Category: Inspiration

Readings, writing, reviews & general catchup

Finally, here I am putting my head above the parapet. It’s been a lovely full summer. Not so much for the garden, which suffered from a too-early onset of dry weather, then the nail in the coffin of the hosepipe ban. We did get a modest harvest of cucumbers, courgettes and tomatoes, although quite a few plants failed.  But plenty of fun stuff: a big family holiday, long in the planning, an extended visit from stepdaughter over from Australia that really energised me, then most recently a two week holiday a deux in Sicily. I’m a lucky woman in so many ways, I won’t bore you with the detail. Let’s just say I’m back and I have that good feeling that comes with the move into Autumn.

Readings

Eighteen hours after crawling into bed on Tuesday morning, after a day’s driving followed by a flight delay, I was at the Hurstpierpoint Festival taking part in a group poetry reading organised by poet friend Miriam Patrick. Miriam is a very talented poet who gives so much of her time to others. A number of the attendees on Tuesday were members of Miriam’s poetry reading group that she set up in the village. It was a good event – I think the room was full, and we all got a warm reception. Miriam read some engaging poems about work, with themes ranging from artist’s muse Lizzie Siddal to Aquinas’s angels dancing on a pinhead. Wendy Klein was also reading, from her pamphlet ‘Having Her Cake’. The collection tackles the subject of assisted dying, with reference to a close friend who made that choice in California, where the process is not illegal. I found it an intense and moving reading.

Meanwhile, forthcoming readings are just around the corner. Please come along if any of them are near you. (I’m also looking for more reading opps next year, so if there’s a poetry event near you that you think I could ask to read at, please let me know.)

Tuesday 7 October 7.45 – 9.30pm: Ouse Muse, Bedford

Friday 12 December 8pm: Reading Poets Cafe

Writing

I’ve been pondering why I’m so lacking in any impetus to write at the moment. After all, if the sun-drenched historic gorgeousness and energy of Sicily doesn’t inspire me, what the heck will? Actually, those fabulous mosaics at Villa Romana Casale of female bikini-clad athletes are pretty inspirational. But sometimes (usually, for me) it’s a small thing that pops out unexpectedly. Among the pile of publications and catalogues waiting for me to read when I got back was a copy of the new-look Times Literary Supplement, bigger and thicker than before and every two weeks rather than weekly. I had barely got into it when today the latest issue dropped though the letter box. A quick skim for poetry content revealed a poem by Jemma Borg called ‘Before & after the night’. (Apologies if this link takes you to a paywall.) As I read it, I felt little lights going off in my brain accompanied by the kind of ‘wish I’d written that’ feeling that can be inspirational but also saddening. Like Salieri in Amadeus, melting in the face of Mozart’s brilliance and at recognising that he himself will never be more than a reasonably good musician. Thankfully, Jemma’s poem had more of a positive than negative effect on me! So I’ve just ordered a copy of her collection Wilder and a already noodling through a few ideas.

Reviews

I’m not the greatest trumpet-blower as you know, but it would do a disservice to D A Prince and Mat Riches not to link to their wonderful reviews of The Mayday Diaries. Davina’s is on the London Grip website and Mat’s is here on Ink & Sweat & Tears. How lovely to have a book read so closely and with such insight. I’m very thankful for the time and effort both poets made. There’s another fillip for the book coming up later in the year, but more about that, er, later.

Subs windows

One job I have managed to get done this week has been the quarterly spreadsheet update of magazine submissions windows. It seems to be getting more complicated, with more journals stipulating more and more micro-guidelines, the rise of submissions fees (but also, the rise of payment for publication), also more publications making their subs windows even shorter and harder to predict. I’m wondering if the spreadsheet in its current format could be slimmed down and made more relevant. I know, I’ve talked about reviewing it before now. But I think a plan is starting to formulate.

The Mayday Diaries cover art: what’s it all about?

Please click on the image for a bit of fun!

Yes I know, the picture is a bit strange. Then again, perhaps you haven’t really looked at it? Understandable. Poetry books sometimes have interesting cover art, but the poet rarely has much say in it. Thanks to being published by a small press with an open attitude, I persuaded them to use a photo I’d created myself.

I took this photo in my living room (the colour on the wall is French Grey from Farrow and Ball, in case you’re interested!) My idea was to assemble a ‘still life’ in the Dutch tradition of ‘vanitas’ paintings. ‘Vanitas’ being the genre of still life that is supposed to suggest the brevity of one’s time on this planet, and the futility of everything we strive for, since it has to end in death.

This isn’t as gloomy as it sounds, trust me! What I gathered together were pieces of memorabilia, items referenced in the poems, signifiiers… all arranged in such a way that I hope engenders a feeling of a life lived, in all its messiness, chaos, mistakes, serendipity, quirkiness and yes, beauty.

If you look closely you’ll see a Korean Coca-Cola bottle (I used to collect Coca-Cola cans and bottles from all the countries I visited through work!), burnt-out candles and a half-drunk glass of wine (I’ll leave you to decide on the significance of these), rotting fruit (=decay) and a fox’s skull (mostly in pieces). Skulls, and timepieces, are very common ‘vanitas’ tropes. There’s no clock or watch here, but I have included pages from work diaries, a (laminated) production timeline (we had a new product range every quarter), my old Filofax from the 1990s, even some pages from one of my teenage diaries. There are also photos of me as a Brownie and later as a jaded employee posing for yet another visa application. And let’s not gloss over the blister pack of paracetamol. Pills, childhood terrors, stupid work schedules and endless long-haul trips are well represented in the poems. As well as the internet, computers, magnolia flowers (artificial in this case) and ‘burning the candle at both ends’.

I hope this gives you a richer insight into the cover image, and perhaps more ways into the poems.

In case you’ve missed it, I’ve posted some notes on the poems here, and here you can listen to me reading a few of them.

More about The Mayday Diaries, and how to buy it, here.

 

On performing ekphrastic poems, Poetry Book Fair etc

I’m not sure I’ve ever really celebrated World Poetry Day, which was apparently adopted by UNESCO in 1999 with the aim of “supporting linguistic diversity through poetic expression and increasing the opportunity for endangered languages to be heard.” It’s held on March 21st each year, and this year in Eastbourne the indefatigable ‘Mister John’ who hosts a monthly poetry open mic is staging a special event on the theme of ekphrasis. The Hastings Stanza will well represented, and I’m taking along poems inspired by contemporary artworks by Anish Kapoor and Jann Haworth.

On ‘Performing’ ekphrastic poems

Reading poems based on artworks is tricky. If they’re famous paintings then at least some of the audience might be familiar with them. If not, do you spend five minutes explaining what it’s a picture of before reading the poem? What if the artwork is a piece of performance art? I’ve written something inspired by The House with the Ocean View by Marina Abramovic, but decided against reading it this week because explaining the artwork is too time consuming. Even with static art, ideally we would have a projector and be able to show it while reading the poem. But what if that’s not possible? I’ve opted for putting a copy of the art next to the poem, printing it out and taking a few ‘pass around’ copies with me. We’ll see how it goes.

The return of the Poetry Book Fair

Although it bears no resemblance to the London Book Fair, London’s Poetry Book Fair (also known as Free Verse) used to be a very jolly and uplifting event, independently organised, until the pandemic years. The great news is that it’s back, to be held on Saturday 20th April. The bad news for me is that I can’t make it. Organised now by The Poetry Society, the fair consists of around 80 small-to-micro poetry publishers crammed into a hall displaying their wares. A great opportunity for editors to meet their readers and potential readers, for poets to meet editors (or check then out incognito!) and sample their books, for tiny indies to rub along with the Fabers of the poetry world. It’s also a good old-fashioned networking event, even if poets don’t tend to use that phrase. Meet poets you’ve always admired and hear them read! Quiz editors about what they’re looking for and make sure they remember your name! Or just run into poet mates you haven’t seen in ages.

I’ve been to three of the Fairs in the past and helped out on a publisher table for a couple of them, and it’s always a fine occasion. This year I happen to be coming back from Spain that very day. I could probably trail my luggage with me straight up to London from Gatwick but it’s unlikely I’ll be there before 4pm, when traditionally things are winding down. Oh well, next year I hope. Do visit this year if you can.

All shall be well

I know, I know – not that Julian of Norwich quote again, I hear you say. But it’s the start of the year, I’m looking out at blue sky, and this is the first day since November 8th that I’ve felt properly well, and that the three colds I’ve had back-to-back since then are finally wearing off. Life is good and all shall be well.

Julian of Norwich was really just a name to me until poet friend Antony lent me his copy of I, Julian by Clare Gilbert, (Hachette) which is a fictionalised autobiography of the medieval anchoress who wrote ‘Revelations of Divine Love’. I was interested in finding out more about Julian’s life, and actually I found it un-put-downable.

At the other end of the spectrum I’ve been converted to the Ruth Galloway novels by Elly Griffiths which I’ve been hoovering up on my kindle. They’re great fun, perfect for long waiting times in airports and hospitals, and a good example of (ahem) how to write not a single novel but a series.

On the poetry front, Janet Sutherland’s The Messenger House (Shearsman) has risen to the top of the TBR pile and I’ve made tentative progress through it. The book is a hybrid of prose, poetry, memoir, travelogue. So far I’ve found it intriguing and exciting. Janet likes to push the boundaries and her work is never predictable.

Last week we had a few days away in Barcelona: art, architecture, tapas, wine. We also managed a boat trip, trips on two funny trains and a cable car. We like to go on a boat wherever we go on holiday, and a funny train is a bonus! The image that accompanies this post is a detail of one of the huge doors to Gaudi’s Sagrada Familia. Cast in bronze, the doors are on the Nativity front and depict nature in all its detail. Really lovely work by Japanese sculptor and follower of Gaudi, Etsuro Sotoo.

And now I must decide what I’m reading at Needlewriters on Thursday. Already a few non-poet friends have told me they’re coming (gulp). There’ll also be poet friends there who’ve heard me read before. I want to read some new stuff, but maybe I should include material that isn’t new but that has gone down well in readings before. Also, nothing too grim or opaque. Help! It’s a been a while since I’ve done a 15 minute set, so I need to get practising.

But hey – at least I’m not reading at the T S Eliots on Sunday. Then I might be a tad nervous. Katy Evans-Bush is running two online sessions (Saturday and Sunday) discussing the ten shortlisted collections – more info here. I’ve been to Katy’s sessions when they were in-person at the old Poetry School premises in Lambeth and they were both enjoyable and very helpful. Katy really knows her stuff and does her research, but these workshops are very much collaborative discussions, not lectures. But they are online. I think sadly since the Poetry School moved north of the river, renting a space there for such a workshop is now prohibitive. A great shame.

 

 

On spirituality, a submission and the wonder of lists

Wow, I felt a lot of love for RS Thomas after my last blog post.

I wonder if we need more spirituality today, generally I mean. I speak as a moderate atheist. I think I used to call myself an ‘agnostic’ – wanting to leave the door open I suppose – but we all grow older, and so our thoughts and beliefs mature one way or another. I now love a lot of things about the church of my upbringing (although I hated it as a child!), but it stops well short of faith. The only church service I enjoy is Evensong, but I love the architecture of churches and can’t resist going inside any I come across. I’ve often sung the services in cathedrals with my choir the Lewes Singers: I will sing anything, but I never say the creed. It’s always a moving experience, but perhaps that’s the feeling of being in the presence of faith: people who truly believe. I don’t just mean those participating in the service, but also the thousands of souls who have worshipped there for centuries, right back to the stonemasons and labourers who built the massive edifices. I respect all that, and feel privileged to be a part of it.

But spirituality feels much wider, more inclusive than religion as such. My impression is that RS continually questioned his faith. Isn’t that what many of us do, even the atheists? What do we believe in? Surely it can’t just be Gaia, politics, football or reality TV?

On the writing front

Poetry latest: I’ve sent the full collection to a publisher for consideration. They’ve already seen about a third of the poems and asked for more. Yes, I had an offer of publication a couple of years ago from another publisher but for various reasons that never happened. So here’s hoping.

This has freed me up to finish the rewrites on my novel. Having had an excellent critique by Beth Miller of my query letter, synopsis and first page of manuscript, I knew I had to make some fairly significant changes. I started on it, but then got sidetracked by a holiday, putting together and submitting a poetry collection, plus a number of other time-critical projects. BUT I am back on it!

In parallel to the rewrites, I’m gearing up for submission by reviewing my list of literary agents. I started with a list based on the Writers’ and Artists’ Yearbook, but as it always is with print publications not all the entries were up to date. So I augmented it by searching, visiting websites, identifying potential individual agents who seem interested in my genre, noting their requirements, Twitter names, email etc. Yes! A spreadsheet!

I’ve also created a Twitter List of Literary Agents. I love Lists on Twitter, and I think it has always been a much-unused facility. Once you have a list, you can browse tweets just from that list. Which means (in my case) you find out very quickly when an agent puts out a call for submissions, or who they have signed, or what they’re looking for, or when they’re closed and for how long, and so forth. Lists, people! They are useful!

In the land of RS Thomas

Back from a scorching hot week in North Wales, to which we took waterproofs, heavy duty walking boots and woollies, none of which we needed. Thankfully we also took shorts and sunscreen!

The Llyn peninsula is a long way to go, further than Land’s End (I looked it up!) but it was worth it. What a beautiful, unspoilt part of the British Isles. Here’s the view that greeted us at dawn, taken from the door of the cottage.

Tan y Bwlch cottage on the Llyn

It would make an excellent place for a writing retreat. Quiet, surrounded by nature and with a very poor phone signal.

While we were there I started reading Byron Rogers’ compelling life of RS Thomas, The Man who went into the West, which I’ve nearly finished. He was clearly a puzzling and contradictory man. Although I knew the name, I’ve never made an effort to read his work, which I’m a bit ashamed about now. Especially after Gillian Clarke, on a course at Ty Newydd, exhorted all of us to go away and read him. My podcasting poet pal Peter says he met RS when he was a student, and was struck by his presence.

At Aberdaron, in the little church where RS preached for some years, they’ve made a sort of shrine to him, with newspaper articles, copies of poems and other material. Lovely!

RS Thomas poem The Moon in Llyn

While we were there we walked from Aberdaron along the coastal path. It has more ups and downs than the Seven Sisters cliff walk here in Sussex, and very narrow in places. Here’s the view looking back to Aberdaron. You can just see the church graveyard creeping up the hill in the distance.View of Aberdaron

Current poetry reading and podcast prep

My phase of reading nowt but historical novels is over (for now) as I get my poetry head back on in preparation for Season Four (gulp!) of Planet Poetry.

First up, I’ve been doing a deep dive into Leontia Flynn‘s brand new collection Taking Liberties (Cape). It’s wonderful work and I’m feeling quite energised by it (meaning: it’s inspired me to write something that may be a poem.) I’ll be interviewing Leontia on the pod, really looking forward to that.

Also on the ‘to be read’ pile is Caroline Bird‘s The Air Year (Carcanet) which picked up a whole ton of awards in 2020. I’ve not yet been hit by the ‘Bird Love Bomb’ that many others speak of, so I shall read it with keen anticipation.

I was a fangirl in my teenage years of Brian Patten, and I’m still hoping we can coax him onto the poddy. In the meantime I’ve been loving, loving his Selected Poems (Penguin 2007). Even lovelier is that having bought it second-hand, I discovered it’s a signed copy, ‘To Liz’ – the name I was given at birth. Spooky!

I’ve also recently read another prize-winning collection Hannah Lowe’s The Kids (Bloodaxe 2021) and enjoyed it immensely. Recommended.

The positives of submitting less to magazines

I recently came across this blog post by Naush Sabah about why we send our poems to magazines (or not). I’m in agreement with her on just about all of it, although I needed telling some things; for example:

You needn’t seek to publish every poem you write. Some work is for the drawer, some work is for an audience of one or two friends, some work is better within a book, some work is for the trash and, if you’re lucky, a key to unlock the next piece of writing.

It hasn’t been a conscious thing, but when I think about it, I can put most poems I write these days into one of these categories. I haven’t been sending out as many poems to magazines as I used to, and among those I have sent not many have been accepted. I’ve been a bit disillusioned about this to be honest.

And yet at the same time I can see that quite a few of these poems belong with others in order to have the impact I’m after. In other words, in a collection.

A few might even be poems I should be treating as stepping stones to the actual poem I’m after, the ‘key to unlocking the next piece of writing’ that Naush talks about in her piece.

A funny thing to be saying, given my unofficial role as cheerleader for submitting to magazines. I still believe in the magazines, and still encourage people to send in their poems. But it’s what I’ve always said: it’s not a strategy that suits everyone all the time. Goals and ambitions change.

Which reminds me, Sarah Salway interviewed me recently about submitting to magazines, for her lovely Everyday Words project. Sarah is a powerhouse of creativity, and if you haven’t seen it before, do watch this excellent TED talk she gave in 2019, ‘In praise of everyday words’:

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A quickfire ‘personal canon’

The other evening I was in Lewes listening to Jackie Wills and Grace Nichols being interviewed by Mark Hewitt. One of the topics they discussed was the idea of having a ‘personal canon’, in other words those poets or poetry collections that have either been formative influences, or that you dip into regularly for inspiration. The talk was of how important it was to remember that poetry is very much a matter of personal taste, and that it’s pretty difficult for everyone to agree on ‘the poetry canon’, except perhaps for Shakespeare and a handful of other ‘greats’.

It made me think of the huge variety of ‘exemplar’ poems you come across in poetry workshops. On Grace’s list were Derek Walcott, Elizabeth Jennings and Sylvia Plath. She very cannily declined to mention the names of any living poets, for fear (she said) of upsetting anyone, since many of her contemporaries are her friends.

I started wondering who would be on my list. Of course, like any of those ‘desert island discs’ questions, it becomes impossible to choose between X, Y and Z. So I did it as a kind of ‘quickfire’ exercise – not taking too long to think about, just put down some names and stop when you get to 10. I too have deliberately avoided my contemporaries some of whom I think produce brilliant work.  But what will stand the test of time? That feels to me like a key ‘canon’ criterion. Having said that, there are some people on the list who are actually not dead.

So here’s my quick list, at this moment in time, but in no particular order…(*those still alive have an asterisk!)

Ted Hughes – we studied his poetry at school and I fell in love with his work, in particular his poem ‘Hawk Roosting’, waxing lyrical about it in my English exam. Oddly enough I assumed he was dead – when in fact if I’d asked our English teacher she might have been able to secure a visit, since that was a period when Hughes was reading at schools across the country.

Eavan Boland – I came late to the party on this, only discovering the late, great writer after she’d died. Boland broke away from the Irish literary status quo, writing on topics considered ‘unpoetical’ by her male contemporaries. Stunning poetry and inspirational essays.

Geoffrey Chaucer – Although the general prologue to The Canterbury Tales was on the reading list for aforementioned English A level, I wasn’t that engaged to be honest. But encountering House of Fame late in life gave me a new-found enthusiasm for Chaucer. He was educated and cosmopolitan, and yet very English, unafraid to cock a snook at the likes of Dante yet capable of the most glorious poetry. And many of his themes are very much relevant today.

*Mary Ruefle – An absolute one-off. Ruefle is famous for her erasure poetry (of which she’s written a ton) and books of essays. Poet Tania Hershman gave me a copy of The Most of It a few years back – it’s a collection of short prose pieces, although where is the boundary between prose poems and short poetic prose? Either way, her work is so crazy-creative I can’t think of a decent adjective to describe it.

Theresa Hak Kyung Cha – I came Cha’s Dictee via my podcast partner Peter Kenny. It’s a postmodern hybrid collection like no other, and years before its time. A few pages of this and for several hours I’m physically unable to write anything in neat quatrains.

*Kim Addonizio – I devoured her selected poems Wild Nights – vital, sexy, funny, moving, just extraordinary. I always, always get an injection of energy and creativity when I dip into her work.

Walt Whitman – I admit I only really got into Leaves of Grass after singing in a performance of Vaughan Williams’s Sea Symphony, featuring extracts of Whitman’s wonderful, exuberant poetry. I found the whole thing as a PDF on the web, then realised it was 674 pages. So no, I haven’t read it all.

Tomas Transtromer – spare, beautiful, always surprising. A workshopping favourite I know, but for good reason.

*Roger McGough – as a teenager I loved the Liverpool Poets and I still read McGough for his wit and humour. A nice reminder of how a light touch can pack a huge punch in political poetry.

Alfred Lord Tennyson – I never thought I’d be including a Victorian poet in this list, but In Memoriam AHH had a big impact on me, and still serves as a model of how to write about grief.

Others I seem to have left off – oh no! Dante, Heaney, Auden etc etc. Yikes.

 

A holiday and a vintage submissions spreadsheet

On a holiday

Just back from a short trip to the Netherlands where the weather was spectacularly mild and dry for late October. I can’t recall ever being at the seaside in just a T shirt and jeans on my birthday! And what a seaside.

From the pier at Scheveringen, a big popular resort with miles of gorgeous sandy beach

It was my first visit to the Netherlands (I don’t really count the trips to Hilversum and occasional foray into Amsterdam when I worked for Nike) and I loved the vibe where we stayed in The Hague and the small nearby towns of Delft and Leiden.

a community bookswap
A community bookswap

We couldn’t resist climbing the 300-plus steps to the top of the tower in Delft. Fab views.

View from the tower of the New Church at Delft
View from the tower of the New Church at Delft

And in The Hague, the museums we visited were intimate affairs and not too crowded. I wasn’t sure I was going to enjoy the Mauritshuis with its rooms of Rembrandts and Vermeers, but to my surprise I discovered a love of Dutch 17th century portraits, and particularly the still life paintings…

Still Life by Simon Luttichuys
Still Life with Chinese Lidded Jar, Hazelnuts and Orange, Simon Luttichuys (1610 – 1661)

And the Escher museum was fascinating. I only know him for his famous woodcuts and etchings of ‘impossible’ views, but there was so much more to see.

View down into St Peter's in Rome by MC Escher
View down into St Peter’s in Rome by MC Escher

I came home thinking about so many things – the sea (it has a special resonance for the Dutch), unusual viewpoints, shared public spaces (people, trams, bikes… it seems to all work smoothly whereas in this country we have to put up endless barriers, physical and psychological), and how to be still and look closely.

On poetry submissions and record-keeping

A recent sign-up to my mailing list is Shaun Belcher, a plenty-published poet who is just getting back into the subs game – and look what he sent me:

Shaun's subs sheet

It’s a couple of pages from his poetry submissions record-keeping, back in the early 1990s! He gave me permission to share it with you. Some of the journals listed here are still in existence, some not. Look at the comments, some are pretty funny. Shaun tells me he had an acceptance rate of around 30% –  not bad! I think keeping a record of where you send work and what the response is (if any – note the “over a year and no reply – written off”!) is so useful as well as motivational. Thanks, Shaun.

On online workshopping

It’s week 4 of Bill Greenwell’s online workshop and I think I’m just settling in. Everyone there knows one another, and are familiar with the set-up. The first week went well, I jumped in and read everyone’s poems and commented on them all, although there’s no requirement to do so. But I like to be sociable and not appear stand-offish.

But by week 2 I was already feeling overwhelmed – so many poems to read and comment on, and trying to produce a new poem each week was weighing heavy on me. However, I seem to have now set my own pace. I try to read other people’s poems, but not if they’ve already had loads of comments. I sometimes add my comments but I don’t feel bad if I don’t.

Although I could just bring an old unpublished poem for workshopping each week (goodness knows I have a ton) I’ve set myself the task of only bringing new work, as a way of getting myself to write more. Having been away last week, yesterday I allowed myself a bit of leeway and posted an old poem that needs reviving. But overall, the course is proving to be very good for me.