Category: Writing

Bloggers/

On blogging, writing and giving myself time

Yesterday was the first session of a ‘Build your social web presence’ course I’m teaching at New Writing South, and the common question of how does one find the time to blog came up. Fellow bloggers, how would you answer this? Do you set time aside to blog, or just fit it in when you can? Do you have a schedule, or simply blog when you’ve got something to say?

As we talked about it, I said that actually not only do you find the time, you enjoy finding it – and that blogging and tweeting has helped improve my writing and my writing process. (I suppose it’s not always the case – it depends whether you’re blogging on a topic you feel strongly about. I’ve blogged on behalf of clients in the past and it’s not always easy to find enthusiasm for pallets or lanyards.)

Although it’s not a great idea to stop blogging for months on end – it might look like you left the country, or the world – I don’t think it’s worth stressing about things like how often, or how long a post should be, etc. But we all like rules, even if they’re rules of thumb.

I’m really enjoying writing this current book, a handbook on the theme of ‘blogging for writers’. Already I’ve made contact with many brilliant writer-bloggers and it’s great fun pulling together all the wisdom and ideas out there. I’m two-thirds of the way through and on target to deliver the bulk of it by Easter. After that  … another book! So it’s all about blogging at the moment.

BUT I’m making time for poetry too. I’ve been thinking about how I need to step back a bit from submissions-fever and spend time working on (DUH) writing better poetry. Just chill out a bit. Take my time. Read the greats. Resist reaching for the notebook or getting on the laptop. Enjoy the writing I am doing, even if it’s not poetry. This is a very new feeling for me, and I can only put it down to the joy of having created a pamphlet and a permanent home for my ‘first wave’ poems. All my ideas now are not ‘poem shaped’ but ‘collection shaped’, which feels more substantial and worth taking time over.

Angst/

Bit of a regroup after a challenging workshop

Fallen Giant

Ever had a bad day at the poetry workshop coalface? I think I had one yesterday. Here’s what happened and what came from it.

Firstly, I made some mistakes. I haven’t been reading or writing much poetry the last few weeks, as I’ve been consumed with work, research and a very different kind of writing. Tired from a late night, without having decided on a poem to take, I selected something in haste. It was an early draft of a poem in which I was trying something a bit different.  For me, tired can mean ridiculously irritable. I also find reading and commenting meaningfully on other people’s work when seen ‘cold’ one of the hardest things there is, so going at it when tired isn’t a great idea.

Next, my poem came in for much criticism, harsher than usual, or so it seemed. I listened, I made notes. I was surprised to find myself feeling overly sad and disappointed. I could see it had been a bad move to bring something so unfinished, or rather something I was so tentative about. I understood most of the points being made, but I confess not all of them. Maybe I shouldn’t have come at all.

When I had the chance, I couldn’t explain my thinking other than that I’d been ‘trying something new’, which came across as a bit flippant and just fanned the flames even further. Yes, that’s the problem, this poem feels like you’re trying too hard to make it something it’s not. Well, I was taking on board previous comments about my poems being written in ‘neat boxes’ (couplets, tercets, all lines the same length etc) and I wanted to let myself go a bit and be less logical. Logical? What has the correct use of syntax and punctuation got to do with logic?

Dear reader, if you are tempted to say things like ‘I was trying to’ or use the work LOGICAL in a poetry workshop, I urge you to think again. I don’t normally get into ‘discussions’ as I prefer to write down all the comments, say thank you, then weigh it up later in quiet on my own. I’m usually also delighted (yes really) by the frequently insightful and valuable feedback. But  yesterday I conspired against myself. Tetchy, frustrated at my inability to express myself and the pathetic draft of a ‘trying to be’ poem, annoyed that I couldn’t sit quietly and take the criticism gracefully.

And then I disgraced myself even further by not being able to offer useful criticism to another poet, instead just reacting and being picky in a way I hate.

I came home and tried to be grown up about it. At least I didn’t actually cry, even in private. I have so many things to be pleased about, and grateful for, that I shouldn’t let the the odd bad workshop get me down – I know everyone has them. All I can think to do is to read, and remind myself of what good writing is, reassure myself that I can do better, before trying to (sic!) write any poetry.

This morning I picked up and read a little of Sam Willetts’ New Light for the Old Dark – what a wonderful collection that is!  And then, as if by some crazy sense of serendipity, I read a conversation between Troy Jollimore and Allan Fox in the Spring edition of Rattle, in which they discuss poetic process, anxiety and insecurity, getting at truth and philosophy. It’s a gem of a piece – here’s a short extract:

[Poetry] …. makes almost everybody nervous.  [ … ] If you’re trying to write it’s even harder because you’re afraid of writing a bad poem, and if you do you’ll feel bad about yourself. That’s one of the first things I say to students: give yourself permission to write bad poems. Everybody does. You think that the poets you love don’t, because you never see them, because they’re smart enough, they put it in a drawer. They keep it for a while, then they look at it and say, “Is this any good?” I mean, they might know it’s bad right away, that happens too. But if they don’t know if it’s bad right away, they hold onto it for a while to see if it’s bad, they check back again in the few months, and if it’s bad you never see it. And so we walk around thinking, “Oh James Richardson never writes a bad poem.” I’m sure he’s written bad poems, but he hasn’t shown them to anybody. He’s smart that way. And that’s what we need to do.

I’ve subscribed to Rattle for a year or so now and I have to say I’ve really warmed to its content. These extended interviews/conversations are a regular feature and have a marvellously unedited feel, it’s like you’re listening in to an entire interview verbatim, rather than being fed an editor’s cut, and I really like that.

Angst/

So bad they rejected it twice

Just raising my head above the parapet to report that I’m about 20k words into my book and now at the point where I have to start printing pages off and going through everything with post-its, before I lose my many threads. It’s amazing how I can be convinced I’ve already covered something, or filed something, or penciled in a name and a quote, and then suddenly nothing is as it should be. Ack! I’m trying to do this one on my own, having had some research help with the last book. Remembering all the people I’ve contacted, and where I wanted to use a quote from them, is the hardest thing, despite it all being on spreadsheets.

Anyway, poetry is entirely gone from me at the moment. Although I’ve got stuff out, half of it is to competitions which is akin to playing those fixed odds betting machines. Entering one more comp won’t do any harm! Hey, I might even win! And next thing the (metaphorical) bailiff comes knocking. And for the first time in ages I’ve nothing forthcoming in magazines.

Then, having been rejected by The London Magazine, two weeks later they send another email – we’re sorry to tell you… you mean, you haven’t changed your mind? Or were those poems so bad you had to reject them twice? I did try having a little joke with the sender of the email, but (no doubt in the spirit of not engaging with possible nutters) she declined to respond.

A couple of good things though: the Heavenly Bodies anthology which I’m proud to be a part of is out on April 30th, although I won’t make the launch as it’s the other end of the country from me. Can’t wait to see it! Plus, my pamphlet should be arriving this week. I made some amends after seeing the proof, including changing the cover title and name from all caps to sentence case, as all caps seemed A BIT SHOUTY.

Would be nice to now go out for a walk in the sunshine, but … those post-its are calling to me.

Books/

Friday update

It’s been a good week in many ways, but the not-so-good things first: a rejection from the London Magazine (not unexpected) and no new poetry writing done at all 🙁

Good things: the first of our Brighton Stanza small group workshopping sessions was on Monday, and although there were only three of showed up in the end (of the others one called in sick, two were delayed on the train, one got the date wrong) I took away one excellent insight (thanks to Tom Cunliffe) which I know will have far-reaching consequences for me. More good things: I sent my pamphlet off to print!! Cover reveal:

The Great Vowel Shift cover

 

I’m very pleased with the cover illustration by Hannah Clare, who I will use again for future pamphlets as I want to establish a brand look. My only reservation is whether I shouldn’t have gone for a dust jacket. I like the traditional feel of one, but if it gets detached from the booklet it does mean the booklet cover has no markings. Anyways, that’s what I’ve opted for at the moment, as I liked the look of the pamphlets by Smith Doorstop.

Next nice thing was an evening at the Redroaster in Brighton last night for Pighog poetry readings – top of the bill and clearly the big draw was fine poet John McCullough, who I always love to hear read, but sadly he had to wait until about 10pm due to open mic-ers being given too long. After the first half I was remarking how I liked the fact that the open mic had seemed relaxed and gave people more time than usual, with just 3 readers. But I didn’t realise there were about 10 more readers to go in the second half, many intent on hogging the limelight for as long as possible. It seems that saying ‘one poem’ is fair enough but you need to add ‘no more than ONE sheet of A4 paper’ too, otherwise you’ll sure as dammit get ‘Paradise Lost’.

Anyway I had a good catchup with poet Marion Tracy and very jolly to see so many familiar peeps from the Stanza group and elsewhere.

Other than that I’ve been nose to the grindstone or rather bum on seat typing, skimming my way through a myriad blogs and websites etc all in the name of this blogging book I’m working on. Around 15k words written so far and a weekend of graft to look forward to, probably on my own in the office taking hundreds of screenshots,  getting Photoshop-itis and trying not to re-use the same cheery phrases too often.

Sorry for the brief post … off to celebrate my husband’s birthday this evening so twill be nice to turn the computer OFF. Have a nice weekend 🙂

Bloggers/

‘My Writing Process’ Blog Tour

Morning! It’s time for a little blog tour… the lovely Jayne Stanton invited me to take part in the ‘My Writing Process’ tour (or ‘meme’ in internet parlance). There must have been thousands of writers already taken the tour. The idea is to answer the same four set questions, then to nominate three more writers to take up the challenge.

1) What am I working on?

I’ve recently been commissioned to write two books about blogging. The first is a kind of sister publication to ‘Blogging for Creatives’ which was published in 2012, but this time it’s Blogging for Writers. Naturally this is right up my street! But, like with the first book, there’s a heck of a lot of research to be done, experts to be contacted and images to be found, on top of the actual writing (which is the easy bit). And I now have just 8 weeks to deliver, so it’s full-on.

On the poetry front I’ve just started by own small poetry imprint, Telltale Press, mainly to publish my own short first pamphlet, but also (I hope) to do the same for other poets. Still working out the details, but my own pamphlet should be out within a few weeks. My poetry writing is a bit in the doldrums at the moment. But that’s OK, it’ll come back.

2) How does my work differ from others of its genre?

I suppose I need to answer this in regard to my commercial writing and poetry, separately. When I was writing essays at Uni many years ago, a tutor remarked ‘I like your clear, textbook style.’ That comment stayed with me and I’ve consciously tried to develop this ability over the years. As a result I’ve had a lot of success with copywriting – especially when it comes to putting the technical into plain English and empathising with the audience’s thought processes. It’s also helped me in devising and delivering training and mentoring. Let’s break it down, look at it another way, that sort of thing.

Poetry of course is another matter. If anything I have to fight against the instinct to explain, to set the scene…maybe that’s one reason why I enjoy it. Poetry feels like the ultimate challenge for a writer. Does my poetry differ from others? Probably not. Like many people, I can write competent poetry that very occasionally has a magical spark (together with a fair bit of stuff that has no merit at all). But there are so many wonderfully original and surprising poets out there, and I’ve got a long way to go before (or even if) I reach that standard. If anything I would say I probably need to let go more and not be so controlled by rational/analytic thoughts.

3) Why do I write what I do?

Commercial writing: I write about whatever interests me, but I suppose I fell into the blogging books from having been an internet marketer for so many years, since the 20th century actually! And before that I was a corporate marketer on the international rat run. I discovered the internet in 1997, learned HTML in 1998, did an MA in Digital Media in 1999 and reinvented myself as an internet bod.

Poetry: a combination of the usual things that inspire poets (life’s big questions) and a love of manipulating language. I love jigsaws, puzzles, sudoku… I enjoyed maths at school as much as English… I see poetry a little like a creative extension of all that. Like a lot of people I started writing poetry at school, but despite encouragement from lovely English teachers I was determined to think everything I wrote was crap. I still think this was probably true, but I wish I’d had the confidence of youth to at least give it a go. But it wasn’t until I was settled and contented and in my 40s that I decided to take poetry seriously. Suddenly there was a heck of a lot of reading to catch up on and it was (and still is!) a steep learning curve.

4) How does my writing process work?

I’m pretty organised. When it comes to commercial work I rely on spreadsheets, time and word count calculations, and to do lists. I enjoy filing and try to keep well on top of deadlines. I’ve never missed a deadline – I was one of those kids who even at university would always finish tasks well ahead of the due date, and I never ran out of time in exams.

With poetry, again I keep good records of submissions, but I admit I’m a bit ramshackle as regards keeping notes and writing down ideas. Many things fly away before I have a chance to nail them down. I get a bit frustrated when I do have the time to sit and write, and nothing at all worthwhile comes to mind. But again, that’s part of the challenge.

I go to workshops because I do find feedback valuable, and I don’t mind doing exercises and having writing prompts but I wouldn’t seek them out. I’ve rarely had any useful inspiration come from prompts or exercises. I have more luck if I just stop trying to write and go read instead. Reading fine poetry before going to sleep can work well for me. Part of me thinks if I read enough good stuff it will rub off on me somehow. When I do actually write something, it might go through many revisions over several months or even years before it’s published, but on the other hand I’ve had a few notable successes with pieces I’ve literally written in one sitting with very little editing. Bizarre.

Next Monday, please check out the following writers/bloggers and their answers…

Abegail Morley of The Poetry Shed
Abegail Morley’s first collection, How to Pour Madness into a Teacup was shortlisted for the Forward Prize Best First Collection. Snow Child (2011) and Eva and George: Sketches in Pen and Brush (2013) are published by Pindrop Press. She has a collection forthcoming from Eyewear Publishing and is co-founder of EKPHRASIS.

Cathy Bramley
Cathy Bramley is a writer of romantic comedy. She lives in Nottingham with her family and is a fan of Polish cherry vodka, chocolate brazils and Marian Keyes novels. Her debut, Conditional Love achieved a little ‘best-seller’ flag from Amazon and her next novel will be published in April. You can usually find her wasting time on Twitter @CathyBramley or on Facebook.

E.E.Nobbs
E.E. Nobbs (Elly) won the 2013 Doire Press International Poetry Chapbook competition. Her first book – The Invisible Girl – is hot off the press. She lives in Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island, Canada.

Mags & Blogs/

Quick writing update

This is probably displacement activity, as I should be working on the book which I have until Easter to write. Yikes! Quick update on a few things.

Poetry writing is currently going through a dry patch. I missed out on my Mimi Khalvati fix at the weekend as I was under the weather, but did have a good Stanza meeting on Monday night and the first of our ‘small group’ workshops is next week, so I’m looking forward to that. I’ve been digging around my archive of unfinished and ‘in need of work’ poems, of which there are A LOT. One or two I’ve actually managed to re-write, and as I’ve not got much out in the pipeline at the moment I sent a few things out quickly before I changed my mind.

I’m trying Ambit again … surely they can’t still be holding against me that incident at the Betsey Trotwood in 2012 …?

I had another rejection from Poetry Review … still plugging away!

A couple of new RED ALERT cautions that are currently top of mind – on Monday the redoubtable Antony Mair warned of the ‘portentous last line’ – and of course I knew exactly what he meant as I’ve been GUILTY of said practice more than once! Then today I was reading an interview with Rob Spillman, editor of US magazine Tin House, who was complaining about how too many submissions ‘lack engagement with real world issues… there’s a stunning amount of navel-gazing with tiny emotional epiphanies.’ Ouch! Be gone from my poems, o tiny emotional epiphanies!

Meanwhile, talented illustrator Hannah Clare has come up with a striking design for the cover of my pamphlet. I have a week or so before the ISBN numbers come through, which is when I can create the barcode and finish off the rest of the cover. At the moment there are 13 poems in the pamphlet but one of them I’m still not sure about, so it may end up being 12. Probably a luckier number.  All very exciting!!

And now…back to the writing that actually pays!

Angst/

On Heavenly Bodies and feeling empowered

Publishling cartoon
Copyright Cartoonstock.com

A few interesting things on the go at the moment. ‘Heavenly Bodies’ which I wrote about last week is gathering momentum, and there’s talk on Facebook of having a launch in Preston, or somewhere points North, which will mean I’ll have to miss it, alas. Anyway, at least I’ve written my ‘constellation’ poem, although I think I’ll look it over a few more times before sending it off to Rebecca Irvine.

Although I’ve been a bit dry lately in terms of producing new work, one thing I’m pushing forward with is a promotional pamphlet. I’ve given this a lot of thought. The purpose is twofold – firstly to have something to send/give to people which showcases some of my (previously published) poems, and perhaps to sell at readings, and secondly to shake off the feeling of passivity that going in for endless pamphlet competitions engenders in me.

Maybe I’m too impatient, but I lost a good poet friend last year, very suddenly. Life is short, to take action is empowering, and what have I got to lose? (Apart from the cost, but at least it’s all under my control!) It’s a very small collection, and doesn’t impact on my newer unpublished work, nor does it overlap with the pamphlet submissions I’ve got out at the moment. Plus I’m really enjoying the process of learning about publishing, print and all the other mysteries!

Meanwhile, with the help of my ‘loose committee’ I’ve been working out plans for the Brighton Stanza this year, which has grown considerably and we now need separate workshopping meetings as the monthly ‘open’ meetings have become so large. There’s a vibrant and wide-ranging poetry scene in Brighton, and although one of our aims is to encourage fine writing through close reading and critiquing, many people prefer to hone their performance skills, or read and share their work without scrutiny, or simply listen, learn and gain confidence.

There’ve also been various work-related things that have taken me away from poetry the last couple of weeks (curses!) as well as music-related things, such as turning pages at recitals, co-ordinating rehearsal dates and availability of singers for choir gigs.

But in between times I’ve been enjoying Michael Symmons Roberts’ Drysalter which just seems to ‘keep giving’ as they say.

Inspiration/

Stars in our eyes

stars

There was an episode of ‘Girls of the Playboy Mansion’ in which a new ingenue is welcomed into the Playboy ‘family’ with the gift of a star named after her. “Ooooh, you’re a STAR!” says Kendra to the upstart, somewhat mockingly. I watched the show for moments like that.

What is it about stars? Most of us don’t really know what they are (distant solar systems? Is our own a ‘star’ when seen from a star?) But the stars are all over poetry. The moon and the stars. Stardust, starlight. Those mythical creatures and characters parading across the night sky. We throw a few stars into a poem as if they were familiar old friends. I’m guilty of it – I have to stop myself on a regular basis from calling up Orion or the Pleiades AGAIN.

Then there are the metaphorical stars of course – film stars, poetry stars. We seem to have fewer stars in popular culture these days – a plethora of celebs, the odd national treasure, the rather doughy-sounding star bakers … it’s pleasing to feel that a genuine star is still something rather special.

So here’s my current challenge – to write a poem about (or inspired by) a named constellation. In my case, it’s ‘a small and faint constellation in the southern sky’ (Wikipedia) with an ‘extrasolar planet’ – which is apparently very interesting to astronomers.

It’s all part of a poetry project called Heavenly Bodies, involving (so far) 88 poets, each of us having chosen a specific constellation as our muse. It’s being coordinated by Rebecca Irvine on Facebook, the idea being to produce an anthology of star-spangled, star-studded, star-gazing poetry. I feel the challenge is on to get properly under the skin of those pesky ploughs, archers, myths and visions. Can’t wait to see where the work takes us – to infinity and beyond?

Angst/

Where blogging fits into the writing week

Pages from primary school rough book
Aged 10, my note-taking habit had begun

How does your writing week look? Mine can typically include things like

  • blog posts
  • a client email newsletter
  • a lot of emails (sent and replied to)
  • poetry writing/redrafting/editing
  • commenting on blogs
  • client work: proposals, meeting reports, web or brochure copy, etc
  • an email newsletter for one of my groups (poetry or singing)
  • a guest piece for a magazine or blog
  • a chapter for a (non-fiction) book, if I have a book project on the go
  • cover letters
  • various lists/notes etc for myself
  • tweeting etc

– it adds up to writing every day, even though when asked how much time I spend on writing I tend to um and ah or say ‘not as much as I’d like’ because of course I’m thinking of poetry writing – you know, the really creative stuff.

This morning I’d been thinking about blogging and the purpose(s) of blogging. Then I encountered Josephine Corcoran’s interesting and timely post about ‘why blog’ (in relation to poetry blogging in particular).

Blogging isn’t for everyone. I regularly meet people who, if they find out about my blog, aren’t sure what to make of it, as an activity. But sometimes they admit they too have a blog, but ‘haven’t posted for a while’ or else they’ve been ‘meaning to blog’ but are struggling either to find the time or the ideas of what to write about.

When people come to me for mentoring, if I think blogging would benefit them, I suggest it. But it’s one of those awkward chicken-and-egg things: until you start blogging and you reach that moment of ‘getting it’ (which is usually tied up with the community aspect of blogging – see Josephine’s post), it can feel like a chore. Or worse, a worthless or self-indulgent activity two steps removed from bragging and the slippery slope towards staring at one’s reflection in a pond.

Community is a big part of blogging – after 15 years I’m still amazed who you meet on the internet and I’ve always believed (from personal experience) that connections made online can be every bit as strong as those made ‘in real life’. And the wonderful thing is that it’s still mostly fuelled by the written word.

So to follow on from Josephine’s post, my feeling is that blogging helps my writing, because it is writing. It’s part of my writing life – just as is everything else that goes into the writing week, except on a blog I give myself permission to use cliches, make (sort of) jokes, say LOL or whatever else grabs me. I give myself permission to make mistakes, try out new ideas, ask questions, come across as a bit naive or opinionated or whatever. I give myself permission to write without drafting, or re-drafting, or planning, or reaching for the thesaurus, or (much!) editing. To write 200 words or 2,000 words. It’s my ‘sandbox’ I suppose. It doesn’t mean I’m totally unguarded, but I’ve noticed how people appreciate openness, so I think it’s a good thing to aim for. It’s probably an antidote to all that sales/commercial writing that invades our space (bits of which I’m responsible for – sorry!)

What do you think – does blogging flex our writing muscles, or does it just take us away from, well, proper writing?

Bloggers/

Two exciting discoveries (new to me, anyway!)

There I was, just noodling about on the internet, when what should I find but not only a wonderful blog and poetry resource but also a poet who I’d never heard of but whose work immediately excited me.

Jeffrey Levine
Jeffrey Levine

First of all, thanks to a Facebook update by Antiphon magazine* I followed a link to an excellent and timeless post on putting together a manuscript, on Jeffrey Levine‘s blog. Jeffrey is a poet, author, publisher, critic, mentor – you name it – and his blog is a powerhouse of articles that you just want to read and absorb RIGHT NOW – rather like Neo being injected with knowledge in The Matrix: “I know Kung Fu!” – he he.

Then I started following links to US poetry magazines, submissions policies, prize competitions (there seem to be a shedload of those going on at any one time in the US, or is that an illusion? Many seem to have entry criteria to do with age, residency or publishing history or whatever, but there are plenty open to international poets.)

Fragile ActsNext, I looked at featured poets, prize winners and so forth, and googled their names. I followed several lovely detours before coming upon Allan Peterson. Here’s ‘Implicit’, a new poem by him in The Believer magazine. Love it, love it, love it. And then on to his own website, which sets out his monumental writing achievements under the modest ‘Resume’ tab.  There are a few poems on the site too, such as ‘Confession’. I could hardly buy a copy of his most recent book, Fragile Acts, quickly enough.

If Jeffrey Levine and Allan Peterson are familiar to you, you may be thinking ‘she’s just discovered them? – oh DUH!’ and I probably look like a bit of a noob. Oh well! One man’s thrilling discovery is another’s same-old!

*PS another reason for me to thank Antiphon is for publishing one of my poems in their latest issue (9) alongside many fine poets, do take a look