that react to rhyme; when back clicks with black something should go crackle. When I spill into the next line but still make that line (vaguely) iambic, something should go crackle pop.

For me at least, this is quite a cool inversion. I feel a dose more humble. I feel it's not about me, but about 'them' - the reader.