Lost in Translation: Are We Butchering Haiku?

April 17, 2024 | 5 min read

The venerable Japanese poetic form of haiku has captivated minds and hearts for centuries. With its succinct structure and profound simplicity, haiku has become a cherished art form celebrated worldwide for its ability to encapsulate profound emotions within fleeting moments.

However, as haiku finds its way into the English language (and others), it encounters challenges that threaten to dilute its essence and distort its beauty. So we went on a deep dive to answer the question:

Is the English language inadvertently butchering haiku, robbing it of its authenticity and depth?

 

Haiku traces its origins back to 17th century Japan, when it evolved from the earlier poetic form known as hokku, which was the opening stanza of a collaborative linked-verse form called renga. It was Matsuo Bashō, one of the most famous Japanese poets of all time, who elevated hokku to an independent art form.

Bashō's hokku were characterized by their simplicity, brevity, and focus on capturing a fleeting moment in nature. One of Bashō's most famous poems is "The Old Pond" (or "The Ancient Pond," depending on your translation).

 

It was Japanese poet and literary critic Masaoka Shiki who first used the term haiku in the 19th century to describe this standalone poetic form originally popularized by Bashō.

Around this time, haiku gained widespread popularity, leading to various schools of haiku composition with differing styles and philosophies. This is when themes of haiku expanded beyond nature to encompass everyday life, emotions, and human experiences.

Haiku also made its way to other parts of the world, influencing poets like Ezra Pound, Jack Kerouac, and the Imagism movement. Over time, haiku has become a globally recognized artform, appreciated for its simplicity, vivid imagery, and ability to evoke profound emotions in just a few words.

At the heart of haiku lies its unique structure, which is often taught to English-speakers as: three lines, typically consisting of 5, 7, and 5 syllables, respectively. But there's a problem. This isn't what makes a haiku.

In fact, "syllables" isn't a faithful interpretation of the component of language that guides haiku structure in Japanese. In other words: we English speakers have been doing it all wrong.

 

Virtually all English-speaking schoolchildren have been introduced to haiku, often while first learning about syllables or poetry, and have struggled through the difficulty of creating a poem that follows the strict 5-7-5 pattern.

But that pattern has been called, by some scholars, "an urban myth."

More accurately, it is an inadequate adaptation of how haiku is structured in Japanese. As Professor Haruo Shirane says in the introduction of Kōji Kawamoto’s The Poetics of Japanese Verse, “the term syllable is an inaccurate way of describing the actual metrical units of Japanese poetry."

That's because syllables, as we know them in English, do not exist in Japanese. (In fact, some scholars argue they don't exist in English, either! But that's a different topic.)

In Japanese, the structure of haiku aligns harmoniously with the rhythm and cadence of the "sounds" or "beats" of the language, allowing for a seamless fusion of form and content. When translated into English, this harmony is often lost, as the constraints of the original Japanese do not neatly correspond to English syllable patterns. (To put it simply: each Japanese character is kind of like what we would think of as a consonant-vowel pair, making their words much denser. For this reason, Japanese readers are often shocked by how long English haiku are!)

Perhaps even more problematic, the cultural context surrounding haiku is often overlooked or misunderstood in English haiku. Haiku traditionally draws inspiration from nature and the seasons, focusing on the profound connection between the human experience and the natural world.

In fourth grade, you probably didn't learn that traditional Japanese haiku also often includes a "season word" (known as kigo in Japanese) and a kireji, literally "cutting word," or a word that completes an expression quickly. (Examples in English include "Ah!" and the em dash —.)

Perhaps most importantly of all is the imagery. Haiku is intended to evoke a certain moment in time and space, as well as a specific emotion far greater than the small passage on the page.

In English-language haiku, all these components beyond syllables are often used superficially — or are absent altogether.

Does this mean English-language haiku is a mere imitation devoid of the soulful resonance that defines the artform?

 

 

Around the turn of the 20th century, Masaoka Shiki was a big proponent of bringing haiku into the modern age. He recommended modern themes and language that weren't found in conventional haiku, and some of his work reflects that, including haiku written about baseball when the sport first spread to Japan. 

“Shiki brought innovation to haiku and established the poetic form as modern literature," according to the Public Relations Office of the Government of Japan. And indeed not everyone agreed with this modernization of a traditional Japanese artform over the decades.

A discussion of haiku would not be complete without acknowledging a painful point in its history: during World War II, when the Japanese government was using art to promote nationalism and support for the war effort, haiku poets who used their poetry to express dissent faced censorship and even arrest.

The government utilized its extensive surveillance and propaganda network to monitor artistic output and suppress dissenting voices, mainly targeting poets in the "New Rising Haiku" movement (shinkô haiku undô), who were attempting to write non-traditional haiku addressing new topics related to contemporary life, like social inequality.

After the war, gendai haiku (modern haiku) evolved into a popular movement, inspired by the ideals of the New Risking Haiku poets, while many still practice classical haiku. This transition into the modern world is yet another topic that would require a whole separate essay to delve into, but the point is this:

A tension between traditional and modern haiku has always existed. So, as outsiders, how should we approach this tension?

In his essay "Beyond the Haiku Moment," Professor Haruo Shirane presents it like this:

“What would Bashō and Buson say if they were alive today and could read English and could read haiku written by North American poets? ... I think that they would be delighted… They would be impressed with the wide variety… however, they would also be struck, as I have been, by the narrow definitions of haiku found in haiku handbooks, magazines, and anthologies.”

The adaptation of haiku into English is certainly not clear-cut, and it's important to recognize that while the English language has undoubtedly embraced haiku with enthusiasm and admiration, its attempts to translate and adapt this venerable poetic form have not always been successful.

But that doesn't mean we shouldn't try.

 

Way back in February 1904, Japanese writer Yone Noguchi published "A Proposal to American Poets," in The Reader Magazine,in which he outlined his own English haiku efforts, and ending with:

"Pray, you try Japanese Hokku, my American poets! You say far too much, I should say."

(He also famously told William Butler Yeats to try his hand at the classic Japanese theater form Noh. Again, a topic for another day.) 

Whether a true invitation or not, poets around the globe continue to explore and appreciate the beauty of haiku in all languages. As we do, it is essential to approach this ancient art form with humility and respect for its rich history.

Only then can we truly appreciate the timeless beauty of haiku.

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April 30, 2024 3 min read

In the vast galaxy of storytelling, few stories have captured hearts and minds like the epic saga of Star Wars.

Beyond its dazzling lightsabers and iconic characters lies a treasure trove for writers: countless invaluable lessons in the art of storytelling expertly served up by creator George Lucas.

We gathered just a few of those lessons for you to get a quick master class in narrative structure and crafting a compelling tale that will resonate across generations.

Here are five invaluable writing tips from one of the most iconic franchises in cinematic history:

 

George Lucas famously drew inspiration from Joseph Campbell's concept of the "Hero's Journey" when crafting the story of Luke Skywalker.

The concept of the Hero's Journey was first outlined in Campbell's 1949 book, The Hero with a Thousand Faces, as a universal motif of adventure and transformation that runs through virtually all of the world’s mythological traditions. The concept is characterized by a hero who leaves the ordinary world, faces trials, and returns home transformed. Sound familiar?

Today, the Hero's Journey is found all across media — from fairy tales and books to films and video games. In fact, George Lucas has publicly said that he wrote "many drafts" of what would become Star Wars, but it wasn't until he read The Hero with a Thousand Faces that he was able to hone in on what would become the essential story and characters of the saga.

(The two writers even met eventually, and watched the original trilogy together.)

As a writer, consider whether the hero's journey fits your story. The roadmap may not resonate with every writer, but it just might give essential structure to that story you've been trying to tell for years.

 

At the heart of Star Wars lies a profound exploration of universal themes like redemption, the power of hope, and good versus evil. For example, take the iconic clash between the Jedi and the Sith.

Through characters like Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader, we witness the complexities of morality and the potential for redemption.

By tapping into timeless concepts like these, writers can create narratives that resonate across cultures and generations. Whether your story is set in a galaxy far, far away or in the confines of everyday life, infuse it with themes that speak to the common human experience.

 

Lucas had a background in visual arts, which heavily influenced his approach to storytelling. But you don't need to be an artist to create a vivid world.

As a writer, strive to visualize your story in your own way, considering how each scene will unfold on the page. Whether through sketches, diagrams, or simply vivid imagination, cultivating a strong visual sense can enhance the impact of your writing — whether you're writing for the screen or for the page.

 

From the wise mentorship of Obi-Wan Kenobi to the villainous allure of Darth Vader, George Lucas excels at creating characters that resonate with audiences long after the credits roll.

When developing your own characters, focus on crafting individuals with depth, complexity, and memorable traits. Whether they're heroes, villains, or somewhere in between, give your characters distinct personalities, motivations, and arcs that captivate readers' imaginations.

This is especially important when you're working with fantasy creatures or even robots and droids. Think of all the personality traits and the deft personification that make R2-D2 so lovable!

 

While the final version of Star Wars may seem like a seamless masterpiece, the reality is that it underwent numerous revisions and iterations throughout the creative process.

Lucas wasn't afraid to rework scenes, dialogue, or even entire storylines in pursuit of the best possible outcome.

As a writer, embrace the revision process as an opportunity to refine and improve your work. Be willing to solicit feedback, make tough decisions, and constantly strive for excellence in your craft.

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The contributions of Star Wars to the sci-fi genre, and society at large, are immeasurable. By embracing some of the techniques that led to the creation of such a classic, you can level up your storytelling skills and just maybe create what will become the next Star Wars.

 So, grab your Freewrite (or lightsaber) and let the Force guide you on your own epic writing journey.

April 29, 2024 5 min read

In the exciting landscape of modern fantasy fiction, the role of fantasy creatures stands as a cornerstone of imagination and storytelling.

From the majestic dragons of George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire to the decades of adoration for J.R.R. Tolkien's hobbits, these creatures serve as more than mere embellishments to the worlds they inhabit. They function as essential conduits for exploring complex themes, reflecting societal values, and igniting the imagination of readers.

The Freewrite team is full of fantasy readers (and writers!) so we wanted to unravel the trick to creating dynamic fantasy creatures that leave an impact on both the narratives they inhabit — and the audiences they enchant.

To delve into it, we spoke with E.K. Wiggins, a fantasy author, webtoon creator, and Freewriter writing about dragons in sunny Southern California...

 

Why do you think people are drawn to fantasy and, in particular, fantastical creatures?

I think it's simple: People want to escape reality and delve into worlds and stories that allow their imagination to run wild. The fact that fantasy (whether written, filmed, or drawn) is such a large part of today's culture means that anyone can find something that attracts them. Everyone can find something that transports them to wonderful worlds and takes their eyes — and minds — off life for a moment.

The same goes for fantasy creatures — the rules are boundless, new monsters are created all the time, and the old familiar ones remain classic.

People love believing in fantasy creatures because they’re not ordinary — they’re unique and unforgettable. And new fantasy keeps the genre fresh and thriving.

That's how I feel. For years, I could only write nonfiction for school. Why write nonfiction when we live in reality?

 

What's the most influential fantasy creature, in your opinion?

Dragons, hands down.

They’re so prominent in fantasy culture of decades past, yet they’re never boring because they’re constantly being recreated in original ways. With popular productions like House of the Dragon and Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power, for example, these reptiles aren’t going away anytime soon (if ever!).

I think I’m mainly drawn to them because of how much you, as an artist or writer, can reinvent them while they still remain familiar.

And I love how many real-world legends describe and depict encounters with these beasts! There are even passages of Biblical scripture that describe dragons or dragon-like creatures. All of that adds a history and realism to dragons that other creatures can’t quite claim.

 


How has the dragon been depicted throughout history?

Dragons were common in written tales and verbal legends during the Renaissance period. In Europe (and the West) dragons were considered ruthless murderers and savage guardians of their possessions, taking exuberant control over their innocent prey and dealing harshly with the rebellious!

Many of these tales were of mighty warriors facing off against these brute monsters (e.g. the Beowulf manuscripts).

Conversely, in some Asian cultures, including China, dragons were seen as signs of luck and blessing. They often wielded powers used to benefit the human race and sometimes communicated with people. They were far more benevolent and kind than their Western counterparts!

The Beowulf manuscripts and the Bible depict and speak of dragons directly. Beowulf’s scaly opponent and Satan (depicted in the book of Revelation as a fiery red dragon with seven heads and ten horns!) are both historical examples of dragons written in text. Many more exist, as well as writings about wyrms and other dragon-like creatures.


Some fantasy creatures have cultural roots. How do you navigate those roots while creating something completely new?

Generally, if I create an original character that has a historical or cultural background, I immediately ask myself if anything about my character contradicts the creature’s roots. If it does, I ask myself if I supplied or created a solid backstory for the character that can "override" that history or is strong enough to be a worthy, sensical alternative.

It also depends on the culture and if I wanted to showcase it. In my opinion, this is sort of a "gray area" that could be endlessly debated…

I don’t think its the author’s duty to always pay homage to a character’s roots, unless it’s essential to understanding the story, is required for the plot, or if the author wants to honor the culture it came from.

There have been many times that creatures have been used in literature without any sort of acknowledgement to their origins, simply because there wasn’t enough time to incorporate it, or it wasn't relevant to the current story. It really depends on what the writer is writing and how the character is being used.

How do you create creatures that are believable when they are, by definition, completely unreal?

I begin by deciding what the creature is, in the most barebones way possible. Is it going to be a wyrm? Is it maybe an elf? Is it a dragon? Figure out what your foundation is and then build off of it.

Next, visualize what the creature looks like, how its body is shaped, what unique features it has, and what its face would look like if you stared right into its eyes. Once I’ve visualized it, I’ll usually draw a sketch to solidify the creature’s design.

But don't just write or draw your fantasy creatures (or any sort of characters!) — envision them.

Anyone can take a mental picture of a fantasy creature and write a description of it (like an overweight bridge troll or a talking tabby cat). As writers, our job is not to simply write out a character study for the reader. A writer’s job is to make the creature real.

In order to do that, you have to know how the creature feels, thinks, and interacts. It has to have a personality. I start by imagining this creature’s demeanor, attitude, and character traits.

Ask yourself how they would react to you, your emotions, and your personality — and how their personality would complement or crash with yours. Imagine spending a day to get to know them! Or pretend to interview them.

In other words: it’s not always about what the creature is and how it looks, but who they are!

I guess the true trick to creating awesome, seemingly real creatures is pretty easy: pretend they’re real.

 


What are you working on right now?

I’m currently working on several different projects, including my first young adult dystopian sci-fi The Exodus Chronicles. This is the first novel I wrote entirely on my Traveler!

Traveler is my go-to. From the car to the folding tray on an airplane, Traveler has literally traveled with me everywhere! I’ve written one and a half manuscripts (almost 140,000 words) on it!

My second project is writing and overseeing the production of my webtoon, “Neko-Neko is a Cat Doll!” Writing a webtoon is very interesting because you have to visualize all the characters, emotions, scenes, and dialogue in every panel concisely (almost like the director of a movie).

My final project is writing the second book in my YA fantasy series Dragod Origins, which I published in December 2023. My world-building for the book took over five years alone, and writing the book took three.

Writing is my diehard hobby, and I aspire to be a hybrid novelist (both traditionally and self-publishing my books) and a serialized webtoon/manga writer.

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E.K. Wiggins is a fantasy and webtoon author living and working in sunny San Juan Capistrano, California. His love of fantasy creatures — especially dragons — inspired him to create the original storyline and drawings for a series called Dragon Quest, which eventually lead to the inception of the first Dragod Origins book, released in 2023.

When not writing, he loves biking, listening to music, and playing the piano, acoustic guitar, electric guitar, banjo, ukulele, melodica, and concertina accordion.

Learn more about E.K.'s fantasy universe at his website or follow his indie imprint, Shadow Beast Publishing, on Instagram or Facebook. You can also sign up for his monthly email newsletter here.

April 22, 2024 5 min read

By Benjamin Westland

We've all been there — staring at a blank document, not knowing where or how to start.

Ideas bounce around in my head all day long, but as soon as I sit down in front of my draft, they just won't come out because I can't decide on one of the many things in my head.

Embrace randomness as a creative partner and you'll find that, with the right approach and attitude, that uncertainty is an opportunity for exciting twists and fresh ideas in your writing.

I want to show you a tool that has helped me find a way out of these blocked situations and also improve as a writer. All you need are three six-sided dice and some paper. (Of course, if you’re on the move and don’t have any dice with you, any dice-rolling app on your phone will work.)

Writing with dice can help you make unexpected choices in your writing process that can take your creativity in new directions.

Remember, you don't have to write the perfect story in your first draft. It's about capturing ideas before they're gone. So let go of perfectionism and enjoy the creative process.

Meet The Oracle

This approach is based on the idea that we can ask an “oracle” our questions to steer our writing in interesting and inspiring directions. Just as our friends or partners sometimes offer to do when bribed with coffee and cake. In this instance, however, the oracle is the dice.

The dice take on the role of the oracle, answering our questions and relieving us of the burden of thinking too long about a decision.

“But what questions should I ask, and what do I gain from a generic yes/no answer?” you may ask.

The short answer is: it depends…

It depends on the context in which you ask the questions.

It could be anything from the genre, basic considerations about how you want to tell the story, the characters involved, or the tropes and ideas you want to incorporate. Maybe even the different storylines and how they develop.

All of this is the context in which we make narrative decisions. In this exercise, it’s what will inspire our questions.

When you want to know where the story might go based on what you already know, ask the oracle. Don’t overthink it. Instead, introduce chance and see what the oracle says. You never know when the story will take you in new directions.

 

How do I know what the oracle says…?

The general idea is quite simple: you formulate a question that can be answered yes or no, and roll the three six-sided dice. The oracle will answer with the results you see in the table below.

Add up the numbers on the dice and look up the oracle’s answer in the table.

In addition to clear yes/no answers, the Oracle can also give us more nuanced answers: a weakened form (10,11) and an intensified version (3-4, 17-18). 

Furthermore, if you have extra context from the story to add to the question, apply the modifiers in the below table to the sum of your dice.

 

Confusing? Let’s see how it works in writing a scene:

My Question: Is it raining when Isabel leaves the café? (It’s unlikely, it’s a hot day in the story.)

Result: The three dice show: 4, 4, 3 to equal 11. I subtract 1 for “unlikely.” My final answer is 10. (No, but…) 

This simple question alone created a better atmosphere in the scene — and it also gave me some ideas for a later scene in which the approaching summer storm influences the rest of the story.

 

Let's have a look at a longer example: how I use the oracle at the very start of drafting a story.

All I have prepared for this is the dice, my Freewrite, a stack of blank index cards, and a small hourglass.

I use the index cards for lists of things that are relevant to my ideas, sometimes prepared, sometimes made up as I write to let the dice make a decision. One of the lists I created before the first session was a collection of interesting genres that I liked for my next story.

I randomly drew three themes from that list: Victorian, Supernatural, and Soldier.

I already liked this combination, and the first ideas didn’t take long to come. I asked some oracle questions ("Is this set in Victorian times?”, “Is it a haunted house?”, etc.) to help me figure out the basic setting. What I learn is that we are not in Victorian times, but the story takes place in a Victorian villa that is said to be haunted. The villa has been converted into a hotel and has attracted many tourists since the bloody history of the house became known on the internet.

With a few more questions, I learn that the protagonists are guests at the hotel. One of the protagonists has been trying unsuccessfully for years to become famous as an influencer of supernatural phenomena — with little success. He has his best friend with him, who has just finished his studies and has been persuaded to go on a trip. He doesn't believe in ghosts.

That's enough information for me to work with for the setting. I take notes on an index card and ask the oracle where to start. Turns out the two friends have just arrived by train and are making their way through the old town to the villa.

I turn the hourglass and start to write.

The sand runs out as the two protagonists navigate through the hustle and bustle of the town and get lost in the maze of winding streets. The hourglass tells me it's time to interrupt my writing with a random event. I use a combination of oracle questions and spontaneous lists of possibilities that come to mind. Again, I let the dice decide which option to choose.

I find that my protagonists are approached by a merchant and lured into his shop. There, they discover an old object that seems to magically attract them. Cool! The scene has gained a bit more flavor thanks to this visit. I also wonder what the object has to do with anything. I turn the hourglass again and keep writing to find out.

  

 

The dance between predictability and spontaneity is fascinating, and I hope this has given you a small, helpful insight into the oracle approach.

My recommendation is to choose an existing project first and use the oracle at specific points in the writing process. The advantage to this is that you will already know more about the context, and it may be easier to make your first lists of ideas or to know when or how to ask the oracle questions.

If you prefer to start from scratch, take a writing prompt of your choice and brainstorm with the oracle to find a starting point for the first scene.

Happy writing!

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Ben Westland is a freelance ghostwriter, editor, and author of interactive fiction, bringing a diverse background in computer science, product development, and organizational change. Ben holds a doctoral degree and has authored two scholarly works on knowledge management, as well as various interactive narratives that employ storytelling to enhance organizational training.

Ben is one of the editors of inspiration.garden, an inspirational creativity magazine, and has recently launched storyhaven.online to publish his serial fiction as he explores new narrative forms.

Having lived and researched in Spain and Japan, Ben now draws on his experience to create immersive stories and help others find their creative voice.