Watsky

Q: You’ve said in previous interviews that you started writing poems at a pretty early age—what is it that attracted you to slam poetry initially?

A: I love slam poetry because I see it as a continuation of a tradition of vernacular poetry. It’s all about connecting to your audience, and I think we often lose sight of the fact that the Greeks and Shakespeare, as indecipherable as their work maybe to current mainstream readers, were writing pop poetry at the time. Slam poetry (at least the slam poetry I connect with) is not ashamed of its accessibility, but can have a great deal of craft despite its broad appeal.

Q: What was the greatest surprise for you in your most recent writing?

My writing gets less dogmatic every year. I pose more questions and answer less of them. It doesn’t lend itself to quite as dramatic conclusions. I used to really try to “stick the landing” with my poems, but I find that more and more I’m drawn to less tidy finales.

Q: You work in verse across a number of different mediums—where do the differences/difficulties lie in composing for the stage versus the page?

A: I’ve always told anyone who asked that I don’t consider myself a page poet. Certain tactics like repetition, shifting rhyme schemes and varying intensity don’t translate well to the page. Conversely, you can get away with a lot of nuance in print that you can’t in oral poetry, where a poet (in a live setting) gets one shot at engaging a listener as his/her words fly past them.

Q: You’re on the road quite a bit—in what ways has that affected your writing process?

A: I perform mostly at colleges, and I’ve sometimes resorted/chosen to riddle my poems with pop culture references. Shared experience is how we connect with an audience, whether it’s a broad, vague feeling, or a specific moment in time we all remember. Sometimes the latter is the easier way in.

Q: What writerly habit would you most like to break?

A: I would like to write with less pop culture references so my work will stand the test of time. Also, this might sound counter-intuitive, but I want to simplify my work further. I don’t want my metaphors to confuse anyone. I really want to write good, broad material. I think there is a lot of simple, profound material out there, and I strive for creative accessibility.

Q: What is your relationship with rejection like?

A: Rejection comes with the territory, and I’ve gotten pretty good dealing with it. I started doing poetry slams ten years ago. That’s a very direct competition, where either you win, or you don’t. Mostly I didn’t, sometimes I did. I’ve had successes that are visible, and many, many failures, rejections and crushing might-have-beens that no one sees. I’ve performed for audiences that didn’t like me and had wild opportunities dangled in front of me that for one reason or another never panned out. My work is my life’s project, and I see it as a slow and steady march, not something that will, or should, explode overnight. When something particularly disappointing happens I allow myself a couple days to wallow in self-pity, and then I do the only thing I have control over, which is to write more material.

Q: As a writer with a significant internet presence, what’s your take on self-publication via blogs, youtube, and twitter—is the audience for poetry much bigger than we sometimes imagine? Can poets use these resources more effectively than we are currently? 

A: YES. The potential audience for poetry is limitless. Rap is poetry. Country music lyrics are poetry. And an audience is capable of appreciating lyrics removed from their musical backing. Dr. Seuss, Shel Silverstein are widely beloved. I think this kind of breadth of audience is possible even without writing for kids. We all love poetry, whether we know it or not, and people just need to be initiated. However, I don’t think highly literate, academic poetry is ever going to connect with a huge national audience. The vast majority of Americans won’t understand your triple-entendre James Joyce reference, because the average American is watching Teen Mom and Jersey Shore, not reading the books on an MFA curriculum. I break from a lot of spoken word artists who believe writing should come organically from the soul and brain of the author; I believe in truthful writing, but I also believe strongly in identifying the audience one wants to connect with, and meeting them halfway.

Q: Name a writer who is currently making you jealous.

A: Kreayshawn. If you don’t know her, google her. 

Q: You’ve stated in a previous interview that you don’t consider yourself an activist per se, but you do feel artists have the power to affect change. What do you feel the poet’s responsibilies are in terms of making political statements? To what extent does exploring those issues in the vernacular and framing them within the specific day-to-day contexts of our lives increase their appeal?

A: I think a writer’s only responsibility is to honesty. I often find writing with one political agenda in mind to be grating and self-righteous. Poetry is like meditation—it encourages people to find pause, to think more deeply about our place in the world. And I believe that the more people delve into themselves and dig into their place in society, the more compassionate and open we will be.

Q: What is the question you wish people would ask about your work? 

A: “Where can I buy it?”

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