The post-reading discussion was moderated by Tony Hoagland, who I had forgotten was on the faculty at the University of Houston. His poetry, too, has a touch of that dark playfulness, and I would have liked to hear him read. The April reading will feature UH writing faculty, so perhaps I’ll have the chance to hear him then.

During the discussion, there was a moment when Hoagland referred to Glück and Wright as “confessional poets,” which really set Wright off. He went on about the term being something stupid applied to certain poets by idiots, and perpetuated by idiots who have no original thoughts. Not that Hoagland is one of them, Wright said. “What lyric poet who occasionally uses the word ‘I’ isn’t a confessional poet?” he said. “It makes no sense.”

It was amusing for the audience because we were not on the receiving end of this challenge, or perhaps because, truth be told, we are the idiots who, had we not been told otherwise, would have gone home from this reading to tell our friends about the confessional poets we’d just seen. So we laughed. Hoagland wasn’t laughing, and I thought I read discomfort on his face. I was finally glad when he was able to change the subject.

The last question he posed to the poets was if there is still any cultural function of poetry. Are we just retreading the same themes? Or is there anything new?

Wright had spent much of the evening saying that poetry has shown him that he is not alone, that his experiences are not unique to him and others have walked the same roads before him. He said what’s new are the techniques for describing these experiences. The justification for free verse, he said, is the constant search for new poetic forms.

Glück agreed somewhat. She said new descriptions for old dilemmas are meant to restore their meaning. Not that meaning has fled from these dilemmas, but they’ve grown stale and poetic innovation has served the purpose of reinvigorating meaning.

For the readings, Updike chose two stories that he noted contain no dialogue. “Always a mistake in short stories,” he said. But he thought both were appropriate for reading in Texas. One (I believe) was called “Go West” (which got him wondering whether Texas is considered a part of the West or South) and the other was “The Family Meadow.”

During the interview, he was asked whether he thought there’s any hope for a young writer of non-genre fiction. He said yes, but placed qualifications on his answer. It’s good to start writing young, he said, but so much of being a good writer comes from living life. So, as one gets older, there are more experiences to draw from. While on that subject, he was asked if publishers ever reject him anymore. Yes, he said, for a couple reasons. First, magazines like The New Yorker are simply publishing fewer stories these days. He’s also bringing old news.

So, there’s a spectrum, then, to a writer’s career. On one end, you don’t know enough. On the other, you don’t know enough about what’s new. I think this can probably be avoided for the most part if a writer not only keeps up with current writing, but also continues to innovate. The danger lies in finding a form that works for most of one’s career and failing to recognize the moment it becomes stale.

Elmore Leonard recently wrote an article intended to help writers stay invisible. Most authors probably think they do a pretty good job of this already (including myself), and that’s precisely why it’s a good idea to have another writer you trust read over your stuff. Read Elmore Leonard’s Ten Rules of Writing right here.