Oulipo and the Creativity of Constrained Writing

Sarnav
Oct 27
8 min read

Updated: 6 days ago

Transforming Literature into Rational Games

Poetry is a literary form that enables people to express their emotions. It serves as a tunnel for all positive or negative feelings. Words flow through it, ultimately sprinkling a bit of relief on the heart. But do poems always urge us to act on our emotions? Can't we make it more logical, rational, and mathematical? On the other hand, would this strip away what makes poetry poetry?

These days, I focus on poetry more than any other literary genre and craft it often. Whenever I read a passage from a poetry book or stumble upon one on social media, I feel inspired to write more. The creative process unfolds spontaneously around emotions. Most of the time, I don't know what I'll write about, but I just dive in anyway. Emotions are like that sometimes—they flare up suddenly, creating unexpected effects.

On the other hand, I enjoy keeping things intriguing, especially for topics I love exploring. I've previously tackled similar subjects, stripping away as much emotion as possible from analyses of poetry and other literary texts. In my view, approaching literature in a seemingly odd way can uncover more of its layers.

In this article or my analysis of punctuation marks serve as examples of such work.

Today's topic shifts from my personal curiosities to unusual writing styles embedded in literature itself. Perhaps "preferences" is a better term for them. Let's explore together.

I want to spotlight "constrained writing," a form where writers must follow specific patterns or limitations. I covered this a year ago—highly recommend it. Access it here.

I've also delved into Japanese icons like haiku, which demand brevity and strict rules. Check it out here.

Photo by Clark Young on Unsplash

I would like to provide more detailed information about constrained writing and share some relevant examples. You may find it interesting, and it may give you ideas that hadn't occurred to you before. It may also inspire you to write in a similar way.

Let's start by talking about the literary society that created this form and produced related works.

Founded in 1960, this group is called “Oulipo”, short for “Ouvroir de littérature potentielle” in French. The group aims to create works under specific conditions. The results? Unprecedented, fun, tricky, baffling, nonsensical, or absurd—your take depends on the angle. Share your views! Though not tied to one style, they favor established techniques like the "lipogram" and "palindrome."

Lipogram

A lipogram is a text avoiding a specific letter—or using only select ones. (Details in the linked article.) For instance, writing a poem (or a whole book, if you're up for the challenge) without using the letter “E”, is a lipogram. Conversely, if you strive to include the letter “S” in every word, you have created a “reverse lipogram”. The choice of which letter to use (or not use) and how to use it is yours. You don't have to limit yourself to just one letter. Any kind of restriction is essentially sufficient. Incredibly, there are even books written this way, not just poems. The first example dates back to ancient Greece.

The most beautiful aspect of lipograms is that they encourage us to reconsider; we search through dictionary pages and rediscover words that we haven't used for years, thus broadening our vocabulary through the use of synonyms. However, this disciplined game can also be a trap: depending on the letter chosen, the mind can become fixated on similar sounds and fall into repetition. We may feel stuck in a loop. Moreover, our initial logical approach can slightly overshadow the poem's natural emotional flow, filtering out feelings and reducing them to a dry branch. Nevertheless, the magic lies in our choices and experiences: the real challenge lies in using the right letter with the right amount of restraint.

I wrote two examples (with tons of grammar mistakes probably), let's examine them now:

Without using the vowel “E” at all

City lights glow at dusk, drawing crowds to busy roads. Woman walks, coat flapping in cool gusts, past shops with glowing signs. Stars prick dark sky; horns honk down. Lady stops, sips hot cocoa from flask, warmth flooding limbs; night hums with urban magic, as chaos finds harmony in motion.

Using the consonant “R” in every word

Crimson river races rugged ravines, roaring relentlessly. Rapids roar raw fury, spraying crystal-clear droplets from water through air. Travelers grip oar, their hearts racing through straits. Rocks threaten raft. However river's rhythm rewards resilience.

In my country, an interesting version of this is found in folk literature. It is performed orally rather than written down. Folk poets sing songs or engage in verbal exchanges, accompanied by improvisation. The crucial part of the performance involves placing a needle, toothpick or other sharp object vertically outside the mouth to deliberately prevent certain letters from being pronounced. This prevents the lips from touching each other. Hence, it is called “lebdeğmez” (literally, “does not touch the lips”). I have found this technique astonishingly creative ever since I first learned about it.

Palindrome

Now, let's move on to palindromes. You might not know what they are, but I'm sure you're familiar with them and even use them unconsciously. The term refers to sentences or words that read the same backwards as forwards. They must act like a mirror. The same applies to numbers, such as “101” or “523325”.

Examples include: “madam”, “level”, “radar”, “dad” and “noon”. When discussing words, the sum of the letters must be odd. This is not a requirement for number examples.

It is also possible to transform a palindrome into a sentence. The best-known example is “A man, a plan, a canal: Panama!”. Another example is “Madam, I'm Adam”. When read backwards, these sentences remain the same, albeit not word for word. Naturally, meaningful sentences are unlikely, but we could say that “Stop pots” and “Rise to vote, sir” are partially meaningful. Interestingly, while conducting detailed research, I discovered that there are many more examples than one might think. If we have used words or sentences like “Race car”, “Pull up if I pull up.” or “Was it a cat I saw” in our daily lives, we could say that we have unknowingly used palindromes.

Univocalism

Another style used by Oulipo members is “univocalism”. This is somewhat reminiscent of a lipogram. In this style, only one vowel can be used. In English, there are five vowel letters. The challenge here is that letter frequency is very noticeable. Certain inherent rules of the language therefore become important.

Alongside the frequency with which letters are used, the number of words is limited, and for some letters, there may be few remaining options, which varies from language to language. Let's give an example:

A poem using only the vowel “E”

Deep sleep ends,

Neck bends,

Legs stretch,

Need mends,

Sense leeches,

Herbs help the bend.

A poem using only the letter “O”

Cold fog rolls,

Slow looms,

Boots slog,

Moon's glow,

Troop's toll,

Ghosts croon low.

When examining examples from around the world, we come across “Eunoia”, a book written by Christian Bök in 2001. Interestingly, the title of this book contains only vowels, and the letter “n”, which acts as a connector, is a Greek word meaning “feeling of goodwill”. Consisting of five sections and 112 pages, the work showcases various styles of constrained writing. It is ingenious, unsettling and mind-bending.

“Eunoia” by Christian Bök — Image Source

N+7 (Word Shift)

In my opinion, this is the most enjoyable, surprising and straightforward of all the popular forms in this literary community. We could call it cheeky.

Using the “N+7” word shift system, you can take any poem. Here is a simple N+7 recipe for you:

Choose a poem (any poem you like, or one you have written yourself, will do).
Grab the dictionary closest to you.
Find the nouns in the poem that you want to change. You can choose whichever ones you like — you don't have to change every noun.
Look up the nouns you want to change in the dictionary and replace them with the seventh noun that follows.
If there are any suffixes at the end of the word, add them if appropriate (e.g. plurals or possessive suffixes).
Congratulations! You now have “a brand new” poem!

Yes, that's essentially all there is to it. It's like a game, but a rather intriguing one. I don't know how much the meaning and rhythm change when it's used. Perhaps the loss of rhythm will be less noticeable, as the sequential structure of the dictionary will help to preserve it. As for meaning, we could imagine that we're writing in an alternate universe and literally creating a poem's neighbour.

I found a generator for this method that I will use for one of my poems. I used the "Complete >30.000 Nouns” option to generate this one. Now, let's look at my poem together to see the difference:

Original:

To sail in gale

While seeing a whale

Is a genuine joy

Like a genie's vow

N+7:

To salary in gallon

Whirlpool seeing a wheelhouse

Is a genuine juggernaut

Like a genie's vow

not sure why it kept the word "vow" as it is.

Snowball

Finally, let's discuss the “snowball” style.

Ditch the doubt, “Can writing be aesthetic?” — we're going to approach it as if we are drawing pictures. When using paper, we will use numbers to give our words shape.

Although this process may seem simple at first, it becomes more challenging when we try to create a complete piece. I personally found this easier than the other styles, as I thought the constraints were minimal.

This form is also called “rhopalism”, which means that each successive word in a line has one more syllable than the previous one. It could also be used based on the number of words rather than the number of letters, if desired. Let's continue with the explanation. In fact, I think we should consider it like a melting snowman and work backwards. What do you think? Now, let's look at some examples.

Here is an example of constrained writing using the “snowball” method:

sad,

lost.

Misty

in wind.

Shadows

are dying.

Nightfall...

Breaking in.

As you can see, it has literally turned into a strip stretching from “one” to “ten”.

Now, let's melt this snowman:

Setting sun,

lights out:

Darkness.

Where is

my hope?

Empty

soul.

Sad

Other Constrained Writing Techniques

In addition to the concepts we have touched upon, I would like to mention a few more briefly. I will not explain these in detail.

One is called “Pilish”. This is writing based on the number pi. According to this number, which continues as 3.14159..., the length of our words is determined. For instance, we might write a three-letter word, then a one-letter word, then a four-letter word, and so on.

Works can also be produced based on the Fibonacci sequence. This method can be found in songs and poems.

In a style known as “patchwork poetry” (or Cento), a new poem is created from the verses of other writers, much like a “patchwork quilt”. This could also be called “collage poetry”. Whether the result is entirely your own work is a whole other debate.

Finally, there is “alliteration”, a technique I particularly enjoy using in constrained writing exercises. This technique creates rhythm, emphasis and musicality by repeating the same or similar sounds — typically consonants — at the beginning or within words in poetry and prose. You may have encountered a similar example in the lipogram exercise. Starting with your chosen letter or syllable establishes this structure within words. There is even an example that you all know very well (but may struggle to say): “Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers”. Most tongue twisters are literary workouts created using this technique. They are enjoyable — and frustrating — to say, and they make the tongue dance and the brain stumble.

If the silent letter appears at the start of every word, it is called a “tautogram”. This comes from the Greek roots “tauto-” (same) and “gramma” (letter).

Yes, I think that covers everything I wanted to discuss.

Were you familiar with these concepts? Have you produced any similar work? Which ones interested you and which ones did you find illogical?

What is your opinion on the impact of Oulipo's rules, which require logical thinking, on art?

Anxiety is one of the elements necessary for human creativity. Although anxiety can have negative effects, it can also lead to positive outcomes in terms of a person's experiences and production skills. However, it is also important for art to express emotion and feeling. People express what is inside them in whatever way suits them. Clearly, restraining or imprisoning these expressions will affect everyone differently. Considering your creative process, what works best for you?

by Sarnav - A Word Weaver