One beauty of haiku is their multidimensional nature. Through simple, succinct, and suggestive language they can work on multiple levels. On the surface, the language is concrete and matter of factual. Underneath, that simple, seemingly direct language gives way to another level.
Take, for example, this one line haiku by John Stevenson
alone among others summer cloud
On the surface, the poet observes one cloud set apart from the others in the summer sky. But diving deeper, we can see a different, more meaningful image. The poet felt alone in the crowd and a lone cloud in the sky reminded him of this feeling. Or, perhaps it mirrors his feeling in the moment. Alone in the crowd, the poet looks up to see a lonely cloud reflecting his experience.
This depth of meaning then transfers to the reader. The reader identifies that lonely feeling while being “among others” and brings their experience into the poem and with it, all the depth of meaning associated with it.
The haiku poet aims for this kind of depth. But, we can miss the mark.
One ever-present temptation in writing haiku (particularly when starting out) is the attempt to be clever. This is usually the result of trying to write our haiku with infinite levels of meaning.1 To make them work not just on two levels or possibly more, but to make them work on all levels.
A haiku that “works” on all levels works on no levels. It falls flat. It ultimately does nothing. Nothing for you and nothing for the reader.
Here, this quote from
, the author, professor, and fellow Substacker offers some relief. And, quite frankly, permission. Permission to write haiku with less pressure. The pressure to be infinitely deep.Saunders writes,
“This story doesn’t have to do everything; it just has to do something.”2
We can replace the word “story” with whatever type of writing we’re doing. For the haiku poet we can rewrite this to say, “This haiku doesn’t have to do everything; it just has to do something.”
Saunders give us permission to write simply. Our haiku don’t have to be as deep as the earth’s core. They don’t have to do everything. They only have to do something. This is what Stevenson’s summer cloud haiku does so beautiful. In only doing something and not everything, his haiku lets the reader dive as deep as their desire and experience allow.
So write Saunders’s words on a notecard and put them up where you can see them wherever your write or edit. The next time you feel like you are trying to do too much in your haiku (or whatever your writing).
Check out Saunders’ Substack, Story Club. In it he offers tons of writing advice that goes beyond fiction writing and is helpful to any writer.
It’s also worth noting that this typically springs from a well-meaning desire to want out haiku to be meaning to everyone who reads it.
Thanks for this. I've been part of Saunders's Substack since he began. It is a gem.