On the Merits of Borrowed Words: A Celebration of Blackout, Found, and Collage Poetry
Blackout, erasure, found, collage—these are all forms of poetry that find themselves through use of pre-written words. (For this post, I’ll use “found” as an umbrella term). While sometimes diminished as lesser literary forms—either due to their simplicity or to the oversaturation of underdeveloped, fake-deep snippets on social media (who can forget “sbeve”)—found word poetry is perfect for shy beginners and experienced authors alike. With the styles’ flexibility and inherent interconnection, found forms can prompt and challenge through restriction, add to cultural conversations through the selection of source material, and empower writers to be vulnerable.
From the very beginning of the creative process, found forms subvert writers’ block. Existent works fill intimidating blank pages, and limited vocabulary inspires a focus on theme. Once your brain adds the lens of found poetry to its toolbox, inspiration is everywhere! I am often inspired by words and phrases gathered from overheard conversations, flyers, articles, etc. I collect these snippets in my notes app for inspiration and future use.
One might also seek out inspiration more actively. In a writing class I took through local gem, The Loft Literary Center, the teaching artist directed us to browse magazines or web articles in search of odd and interesting headlines. By erasing one word at a time, we created evolving stories through increasingly sparse reinterpretations.
Caption: Note the crediting of the publication in the title. Even though I took a critical stance on the headline itself, I still need to acknowledge its origin.*
This method is perfect for warm ups or writer’s block. Simply flip through a magazine, scroll through your collection of quotes or new words, or keep your eyes peeled for potential inspiration as you go about your day.
You don’t have to just stumble into inspiration for these forms though. You might be looking to respond to a certain piece or to add your voice to an existing dialogue. You may select a piece whose themes compliment your own, or a piece you wish to engage with critically. In the example above (“Never Feel Hungry Again!”) I use erasure and repetition to criticize the unhealthy implications of the selected headline, such as the idea that hunger, a natural bodily process/signal, is the enemy. By repetition, the reader is led to turn the phrase over in their mind. With erasure, I cut filler words and use empty space to intensify focus on the words that remain. Together, the repeating and slowly deteriorating lines create a monotonous cycle of depletion, representing the possible effects of following ‘health’ fads that attempt to reduce the body instead of nourishing it. When “erased” words are still readable, whether lightly crossed out or removed gradually (as seen above), you as a writer are able to walk readers through your critical process such that they come upon your intended conclusion organically.
Finally, perhaps you want to share something personal, but writing out what happened in your own words feels too raw. Expressing your feelings through another’s words can provide a sense of protection. You didn’t need to say it; the words were already there. This emotional distance from the audience—or even from your own thoughts!—can be a powerful tool when starting to write about trauma and painful memories. You can have a voice without having to speak a word yourself.
You may have heard the idea that no art is truly original; I say, embrace it! Openly seek inspiration from the world and words around you! And next time you’re afraid to speak, or ready to engage, or just plain stuck, consider trying someone else’s words on for size.
*Important! A Note On Plagiarism: While this piece assumes good ethical practice on the part of the writer, it is important to respect the work of fellow writers by giving credit to the source of the words you use. As noted in an article on blackout & erasure forms in Writer’s Digest, your work should also be distinguished from plagiarism by being transformative. “There is a line to be drawn between erasure/blackout poems and plagiarism. If you’re not erasing more than 50% of the text, then I’d argue you’re not making enough critical decisions to create a new piece of art.” Remember, admitting to taking inspiration from the world and art around you does not make you less of an artist; in fact, giving credit to these sources builds your artistic credibility!
Meet the blogger:
Maxwell Lakso (or just Max, to those who know him) is a junior undergraduate at Hamline University with a major in Psychology and minor in Creative Writing. He has a soft spot for unique (and concise!) forms, clarity balanced with eloquence, and joy as rebellion. Maxwell writes poetry and creative nonfiction, and plans to someday put out a chapbook. He enjoys collecting strange and delightful words in an ever-expanding list in his notes app.
Roleplayers and Writers: Why So Many Writers Love Playing Tabletop RPGs
I got into Dungeons & Dragons because I was too scared to publish. Like many writers, I have a paralyzing fear of wide scrutiny, of my love and hard work being torn apart or rejected out of hand before an audience can even see it. Some of us have even experienced that first-hand and know the dull sting of a journal rejection or the pain of a draft covered in red marks. It’s a demoralizing experience, especially when the world of literary publishing seems so unapproachable. For many, like me, tabletop roleplaying games (TTRPGs) were the outlet they desperately needed.
There are a lot of misconceptions surrounding what a tabletop RPG is supposed to feel like. If you’re more familiar with them through play podcasts like Critical Role, Dropout’s Dimension 20, or Not Another D&D Podcast, you may perceive them as theatrical, a game for theater kids and actors to play out grandiose stories of fantasy and adventure. If you only know it from some scant references in popular media, like Stranger Things or Community, you might see it as a board game where you imagine the board. The truth, as well as the ultimate appeal of tabletop RPGs, lies between these two extremes. It’s a game that takes form entirely within the collective imagination of your table, and that collective fantasy is given structure by game mechanics. Nowhere is this dichotomy better represented than in the role of every table’s most vital member: the Dungeon Master, or DM (or Game Master—GM—for any game that isn’t D&D. Which, I’ve been told, do exist).
The DM’s role at the table is, essentially, to be the game for their players. They are the non-player characters (NPCs), the combat encounters, the roleplaying encounters; they are each and every element that creates a scenario for their players to interact with. This takes a substantial amount of time and effort, and, as one might expect, a lot of writing, and the enticing challenge of writing as a DM is that it’s an entirely different beast from penning your big fantasy novel.
Now, my experienced TTRPG players reading this may be bristling in recognition of the exact struggle I’m describing. All of us have heard or experienced one horror story about a DM who treats the table like an excerpt reading, using his NPCs like the main cast while you’re all left to spectate and bask in his storytelling skills. The rest of you may be a bit confused; isn’t my whole point that TTRPGs are supposed to be like writing a book? Isn’t the entire goal to make your players feel like they’re experiencing their own personal Lord of the Rings?
What these kinds of DMs don’t understand about these games is that they are, in fact, games. The stories we’re telling aren’t traditional narratives, showcasing our personal mastery of prose, character development, and subtext. Furthermore, it isn’t just us creating this story: it’s everyone who decided to sit down, grab a paper and pen, and roll some dice. TTRPGs aren’t just a game; they’re a collaborative storytelling project between you and your nerdiest friends. And since you have no expectation of audience, editors, or sales, that story can be anything you want.
That is what attracts writers like me to these games. These stories my players and I create together exist solely for us and our friends. The only scrutiny I’m beholden to as a writer is that of the people I care about most in the world. You may think that sounds almost cowardly, but in my mind, the reason I put pen to paper—why I can’t help but write—is that there is no greater act of self-fulfillment for us humans than creating. No matter what it is, we all have that drive inside us to bring something beautiful into this world. Maybe you want the whole world to see it, and I wish you luck. But for me, I’d be happy with just showing it to all my nerdy players.
Meet the blogger:
HUGH FLEMING is a third-year Honors student at Hamline University, a Direct Support Professional (DSP) for MTF Inc., an aspiring novelist, and a massive TTRPG fan. When he isn’t watching the cheesiest horror movies he can find, he’s writing his own, hoping one day to see his name on a hard-back cover.
Face Your Fears: Why You Don’t Need to Avoid the Horror Genre
How often do you find yourself perusing the horror section at the library or bookstore? When do you find yourself wanting to read something that disturbs and unsettles you? Unless you’re like me, with a sick desire to be forever scarred by the literature I consume, the answer is probably “not often.” And why is that?
A lot of us only find ourselves dusting off our spooky stories and checking out horror novels around Halloween—which makes sense. Autumn is the perfect time of year to get lost in a good, creepy book, thanks to the nights getting longer and the air getting chillier. Pair that with the obvious—Halloween, and its spirit of fright and darkness—it feels like the universe is telling you it’s time to get scared. So why wouldn’t you crack open that Stephen King book, or your favorite collection of horror stories?
As much as I would love to ramble forever about my love for autumn and Halloween, that’s not the main point here. In my opinion, the general population doesn’t consume enough literature designed to frighten and disturb, for a variety of reasons. Whether it feels like the wrong time of year, or if the genre just doesn’t seem to ‘click’ with you, there are a lot of reasons we stray away from horror. If you fall into this category, consider for a moment why you avoid the genre, and keep this in mind as you continue reading. Hopefully, by the time you’re through, I’ll have convinced you otherwise.
“Horror is too dark! I want books that cheer me up, and make me happy!” Well, my friend, allow me to introduce you to the sub-genre horror-comedy. Not every horror novelist is out only to scare you—a lot of them want to make you laugh along the way! While there are many different types of comedy, and all of them have been integrated into horror at some point, the genre most commonly makes use of black comedy. Through black comedy, also referred to as dark humor, authors take a dark, twisted situation and help us find a reason to laugh at it. With comedy, authors can shift the tone of their work from something grim and serious into something more playful and fun. From a writing perspective, comedy is an important tool for horror because of its ability to make a dark concept or scene more palatable to the reader. There’s a horror-comedy out there for everyone—if dark humor isn’t your style, there’s horror-satire, and parody, too!
“It’s not the right time for a horror book!” Going back to my original statement about horror and Halloween season going hand in hand, a lot of us are less inclined to pick up horror novels throughout the year because it simply doesn’t feel right. Thanks to mainstream horror franchises making a point to release their movies around October, and their popular characters being recognizable and festive Halloween costumes, we have a deeply ingrained association between the holiday and the genre. However, if you take a closer look at the genre, especially from a literary perspective, you’ll find that a lot of horror is better suited for different times of the year. Take Ring by Koji Suzuki. The Japanese novel laid the foundation for the well the well-known American movie franchise under the same name, but the two have drastically different themes. One of the primary themes of the novel is that of birth, and new life, making it a perfect read for springtime, when the flowers are beginning to bloom and wildlife returns. The short story “Hot Potting” from Chuck Palahniuk’s novel Haunted is a horror story revolving around frostbite, and bitter winter nights in the woods—just right for reading on a freezing winter night. There are horror novels, as well as short stories, that are very seasonal without taking place during autumn. Try taking a horror story with you to the beach this summer—I can guarantee you’ll find something that feels just right for the occasion.
“I just don’t like being scared. I don’t want to read something graphic and terrifying.” Fortunately for those of us who don’t like feeling afraid, there are a lot of novels that are creepy, but not outright scary. Sometimes, the best place to look for that perfect scary story isn’t within the horror genre at all. In fact, the fiction shelves are full of novels that are dark, unsettling, and spooky, but not to the extent that they can be considered horror. If the genre seems daunting, start with something a little gentler, like mystery or thriller novels. While not technically horror, the genres have a lot of overlap, specifically with their themes of suspense. If you’re not looking to feel terrified and disgusted, but still want to give the genre a try, look for novels that fall into the thriller category as well—you’d be surprised how many works fit into both!
Although I likely haven’t convinced you to become a total horror junkie like myself, I sincerely hope you’ll give the genre a try next time you’re picking up books at the library. The world of horror is full of incredible, unforgettable stories and novels just waiting for you to read them!
Meet the blogger:
LILY GIBBS is a Creative Writing and Education major who hopes to someday publish her own horror novel. When she’s not writing, she spends her time making jewelry and playing with her cat, Venus.
Minecraft as Storytelling
A little more than 10 years ago, I started to play Minecraft. At first, I just watched my father play Minecraft over his shoulder, but eventually, he got annoyed by my back-seat gaming, so he set me up with my own computer and Minecraft account.
Once the computer was set up, I dove into Minecraft with a verve that would probably remind you of a starved person at a feast.
When I played Minecraft, I played in creative mode for the most part. That meant I was immortal, invincible, could fly, and had access to every single block or item in the game. It was the ultimate sandbox. The best playground in. The. world.
When I would play, I’d build giant villages with castles in the middle, and all the while, I’d be chattering to myself about the pretend people I’d created to live in these block houses and castles I’d created. Along with the stories I told myself at night to make myself fall asleep, and the worlds I would create with my friends while playing with our imaginations, Minecraft was one of the first ways I wrote. I rarely put these stories down on paper or even told my parents about them, but they lived inside my head and gave me the same comfort and love that writing gives me now.
And I’m certainly not the only one to tell stories using Minecraft as the medium. May I direct your attention to the great and mighty YouTube, most powerful of all video-viewing platforms. I grew up watching SkyDoesMinecraft and his gang, ExplodingTNT, Aphmau, and NerdCubed, these just being a couple that come to mind. Just scrolling through my YouTube subscriptions is a walk down memory lane, greeted by my old Minecraft-ian friends.
Minecraft isn’t alone in being a storyteller-friendly platform, either. Creators of all stripes use video games to relate stories. The freedom of video games to tell interactive stories isn’t just an up-and-coming medium, it’s a here-and-now storytelling device. And as the world gets more internet-oriented, it’s only going to become more relevant. If you go on Wikipedia and look at the page listing the top 50 best-selling games of all time, you won’t help but notice how many of them have stories woven into the actual gaming experience. Even Minecraft, which can be utterly creatively free when you use it as a sandbox, has lore written into it that I’m sure has made some writer or writers at Mojang very proud over the years.
I still love Minecraft. And even if I don’t use it as a petri dish for stories the way I did when I was 10, I still crack open my account every so often to build the worlds I create in my stories. It helps me actually see the worlds I create inside my head. And if I had the skills necessary to build my own video game as a way of telling my stories, I’d do it in a heartbeat. It’s simply a more immersive version of the choose-your-own-adventure books that pervade school libraries worldwide.
Even though this won’t seem like news to many people, I still feel it’s important to talk about. I was born in late 2001, I graduated high school in 2020, I’m going to graduate from college in 24’, and I’ll probably live another 50 or so years. Assuming society doesn’t fall into some Mad-Max-esqe non-technological apocalypse, digital storytelling is only going to get more prevalent. It’s time we leaned into it.
Meet the blogger:
KIVI WEEKS is an emerging author based in Minnesota, splitting her time between Saint Paul, where she goes to college, and Duluth, where her parents live. She has three cats and three tattoos, and wants more of each.
Who Am I-Who Are You-Who Are They
All novels, essays, and short stories follow this rule; the narrator speaks from a point of view you can recognize. There are five commonly accepted PoV’s: First-Person, Second-Person, Third-Person-Limited, Third-Person-Omniscient, and Third-Person-Objective. See if you can discover any new information related to PoV from this blog post; if you have your own additions or advice, feel free to share your findings with other authors, writers, or word-smiths of any kind you know.
First-Person (For example, James Balwdin’s, Notes of a Native Son) Utilizing I, me, mine, my, etc., first person narratives often tell the story informally or directly from a main character’s point of view. Their experiences are how to see the story, be it emotionally or rationally.
The interpretation of the character requires either a stability, or an easily understood unreliability between the reader and the text, otherwise the text does not flow in an understandable manner. Often great for any genre of writing, first person point of view is still versatile despite possible narrative constraints.
Second-Person (For example, N.K. Jemisin’s, The Fifth Season)
A very difficult form of narrative, either describing actions taken by YOU the reader, or in conversation with the reader, YOU directly, utilizing YOU as the pronoun. Common cases of Second-Person stories are “Choose-Your-Own-Adventure” books, in which YOU flip to the page that matches the decisions you choose to make.
This PoV requires skilled use of interactions between characters, dialogue, and setting in order to function effectively in any story. It can be extremely hard to pull off, but when done correctly it is a hell of a read. Easier to use in poetry and fiction, although it can work in non-fiction as well if the author is trying to write in conversation with the reader.
I recently ended up writing a short fiction piece in second person, based around a character’s thoughts to himself. He’d occasionally directly talk to himself in his head, which is where I used “you” in the text. I personally enjoyed working in this PoV.
Third-Person-Limited
The narrator speaks only the information the characters they narrate for knows. The reader gets no extraneous information, no direct statement of emotion or feeling unless it’s something that can be seen or shown to and through other characters.
This PoV is best used in story-based genre’s, most generally fiction, non-fiction prose, lyric essays, and longer forms of poetry.
Whatever the character knows, is what the reader gets to know. None of this, “Oh, but the magician was furious despite his deadpan expression,” stuff.
Third-Person-Omniscient (For example, John Steinbeck’s “Of Mice and Men)
A utilization of the same s/he her/him pronouns, with a narrator not connected directly to the story. The narrator is instead an unobtrusive, all knowing being, observing everything that occurs, and detailing it to the reader with whatever the author or writer deems to be necessary flair or style.
This narrative style focuses on showing everything a scene or setting or encounter or dialogue has to offer, granting the reader immense knowledge of the happenings within the story. Extremely easy to use in any genre, though less common in most forms of poetry, and NF.
I usually write this by writing what I know of the current topic in the story, then cutting it down to what was happening directly. Instead of building up to what the reader should know as well, I would cut down to what they know, allowing them to also infer from pieces left in the text.
Third-Person-Objective
A PoV with hints of the omniscience within it, but with objectivity. Kind of weird to explain it like that, but it is what it is. The omniscience is only in the actions and setting portrayed by the story, the narrative, while all emotion and thinking, is created objectively by the reader in real time as they read the story.
This style is incredibly useful for non-fiction authors when portraying events constructed to benefit their narrative, and although bland (in my opinion) within poetry, it can work as a sort of rationale, a stop-gap between two topics the poet desires to breach together. Fiction’s take on objective third person is more in the telling of the actions, the events. Despite this objectivity, it allows for the reader to construe their own emotions and experiences onto the PoV character.
Of course, to argue and say one particular PoV is easier than the rest is wrong. While the second person perspective is much more difficult due to the nature of the reader feeling themselves as the narrator instead of the character in most possible stories, each PoV shares its own difficulties and stylizations that may be easier or harder for you to write in or with. Everyone has their own strengths and weaknesses, and it requires practice and effort to find and improve upon those weaknesses, and determination to improve their strengths.
Meet the blogger:
SKYLIR HAUSER was a Hamline University student enrolled in the Runestone Literary Journal internship course during their senior year at Hamline. They’ve spent the past three years taking intensive reading and writing courses, as well as writing multiple short stories in different PoV’s.
