Annie Dillard wrote, “How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.”

On the first of each month, Catching Days hosts a guest writer in the series, “How We Spend Our Days.”

Today, please welcome writer

DORSÍA SMITH SILVA

It’s early. The sun has not made a hint of an appearance, and there is not even a peep from the birds. I am not normally an early riser, but my sleeping patterns have been all over the place thanks to several weeks of heavy traveling. My body begins with a stretch, and my mind begins to absorb the quiet. It’s delightfully silent. No one else in my family is awake yet, which means I have uninterrupted time to write. I smile. In fact, I am practically giddy that I have this moment without my brain having to go into many different directions—professor, wife, mother, daughter, friend, and editor. It feels delicious that I only have to wear my writer hat without any pressure or guilt.

Before I settle into writing, I say a word of gratitude to the universe. I do not remember when I started this practice, but I feel calmer after I do it and my concentration is sharper. On this morning, I hear my stiff joints demanding more stretches as I ease into my favorite yoga poses: warrior, triangle, and downward facing dog. I go slowly and remember to exhale and keep my feet planted to the mat. I close my eyes and pretend that I am by the ocean. A breeze approaches. The palm tree leaves rustle. I release a gentle exhale and end with child’s pose. My body is warm, and my mind is ready to begin.

I head to my office to soak in the piles of books as inspiration. There are so many wonderful authors here on the bookshelves—Baldwin, Giovanni, Glück, Limón, Lourde—and the small pile I keep on my desk. I wonder what they would think of my unfinished poems sitting in several folders? They are remnants of my days of writing drafts by hand in pen—days when I would have to see words taking shape as poems on paper, before I would even think about typing them on a computer. After several situations of having the best idea for a poem and not finding a pen or piece of paper, I shifted to composing my drafts on my computer. Now, I type everything in the Notes app on my phone. I click the last note from yesterday and find long lists or what I call strings of words and phrases I like. There are also some reminders to try different poetic forms, such as the haibun and villanelle. I also discover some lines that have a certain appealing rhythm, a beautiful cadence with the great potential to be a part of a poem. I read these lines again. Yes, there is real beauty and power here. I count the lines—-eight! I give myself a pat on the back—what a good start!

My mind then races to wonder about the form of this poem. Will it be a sonnet? A modern sonnet without rhyme and fourteen lines? The poems of Diane Seuss come rushing to me, and I wonder if I should look for her books on my shelves. My mind then takes another turn, as it ponders the possibilities of the modern sonnet. What about a poem as a series of sections that have fourteen lines in each section? A poem that has different stanzas, but fourteen lines? A poem that begins with fourteen lines as a sonnet, but ends with less lines like as a tanku or haiku? A poem that is an erasure sonnet? What would that look like? Suddenly, I am thinking of Nicole Sealey and her pivotal erasure poems. More questions come quickly. How do I want to use the white space on the page? What if I stretched the poem across the entire page, something similar to what M. NourbeSe Philip captured in her poetry book Zong!? Hmmmm, I ponder. That would be something!

This internal conversation gives me the courage to take risks and experiment. If I do not like where this path is going, I tell myself, then I can rewind and try another form. No pressure, I remind myself. This is just a draft. I think all writers have a way of easing their doubts during the draft process. At a workshop I attended, the instructor said that we should, “Write like a drunk person and edit like a sober person.” I guess that means writers should just write something as a draft, and then revise the work with clarity and precision. Why self-sabotage ourselves by trying to achieve that perfect draft?

I send the eight lines from Notes to my computer, and then I read them aloud. I listen to the sounds. How do certain lines work or not work together? Which lines are too clunky? Which ones flutter on my tongue? I read them aloud again. I am sure that I look strange to the outside world, but how else can I know what sounds odd to my ears? I rearrange the lines and delete the cluttered words. As a friend would say, the poem is getting some meat and teeth. I can see it coming into its own and having a life. And isn’t this what all writers want?

Touches of light are now streaming through the windows. The first sounds of my neighbors’ dogs barking outside and the workers painting are filtering through the walls. My body is begging to move again, so I walk to the neighborhood park and saunter along the trails. I am surrounded in a world of dazzling colors and shapes—palm and flamboyant trees, beehive ginger, hibiscus, anthurium, and orchids that captivate my attention. They cluster by the park benches, as if to invite me to sit right by them and admire their beauty. I do until the sun beats on my scalp—a reminder to seek the comfort of shade at home.

The poem calls to me when I approach it on my computer. I think of the park and its universe of green and write several lines fairly quickly. I now have fifteen lines! At this point, I have a decent draft as sunlight spills into my office and my son asks for homemade pancakes. It’s time for my mama hat. The writer hat will be waiting for me with the next sunrise.

~

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THOSE SAME 3 NEW QUESTIONS…

1. What one word best describes your writing life?

• It is too difficult to reduce my writing life to one word! It’s hectic, beautiful, and fulfilling.

2. Is there a book you’ve read over and over again?

• There are many books that I constantly return to, such as Sister Outsider by Audre Lorde, The Poet X by Elizabeth Acevedo, and The Carrying by Ada Limón.

3. What is your strangest obsession or habit?

• I think I can be obsessive with certain parts of my writing, such as having doubts about the endings and word choices. I think most writers have these concerns. Perhaps, then this obsession is not strange at all.

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By DORSÍA SMITH SILVA

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—Other Writers in the Series—