Month: July 2016

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Notes from a workshop with Andrew McMillan

andrew mcmillan photographed by Innes Morrison

As promised in my last post, here are my notes from the workshop I did on Saturday at the South Downs Poetry Festival, with Andrew McMillan. I’m including links at the end to other workshop notes, in case you find these posts useful.

I was really impressed with Andrew’s workshop. It’s tricky to teach a one-off session like this when you’ve no way of knowing who is coming to the session nor what they hope to get from it. As well as asking us to each say (briefly) what we hoped to take away, he also offered participants the chance to feed back after every exercise, and the chance to read aloud the example poems. Andrew had planned the session well and we motored through a lot of great material, but his calm and relaxed style meant it never felt hurried or forced. That’s exactly what I want as a participant – to feel challenged by the material, confident in the teacher and unaware of time passing.

So here’s a summary, in which I hope I’ve captured the essential points.

‘All poems fail – which is why you have to write the next one.’

‘Be prepared to throw your life off a cliff.’

Go to the place that makes you feel uncomfortable. Write the thing you wouldn’t want your mother to read.

How do you get at the plain truth of something and still make it sound fresh? Think about the notions of ‘truth’ and ‘honesty’. Getting to the ‘poetic’ truth might not mean presenting the actual truth of what happened.

The thing you want to tackle may be too big or overwhelming to get to grips with. So drill down to a small detail and let that be a metaphor for the big thing.

Example poem: ‘Your Blue Shirt’ by Selima Hill (from Gloria: Selected Poems. Bloodaxe. 2008)

‘How plain can it be and still be poetry?’

‘All poetic metaphor exists because you can’t find the one word or phrase which encompasses what you really want to say.’

AM loves it when plain language is used to express a simple truth, eg W H Auden: “Thousands have lived without love but none without water.”

Readers need time to pause and think.

It’s important to achieve balance – moments of ‘high poetry’ can contrast with those of mundane or ‘plain’ language – the contrast and balance can make each moment effective. Compare for example to music with its highs and lows.

Example poem: ‘Filling Station’ by Elizabeth Bishop (from The Complete Poems, 1927-1979)

If something’s not working, try stripping out everything that’s not essential – adjectives, fancy verbs, ‘wow’ words etc. Find the ‘survival mechanism’ of the poem. In this way you’re left with something sparse but dense. THEN you can think about building it up.

Example: ‘His Stillness’ by Sharon Olds (fantastically moving!) – from Selected Poems, 2005 (Cape)

Uncertainty can come across as more honest

The idea of not being sure about something can somehow be more honest and can allow a way in for the reader.

In a way, all memory is false because another person present will recall the same thing differently.

Example poem: ‘A Spruce New Colour’ by Tom Paulin (Love’s Bonfire, Faber 2012)

Consider balance and contrast in language choice and tone

Try to avoid writing about a serious subject matter in too high a register – it can seem a bit ‘poetic’, not really honest. Explore ways around this by varying the language.

Example poem: ‘I will love the twenty first century’ by Mark Strand (from the Ambit Magazine Retrospective) – where he gives the more ‘serious’ ideas voice via a third person, which the voice of the poet then undercuts.

One way of framing a serious topic and to foreground it without losing credibility and staying grounded/true is by bookending it with more down to earth details.

Example poem: ‘Dave and the Curried Soup’ by John Sewell (Bursting the Clouds, Cape 1998) – a mid section of energy and sexual excitement bookended by the banal details of a soup (‘The trouble with Jerusalem artichokes…’)

Last thoughts: ‘What people will think when reading your work … is not important’ (ie don’t let that fear inhibit you … you have the freedom to write whatever it is you need to write) – AM says when he wrote the poems in Physical he wasn’t thinking about them being published let alone read!

‘Poems need to vibrate on the page with energy.’

‘Something has to be on the line when you write a poem.’

If you’ve enjoyed this you may be interested in previous blog posts where I’ve passed on words of wisdom from poets:

Notes from a Don Share masterclass

Mimi Khalvati on editing and what to bin

More words of advice from Mimi Khalvati

Tips from Don Paterson

Mimi Khalvati on form, and a few ‘banned’ words

 

 

 

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At the South Downs Poetry Festival

Robin & Jess at South Downs Poetry Festival

When Tim Dawes came to Lewes just a few months ago to talk about his plans for a South Downs Poetry Festival, I admit I was sceptical about whether it could be done in such a short timeframe. But hats off to him, the event happened and from what I can tell, it was a super success.

After a poetry bike ride taking in the length of the South Downs, plus numerous readings and workshops throughout the area, things culminated in a day-long event in Petersfield on Saturday, which I was very pleased to be a part of.

I was there with fellow Telltale Poet Jess Mookherjee, flying the Telltale flag, socialising with fellow publishers/poets and taking in readings and workshops where possible. Being a new festival, it was on a small scale – which made it actually all the more fun. With smallness comes intimacy – everyone was relaxed, poets and organisers accessible, and there was time and space to really talk to people. And we brought cookies – free edibles are always a magnet!

The sun was blazing outside, which made the short walk between venues all the better – although screams of delight from the next-door lido almost made me wish I’d brought my cossie. I even had an enjoyable drive there and back – 80 miles each way through some of Sussex’s loveliest towns, and the A272 was oddly free of horse boxes, cycle races and traction engines. Result! And let’s not forget a memorable warm-up breakfast at the Apothecary Cafe with Jess – we were ON FIRE with ideas by the time we were setting up our stand.

But I digress! The business of the day was of course poetry – Jess and I managed to catch the prize-winning readings of the Havant Poetry Competition, judged by Stephanie Norgate and won by former Brighton Stanza member Anna Kisby with a fine prose poem. Now based in Devon, Anna is a very talented poet who tends to quietly win a lot stuff and deserves a big audience.

During the day there were workshops going on, and readings and performances into the evening. I enjoyed meeting and/or catching up with lots of friendly faces and lovely poet friends including Lucy Cotterill, Hilda Sheehan (sorry we never got to chat properly, Hilda!), Frances White, Hugh Dunkerley, Wendy Klein and Andrew McMillan – whose workshop I managed to get along to and so glad I did – I’ll be posting a full report on this shortly. It was also nice to meet and chat with Alwyn Marriage, who is doing an amazing job running Oversteps Books single-handledly.

My one annoyance was coming out with a phone that I hadn’t charged up properly – a dead phone, DUH! So no photos of our stand (the one above is thanks to the good peeps of Winchester Poetry Festival, taken before we all moved into the much cosier foyer), no pics of the readers, no pics of our superior breakfast, no selfie with Andrew McMillan – tragic!

But despite the lack of pics, it was still a fantastic day. We’re already looking forward to next year’s festival.

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Stuff I wasn’t going to talk about here

I think blogging is like all kinds of writing in that one has ebbs and flows – of ideas, of energy, of motivation.

If I were to take my own advice I’d be sure to blog at least once a week in order not to lose readers or to keep my blog coming up in searches. I’d be making sure my posts were subtly laced with key words, I’d be finding my own spin on topical issues, always finishing blog posts with calls to action to encourage comments, always including AT LEAST one external link in every post. Actually that last one is a ‘rule’ I do think is important, because what are blogs if not part of the great linked-up thing that is the blogosphere & its grandad the internet? (Unless of course you are the phenomenon that is Seth Godin.)

As it is, I’m pretty relaxed about all that. My relationship with the online world has mellowed since those heady late-nineties when even eating and sleeping seemed an inconvenient distraction from being on the computer. And every now and then you get a wake up call that puts just about everything into perspective.

If I’ve temporarily gone off the boil with blogging recently it’s partly the fact that it’s The Summer, which as fellow Brits know is short lived and to be enjoyed while it’s here.  It’s also the first summer in our new home, with the novelty of a garden which needs weeding, nurturing, planning and sitting out in. Then the EU Referendum delivered the biggest shock I’ve experienced in my lifetime, and I worry more about the future now. I’ve also had breast cancer. I say that in the past tense, as I’ve been reassured by all the wonderful people who treated me that the rogue cells have gone. Only when I knew the prognosis did I start telling some people, on an individual basis, but not everyone. I didn’t want to make it a thing of it on social media or on my blog, I didn’t want a stream of sympathy or advice or sad face emojis, however well meant. Oddly, (given the ‘confessional’ nature of this blog at times) that wasn’t for me. A very good friend said her approach to breast cancer was to treat it as ‘a minor inconvenience’. Luckily for her, and for me too, it turned out to be exactly that. Onwards.

 

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When the poetry magazines arrive…

Brittle Star 38 cover art

… it’s always exciting, especially of course if you’ve got a poem in it. In the last couple of weeks I’ve been enjoying The Interpreter’s House issue 62, featuring an augmented brace of Telltale Poets (ie 3) and Brittle Star 38.

Both mags are famous for their striking covers, and my first thought when I saw Martin Parker’s design for Brittle Star was ‘Kate Bush!’ Check it out –

Never For Ever cover art

Clearly they are not the same, but it goes to show how many hours I stared at this album cover and how embedded it is in my memory.

The INSIDE of the magazine is of course the thing, and I enjoy the editorial and reviews as well as the poetry. I’m not big on short stories in poetry magazines, although I can be persuaded to read them occasionally. I know it’s common for magazines to do both, but I have a bit of a one-track mind.

Also just through the letterbox is the new Poetry Review (nothing in there by me, but I live in hope – although I haven’t actually submitted there for a while, and you can’t win it if you’re not in it. ) Some nice news though – I was just reading about Ian Humphreys winning the Hamish Canham prize this year (I had a lot of fun working with Ian in our breakout group on the Duffy & Clarke masterclass at Ty Newydd a few years ago. Very nice to see him having such a great 2016) when I saw my poem ‘The houses are coming’ mentioned as being on the shortlist of six for the prize. Huzzah! I need a few confidence-boosters right now and I’ll take that very happily, thanks very much The Poetry Society.

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Launch of ‘The Skin Diary’ by Abegail Morley

What a privilege it is to be asked to read at a friend’s book launch. Abegail Morley has been something of a mentor to me, always generous in her support. She is a genuinely unselfish in her helping of other poets, and always interested in collaborations or new ideas. She’s also a prolific writer – in the time I’ve known her (only about three years I think) she’s had two collections and a pamphlet published, all with different presses. It makes me seriously question my work ethic and output. But in a positive way!

In Tunbridge Wells on Wednesday evening a packed audience turned out in the pouring rain for the launch of The Skin Diary, Abegail’s new collection with Nine Arches Press, and her fourth overall. I’ve barely had a chance to start reading it but I’ve a strong suspicion it’s going to be powerful stuff, not just because that’s the kind of poetry she writes, but also evidenced by her reading. (I’d also had a sneak preview already at our Telltale Press & Friends readings in April.)

My fellow readers in the first half were Mara Bergman (who struck two nerves with me – one for the marvellous Tenement Museum in New York and the other for a riveting account of an MRI scan), and Jeremy Page, who I’ve had the pleasure of reading alongside many times, and I enjoyed hearing his wrestling poem again (from his Pindrop collection Closing Time). For my own part I read a couple of recently published poems and one that’s still quite new and a bit of a ‘funny’.

Lots of familiar faces including our newest Telltale recruit Jess Mookherjee, and lovely to meet the warm and enthusiastic Jane Commane of Nine Arches (pictured above), who was clearly delighted to have worked with Abegail on The Skin Diary. Great to see a publisher being so supportive and also actively engaging with audience members.

Then there was a first for me – I was asked afterwards if I would read my 3 poems again, by a lady whose two friends had missed the first half – a private at-table reading! Is this something poets should be offering at gala events – personal poetry readings at table? I actually enjoyed it as much as the official reading, because although it’s less of a performance there’s an intimacy and informality which allows the ‘audience’ to ask questions and tell me what rang a bell with them and how the poems made them feel. Fantastic.