How — but also when and why — did you end up in the form that you’re in? Is the form you began a piece in the same form that the piece should end in? What can other forms teach you about the one you currently practice in? Have you been not-so-secretly exploring other forms, or wanting to find a way to let that first essay out? What genres or forms do you read in when you’re actively working on a writing project?
In this resource, we’re thinking about the everydayness of genre and form. While we have backgrounds in specific traditions of writing on the page, we no doubt brush up against all kinds of forms in our day-to-day lives, be it on the news or via eavesdropping, in politics or family discussions, encounters with the world or in the wild. What does this mean for us when we put pen to paper? Are there rules? What rules are there for the making, taking, and breaking? Which ones can we bend, and which will break?
Below, we list out seven things to consider when it comes to genre and form, as well as “narrative frameworks.”
- On the topic of genre and form. First, it can be helpful to know the difference between genre and form. While genre—such as poetry, nonfiction, and fiction—largely has to do with the actual content of the work, form has to do with the actual structure and scaffolding of the writing, which might be specific to each genre. For example, genres can have sub-genres—in nonfiction, you could have academic writing, travel writing, food writing, or for many of us, creative nonfiction—but when it comes to forms of nonfiction, that would be things like essays, memoir, reportage, and cultural criticism. If you’re a poet and/or looking to play with scaffolding, consider this resource from Writer’s Digest, which lists 168 poetic forms. This is a great way to understand the many experimental shapes our work can take.
- Think of form as a kind of scaffolding. Meaning, form is the thing you use while you build the foundation, framing, and structure of the thing. It is extremely helpful, if not impossible to build without—but at some point, you have to remove the scaffolding to see the end result and do the finishing touches. If form is a form of scaffolding, then think about what would happen to your story or experience if you placed poetry—or a contrapuntal poem—over it. Form is what you make of it; genre is how it’s packaged and sold.
- Know the rules in order to break them. No matter what form you work in—even if you choose to create hybrid works that blur the line between genre (ie. auto-fiction) or form (ie. prose-poetry), it’s helpful to have some foundational knowledge so you can use/work against a genre or form to your advantage. If you are a nonfiction writer, for example, study the differences between opinion, reportage, memoir, and essay. The reason this is so important is that we—as humans, readers, and consumers of digital information—are hard-wired for stories: creating within the constraints of a form can help readers access your writing or work.
- Remember: you contain all forms. Even though you may be a writer of a specific genre/form, we also encourage you to remember that each person, in a way, contains all genres: fiction is your imagination, nonfiction is your narrative of yourself, and poetry is the way you see the world. While we get and know the impulse to say things like—I’m not a poet, or, I don’t write/do nonfiction—don’t say it to the point that you block yourself off from exploring what those forms have to teach you about your work, story, and narratives. After all, poets do make the best essayists (and that’s coming from us, who are traditional essayists).
- It’s messy work. Writing is rough—but also rewarding—because of the drafts. It can be messy work, trying to make sense of things, the world, your experiences. The next time you’re getting stuck with or needing a moment from a piece or a project, think about what other forms you could take. If you’re hitting a wall with a scene in a short story, for example, why not take a break from that and write an epistolary piece (letter) from you to a character, vice versa, or between two characters. While the idea is to give your consciousness a rest and activate the subconscious, this exercise could also help you to get to know the characters better (and perhaps for them to get to know each other better). Or, if you’re stuck in an essay, maybe use poetry by doing a contrapuntal poem (which are made up of two or more columns which can be read vertically and horizontally across). Give the mess a matrix.
- Genre can be an ingredient within your work. Just because you write in one genre doesn’t mean other genres or forms can’t make their way into your work. Different genres can surface in any given project. Consider sprinkling poetry into your fiction or nonfiction manuscripts through elements of mystery or fractured images. Or bring spec-fic and sci-fi into your nonfiction world through interiority: what does anxiety look or feel like for the narrator? Or when you’re sketching out a poem, think about how worlds—and wounds—are built in the opening pages of your favorite novels and short stories. What comes first, the wound or the world?
- Know your ABDCEs (i.e. narrative frameworks). While it’s important to know your ABC’s when it comes to genre and form, don’t forget your ABDCE’s, or, narrative frameworks. If this phrase sounds new, a narrative framework is the shape, structure, or blueprint of a story. It is what guides the plot. One narrative framework that is often used in fiction (and nonfiction) is ABDCE: action, background, development, conflict, and ending. You can think of this in terms of a single piece or a project: for example, what is the action, background, etc. of this piece or chapter, but also, which chapter is the action, where are my background chapters, which contain conflict, how do I progress or evolve the tension, and how do I arrive at the ending? We aren’t the biggest fans of the “hero’s journey,” which is for a different time and place, but ABDCE is
We hope these tips help you think more broadly about your genres and forms. If you’re keen to learn more about genre and form, consider our Digital Residency, Narrative Shifts, which is a seven-week, genre-agnostic writing program. We look at intersections of form and genre, world and wound, narrative and craft.
