New weekly feature - Write the Thing!
Hey there,
Welcome to August in the South, certified ring of Dante’s version of Hell* but also my birth month, so it ain’t all bad.
Last month I got to teach a weekly songwriting workshop at Night School Bar in Durham, where I also bartend and crib reading lists from every class to add to my already insurmountable “to be read” list. Teaching the workshop reminded me that I really love talking about process and looking at other folks’ writing for inspiration…and I don’t do it enough here. I know there are quite a few writers subscribed to this newsletter and we can always use some extra accountability and community.
So this month I’m introducing a new feature for this newsletter,
Write the Thing!
Every Thursday, I’ll be sharing a poem or the lyrics to a song I really like and discussing a bit about why I like it and what I find effective about the writing. At the end of the post, paid subscribers will also receive a writing prompt/exercise to try if they’d like to write something of their own. There will be a thread in the community chats also dedicated to Write the Thing for people who’d like to share the results of their prompt or just chat about writing process in general.
Without further ado, we’re starting off with a poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay. Millay is one of my favorites (Nancy Milford’s biography of her is wonderful. Check out Savage Beauty if enjoy biographies.)
[Side note: can someone please get Cate Blanchett to play Edna in a biopic? Thanks.]
Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published"The Concert"
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
No, I will go alone.
I will come back when it's over.
Yes, of course I love you.
No, it will not be long.
Why may you not come with me?—
You are too much my lover.
You would put yourself
Between me and song.
If I go alone,
Quiet and suavely clothed,
My body will die in its chair,
And over my head a flame,
A mind that is twice my own,
Will mark with icy mirth
The wise advance and retreat
Of armies without a country,
Storming a nameless gate,
Hurling terrible javelins down
From the shouting walls of a singing town
Where no women wait!
Armies clean of love and hate,
Marching lines of pitiless sound
Climbing hills to the sun and hurling
Golden spears to the ground!
Up the lines a silver runner
Bearing a banner whereon is scored
The milk and steel of a bloodless wound
Healed at length by the sword!
You and I have nothing to do with music.
We may not make of music a filigree frame,
Within which you and I,
Tenderly glad we came,
Sit smiling, hand in hand.
Come now, be content.
I will come back to you, I swear I will;
And you will know me still.
I shall be only a little taller
Than when I went.
Why do I love it?
First, can we take a deep breath together and enjoy how delightful that was? This remains deeply satisfying every time I read it.
Ok, on to some analysis…
The speaker has decided to attend a concert without a date, because she wants to fully experience the show sans the distraction of company. She fears they are “too much [her] lover” and would “put [themselves] between [her] and song.” As a musician, I enjoy the idea of an audience member who wants to immerse themselves in the show, of course…but I also relate as the speaker, knowing that love (especially new love) can sometimes distract from activities you hold close. If she goes on her own, her “body will die in its chair” - she can temporarily escape the world but also add to herself, gaining a “mind that is twice [her] own”. Millay assures her lover that this immersion in the show is important, not merely for entertainment, but for asserting her identity - to make herself feel more herself: “I shall be only a little taller/Than when I went.”
Milly often uses a kind-of iambic tetrameter** here, though that comes and goes. It feels like she is toying with form - getting close and then backing away from it. The sense of meter is more evident when reading out loud than on the page (I always recommend reading out loud when you can!)
I enjoy Millay’s rhyme choices here. The lines which rhyme are sometimes inconsistent, not always adhering to one rhyme scheme pattern and occasionally rhyming assonantly (primarily with vowels) rather than a “perfect” rhyme of the whole word. This makes her perfect rhymes stand out in a lovely way when they happen, leading to an especially pleasing final stanza “will/still, content/went”.
Her rhymes are most consistent when she is describing the concert, allowing the reader to feel hypnotized by the show as the speaker herself is…and then abruptly bringing us out of it to address the lover again with an unrhymed “You and I have nothing to do with music.” The line is jarring, as intended.
Millay masterfully captures the feeling of doing something on your own just because you enjoy it. As an avid cheerleader of solo dates, I find this poem equal parts comforting, reassuring, and thrilling. It makes me want to go to a restaurant on my own with a good book and order an appetizer only I would enjoy.
What do you think of this one? Had you read it before? If so, did you find anything new or surprising in it this time? Let me know!
Each week, all subscribers will have access to the week’s poem or song and my thoughts about it. Paid subscribers will find their first writing prompt below. If you’d like to join the Write the Thing community for access to weekly prompts and writer chat, I’d love to have you.
Thanks for reading. You’re the best.
Juliana
*when I woke up this morning it was already almost 90 degrees. Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch’intrate.
**That’s three “feet” of stressed and unstressed syllables, so a good example in this poem is the line “will mark my icy mirth” - da-DUM, da-DUM, da-DUM if you read it out loud to yourself. Don’t worry, nobody in the next cubicle will notice. Or if they do, you can share this lovely poem with them.
