We asked the poetry writers from our Paradox issue questions about the creative spaces that make their writing possible. They then answered those questions, delving into their ideal writing conditions, creative rituals, and inspiring musical and literary works. Read on to learn more about Kelly R. Samuels, author of “Harbinger I,” Olive Lambert, author of “[Memoriam],” and Harrison Hamm, author of “Numbskull.” Make sure to check out their work in Volume 11: PARADOX!
Kelly R. Samuels, author of “Harbinger I”
What is (are) your favorite creative ritual(s)? In other words, what habits/practices help you access your creativity?
I keep to a schedule when submitting and revising, but when writing a new piece, there is no ritual or habit. I will come across something—a phrase in an article or novel, light on a wall—and an idea will begin to percolate. It brews. Then, there’s a time when it works to put it down. It does need to be quiet, then. There needs to be a stretch of uninterrupted time to get the first draft down.
Where did you create your piece(s) for Vol. 11? Did your chosen spaces influence your work(s), and if so, how?
“Harbinger I” was written in my home office. That space didn’t influence the poem, but the space I had been in very much did. It was a day of being outside: walking along the river, in a park, in a cemetery, with all the connotations that come with those spaces, particularly the last.
What other media (music, movies, books, etc.) influenced your work(s) for Vol. 11?
Perhaps Ted Hughes’ poems, to a certain degree? He is referenced by the speaker.
What jumpstarts your creativity when you’re feeling blocked?
Being outside, away from an urban environment. Being near a large body of water, walking among trees. Too: art, most often paintings. Visiting a gallery or museum is always sure to spark a response.
What advice do you have for artists starting out in your medium?
Read! Read what has been written years ago. Read what is being written and published now. Pay attention to what other writers are doing that resonates with you. Take notes.
Olive Lambert, author of “[Memoriam]”
What is (are) your favorite creative ritual(s)? In other words, what habits/practices help you access your creativity?
I don’t have many set-in-stone rituals yet. I tend to work best in the evening or at night when I have coffee or some other fun drink with me plus some music playing that matches the vibe of what I’m working on. For me it’s less about accessing my creativity and more like waiting for the creativity to latch onto something. I find my creativity is always there and bubbling, but it doesn’t spit something concrete out until the moment is right.
Where did you create your piece(s) for Vol. 11? Did your chosen spaces influence your work(s), and if so, how?
I wrote my poem while sitting on my favorite chair in my living room. I don’t think it influenced the work in any way, but overall it was not an ideal work environment because of how I had to sit to balance my computer on my lap.
What other media (music, movies, books, etc.) influenced your work(s) for Vol. 11?
I’m very influenced by different cryptids and mythologies / folklore. I like rehashing creepy creatures and some of the oldest things humans have been scared by. I’m also particularly influenced by the tone and atmosphere created by writers like Carmen Maria Machado, Tamsyn Muir, and Edgar Allan Poe.
What jumpstarts your creativity when you’re feeling blocked?
Putting on music and working out. I find my creativity is blocked when my physical and mental health is lacking, so this is the easiest way to help out both. Also getting a little treat.
What advice do you have for artists starting out in your medium?
Don’t be afraid to write weird things!
Harrison Hamm, author of “Numbskull”
What is (are) your favorite creative ritual(s)? In other words, what habits/practices help you access your creativity?
I’m a simple writer: I water my houseplants. I go on long walks. I light some candles (lately: “Cowboy Kush” from Boy Smells). If it’s daytime, I watch light fall through the window. If it’s dark out, I try to imagine the night sky back in Tennessee where I’m from, since, ironically, there’s no stars in LA. I listen to music, sometimes a project-specific playlist or an album I’m hooked on. I like to keep the windows open to hear the birds and city traffic. I want to buzz with the world a bit. I’m always letting bugs in on accident. I don’t know how to surf, but I like to act like I can catch a wave this way. Some days I think I really can.
Where did you create your piece(s) for Vol. 11? Did your chosen spaces influence your work(s), and if so, how?
“Numbskull” was generated partially in the little apartment I share with my boyfriend and partially on night-walks around West Hollywood where we live. It’s been eight months here now, and there’s this intimacy about living together for the first time. Even if the world is on fire, there’s glitches in the hopelessness I can’t help but latch onto. When I write surrounded by these traces of our time with the world, I find myself at such ease, it’s disarming. Most of my life, I couldn’t get comfortable anywhere. But writing from the creature comfort of this new home created a push-pull between the usual chaos and this tenderness that I couldn’t ignore. In the midst of all this uncertainty, I can somehow sink into our gently-used couch and find something true. How cool is that? Plus, we’ve been keeping a plush gorilla named “Rilla” in our living space, so he kind-of showed up in the “gorilla glue” line.
What other media (music, movies, books, etc.) influenced your work(s) for Vol. 11?
Even if their touches ended up more lowkey, I wrote “Numbskull” while immersed in a few different albums and written texts that leave traces on the poem for me. In no particular order:
- Wednesday’s album Rat Saw God (“Hot Rotten Grass Smell”)
- Brand New’s album Science Fiction (“Same Logic / Teeth”)
- The EP boygenius by boygenius (“Salt in the Wound” & “Souvenir”)
- Richard Siken’s book of poems, Crush
- Sarah Maclay’s book of poems, Nightfall Marginalia
- Ocean Vuong’s poem “The Last Prom Queen in Antarctica” from Time is a Mother
What jumpstarts your creativity when you’re feeling blocked?
Well, the poem says “Here’s the psilocybin…” so infer what you will there. But as mentioned above, “Numbskull” was also written during my late-night walks around West Hollywood. Movement is often crucial in my creative process. It’s the only way I know how to get “unstuck” actually. Maybe it’s my Haruki Murakami “What I Talk About When I Talk About Running” complex, but I do find that the energy and clarity of inner voice required in writing are hugely sustained by the mental car wash of exerting the body. There’s all these mind-shuffling processes that come with somatic experiences: running, breathing, sleeping, dreaming… And a poem asks us to feel something on a deeply embodied level, so much so that it’s like the words clamber out from the hole in our own chests, bit-by-bit. Often, I’m oscillating between physically exhausting myself and resting in meditative idleness, noticing how my thoughts flick and flutter. When nothing’s flying, I shake the snow globe.
What advice do you have for artists starting out in your medium?
I’ve only been writing poetry for a couple years, so I still feel like I’m just starting out too. At university, I focused on screenwriting and academic writing, then lucked into two poetry workshops in my final year. However, I can say that reading widely and a little obsessively has benefitted my work. When I get really into a collection of poetry, the affair gets sort-of intense, and I’ll reread the same books over and over, going line-by-line, trying to unearth some new clues as to why and how the work made me feel such a way. Another way to think of the poet’s job is to get so open, you’re less a writer and more like a conduit, or a Ouija board, letting things manifest in their natural course (See: Sarah Maclay’s poem “Ouija”). Maybe it’s a bit mystic, but like Lana Del Rey said in an interview once, “I really do believe words are one of our last forms of magic,” and I sit with that a lot when writing.
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