In a thoughtful and generous talk, Marco Sebastiano Alessi offered more than practical advice on writing poetry — he shared a philosophy of creative practice shaped by fourteen years of experimentation, collaboration, and attentive listening.
The project began with a simple moment of curiosity: reading a book of poetry while listening to music.
From that quiet overlap grew Naviar’s Haiku Challenge, now more than a decade old.
What started as an idea has evolved into an international online community, exhibitions, and public events — a reminder that creative ecosystems often emerge from small, personal impulses.
A Practice of Staying Cool
Alessi’s advice to writers was grounded and refreshingly honest. Creativity, he suggested, thrives not on pressure but on steadiness.
First, block time for yourself. Poetry requires space — not only physical time but mental permission. Protecting that space signals that writing matters.
At the same time, be receptive. Ideas rarely arrive on command. They surface while walking, listening, waiting. The task is twofold: to remain open to them and to develop a reliable way of capturing them for later. A notebook, a voice memo, a fragment saved in a phone — these small habits make inspiration practical.
He emphasized refining one’s process. Writing improves through repetition and reflection. Notice what works. Notice what doesn’t. Adjust. Over time, process becomes personal craft.
Community also plays a vital role. Sharing work with like-minded people creates encouragement and dialogue. Poetry may be written alone, but it does not have to exist in isolation.
Equally important is rest. Taking breaks is not laziness but incubation. When we step away, another mental process continues quietly in the background. Returning with fresh eyes often reveals what effort alone could not.
Perhaps most crucially, Alessi encouraged writers to do it for themselves. Second-guessing what others might want leads to self-consciousness and dilution. Authenticity carries further than calculation.
Learning from others — even borrowing techniques — is part of growth. Influence is not imitation; it is conversation across time and style. Over time, writing should become part of who you are, not something external you occasionally perform.
And if the process becomes stressful? Pause and ask why. Stress can signal misalignment — with expectations, with habits, or with purpose.
What Makes a Haiku Sing
When turning specifically to haiku submissions for Naviar Records, Alessi described what draws attention.
A strong first line matters. In such a compressed form, the opening must immediately ground the reader — offering an image, a tone, or a moment that feels alive.
Juxtaposition is central. “The fact there is a gap between concepts is where the reader is drawn,” he explained. Haiku often places two elements side by side — image and image, perception and observation — and meaning emerges in the space between them. That gap invites participation.
A successful haiku feels like a snapshot of life: self-contained, yet open. It offers enough detail to anchor the reader, but enough restraint to allow interpretation.
Above all, simplicity. Not simplicity as lack, but as refinement. The language should feel economical and elegant. Each word must justify its presence. The aesthetic lies in precision — in saying exactly enough, and no more.
The Long View
What emerged from the talk was not a formula but a mindset. To “stay cool” is to approach writing with steadiness, curiosity, and self-trust. Build habits. Stay open. Share. Rest. Refine.
From a fleeting moment of poetry and music grew an enduring creative community. The lesson is reassuring: small, sincere acts of attention can expand far beyond their beginnings — especially when nurtured with patience and care.
The workshops are supported by Western Riverina Arts and Create NSW through financial assistance from the NSW Government
