A Look Into Some Underrated Writing

With most of the heavy lifting for finalizing and publishing ‘Today, in Therapy’ behind me, I’ve had a lot more time to get back to what I really love: actually writing new stuff. In the near future I want to hash out some ideas of actual novels, but in the meantime I have been back to poetry.

With some of my poetry I aim to make a statement, and with some of it I aim to tell a story. Over the past few days and weeks I have noticed my writing shift, primarily to the latter of those. Most of my poetry has been a reflection back on my early life, especially as it relates to growing up in a very rural area in the Midwest. A good number of my most recent poems have been related to isolation and boredom. Some of it relates to stories of neighbors and friends. However, quite a bit of my writing has been about the dark underbelly of small town life.

A lot of my poems have narrated a shift from childhood to adulthood in the rural communities. I have especially enjoyed writing about the slow transition from the problems of the world seeming so far away, to the realization that they are right in our own backyards. Many of these poems have told stories about the fantastic neighbors I had when I was young, and about romping around all over the town. Many of these poems have also been about the violence, abuse, and drug problems that put a stain on almost every small community, especially in the Midwest.

Since most of my recent writing has followed the same vein, I wanted to find some similar writing from different writers. I like to take some inspiration from those whose writing is close to the same mood and tone as mine, and I also like to use their writing as a way to ensure that mine is unique enough to be interesting. My search was a somewhat unsuccessful one.

There are plenty of novels and poetry collections that fit the genre of ‘Southern Gothic’, but there were very few about ‘Midwest Gothic’. Now, on the surface these two things are very similar to each other, but there are enough major differences that ‘Midwest Gothic’ deserves its own spot on the bookshelf. While ‘Southern Gothic’ writing has roots in deep family traditions, slavery, and a unified identity, ‘Midwest Gothic’ really does not have these elements.

‘Midwest Gothic’ really is its own breed. There is a focus on isolation, community and family secrets, unexplainable events, and the exploration of what lies beneath the surface of seemingly normal things. There is, in contradiction to ‘Southern Gothic’, a struggle to even find  common identity.

I have found a handful of writers whose focus is on stories from the Midwest, and I have greatly enjoyed their work. In the future I will likely post a few book reviews from some of them. Still, I was left with the feeling that this style of writing is incredibly underrated, and underexplored. From a writer’s perspective, this has created an interesting opportunity as well as a unique challenge. I am able to explore this style and composition of writing at my own will, without bending to the set in stone dividing lines of the genre. At the same time there really is no reference point from which to start, but where would any of us be without a little creativity?

A couple of weeks ago I wrote a poem that really sparked this entire journey down the rabbit hole of Midwest Gothic poetry. It opened the door to what has, in three weeks, turned into well over thirty individual poems. That poem is The Corn Whispers.

The corn here whispers to you sometimes,

That’s what the neighbors told me once.

They were right.

But everyone knows about the corn.

They never did tell me about the other kinds of whispers in this town.

Whispers between neighbors 

Of gossip, old and new.

Whispers between the married preacher 

And the secretary he sticks his cock into

Every Monday when his wife is home with the kids.

Whispers between the “harmless” old man

And the little girls for whom he always bakes treats and goodies.

Whispers between the teens

Too scared to tell their parents that they got knocked up.

Whispers between the teacher and the bottle under his desk,

Or between the ruthlessly bullied kid,

And the gun inside of his backpack.

Nobody ever told me that the corn isn’t the only thing that whispers here.

Between my piqued interest in this sort of writing, and the lack of it available, the choice was a simple one to start working on a collection of stories and poems to share. It may be quite some time before anything is solidly ready to share, but I will give some teasers here and there. It won’t be the next book I publish either but keep your eyes open for ‘Cracks in the Sidewalk’.

-ST