To Develop a Niche, Get Out of its Way
by T.L. Kelly

Published in 'Northwest Writers Handbook', 4th Ed., Blue Heron Publishing, 1991  

I think Basho knew there'd be days like this. Days when Poetry Workshop Etiquette would be just as critical to getting published as writing a poem. Days when the Big Name Poetry Society (underwritten by the Big Name Editor/Publisher Society) would define (and police) the parameters of the torrential Mainstream. Days when fledgling poets would grow weary of initiation rites and become editors; and Big Name poets would grow weary of each other and ask, "Where did all the poetry readers go?"

In some ways, the "poetry mainstream" in Basho's world (17th century Japan) was like this. I think Basho sent a message to us, through the ages, because he knew something about how poetry discovers and re-discovers itself, and how necessary this is, and how poets sometime get in the way of this happening. Basho developed a niche for a poetry called "renga" by nurturing its self-discovery, and by reminding his students to get out of its way.

Up to that point, renga (linked verses composed by a group of people working together) was looked upon as merely a game. Some renga were merely plays on words: satirical, erotic, doggerel. Basho saw the potential for renga to transcend these first impulses, and at the same time, retain that quality of "discovery" heralded by this emerging form. Later, after renga had been elevated to a "true artform" and had become the rave in Japan, a fledgling poet may have approached Basho and asked, "How do I become a renga master?" History tells us that Basho once said, "Iearn the rules, then forget 'em." I think he meant that once you learn the rules, don't let them get in the way of discovering your niche.

The future is now, and the competition among fledgling poets to set sail on the Mainstream has led to a revival of renga and other old/new poetry forms in the West. Diverse poetry forms are widening the mainstream under the herald of "New Formalism.'' Ha! The only striking formality among these niche-makers is a stubborn fascination for adventure: the aha! that sets us all upon the path; our rusty capacity to create language out of silence, regardless of all the noisy poetry around us. These old/new forms are also bringing fresh voices out of the Big Name Poets Society; and as in the case of renga, the drift towards collaborative (less lonely) poetry forms is bypassing initiation rites in order to bring Poets face to face with poets.

This, in essence and in process, is the development of a niche. Niche-makers "learn the rules" of the past because, without 'em, we're only making noise. Niche-makers also "forget the rules" when a poem wants to go its own direction, transforming itself into another life-form. To the free verse poet, New formalism may look like a "new life-form," but that's only because we've forgotten the rules that evolved free verse as a niche long ago. The niche develops into a mainstream. And the cycle repeats itself indefinitely.

Developing a niche means recognizing that poetry can't sit still. Now and then you must let go of the reins and see where the poem ends up. That means accepting a certain amount of failure, a certain amount of rejection because the poem has no genre, no sponsor, no "workshop." But if the poem is true, no matter how it evolved or how fiercely it insists on navigating against the flow, trust it. Put it out there. Research the alternative press and see if the poem has kin. Write a letter to the poet who seems to have made the same "discovery" that you made. Develop a round-robin. Start a fanzine! Soon you will see that a niche-maker is simply a poet who gets out of the way and lets the niche develop itself. The fun part is that you have front row seats in the roller-coaster.

Twenty years ago there were very few renga writers in the world. A handful of curious poets in the West who had I each "discovered" renga in old and new works, began to link verses with each other. They formed a fanzine (APA Renga), and then a quarterly magazine (Lynx). Though they were aware of Basho's "rules" of renga, they focused instead on Basho's method of discovering by listening to renga's first impulses and developing them into "rules" that guide a contemporary evolution. And so an old form evolved a new body (albeit a very young body, still learning to walk) and renga writers created a network that, at last count, reaches out to hundreds of poets worldwide. There is a "calling" now for renga. There are renga workshops. Everything old is new again.

Recently, I presented a series of renga workshops and I can see that certain consistencies in poets' approach to the form represent "new rules." They're not the same rules that evolved renga in 17th century Japan, but they're kin. I can see that the niche will develop into a mainstream of sorts, probably along with a bunch of other "niches" that will, somewhere downstream, blend together and call itself something.

Then I'll probably sit down and write a new poem, let go of the reins, and get out of the way.