In-ver-sion, noun.

1 : a reversal of position, order, form, or relationship ... the condition of being turned inward or inside out ....

It's a fabulous word, isn't it, Slammers?  A word that connotes all kinds of upset and rearrangement, from turning upside down to turning inside out, from swapping places to looking inward and discovering new places all your own.  In genetics, an inversion is a mutation that causes our DNA to be reordered.  In music, an inversion is a new variation of melody.  In meteorology, an inversion is a deviation from normal weather conditions – an unexpected change in temperature, a sudden wind, a blaze of spring sunshine in January.

This month, our Slammers have found their own meanings of inversion.  Etoile, the author of "The Inversion," finds that the usual beauty of winter is reversed when white snowflakes turn to a "dirty gray glaze" in her hometown.  JAshleigh, who writes "In My Youth," seeks to invert adulthood as a way to recapture all the missed opportunities of her younger days.  Eric_Ramirez, whom we find "Walking Backwards Into the Future," is also on the watch for inversions in time.  Meanwhile, YodaShmoda in "Summergirl's Name" gives us a character who wishes she could invert her own name, and her place in two different communities. And wordgirl89 shows us just how many inversions of meaning can be found in a single small letter of our alphabet: "X."

Inversions are all about asking "What if?"  What if snow fell as "icy black crystals" instead of the white flakes we all know? What if someone drank coffee daily as a child, yet didn't experience hot cocoa and marshmallows until she grew up?  What if an "X" marking the spot could be a kiss or a crossbones, a checkmark or an unknown?  Upset the order of things, try new combinations, and you never know what you'll find.

Good writing inverts readers' expectations – switches them up, or turns them in upon themselves.  No one wants to read about things happening in the same old order.  Show me a poem about an average winter snowfall, or an ordinary reminiscence of childhood pleasures, and my attention likely won't be held for long.  When the circumstances of a poem or a story are too neatly ordered, too familiar, I begin to suspect that the writer isn't challenging her own assumptions any more than she is challenging mine.  But when a writer takes a chance and shuffles the cards, he demonstrates the open-mindedness to discover new perspectives – and often finds an order even more perfect than the original.

In life, as in writing, an occasional inversion can go a long way.  It's a new year, after all, dear Slammers, and this first month of 2010 is even a sort of inversion in itself: 01/10.  So let's embrace new melodies and new mutations – both on The Slam and in our lives.  Here's to all the reversals, reorderings, and revelations 2010 can bring!

Cheers,

Ann Pedtke
Slam Master