So you've been reading the first five principles of poetry slam, right, and you nervously decide to enter your first bout. Before the competition begins, you gather with seven other poets and the emcee to go over the rules. You hear the MC say there are three rounds. While breathing deeply, you confidently go over the major rules in your own head: the three minute time limit, no props, no music, and no costumes. Your intestines are doing flips as your name is taken out of a hat and you get position six. That's pretty good positioning. The slam starts and just before you go on stage you pick a melodramatic poem meant to trump the comedy that set you up. The crowd bursts into enthusiastic applause. It gets better: you win the first round. The two lowest scoring poets get eliminated. You're puzzled. You don't remember hearing the emcee mention elimination. But who cares. You're in the lead! But then the host calls you up to start the second round.
What the hell? You're the highest scoring poet of the first round, so shouldn't you be going last in the second round? Noticing your visible confusion, one of the eliminated poets standing nearby tells you that it's high to low order in the second round. Oh. O.K. So you pick the right poem for first position in the second round, and get a pretty good score after another grand performance. Your nervousness is virtually gone. The other five poets aren't as hip as you are about the first five principles of the seven principles of poetry slam, so they're not positioning poems well. You're still the the highest scoring poet, and when the host announces the scores, you've accumulated a top score of 58.2 points. Wow! This slam stuff isn't so bad after all. At this rate you could win first place in your first slam! Even if you go first in the third round, nobody will catch up with your accumulated score. The two lowest scoring poets of the second round are eliminated and it's time for the third round. You prepare to start the third round and win this slam, when the host announces much to your surprise and consternation that the third round will be random draw clean slate.
What the f@#k?! Suddenly your high score of 58.2 is gone. You have to start from scratch. You pull 1st in the third round. Oh, that's just great. Then your poem about Pookie sacrificing herself for her puppies sets up the second poets resonant comedy about a dog named Luther with three legs who overcame all odds to survive and eventually became a high school mascot. Your 27 points gets out scored by the second poet's 27.7. At least you'll come in second, you think. And then the third poet does a thrilling melodrama about how he was influenced positively to leave gang life by an inspiring teacher who died of cancer. 28.4 points. O.K. The score creep is clearly not on your side here, and you figure you'll settle for third, because you remember in my first principle of poetry slam article I told you there are three winners in a slam. Third is definitely not bad for your first slam. However, the final poet does a poem about how his sister was raped by Uncle Joe. He gets 30 points, and you lose. Game over. There's always the next slam.
What the hell happened? You're acting like a novice slammer is what happened. Well, you're not suppose to be a novice slammer forever, right? But really, a lot of slammers, even vets, ignore the format of a slam until they get screwed at the end - then they want to complain. Emcees usually explain the slam format before the slam. But emcees can be rookies too or just busy, so you had better ask what the format is before the slam starts. If your city has more than one slam don't assume the formats of the slam on 7th street is the same as the format of the slam around the corner or crosstown. That's right, every local slam may have a different format - some slightly different from others. Some are radically different from others. Poetry Slam Incorporated doesn't even recommend a format. But local slams usually pick a format that reflects the goals of the local slam. Most local slams want to field a solid slam team to send to Nationals. Poets who win despite a difficult format become prime contenders. If you are one of those poets that wants to make a team then you need to take format seriously.
But I'm a pretty good writer, you say, and I'm increasing my number of performance poems like you said, Brother Said. I practice my poems over and over until the performance is flawless. I'm developing a good strategy - what does format have to do with anything? Good question, because even I overlooked the importance of this principle. I thought I would be able to wrap this principle up in one article. I actually started this article before I started the article on the 5th principle. It was during the writing of this article that I realized the topic of format is so important, I'll have to present this principle in two parts.
But to answer your question: remember, poetry slam is a positional game. Depending on the format your position can shift radically throughout the game into a better or worse position. Your application of basic poetry slam strategy is going to be effected by how you get into good or bad position. If you want to be a serious poetry slammer that wants to make a local slam team or wants to compete for prizes, and you intend to win consistently, then you must know the format of the slam beyond the random draw. There will always be a random draw before the slam. Here are the main components of format we will discuss in part 2: rotation, number of contestants, elimination, the recording of scores, and special rules.
