I discovered haiku when I was doing an MA in Writing part-time at Sheffield Hallam University from 1993 to 1996. I found the internet helped hugely in increasing my knowledge and experience, especially the Shiki mailing list. The following is an edited version of the critical commentary which accompanied my poetry unit submission for the MA in June 1995 (an illustrated collection of haiku and senryu). Part of this work, together with a version of this commentary, was published in Sheffield Thursday magazine in the summer of 1995.

Some thoughts on the haiku process (by a beginner) I encountered haiku for the first time early in 1995 and was immediately drawn to its paradoxical form – condensed yet infinitely expressive. I liked the idea that haiku can have moods and textures, be like watercolours, or oil paintings or precise pen-and-ink drawings. As haiku's an art of enhancing a single image poetically, and I'm interested in the visual enhancement of poetic texts, it seemed the ideal genre for experimentation with multimedia (my day job) to explore Pound's statement from Vorticism that The one-image poem is a form of super-position; that is to say it is one idea set on top of another. This seemed an interesting basis for on-screen poetry with visual and aural enhancement; dynamically intensifying the single image with pictures, music, symbols, ideograms; creating dreamy mindscapes or rapid image sequences superimposed one on top of another; a texture of mood created by computer graphics and hypertypography – multi-dimensional, interactive textwork. However, this was something for later: first I needed to read and research and begin to learn what haiku was all about and find my own path within it. Primarily, I needed to be writing, and writing about what was informing my development at this point in my life – which happened to be computers and information technology. Technology, against all odds, is a creative stimulant, an endlessly fascinating resource, and probably the single most influential factor on my creative production at that moment was the Internet. The Internet Deciding to use the Internet for research and feedback was a turning point. Choosing at random one of the many searchable indexes supplied by the World Wide Web and typing in the keyword 'haiku' turned up 109 matching responses. Following up several that looked promising, within minutes I'd located some excellent haiku sites, and found a body of people around the world writing haiku, corresponding with each other about haiku, composing renga-on-the-fly and generally having a good time in an artform they love. Suddenly, the texts I'd been reading and struggling to make sense of came alive. Instantly, I had access to a body of current, contemporary work (a month, a week, a day old) as well as recourse to archival material from all ages and locations. Haiku publications, discussion groups, individuals' pages and mailing lists, all encouraging submissions in the form of original work, critiques, discussions and short articles. I half expected that the anarchic, unregulated nature of the Internet would necessitate wading through much bad work to find something worth reading, but instead found most sites functioning in the best way as nurseries for new talent, with good editorial control, erudite argument and positive, supportive criticism. I found this very exciting: far from being an isolating, dehumanizing monster, the Internet seems to me to be a nurturing environment, a communication technology turned mass medium, a global meeting-place for like minds. Things are changing at lightning speed: reality has taken on the shape of a William Gibson or Bruce Sterling novel. This opens up all sorts of new possibilities regarding audience/readership: a writer no longer has to 'arrive' in the poetry world to get published; authoring a Web site affords self-publication with little overheads. With a little research and effort, it's possible to reach a large, real-time audience keen to read one's work, even contribute to it. Games of maekuzuke ('joining to a previous verse') may be played, where maeku ('previous verses') are thrown to the winds of hyperspace and tsukeku ('joined verses') added by others – perhaps the same day, certainly within the week. A new poetic backwater exists in cyberspace, peopled by a virtual community of writers and critics who inhabit this curious hybrid world of man and machine. With the internationalization of haiku, the geographical, religious and cultural associations that function to make a haiku are subject to multicultural conversions: the influence of the Japanese masters is becoming diluted. This is what Bash™ wished for. He always encouraged his students to cultivate their individual talents rather than follow him with blind faith. Informed by the eclectic exchange of ideas fostered by the Internet, the art of haiku can only grow and benefit. Form and process The first material I read about haiku dealt only with the Japanese traditional form – the necessary inclusion of a kigo (season word), the strict form of 3 lines of 17 syllables, arranged 5-7-5. Being drawn to tradition and feeling that more intellectual rigour would obtain in adhering to those rules, I made my first haiku conform accordingly. It didn't work, and resulted in first attempts that were too ambiguous, metaphorical, not concise enough, because I was trying to make them fit the pattern. Once I'd done some research via the Internet and other sources, I came to understand that the Japanese and English languages have inherent differences, that the best haiku in English tend not to be 5-7-5, that there are many schools and styles of haiku, and that the debate goes on. The British Haiku Society's statement that "it proves elusive to reach a description of haiku which all those fascinated by the genre can accept without reservation" sums it up neatly! It seems to me that the Japanese view of life may be so foreign to the westerner that it's difficult for us – maybe impossible – to write 'true' haiku. I'm comfortable with the idea that the non-negotiable critera of haiku apply to spirit and content and not to form; that an unwaivable syllable count is less important than good syntax, lineation and rhythm. It's been said (on the Net, and probably elsewhere) that most haiku beginners, both western and Japanese, start with good form (ie 5-7-5) and poor content. In the west, they then find the content and shed the form, while Japanese poets find the content and keep the form. I'd like to achieve both, with the proviso that if HAIKU (the international kind) works best within some other form better suited to the characteristics of the English language (Blyth thought the English equivalent is 2 stressed syllables plus 3 stressed syllables plus 2 stressed syllables), then that should be aimed for, rather than 5-7-5. As far as I can see at the moment, the 'organic' style, where form is reinvented for each new poem/experience, seems best for haiku, enabling form and content to reflect each other. I want to learn from the richness of Japanese haiku, ground myself firmly in the tradition, but, with respect and knowledge thus gained, find an equally valid approach appropriate to the culture I live in. Worrying at first that I didn't have time for the relaxed mind required of the haijin (haiku poet), I realised eventually that it can be induced. In the West, we haven't the Japanese mindset, the Zen orientation of meditation and contemplation, by nature, but we can concentrate anywhere in our hectic urban lives and create the necessary conditions. We have no idea when the haiku moment will find us but can be prepared for it. In cyberspace, there's no sound but that which one creates oneself – a limitless reality Audience Using the Internet had various profound effects, not least being the discovery of a new type of audience. The relationship between writing and readership becomes much more immediate, much more personal, much more interactive, when publishing takes place on-line. If a haiku publication were to be printed in the usual way, it would probably be read by a small constituency of poets and haiku enthusiasts in its country of origin. With an Internet presence, it's accessible to a large international readership with direct communication with the author. Using this medium for renga etc provides an immediacy often lost by the intervention of postal delays. Constructive feedback and discourse, thus generated, enables new ideas and revisions – and because Net-published material can be changed, updated at a moment's notice without need for prohibitively expensive reprints, a constant flow of energy is possible. This conduit for rapid interchange generates an intensely fecund arena for poetry. It also, of course, undermines copyright protection and renders intellectual property free to all with access, but many authors and artists are already embracing the Internet spirit of freedom of information by publishing on the Net; these issues are being dealt with and creative ways forward will be found. For the writer of the nineties, the Internet is becoming indispensable. The Net provides access to other writers, editors and readers through e-mail, critique groups and newsgroups about writing. Writers can enjoy access to countless small-press publications, literary journals and a chaotic and eclectic mix of electronic magazines. These markets can prove more receptive to unpublished writers than the major markets. A good haiku shares a moment of our lives that has moved us; haiku is a wonderful journey and the act of writing haiku is its own reward. Mel McClellan June 1995 E-mail (home):  mel@ledgard.demon.co.uk Email (work): mel@smoothoperations.com