by Sara Youngblood Gregory
Happy Pride Month! June is always a busy time, but this month it is especially hectic for me. In May, my debut speculative poetry collection DEAD BOYS IN SPACE came out from YesYes Books. Like any dedicated indie poet, I’ve organized a batch of readings, talks and events — all of which are enriching and challenging and emotional.
Like many books, it was a project that required much time and ripening, from me as a person and as a poet. The collection is my best attempt to wrangle with the long, long shadow left by the AIDS crisis. And to articulate how younger queer people live and grow and struggle underneath that shadow. Desire, anger, love, family, sex, sickness, revenge, justice — the shadow can hold any number of things. But what I really wanted to capture was the sense of loss, and how it ripples across time and different generations of queer people. Of course, speculation, science fiction and alternative histories were my tools to do so.
In the collection, I use threads from history — the Space Race, the Lavender Scare, the Red Scare, writings, art and protest from people and activists touched by HIV/AIDS — to dream up an alternative past and, perhaps, a more hopeful future. For me, to spend time in the past, to reimagine it, and to bridge that past into better, more just queer futures was urgent. I spent 6 years in that universe, writing and editing and researching DEAD BOYS IN SPACE.
Then I woke up a couple weeks ago and I realized I hadn’t written a new poem — not for fun, not for need, not for company — in months. So what better time than the present?
Below, I’ve developed some writing prompts exploring the connections between time, queerness and memory. These prompts may help you break into a new poem, break through with an old one or break out of a slump. I hope that these prompts provide a place of reflection and possibility during Pride, a month that is often brimming with parties and pain and learning and community.
I have written these prompts specifically with other queer and trans poets in mind, of course, but they can be adapted so that anyone can try their hand.
WRITING PROMPTS
Recently, I’ve been working my way through Ursula le Guin’s Steering The Craft: A Twenty-First-Century Guide to Sailing the Sea of Story — which is very explicitly meant for narrative prose writers, and not poets. But oh well. I have still found the book very instructive, and I sometimes use the prompts and tips for narrative poems, free verse or flash pieces.
Here are a few helpful — if abbreviated — tips I’ve learned from Steering the Craft which you may enjoy as well:
- Think about the writing prompt carefully, and re-read it a few times before diving in.
- Pressure is your friend! Set a timer and lock in. For your first draft, 15-30 minutes is the limit. It’s OK to leave the piece unfinished.
- Afterwards, put your writing away for a bit of time. Maybe overnight. Then come back to it with fresh eyes.
- Re-read your work out loud. Poetry has rhythm, and I certainly can’t hear the beat in my head. I need to hear the voice. It may benefit you as well.
And finally, I learned this in a really wonderful poetry workshop a few years ago — have someone else read your poem outloud. It can be a bit painful to have another person read your work in progress. But you’ll notice where someone else stops, starts, fumbles and picks up the beat. You will quite literally hear where the edits need to happen!
Now onto the prompts. As an added exercise before you start, consider taking a few minutes to sink into the following questions:
How do I imagine time moving? Does it flow like a river, like a line, does it spiral downwards? What legacies have I inherited as a queer person? Did it choose those legacies? If I could look to the past, what would I want to know? What about the future?
Prompt #1 —
Think about the last queer person in your family — did you know them? Did they pass on anything to you, be it advice, warning or blessing? Now think about the very first queer person in your family. How far back would you have to go? What decade would that be? Would you be able to recognize one another, across time and cue and circumstance?
Your poem should be a conversation with this person. But you can only ask questions, back and forth. No statements, no descriptions, no firm answers. Just one interrogation across time and space.
Prompt #2 —
Consider an event in wider queer history you feel connected to, or that made an impact on you. For some, this may lead to reckoning with something painful. For me, I think about political funerals during the AIDS crisis or Angels Actions after the Pulse Nightclub shooting. You may choose to spend some time finding newspaper clippings or writings, watching videos or looking at photographs. If a historical event does not come to mind, you may consider an event from your personal history as well.
Speculative poetry allows us to revisit, remember and reconsider what’s possible. What would you change, if you could? What would you make right? Write an alternative history poem that can hold both grief and hope.
Prompt #3 —
We’ve thought about the past. Now let’s think about the future. Write a 1-page prose poem that envisions a rich, lively and sustainable future for lesbians, gay, bi and trans people. Set the poem in the year 2200, as a nod to Grist’s speculative short story series which I adore, and which often have clever and kind depictions of queerness. You could call this a solarpunk poem or a hopepunk poem. Either way, use lush, descriptive language for bodies, environment and setting.
And should you end up using these prompts, let me know what you thought! Leave a comment or get in touch at saragregory.org.
