#100DaysofHaiku
The 100 Day Project is “not about fetishizing finished products — it’s about the process,” i.e., showing up, trying, learning, and improving skills via dedication to making something — anything.
Participants will post their daily practice via instagram, and follow one another’s work as they go. I’ve decided to participate, taking this opportunity to learn more about writing something I’m not in the habit of writing: haiku.
Illustration by Elle Luna from The Crossroads of Should and Must
Allure of the Unknown
The perceived simplicity of the haiku — 17 syllables, in the western form 3 lines flat— is a deception. As in all poetry, the condensation of language into a tightly wound ball of meaning is much more difficult than it might appear. It’s like distilling a thing to its essence — a process of squeezing, separating, boiling an idea down to its purest form.
Among other things, I’m a writer, and this form is something I’ve always wanted to try. My expectation is that learning to write haiku will build my capacity for revising, for choosing the best words to convey meaning, and as an added bonus, will require me to pay attention to the things I see, experience, and feel in order to develop these poems.
Modus Operandi
The traditional haiku uses a kiru (“cutting word”) as a kind of punctuation which illuminates the relationship between the two images or ideas juxtaposed in the text. The seventeen syllables are split 5/7/5, and there is a seasonal reference, e.g., “frog” referring to spring, which was traditionally selected from an extensive list of seasonal words called sajiiki.
Modern haiku do not necessarily adhere to the 17-syllable rule or the 5/7/5 format. In terms of content, the classic nature reference has been superseded by direct observation or everyday occurrence. I plan to refer to several books on writing and studying haiku, as well as reading the masters, in order to develop and hone the craft.
Declaration of Intent
In the next hundred days, I will write 100 haiku. The haiku I write may not be good, but every beginner starts by not doing the thing she’s beginning very well. The way she ends depends on her persistence and attention to craft.
Your mother always said practice makes perfect. As it turns out, practice can be its own reward. Celebrating the process of learning and doing is the goal of this project. Join in, follow along, and see what happens.
Heather Bailey Terrell 