I began the way nearly everybody I ever heard of - I began
I began the way nearly everybody I ever heard of - I began writing poetry. And I find that to be quite usual with writers, their trying their hand at poetry.
Hear the humble words of Shelby Foote, who reflected on his beginnings with clarity: “I began the way nearly everybody I ever heard of – I began writing poetry. And I find that to be quite usual with writers, their trying their hand at poetry.” In these words, Foote reveals a truth that echoes across the ages: that all writers, in their earliest days, often begin with poetry. It is the primal language of the soul, the first vehicle of expression. Long before the craft of prose, before the structure of the novel, every storyteller is called to poetry, to the raw, unrefined expression of what it means to be human. It is as though the poet’s heart speaks its first words not in sentences, but in rhythm, in verse, in the ancient pulse of poetry itself.
The ancients knew this as well. Consider the epic poets of old—Homer, Virgil, and Hesiod—whose first words were born of rhythm and song. The Greeks and Romans did not set their stories down in prose; their heroes were sung into being through poetry, and their gods, too, were revered in verse. To begin with poetry was to begin with the world itself, to give voice to the divine and the human. As Homer began his Iliad with an invocation to the Muses, so too did every poet who sought to express their deepest thoughts. Poetry, for the ancients, was not just a literary form—it was a divine act of creation. So, too, for Foote, poetry was the first language, the first medium to grasp when expressing the sacred bond between self and world.
It is no coincidence that Foote begins his literary journey with poetry. In many ways, this is the most natural thing for a writer. Poetry does not require the elaborate structure of prose—it is not concerned with plot or character, but with feeling, with essence, with capturing the fleeting beauty of a single moment or the depth of an idea in a few words. This is why so many writers, whether they become novelists, essayists, or historians, first try their hand at poetry. It is, as Foote implies, a rite of passage, an initiation into the craft of writing. Like the first brushstrokes of a painter, poetry is where writers find their voice, where they learn how to breathe life into words.
Consider the example of William Faulkner, another Southern writer like Foote, who began his career with poetry before turning to novels. Faulkner's early poems were filled with the same sense of loss and longing that would later pervade his masterpieces such as The Sound and the Fury and As I Lay Dying. Faulkner’s poetry was the first place where he confronted the deep well of the human condition, before he translated those emotions into the sprawling narratives that defined his later work. Like Foote, he found in poetry the seed of his writing, even if his true calling led him to the larger canvas of prose.
This progression from poetry to prose is not just a simple shift in form—it is a journey that all writers must make. Poetry, in its most distilled form, teaches the writer the power of words. It shows them the strength of simplicity, the weight of a well-placed image, the importance of rhythm in conveying emotion. From poetry, writers learn the magic of compression—how to say more with less. But as they grow, they move beyond the confines of the line and the stanza, and into the expansive world of prose. Poetry, in this sense, is the forge where the writer’s voice is tempered and shaped before it is unleashed upon the broader world of storytelling.
The lesson here is one of humility and patience. If you are a writer, begin with poetry. Do not rush into the grand structures of prose; first, learn the art of poetry, where every word must carry weight, where every phrase is an opportunity to express something true and pure. Even if your path leads you to novels or essays, never forget the lessons of poetry: the power of brevity, the necessity of rhythm, the ability to distill great truths into small moments. And if you are a reader, savor poetry as the root from which all great literature grows. Understand that even the most complex prose often began as a small spark in the heart of poetry.
Practical actions follow. If you write, allow yourself the freedom to play with poetry, even if you feel your calling lies elsewhere. Let the rhythm of the words guide you. Experiment with imagery, metaphor, and structure until you find the right form for your ideas. And if you are a reader, spend time with poetry—not just the great works, but the small, obscure ones too. Appreciate the beauty of language as it is distilled into verse. Allow yourself to feel the power of words when they are at their most compressed and intense. Through poetry, you will understand more about the heart of storytelling itself.
Thus, Foote speaks a truth known by every writer: poetry is the first step in the journey of writing. It is the foundation, the birthplace, of every great story. From poetry comes the voice of the writer, from poetry comes the heart of their craft. Let us then honor it, not only as a stepping stone but as a vital part of the writer’s journey, for it is through poetry that all words find their beginning.
DDDinh Dongvan
This idea resonates deeply with me. Starting with poetry feels like a rite of passage—a way for young writers to experiment with emotion, sound, and imagery before understanding form or technique. But I’m curious whether starting with poetry leaves a permanent mark. Do you think writers who began this way tend to write prose that feels more lyrical or introspective, even if they no longer identify as poets?
BAPhan Tran Bao Anh
I like the humility in this reflection. Foote isn’t romanticizing his beginnings; he’s acknowledging a common creative impulse. But it makes me wonder—why do so few writers stay with poetry if it’s where so many begin? Is it because poetry demands too much vulnerability, or because it offers too little reward in a practical sense? Maybe the transition away from poetry says something about how society values certain forms of art over others.
VALuong Viet Anh
This comment makes me smile because it feels so universal. So many of us start writing poetry as teenagers, pouring out feelings we don’t yet know how to name. Maybe that’s what Foote means—it’s less about becoming a poet and more about learning to think in words. Do you think that early connection between emotion and language is what sets lifelong writers apart from casual ones?
TLThi Thang Le
Foote’s observation makes me think about the natural progression of writers. If most begin with poetry, does that suggest we start by chasing beauty before we learn to build structure? It’s an interesting thought—that creativity begins in fragments and feeling, only later becoming story and logic. I’m curious whether those early poetic impulses continue to shape a writer’s prose, even after they’ve stopped writing verse altogether.
HNDiep ha Nguyen
I find it touching that so many writers begin with poetry, almost as if it’s an instinct rather than a choice. Why do you think that is? Maybe poetry allows people to explore emotion and imagination before they’re ready for narrative complexity. It’s like the first language of creativity—unfiltered and raw. I wonder how many writers secretly wish they’d never left poetry behind once they transitioned to other forms.