A Few Honest Details

Hey, everyone! My name is Shaunie, but you can also call me Shaun if you like. Other than that, let's just jump into things.

My mother told me all while I was growing up that “actions speak louder than words.” She would say this whenever I apologized or told her I loved her after a bad fight, arguing that if I was truly sorry, I would change my patterns of behavior. I didn’t know at the time, but have come to realize upon growing older that this is the definition of integrity: when our actions match the sentences that fall from our lips.

It does no good to say I believe in tolerance if I myself do not get up in the morning to be tolerant – to say I value compassion if in my day-to-day routine I do not strive to be compassionate. So, yes, ironically, I am an English Writing major who was raised to believe actions are more valuable than any form of rhetoric. Why, then, am I studying writing? Why bother? Well, because the discipline is what allows me to challenge my values – my integrity. To constantly question if I am being honest, and if I really believe what I am rhapsodizing about at any given point in time. The feeling I get when I realize the words I have printed on a page are in allegiance with my soul – well, there is no better sense of peace or way to know myself. Good writing, I think, has integrity and rings true. That’s why it’s the business I’m in, and I think it’s also a big part of the reason readers are so often able to emotionally connect with verse.

And so, here is a little bit of what I can honesty about my upbringing. My hometown, Plattsburgh, is, like Canton, located in the North Country. I accredit this fact as the reason I had the kind of childhood you read about on the back of cute paperback novels. During the summertime I walked to my friends houses and rapped on their windows to get them outside. We used to go down to the Saranac River and swim in water that had no business being swum in, sneak downtown at hours of the night that probably shouldn’t have been safe, but never, that I know of, did any of us any harm – but may very well have made good gossip for the neighbors. And so, you see, as true as it is that I can’t count the number of times growing up that I have said I couldn’t wait to get away from Plattsburgh, New York, and as much as I still say it, I will always be thankful for the kind of adolescence it provided me; because of it, I definitely have some good stories to tell.

Aside from writing I enjoy long walks with no destination in mind, car rides with music blared and the windows rolled down, leisurely swimming, event planning, activism, philosophical conversations with strangers that become friends, and, of course, the journey that allows such a phenomenon to occur. I more elite language, I guess I am interested in all varieties of the human condition. People, more so than words, books, or anything else, are what I care about. We are here, in my opinion, to be kind to each other and “pay it forward.”

What I most hope to gain from taking Techniques of Poetry is to further learn how to write poems that seem to ring true and therefore prove powerful; how to use poetry as a concise way to eloquently tell a story that could otherwise be told with many more, but less potent words. Because poetry, shorter than prose, forces us to choose our language carefully, evaluating not only their denotative value, but their connotative value as well, again holding us accountable -- challenging us to be as clear as we can with language, which, though is an inherently imperfect form of communication, is the only one we have. Concision has always been a challenge for me, and my lack of skill at practicing it has always been the major criticism others apply to my writing, which has otherwise most often been called “strong.” That being said, I hope to be able to say a lot more with a lot fewer words by the end of the semester.

And last, but not least, the influences I draw from. When I think of my favorite poets I immediately think of a certain piece by Adrienne Rich, called “An Atlas from the Difficult World”, and, of one of its sections in particular:

“I know you are reading this poem as you pace beside the stove
warming milk, a crying child on your shoulder, a book in your
hand
because life is short and you too are thirsty.”

It’s difficult to articulate exactly what it is I love about those words, but I think my fondness for them has something to do a love for art and life that, to some, might at times seem self righteous, but to the artist, is interpreted purely as passion – as hunger, or thirst, and the need to fulfill it. That’s a big part of the reason I keep on writing.