“Lucky accidents seldom happen to writers who don’t work.” -Richard Hugo (The Triggering Town) A Brief Introduction I first wrote this essay years ago. I’m not exactly the same person as I was then. Still, I believe the advice in this piece remains rather on point. I’ve made a few minor adjustments and updates. What follows is a little journey that follows the memorable “on writing” books (or “writing self-help books” as I often have called them) that I was encouraged to read or stumbled upon over the course of my life… so far. Of course, no two writers like no two readers follow the same path. My hope is that reading a bit about my path will help you reflect on yours and spark ideas that are helpful for your future as a writer and literary citizen. High School: Two writing books were recommended to me in high school by a teacher. Natalie Goldberg’s Writing Down the Bones and Annie Dillard’s The Writing Life Both are excellent and both were helpful to me at the time. Writing Down the Bones seems to have had the overall greater impact as I solidified my desire to become a writer. * (Aside: Annie Dillard’s Pilgrim at Tinker Creek is exceptional. It won a Pulitzer for a reason.) College: Richard Hugo’s The Triggering Town. I didn’t read this as part of the curriculum. It became a part of my life because of my partner’s love of the poet Richard Hugo. It was only later I would learn that The Triggering Town is commonly taught in college creative writing classes and to MFA students. After College: It just so happened that Jane Hirschfield’s Nine Gates was both extremely popular and, also, (at least in my experience) always presented as “difficult” to access. I tried to access the text but, unsurprisingly, found it difficult and found little I was able to glean from it. A decade later, I would revisit this text only to wonder why: (a) it had to be presented as “difficult” (b) I had found it particularly difficult (as it did not seem so this time around) (c) others were so impressed. * There was a time when I, like many, assumed I was going to write fiction. Aside from listening to copious amounts of writing podcasts (special nod to Writing Excuses); clinging to Stephen King’s words in his seminal On Writing as I listened via audiobook on my drives from Northwest Philly to the suburbs for my day job at the detective agency; I was taken with Anne Lamott’s classic Bird by Bird . “Zen” is the word that comes to mind when I think about this book. It made me feel good to read and I subconsciously must have absorbed lots of good practices. (Note: I took a look at Bird by Bird again in 2023 and… I must have really absorbed it, I suppose, as there seemed very little for me left as I skimmed the pages.) Missteps: I was heavily steeped in lit theory in undergrad. I had read Harold Bloom’s The Anxiety of Influence and somehow thought it was a good idea to revisit this as a budding writer. Not entirely unrelated, my undergrad thesis involved Modernism (in American literature) and so I spent a great deal of time with the writings of Flannery O’Connor, William Faulkner, Sherwood Anderson, and Ernest Hemmingway. In turn, it seemed natural to gravitate towards Hemmingway’s On Writing book. I don’t know if I took much good away from it but I’m fairly certain it was not the voice I needed to hear from in the early days of finding my own path. Ditto A Moveable Feast. * I don’t know if the following should necessarily go under the category of mistakes; however, it is another instance of looking for influence in all the wrong places. We know it’s important to read broadly and diversely. When I read a Billy Collins poem, I feel like Billy and I have a lot in common. Maybe we do and maybe we don’t. For a time, reading Billy Collins simply made me feel ok when I was not feeling ok. And there’s certainly nothing wrong with that. On the other hand, when I picked up a copy of Tony Hoagland’s Real Sofistikashun: Essays on Poetry and Craft, I have a sense, in hindsight, that I was not being particularly vigilant in looking outside my bubble or seeking to challenge myself. While everyone else seemed to be getting their MFA: I read a fair amount of these on poetry books, or, as I’ve always liked to call them, poetry “self help” books. I never know what I’m looking for, what I know is that I need something that will provide a shot of enthusiasm about poetry. One book that I didn’t find particularly good so much as satisfying was Ben Lerner’s The Hatred of Poetry. I read Matthew Zapruder’s Why Poetry immediately after. Zapruder’s book is both far better, more useful, and is worth returning to. While others were getting their MFA, I found it enjoyable to read Glyn Maxwell’s On Poetry. There’s a lightness to this text that makes for a pleasant read. Maxwell also pokes fun at the classroom environment in a way that was satisfying while I was frankly feeling left out. Another feel good (with just a little schadenfreude) book to check out if you’re feeling left out of the whole MFA situation is Raymond P. Hammond’s Poetic Amusement. Beginners: There are some books that are recommended for beginners and, I suspect, that’s partly because if you read them later you’re unlikely to gain the benefits. Perhaps if I had read them as a beginner, it’s possible I would not have stayed a beginner for quite so long. An example of this is Mary Oliver’s A Poetry Handbook. Reading it more than a decade into my writing career felt unhelpful. Other unhelpful examples include, Robert Pinsky’s The Sounds of Poetry and William Stafford’s You Must Revise Your Life. And Ted Kooser’s The Poetry Home Repair Manual: Practical Advice for Beginning Poets. (Aside: I have been a longtime fan of Kooser’s poetry and his American Life in Poetry series now curated and hosted by Kwame Dawes). In More Recent Times: Among the best on poetry books I’ve read, and certainly one I wish I had read sooner, is Kim Addonizio’s Ordinary Genius: A Guide for the Poet Within. Relatedly, Addonizio’s book co-authored with Dorianne Laux, The Poet’s Companion, which offers a bunch of prompts for the poet who is both training themselves and also seeking to help others through classes or workshops. * A lesser-known text that I adore is David Bottom’s The Onion’s Dark Core published by Press 53. (Fun fact: I obtained this book as compensation for winning one of Prime Number Magazine’s 53-word story contests.) “People who say they sit down at their typewriters every morning at nine to write poems are suspicious to me. Most poems just don’t come that way.” (David Bottoms, The Onion’s Dark Core) * Another on writing book I long found enjoyable and useful (and stands the test of time!) is Ezra Pound’s ABC of Reading. (Fun fact: I’ve been told I [used to] look like a young Ezra.) * I have spent valuable time with James Longenbach’s The Art of the Poetic Line. * I highly recommend Rachel Zucker’s The Poetics of Wrongness. * Future: There are a host of “on writing” ‘books that I look forward to sitting with when the time seems right. I still need to sit down with Diane Lockward’s The Practicing Poet: Writing Beyond the Basics, The Strategic Poet: Honing the Craft, and The Crafty Poet: A Portable Workshop. I’ve long intended to sit with more of the Graywolf Press’ series of short books on poetics. This includes texts by Ellen Bryant Voigt, Dean Young, Carl Phillips, Mark Doty, Donald Revell, and other terrific poets and writers. * The real deal is to always be reading. Read broadly, read differently—don’t limit yourself to the canon or what seems “important” in the eyes of others. Inspiration is hidden all around us in our everyday lives.