The second installment of my ongoing series of what I've taken to calling "influence poems" is done. I posted the results at an absurd hour this morning; the new poem is called "the Mercy Letter (and Its Frail Replies)" and was created using lyrics from the album [A->B: Life] by mewithoutYou. Credit to Aaron Weiss for his words, and also to Jacob Bannon for the lines penned for Converge's Jane Doe in the last piece I posted.
I've heard a number of different writers speak of not being creators as much as they were vessels through which some spirit moved; some use the name God to describe it, others call it an abstract artistic force...the thing is, I've always had a difficult time understanding how someone could willingly give up the credit for the work they produce. Ego is a bastard and it gets the best of me a lot...I wrote this, I made that, I I I I I I I I I I motherfuckers!
What an utterly unenlightened creature I am sometimes.
This project is doing major damage to that mindset, I'm afraid; I start out by taking someone else's words already, so from the start I can't legitimately take full credit for the end result. Even worse for my ego is the ensuing realization that these poems are taking on a life of their own, and it's not entirely due to my deliberate direction. Right before my eyes, I see words turn into phrases that my hands are writing but my mind had not anticipated composing. There are moments where it seems otherworldly, and I'm beginning to understand what those writers meant.
Ownership of your artwork is a weird thing to deal with...
I'm used to writing things that have a very specific and detailed meaning in my mind, but when I perform them or publish them in some fashion, I begin to here trickles of feedback from someone telling me how
a certain poem resonated with them because of __________ - a scenario that inevitable is far, far away from the one in my own world that inspired the words to begin with.
Maybe it's just easier to understand how your own interpretation could be so different if you attribute the work to some unknown, intangible force channeling through you...maybe it eases the confusion. Or maybe it's just my ego's attempts at self-preservation...
A week ago in Cleveland, I talked to Jake Bannon from Converge about my writing project, and about using his words in the inaugural episode. One of the things he said sticks with me - writing is a selfish thing. Many of us use it as cheap therapy, a way to expunge the wreckage and the trauma from the minefields inside our skulls. It's sobering, humbling, and amazing all at once
to realize that something so selfish could make an impact
on anyone but ourselves.
If I've ever made an impact with you, it wasn't by my own hands, but please believe that I am eternally grateful for the coincidence.
W.James
1982-XXXX
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