Collaborative Writing or “Whose Line Is It Anyway?”
By Pixie Bruner
I’ve had a long history of collaborating on poetry; and, collaboration poems week was exciting for me, because I enjoy working with other writers to see what comes out when different writers’ styles, voices, vocabulary, experiences, ideas, and workflow collide, conspire, collude and mutate into a single piece. Sometimes it’s magnificent. Sometimes it is a disaster. It’s always interesting and a great exercise for writers.
I’ve had long-time writing collaborations that became nightmares and bled out beyond the page; I’ve had collabs that resulted in 3 AM phone calls, and sending an entire email consisting of a screen full of “No!!!” I’ve even written a poem about those collabs called “The Truly Dangerous Liaison” about a decade-plus collab that was amazing, productive, and dysfunctional. I’ve had amazing one-time collabs, too, short-mergers, such as my one with Amy Drees that was in Space & Time Magazine #145 and “Aural Fixation” with Bili O’Hara.
Two brains are not always better than one, and poetry, especially, is a very personal private form of writing until the workshop vivisection occurs. The Exquisite Corpse poem, the ultimate group collaboration poem, is still individualistic with the organizer often working as resurrectionist on the varied and seemingly random body parts provided by each poet to donate to the monster and give it life as a poem.
Collaborative writers need common ground to grow from— a seed idea, an image, a phrase, a topic to explore, whether it be “Cosmic Alchemy” or the haunting image of an ear that grew fingers and uncurls them to cup their ear to listen to the cosmic gibberish Bili proposed to the Crystal Lake Poet’s Journey workshop. Each poet brings something different and by setting a theme or topic, there is the seed. My most recent published collab started when Bili proposed an image that lit up my brain and synapses just started firing when I read it. So I volunteered to be eir collaborative partner on it. Ey created the digit-ear, which I named the “Alpha and Omega Eavesdropper” in my head, and I immediately saw it playing Cat’s Cradle with the person it tuned into and attached to (a child in my head, as they are more open to the unseen world, more sensitive senses, and have not had sometimes dangerous curiosity and whimsy diminished by life experiences).
We discussed the concept and our ideas and visions for it and listed target publications. Then we opened a doc and then both just wrote. Bili comes from fiction writing and I’m a poet. Very different writing backgrounds. Very different people. Some collabs even discuss boundaries, submission plans, and set line limits and there is constant negotiation between the poets. Collaboration requires communication and you learn a lot about the way their mind uses language.
I never think about contract clauses, or publication goals myself. I just present my wish list of dream publications, if asked, at the outset of a collab. But logistics and such may be important to the other writer. Discussing use of AI is becoming more important, especially in multi-generational and diverse background collaborations. I am pro-human creators, and prefer and choose human visual artists, my tolerance of occasional AI visuals may be a dealbreaker for my co-writer. There must be compromises and give and take. Communication required and boundaries known as well.
I’ve collabed in poetry and flash fiction before by just alternating lines in Messenger, texts, and emails, but sharing a document and seeing the other cursor move as I wrote tickles me. It seemed much more interactive, playful, and alive. The poem forms in real-time. Then it’s simply a case of intermeshing the two voices and perspectives into a cohesive piece. Then on to edits or workshopping with the press at the end before publication sometimes… It is not finished until there’s a proof provided and everyone signs off on it.
Collaborative writing of any kind requires Buddhist-level detachment and to leave the ego aside. You may lose your favorite phrase to the other poets’ edits. You must be open to letting go. I’m never attached to anything in a collab, the scraps leftover from any weird abundance removed in editing can potentially be recycled later. Blooper poems and deleted lines are saved for posterity and future use.
As both of us writers in my latest collab tend towards intimate and uncomfortable areas/themes and employ body or personal horror in our writing, we had clear boundaries in the form of 4 line stanzas they set, and a dialogue. You learn something new from every collaborative work. I’ve learned to not shy away from the physicality in my themes from Bili and become braver in being graphic from listening to em read and reading eir work.
Ey are very image-focused and uses anatomical, scientific and visceral language and favors short forms, while I’m more narrative, shun rhyme, and unfortunately find most of my poems winding up at awkward lengths. We have different strengths and weaknesses that balanced and complimented each other. Some collaboration poems just flow organically and then are macheted after the writing is all done. A Vulcan mind meld dream collab isn’t always going to happen.
I struggle with revisions, they are a bete-noire for me, I’m a pantser and in collabs, plantsing (planning but also free to fly by the seat of the pants) is best for collaborating. Working with a pantser is different. Ultimately going with the flow, just writing, being spontaneous, and then comes the editing, shaping, pruning with precision. Usually, one person will take the lead in this part of the dance. I’ve found creating multiple potential final versions, from erasure, form manipulations, copy-paste Burroughsian games to see what occurs and choosing one final version together more common practice.
The multiple alternate versions may be published in alternate universes by other selves. A multiverse of pieces from one collaboration exists. Two writers, multiple outcomes, infinite possibilities.
AUTHOR BIO
Pixie Bruner is an re-emerging writer, editor, and cervical cancer survivor and patient advocate. She lives in the Event Horizon of Atlanta, GA with her doppelgänger and their deranged cats. Her poetry has been published in Space & Time Magazine, the upcoming “Whispers from Beyond: A Showcase of Dark Poetry” by Crystal Lake Publishing, and has written for White Wolf Gaming Studio. Werespiders at LARPS-. Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.
Angry Gable Press 