We had a wonderful couple of days in Suffolk last week. First of all on the Benjamin Britten Trail, the highlight of which was a visit to the Red House, where Britten and Peter Pears lived through the 60s and 70s. Apparently they were hoarders,so with the help of receipts, travel itineraries, letters and photographs the archivists had a wonderful time recreating the house pretty much as it was when it was their home.
Britten is on my mind at the moment as his ‘Rejoice in the Lamb’ is one of three pieces our choir (The Lewes Singers) is performing in a concert in a few week’s time. The words are taken from the Christopher Smart poem of the same name, and the piece is mercurial and tricksy, not easy to perform well. But we have so many fine singers in the group so I’m confident it will be DARN GOOD. (And speaking of Christopher Smart, my Smart-influenced paean to snooker player Ronnie O’Sullivan just sank without trace in the Ambit poetry competition – boo! But it’s not bad – I WILL place it somewhere *evil laugh*)
Last week’s trip also took us to the Poetry Prom at Snape Maltings, with the very funny Ian McMillan and John Hegley. John’s set had a lot more melancholy about it, although his put-down to the over-enthusiastic audience members who started clapping in time to one of his sing-song poems (‘If I’d have wanted a rhythm section I’d have hired one!”) was the best moment of the night for me. Ian McMillan however is just irrepressible. My long suffering husband (on the drive there, his announcement that “I hope it’s not going to be just a couple of old blokes reading poetry!” had me momentarily stumped) actually laughed his head off.
Having just emerged from a book-writing marathon I’m now fighting a cold and the urge to feel pathetically sorry for myself! Not helped by the submissions doldrums – what on earth will it take for things to start moving? I have so many poems ‘out there’ and it must be easily 6 months since the last rejection. Is anyone else in this slump? It’s hard to summon up the motivation to send anything else out, EVER! Oh well maybe that’s a slight exaggeration. “Worse things happen at sea” as my mum used to say.
At least I have a number of exciting other projects in the pipeline, such as Telltale Press, which is finally preparing to poke its head above the parapet. I’ve discussed it over and over with poet and publisher friends, plus people who know about arts funding, (not to mention my solicitor and accountant!) trying to nail down the ethos of the whole thing, how it will work in practice, and I think it’s kind of there. The time has come to try it out! So we have 3 autumn launch events coming up, basically to launch Peter’s pamphlet and also to introduce Telltale. (If you’re interested, I’ve tweaked the ‘about’ page to better reflect the direction it’s going in).
Plus two other lovely events to look forward to – the Poetry Prom at Snape Maltings with Ian McMillan and John Hegley, and on September 6th it’s the Free Verse Poetry Book Fair at Conway Hall in London. I was a ‘helper’ there last year and this year I’m looking forward to taking in a few more of the readings, of which there are plenty. If you’re going too, let me know and let’s at least say hello.
Hurray! First of all I managed to snag a place on the Don Share workshop in October in Swindon (before it sold out) and then thanks to a prompt from Josephine Corcoran I’m now booked in from Friday night, so I’ll be able to join in on Saturday also.
The Swindon Festival of Poetry, brainchild of the indefatigable Hilda Sheehan, takes place from Thursday 2nd to Sunday 5th October, and with the range of workshops, readings, walks and other fun events on offer I think it’s going to be a super weekend.
It feels like so long since I was able to think/talk/write poetry for more than a couple of hours at a time. So I really feel I need this. Can’t wait.
It was a lovely evening at the Poetry Cafe last night – and a very high standard of readings I felt – there was music too: I don’t normally go for bits of singing inserted into poetry, but Tom Cunliffe gave a riveting performance including just that. It set the atmosphere alight.
It was nice to encounter again Katherine Gallagher who I met earlier in the month when we were both reading at the Lamb Festival. Katherine brought her own brand of anecdote and self-deprecating charm to the business of introducing the Palmers Green poets, while I struggled to haul myself out of a sofa in an elegant fashion each time I got up to introduce ours. Paul McGrane did a great job of organising the whole thing and adjusting the mic stand seemingly for every reader, we were all such different heights. In the Palmers Green camp I particularly enjoyed Joan Michelson‘s reading – I’d come across Joan’s name a lot but we hadn’t actually met before – and Judith Willetts.
Our Brighton Stanza poets were wonderful, of course – but then I would say that! Big thanks to Tom Cunliffe, Antony Mair, Peter Kenny, Ponnie Dudley and Marion Tracy for coming along and to our supporters on the night. And to Peter especially for paying for the cab that got us to Victoria in time for me to catch the 21.47 home, in time to join Nick in the pub after his students had performed their last concert of the year, a glass of wine and the balmy stroll home at midnight. Happy days.
It’s all been a bit hectic lately, but I thought I’d just check in with updates on a few things.
Readings – On Wednesday I’m at the Poetry Cafe with 5 other Brighton-ish based poets, talking on Palmers Green in a Stanza Bonanza. I’m wondering how little clothing I can get away with, given the typical ambience of the Poetry Cafe basement even in February (think Brazilian rainforest). From 7pm – come and support us if you dare!
Workshops – the amazing Hilda Sheehan has pulled off a right royal coup – she’s only been and got Don Share to come and give a workshop in Swindon in October – blimey! His fan club has got its antenna up and the Share-heads are already whooping it up on Facebook. I am so there – although of course I already have my autographed copy of Union – yeah, baby!
Found poem – Not strictly ‘found’ in that sense, but it recently came to my attention that a poem I sent to poetsonline.org has appeared on their website. It was in response to one of their periodic prompts, this one being Emily Dickinson’s first lines. Naturally I thought of ‘Poem beginning with a line by Emily Dickinson’, a little number I had written for the 2013 Brighton Stanza Anthology. So nice to see it given an online home.
Submissions – nowt happening on that front, alas, although I think I’ve written a couple of good poems this year. They’re either sat in someone’s slush/pending/unread pile, or underneath 5,736,204 competition entries somewhere, or stuck in the wrong box in a sorting office, never to surface until one day in 2196 when they might make it into a museum of curios. Who knows?
Um, no, I’m not referring to my previous post which generated a large amount of correspondence – although none of it in the comments, funnily enough! – mostly sympathetic. No indeed, but more an excuse to use one of my favourite lines from Shakespeare. The tenuous link is to the Vanguard Readings which take place at The Bear on Camberwell New Road (geddit??), and which I finally got to last night after many months of ticking the ‘Maybe’ box on the Facebook invitations.
My friend Lucy is that rare creature – a poetry supporter but not a poet. We once turned up casually late at the Betsey Trotwood, then caused a minor scene, so this time we were determined to get a seat and behave ourselves. As it happened we were the first in the room, something I seem to be making a habit of lately.
James Wood & David OgunmuyiwaMartin Malone & Joanna Walsh
It was a great night with plenty of variety and a fair bit of refreshingly non-toe-curling sex (in the poetry). I’ve never quite cracked the poetry sex thing – I think I have a fear of it either sliding into farce a la Frankie Howerd, or else someone coming across some steamy verse when I’m in my dotage and thinking eeeuw!you mean that old lady wrote this? As Lucy put it, it’s the tattoo thing. How will it look when you’re ninety? Hmm…anyway, I digress.
The monthly Vanguard Readings are run very efficiently by the charming and unflappable Richard Skinner and generally feature a mix of poetry and prose. The formula is six readers, three before the break, three after, each reader getting ten minutes or so. It’s free to attend and last night there were about 40 people in the audience, but judging from photos on the FB page it can sometimes be standing room only. No open mic, and even with the vagaries of Southern Rail and the notorious ‘black hole’ of no trains to Lewes between 9.47 and 10.47 I was home by midnight. Result!
I’m sure I’ll be there again in November to hear an all-poet line up, including the wonderful Josephine Corcoran reading from her forthcoming tall-lighthouse pamphlet. You can keep up with what’s on via the Vanguard Readings Facebook Page.
In the interests of giving the magazine an airing in different parts of the country, The Interpreter’s House editor Martin Malone came down to the south coast yesterday to launch issue number 56.
It was a very different event to the last one. Firstly, the Redroaster Coffee House is less intimate than the Albion Beatnik Bookstore in Oxford. The event was also by suggestion of Pighog Press, who run their regular events there. As a result, the evening felt a little bit shoe-horned into the Pighog format, with their usual entrance prices and a large number of open mic readers. With an hour of open-mic to fit in, we didn’t get enough of Martin Malone’s lovely compering skills, there was less time for the kind of relaxed banter we had at the Oxford event, and I didn’t come away with a strong feeling about The Interpreter’s House as a magazine. And as usual it went over time, which is tricky for the out-of-towners with trains and buses to catch.
All of this is a shame, as many of the contributors had come a long way to read – Robert Harper from Shrewsbury, for example. Robert is the Stanza rep in his area and also editor of Bare Fiction, a new magazine of poetry and prose. There were lots of friends in the audience and there were some very enjoyable readings. I always like to hear poet friend Charlotte Gann (LOVE her poem ‘Next Door’ in the magazine) – she doesn’t do many readings so catch her when you can. It was also great to meet (and hear read) Paul McGrane and Richard Skinner, both of whom I’ve had a fairly long internet acquaintance with but never actually met. Incidentally, although several of the open mic readers were excellent, a few could have done with reading these tips from Paul on open mic readings!)
It was brilliant to have The Interpreter’s House come here for a local launch and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves so maybe I’m a lone grump in the wilderness (go on, you can tell me!), but I do think the star of any magazine launch ideally needs to be the magazine and its featured contributors. After the Oxford launch, I had a much better idea about the ethos, history and personality of The Interpreter’s House, and was moved to subscribe. I hope last night’s attendees felt that way, because that would be a real result.
It rained. Part of the building had fallen off. The bar was heaving with Carphone Warehouse partygoers. But The Rialto launch last night was a small haven of poetry peace amidst the chaos.
Although I got there indecently early (I had the silly idea that it was starting at 6.30) Fiona Moore made me very welcome and I was soon joined by Sarah Rudston, Nancy Campbell and Davina (D A) Prince, all contributors to this issue. There was plenty of chat about publishing, Stanzas, workshopping and the like. Michael Mackmin arrived with a huge bag of magazines and pamphlets. We had readings from five poets including Fleur Adcock and Stephen Watts, and although I had to leave soon after the readings and speeches to get a 9pm train, the room was still full and animated.
Jennifer Wong & Michael Mackmin
I found it a really nice and non-intimidating event. As well as a launch (the first time The Rialto has had one in London) it was also a celebration of the Assistant Editor programme as Abigail Parry and Fiona Moore ended their ‘apprenticeship’ which they had clearly enjoyed. I was also thrilled to finally introduce myself to Michael Mackmin after my last aborted attempt!
I’ve talked before with poet friends about how The Rialto just seems to have a particular appeal in a way that other magazines, however brilliant, don’t quite have. Is it the production values – the size, spaciousness, paper, typefaces, beautiful covers? Is it the personable and down to earth editorials? The submissions guidelines that manage to be firm without being school-masterish or snitty? The twenty-pound note that falls from the envelope when you’ve had a poem accepted for publication? The poetry itself? What we usually agree on is that it’s Michael Mackmin’s personality and particular style that seem to be the key. The Assistant Editor programme has been interesting. I was slightly disappointed with issue 79, I can’t say for sure why but it felt like the range of poetry featured had narrowed. What I’ve read so far of issue 80 I’ve really enjoyed. Fresh eyes and fresh ideas are surely a good thing for any long-running project, but as long as Michael is still around it’s unlikely The Rialto will undergo any major overhaul. And would anyone want that anyway?
I picked up a copy of Paul Muldoon’s Horse Latitudes. Paul read at the Charleston Festival a couple of weeks ago and I regret not seeing him. He’s a poet I’ve not read so this was my ‘canon’ purchase. Then I spotted Josh Ekroy’s new collection, Ways to Build a Roadblock. His is a name I know well from magazines, so I was intrigued enough to buy a copy, much to the pleasure of the chap on the till. Later on at The Rialto event I was impressed by Michael Mackmin’s talking up of ‘A bad influence girl’, Janet Rogerson’s pamphlet, so that was my third purchase. So lots more lovely reading.
A small section of the poetry shelves at the London Review Bookshop – with Jenny Lewis’s Taking Mesopotamia getting pride of place
Submissions: ‘Send us some poems!’ said Fiona Moore as I left. When I told her I already had some out to The Rialto, sent in February, she looked puzzled. ‘You should have heard by now.’ Oh no – the words I dread – alarm bells ring, has it happened again, did my precious submission not arrive? Am I the only one this happens to on a regular basis? Lost poems, poems accepted for a magazine but then left out, poems accepted then same poems rejected by the same magazine… my submissions seem to be dogged by problems. Almost wishing for a short, sharp rejection instead of facing another nails-down-the-blackboard ‘black hole’ scenario. We’ll see.
Latest submissions news is …. no news. Or rather, another of my stupid cockups: according to my records I’d made a submission to Lighthouse in early April, but then this week when I checked their website I noticed it said that submissions are always acknowledged with an email auto-responder. I couldn’t find one in my inbox, so then I wondered if I hadn’t submitted after all, and so sent three more (different) poems. But these weren’t acknowledged either, so now I’m wondering whether the first submission was received after all and now I’ve multiple-submitted – DUH.
Apart from that, I’ve been working on a pamphlet submission with I was hoping to send to Flarestack but their window closes on Saturday and I’m not sure what I’ve got is ready to send, so I may have to hold my horses on that one.
Meanwhile, thanks to a lovely feature on Rebecca Gethin’s blog I’ve had a little flurry of pamphlet sales – thanks everyone! And on the subject of pamphlets, my Telltale Press venture has moved up a gear with a wonderful poet joining as our new Associate Editor – to be announced on the Telltale blog imminently! Exciting news! Plus the second Telltale pamphlet by the very talented Peter Kenny is almost on its way to the printers …
Next Thursday I’m helping with an evening of poetry by and for Jo Grigg, much-missed poet friend and Stanza rep. It’s shaping up into a joyous event which I’ve no doubt will be a wonderful tribute to Jo’s writing, her love of poetry and the affection we all felt for her.
Yesterday was only the second sunny, (almost) balmy evening of the year, and I found myself (almost) beside the sea, amongst some magical works of art and listening to poetry at Cameron Contemporary Art Gallery in Hove.
It was strong reading from Siân Thomas, Stephen Plaice and Rebecca Hurst, and a super atmosphere thanks to the efforts of gallery owner Robin who played host. The building is a former garage, with floor to ceiling glass doors along the whole of its frontage, and we found ourselves sat sideways on to Second Avenue and the languorous comings and goings of curious pedestrians, even an Asda delivery van apparently pulling up to take a look. None of this detracted from the readings, far from it – in fact I made an interesting discovery – that outside visual stimulation actually enhances my listening. (It’s the background noise you often get in pubs and cafes I find distracting.)
Although I didn’t know any of the audience, both Siân and Rebecca are familiar to me from poetry events in Lewes and Sussex generally. Siân is currently Poet in Residence for the Ashdown Forest, which sounds particularly magical and Midsummer Night’s Dream-ish. She read a number of pieces from her pamphlet Ovid’s Echo, a collection inspired by Ovid’s Metamorphoses. I particularly enjoyed hearing her take on Medusa’s story. All the poets were great at introducing and setting the scene a little (but not too much) – I made a mental note to become better at that. It’s treading that fine line between too much of ‘this poem is about…’ and yet giving enough clues for the listener to enjoy the nuances of a piece.
Rebecca writes, teaches and is also a talented illustrator, as you can see from her website. She was telling me that she’s hoping to start a creative writing PhD soon, which will take her away from the area and from her job at Glyndebourne. Rebecca has such a wonderful speaking voice. Her poems had poignancy and energy, a compelling combination. And speaking of Glyndebourne, the third reader, Stephen Plaice, is well known for his opera libretti, as well as poetry and a career’s worth of writing credentials for stage and screen. Stephen has had two collections published, and he read some powerful pieces from one of them, Over the Rollers.
Ah, lovely to come away feeling inspired. I’m hoping to be back at the Gallery again soon, maybe to take part in a reading, as Siân was telling me she’s hoping to organise more events there. And who knows, maybe we’ve found a great venue for the Telltale Press launch?
