EDITOR'S CORNER
Journeying into Language of the Heart
by Lori Romero
About four years ago, I discovered a quote by the wonderful poet, Jane Hirshfield, "Journey far enough in the terrain of language, it seems, and the heart will begin to speak." This quote stayed with me for days, and I wondered about my own journey as a writer. Do I go far enough and allow my heart to speak, or do I stop short? Is there something that will help me travel deeper toward the heart?
A year later, I had difficulty finding a way into a poem. I wanted to write about my parents' marriage before the slow metamorphosis of love had changed their experiences into a common reality; when their marriage was still a primitive force and hadn't rounded to an abstract notion. I churned out draft after draft, but nothing was working. The words just wouldn't take shape on the page. I found myself writing about my parents' lifestyle in general terms rather than using unique language to show what was happening. I soon relegated the poem to my slush pile, a hopeful little orphanage of dirty faces and mismatched clothes. Then, one day, as I was helping my father label and place some stray photos in an album, I discovered a picture of my mother that I hadn't previously seen. The snapshot, taken with my father's Brownie camera, stirred a strong feeling in me and words of the first stanza began to surface:
In the photo my mother wears
a Vandyke brown fox stole,
fastened by one long snout
biting the tail of the other,
nagging a constant circle,
doppelgangers chasing denouement.
As this stanza began to form, I returned to the poem in my slush pile and refined the ideas using active word choices and this image as my springboard into the rest of the piece. The last stanza evolved as a natural progression (see the complete poem in the Fall, 2005 issue of flashquake):
They face the camera, in front of their first home,
whose plaster facade barely conceals coiled wires
that sizzle and throb with high velocity
teeth tingling currents. Overloaded fuses
blow and lights pop like flashbulbs.
I found a way to show what I had only been able to tell before. I added details: specific, emotional memories and not generalities. I made the language more tactile and active; a "teeth tingling current" shows their passion rather than just saying they had a lot of conflict in their marriage. Photographs help me journey into those uncharted areas where the heart speaks, but everyone has a different method. Some writers start a poem with an image that is interesting to them. Others use a theme or a word or phrase to spark the piece. Each time I work on a new poem or story, I ask myself if I'm ready to take that expedition and find that voice. I may not always be successful, but I keep working at it.
The writers in this issue of flashquake have found that heart/mind connection. They've taken their own personal journey and allowed the heart to speak. For example, in Dawn Garisch's flash, "Digger," the original, vibrant language brings this story full circle. "The Hugger" by Robb Duffer uses taut, emphatic language to reveal painful truths. In Lisa Bradley's poem, "Scavengers," fresh, passionate language creates vivid imagery.
Each writer in this issue found a pathway to compelling work. And for me, it was an honor to hitch a ride.
Lori Romero currently resides in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Ms. Romero's first chapbook, Wall to Wall, was recently published by Finishing Line Press. Her short story, "Strange Saints," was a semifinalist in the Sherwood Anderson Fiction Award. Her poetry and short stories have been published in numerous journals and anthologies.