coffee-house poetry – Robin Houghton

Blog/ 05/11/2018

The new ‘How to’ guide is finally done…

Things have been a bit quiet on this blog for the last month, mainly because I’ve been full-on with the new booklet which arrived from the printers today – hurrah! More about that below… a quick zip through other news:

Workshops, readings etc

Last month I went up to London for a Coffee-House Poetry workshop with Anne-Marie Fyfe over two Sunday afternoons. The subject was ‘snow’ and all its freezing friends. We were asked to write a ‘lyric essay’ as homework, which resulted in my researching the myriad words for snow according to (no, not Inuit – that’s a myth) SKIERS. It took me back to my snowboarding days (sigh) and phrases like ‘crud’, ‘corduroy’ and ‘mash potato’. There were a number of new ones on me too. ‘Sierra Cement’ for starters. Great fun. Did I write anything that could be worked up into anything? Not sure really but at least it got me writing.

I’ve been to some lovely readings this month: at Needlewriters the very talented Liz Bahs read from her pamphlet Greyhound Night Service (Maquette) (which is on my pile to read, together with about ten other books) and announced that very day she’d just heard that Pindrop Press are to publish her first full collection next year. Great news and long-deserved. Then a triple launch for Lewes writers Jeremy Page (London Calling published by Cultured Llama is a book of short and flash fiction and what I’ve read so far has been very funny), Kay Syrad (Inland – Cinnamon Press – and another on my to read list!) and Clare Best. Clare’s memoir, The Missing List (Linen Press), has been many years in the writing. Clare’s beautiful prose, her presentation of the narrative through fragments, lists, descriptions of cine films and the melding of the distant and near-pasts is mesmeric. The slow revealing of the truth painfully mirrors the process of the author as she tries to recall conversations and make sense of what happened. Extraordinary.

On 29th October I read a poem at the Troubadour in London – we’d been asked to write something especially for the evening so since it was my birthday I went with a little ‘found’ poem gleaned from the Hallmark.com website. I was inspired by knowing that Zaffar Kunial used to work as a copywriter for Hallmark. Anyway, DESPITE my having stumbled on the last line (I believe it was the poetry reading equivalent of ‘stacking it’) I had at least half a dozen people come up to me during the evening to say they enjoyed it. Unprecedented! Maybe my stumble was still on my mind last Friday when I read alongside Jeremy Page and Peter Philips at Camden Poetry, a regular poetry event to raise money for the London homeless. It was a small audience, and rather quiet – I felt my confidence wavering somewhat, and didn’t sell any books. Perhaps I chose the wrong poems to read. Later this month I’m off to Chichester Open Mic hosted by Barry Smith, which I’ve been told attracts a warm and full crowd, so I shall look forward to it.

Declined … again

So my carefully (I thought) composed ‘Develop your creative practice’ application to the Arts Council was rejected. I was asking for a modest contribution towards the costs of mentoring, to help me put together a first collection. The judgement was that they ‘preferred other projects’. Poor old page poetry just isn’t exciting enough I guess. It’s a minor setback but of course a bit annoying. Meanwhile I’ve had work rejected from The Poetry Review (am still trying!) and there are poems still on the slush pile at three other journals – one since February. Ho hum!

The Booklet!

Yes I’m calling it that, rather than ‘book’, so as not to raise expectations unreasonably. Although I’m rather proud of its 32 pages. A Guide to Getting Published in UK Poetry Magazines is now published on the Telltale Press imprint and orders are being taken as I type, thanks to some lovely people retweeting it (thanks chaps!). I had a lot of fun compiling it. Asking magazine editors for their thoughts on various things and reading the replies was one of the funnest things. Wrestling with the layout, edits and other tech issues was less fun, BUT I had the eagle-eyed and massively supportive Sarah Barnsley on my side, finding stray spaces and querying dodgy grammar in her thorough but very polite fashion. I hope you like the result!! I’ve got a landing page up here where you can buy it. Please forgive all the ‘about the author’ puffery, but I felt the need to parade my creds, as it were, in order to sell the darn book.

If you’re on my list for the quarterly submissions windows updates, you’ll get an email about it this week. Now for the really tricky bit: selling the bejesus out of it. It’s a groovy stocking filler! Tell your poetry writing friends!

Events/ 17/05/201718/05/2017

Standing room only at the Troubadour

Anne-Marie Fyfe at the Troubadour Coffee-House poetry

To be fair, I did have a seat for the first half, but with the sciatica playing up I was happy to stand for the second. Plus it meant a quick getaway at the end with poet friend Jan, and the last (viable) train home.

Coffee-House Poetry at the Troubadour (run by the indefatigable Anne-Marie Fyfe) is always worth the trip to London – I always feel I’m being introduced to interesting and often very fine poets who aren’t necessarily on my radar (for example, who don’t frequent social media and/or are not over-exposed at poetry readings and/or are not UK-based). It’s an intense reminder of the very wide poetry world out there.

On Monday, we heard eight poets, six of whom were new to me, and musical entertainment from Henry Fajemirokun.

Michael Scott (who I know from Swindon Poetry Festival) kicked things off, with a series of poems ostensibly addressed to a ‘little usherette’, but he told us were actually about all the big themes – love, loss, death, family and so forth. I was transfixed for most of the time by his ‘Attack of the 50ft Woman’ T-shirt (which did come into one of the poems). Also in the first half were Alistair Noon, Penny Boxall and Claire Dyer. I knew Penny’s name but don’t think I had heard her read before, and I found her engaging. Claire I met originally at an Interpreter’s House launch, and who I always enjoy hearing read, plus we’re also social media friends. I admire both her poetry and her calm delivery.

Boxall-Dyer-Noon- Troubadour poetry readings — Penny Boxall, Claire Dyer, Alistair Noon

Poetry readings always seem to offer up a myriad ways in which I might put my foot it in. This time the only seat I could find happened to be at close quarters to a table with a plate of half-finished food. It appeared to have been pushed to the edge. I assumed the people at the table had finished with it. It smelt. This was a hot, crowded room, after all. So I picked up the plate and started to take it away to the bar, when someone at the table said ‘excuse me’ and asked for it back. Fair enough. But it never did get finished, or cleared away. But by the time the interval came, the air was ripe with the combined respiration of 70 or 80 people in a basement room, so maybe this is a moot point.

Second half, as seen from a different viewpoint – Ruth Sharman read poems about the slow and desperately sad demise of her father. She is incredibly well-spoken (a slightly old-fashioned phrase, I know) and delivered her work with great style. We also heard from Jon Stone (who I remember as co-editor of Fuselit with Kirsten Irving) who looks far younger than he could POSSIBLY be (now that’s the kind of compliment I would relish), Elaine Gaston (whose work I enjoyed so much I forgot to take a photo – and who had the confidence to finish when we were expecting and wanting more) and Nick Makoha to end, whose introductions were excellent but I liked so much of his poetry, although he suffered from one or two stumbles during the poems.

Sharman, Stone, Mahoka - Troubadour poetry readings — Henry Fajemirokun, Ruth Sharman, Jon Stone and Nick Mahoka

I came away with a distinct impression of which of the poets I would like to read more of, and also quite a few takeaway thoughts – on what to wear for a reading, on engaging with the audience, on improving my diction and vocal tone (I couldn’t help cringing again thinking about my recent performance at the Eyewear launch), on practising, practising, practising…

Jan kindly took the same train as me until we parted at Haywards Heath, and I continued in the company of a zillion Chelsea fans as far as Lewes, then onto a replacement bus to Eastbourne, and to my bed by 1am.

It had been an excellent day in many ways – before even the Troubadour night earlier the day I’d had a poem accepted by the excellent Prole magazine, been to the hospital for the dreaded tests and finally (after a week of worry) pronounced ALL CLEAR. For now, of course. Everything is for now. But no less the sweeter for it.

Blog/ 29/11/201629/11/2016

Coffee-House Poetry at the Troubadour

Getting to and from London from the south coast is ten times harder than it used to be these days, as the rail company (which has a monopoly) has been running an unsatisfactory service for the last however many months – actually it could be a year or more. Two-day strikes pop up every three weeks or so, and that’s on top of the already reduced timetable. Trains are regularly cancelled at the last minute, even halfway through journeys. As a result, every time the train you’re on actually leaves a station you breathe a sigh of relief that it hasn’t terminated there. Factor in the cold and dark of night, and the prospect of going anywhere by train is rather stressful. And I have a choice at least – the situation for those millions of people who have to travel by Southern Rail every day for work must be unbearable.

So it was a joy to actually make it to the Troubadour last night for Coffee-House Poetry. The second half was ‘What we should have said’, a regular feature described by Anne-Marie Fyfe in the promotional email as “three very different poets, a musician & a proverbial wit, thrust & parry with poetic, harmonic & philosophic contributions, comical, tragical, pastoral & beyond”. It was a wonderful spectacle, a really impactful way of presenting poetry, with Martina Evans (LOVED her work!), the excellent Luke Kennard, US poet Louis Jenkins and ‘What we should have said’ impresario Stuart Silver bouncing off each others’ words, linked together by Marios Takoushis’ jazzy/soulful/arthouse improvisations on the keyboard. The top-class sound management at the Troubadour cafe makes a huge difference here – it’s so noticeable how a reliable and effective sound system allows the performers and the poetry to shine, and the audience to relax and take it in.

In the first half we heard from 21 of the contributors to Live Canon’s 154 Anthology, each reading their response to a Shakespeare sonnet, and a few words about it. I was very proud to be a part of this book and the range of responses and poet voices is fascinating. The book does include ALL of Shakespeare’s sonnets, as well as the ‘response’ poems, so it makes for a very nice (ahem!) Christmas present, even for someone with no special interest in contemporary poetry.

Angst/ 24/11/2016

Poetry vs DIY, plus a few upcoming deadlines

It’s easy to lose the rhythm of blogging – I’ve been lacking the motivation lately, partly out of a feeling of ‘what is there really to say that makes a difference?’ And yet, there are always interesting things to say.

I’ve recently been admiring Josephine Corcoran’s commitment to blogging every day during November – sometimes in-depth pieces and other times brief updates or musings. It’s all interesting. Similarly, one of my all-time favourite blogs is Jean Tubridy’s Social Bridge – impossible to classify in terms of its content, and always compelling.

So what’s on my mind at the moment? Firstly, an increasing need to stay away from Facebook, TV news, the media generally. Is that an age thing – when nothing under the sun really seems new, or if it is, it often seems inconsequential? Perhaps also a ‘winter’s-coming-and-the-days-are-getting-shorter thing?

Secondly, we’re approaching our first winter in our new home and the to-do list is as long as ever. It’s such an absorbing project that sometimes I’d just rather strip down a window sill or paint a door, than put pen to paper!

And thirdly … quite a few poetry thangs coming up in terms of events, deadlines etc:

The Rialto’s first poetry pamphlet comp closes on November 30th – I did imagine I would enter, but my pamphlet offering(s) are in horrible disarray at the moment, so not good timing for me. But you should go for it! Fee is £22 (or £16 for Rialto subscribers) and Hannah Lowe will pick the winners from a shortlist of 50.

The Cinnamon Debut Poetry Collection prize also closes at the end of the month, costs £12 to enter.

Other imminent comp closings, in case you’re feeling lucky – Cafe Writers Poetry Competition, judged by Andrew McMillan with no sifters – closes November 30th. Fee is £4 per poem or £10 for three, and there’s an extra prize for the funniest poem, which makes a refreshing change!

In events news, this coming Monday 28th November I’ll be reading a poem at Anne-Marie Fyfe’s Coffee-House Poetry at The Troubadour, along with a number of other contributors to Live Canon’s 154 Anthology. The second half (main event) features Luke Kennard, Martina Evans and more. Should be a fantastic night.

It looks like there’ll be a block of Telltale poets in the audience at the T S Eliot award readings on January 15th at the Festival Hall in London. Hurrah! I always love the atmosphere at this event, and the chance to hear so many fine poets all in one sitting. Only downside is that getting home is always a MARE and who knows what skeletal service Southern Rail may be operating by then.

Oh, and I’ve given myself a deadline of the end of this month to finally finish finalising (!) the second ‘all about Twitter’ ebook, which now needs some rewrites having left it 6 months, and I need to get it out before Twitter pops its clogs.

Now, back to some paint-stripping – oh no, silly me, it’s dark … and what’s more our boiler has just packed up, so this evening I’ll be under a duvet on the sofa with a hot water bottle. Possibly rummaging through my pamphlet poems again …

Blog/ 16/10/2016

Quick update on things

Cuckmere Haven by Eric Ravilious, Towner Gallery Eastbourne

It’s been a tricky month so far for finding the time and inclination to blog, so I thought I’d write a quick update. I have a lovely guest post waiting in the wings, which I’m planning to post up later in the week.

So … the last three weeks have been strange to say the least, as I’ve been travelling over to Brighton each weekday for radiotherapy. It’s an hour or more each way on the bus, but it has to be one of the most scenic bus routes in the country: climbing up onto the South Downs with views of the sea on three sides, skirting Friston Forest and down into Cuckmere Haven with its gorgeous meandering river. It’s less pretty after that but views of the sea are never far away. I’ve read three novels and had fun observing my travelling companions and taking in all the quirks of bus life. It’s almost taken my mind off the reality of having to go every day to lie naked from the waist up in a freezing room while strangers stare and prod and haul me around. Almost. BUT of course I’m grateful, for the NHS, for the kindness of strangers, that the treatment’s nearly over, that I’m still alive.

Thankfully there’s been some poetry good news during this time – having a poem placed joint second in the Poetry Society Stanza competition, having a poem accepted for Eyewear’s anthology Best New British and Irish Poets 2017, helping to launch Jess Mookherjee’s wonderful debut pamphlet The Swell, being invited by Anne-Marie Fyfe to read my poem from the Live Canon 154 anthology at the Troubadour in November.

But just to balance that out, I’ve had one of my fastest ever rejections, from The London Magazine (admittedly it was a bit of a long shot), and I’m also still struggling with a pamphlet that’s been brewing for two years. Just when I thought I was getting close to a publishable standard I had some excoriating feedback and it’s back to the drawing board. I’ve now set myself a target of six weeks to get it into shape. I also had to miss the awesomeness that is the Poetry Swindon Festival which I’d been looking forward to for months.

Plenty of good stuff this week however. I’m going up to Coffee House Poetry at the Troubadour tomorrow with my great friend Lucy, a stalwart of poetry readings and fellow member of the ‘cancer survivors’ club, plus Telltale Poets and Friends at the Lewes Arms on Wednesday night, the organisation of which, for once, is not my responsibility, so I’m going to sit back and enjoy!

I’m hoping that I can make up for the lost time of the past 3 weeks and get back on track with poetry, work and projects around the flat. However, I’ve finally given up the idea of making curtains for a big bay window. Bring in the experts!

Image: Cuckmere Haven by Eric Ravilious, Towner Gallery Eastbourne

Blog/ 07/06/2016

‘The future of poetry’ – Coffee House Poetry at the Troubadour

So, to the Troubadour last night for poetry, discussions about poetry and the big bad world of digital – a ‘colloquy’ of five poets from diverse backgrounds. In the first half we had readings from Carrie Etter, Hannah Lowe, Gregory Leadbetter and Richard Price, and in the second they formed a round table chaired by C J Dallat.

I’ve not been to a Troubadour colloquy before – it wasn’t as packed as the themed nights can be, but then again it was up against several other events including the launch across town of Luke Kennard’s Cain (Penned in the Margins).

The format was a good balance – very different poets, none of whom I’d heard read before (except Hannah Lowe, but I’m not sure if I’d seen her live or on video). I particularly enjoyed Carrie’s short but electrically charged set. When I said hello to her in the interval it turned out she reads this blog (thanks, Carrie!) …it was also a pleasure to meet Richard Price and to thank him for recently selecting my poem ‘The Houses are Coming’ for Poetry News (yeah, just thought I’d get that in – I’m learning!)

So what’s the future of poetry, in a time when the internet and technology such as print-on-demand put publication in the reach of just about anyone?

There was some agreement that print publication still carries more kudos than online, with Cahal Dallat even suggesting that magazines have gotten so big and so numerous that maybe they’re just publishing everything they’re sent, with no sense of gatekeeping. (Although I wonder if he hasn’t had to go through the magazines submissions process recently?!)

Richard Price bemoaned the fact that digital just isn’t fulfilling its potential yet, and that as a creative person he wants to do more stuff differently. It’s true that just replicating online what print does perfectly well does seem to be the slightly disappointing standard at the moment.

Cahal then brought up the idea of links within digital text (or lack of). I have to agree with him, but sadly the positioning of links within (for example) news stories was hijacked a while back by advertisers who thought it was a jolly way to insert more ‘information’ (ie ads) in a piece. It did remind me of a project I did for my Digital Media MA sixteen years ago, which was an alternative website for The Royal Pavilion in which internal hyperlinking allowed the viewer to explore the building and its history in a non-linear fashion. Typical media degree stuff and probably not commercial. But maybe I need to get my poetry thinking cap on and be more creative in this way. Then again I’m sure it’s already happening and that digital creativity has gone way beyond throwing in a bit of video or animation. Someone did mention hyperreality but let’s not go down the whole Baudrillard road now although this is quite an entertaining video if you’re curious (but do not watch if you are of a nervous disposition!)

One thing I was burning to say but missed my chance (and then went off the boil) was that I don’t think it’s helpful to characterise young people as ‘digital natives’ and somehow innately tech-capable, which was suggested at one point. The flip side of this theory is that anyone who didn’t grow up with mobiles and touch screens is incapable of getting their heads around anything digital. I know from my work with people my age and thereabouts (sometimes a lot younger) that there is a ton of defeatism when it comes to tech. Completely intelligent and utterly capable people throw up their hands when it comes to mobile phones, computers not doing what they expect or any mention of Snapchat. But kids! They can do it their sleep! Oh yeah?

Actually, I’ve heard my husband say MANY times how surprised he is that his sixth form students can be clueless when it comes to technology – they lack basic digital skills such as how to search for information online or how to assess what they do find. They don’t know how things work. At all. But what young people have is a lack of fear. They don’t fear tech and they don’t fear gadgets, and they don’t fear the consequences of messing about with tech. They have the attitude ‘I don’t know how to do this but I’ll fiddle around until I find a way’ – something that is as rare as rare can be in your average over-40-year-old. I really think that fear is the key inhibitor to our full exploitation of new technologies, not age. Please can we pass this idea on, and thereby liberate us oldsters once and for all from the shackles of ‘we’re not digital natives so it’s harder for us’ ? Thanks.

Oh dear, not having taken notes last night I seem to have turned this post around into a bit of a rant rather than recording faithfully what the panel came up with… sorry. But it was genuinely stimulating and the audience was lively. Great stuff.

Big thanks as ever to Anne-Marie Fyfe for organising these Coffee House Poetry nights, they are gems.

A shame that Southern Rail are still keeping up their go-slow, which meant I didn’t get to my bed before 1am. The price to pay for living by the sea…

Blog/ 12/05/2015

Coffee House Poetry at the Troubadour

Had a great evening yesterday at the Troubadour as Coffee House Poetry, Anne-Marie Fyfe’s fortnightly poetry readings, got underway for its summer season.

It’s a crazy scene – the vibrancy, the quirkiness, the sheer number of people, Cahal Dallat’s virtuosic keyboard skills (yesterday the background medleys included opera classics and a rumbunctious dose of Mozart, all from memory). Moving amongst the crowd, Anne-Marie greets everyone and the whole place feels like a party. And who’s that sitting at the back? Oh, it’s Van Morrison and Jimmy Page, dropped by for a spot of poetry action. You can’t help but feel you’re on a film set. Love it!

Last night’s first half readers were Mark Huband, Scarlett Sabet, Will Burns & Miranda Peake, after which we had a brief musical interlude when Henry Fajemirokun played and sang a very nice Simon & Garfunkel number. Mark Huband’s background in journalism and travel writing informs his poetry – he read from his book ‘American Road’ and some extracts from a new long work. I loved the start of Scarlett Sabet’s set, a strong first poem full of promise. Towards the end she read some more performance-style poems which I find a bit harder to digest – I suppose I mean the repetition and relentless hard rhymes, which I find distract from the meaning and weaken the power of the words. Miranda Peake admitted she was very nervous, which was a shame, because it dried out her voice – I suspect I would enjoy her poems on the page, they seemed accomplished.

I didn’t take notes, although I noticed a few people around me doing so. I wonder what they write? Maybe the names, for future reference, or perhaps an idea or two that needed capturing. I do sometimes find my mind wandering in a reading, but not in a bad way – it’s usually something I hear that takes seed or gives me a sudden angle on an old issue. As I’m writing now I’m remembering a couple of things I should have written down at the time. Oh well! And the other thing I’m famously pants at is taking photos of well-lit readers in dark spaces. Which is why I only managed one, but the reader is so blanched out it could be anyone – although it is in fact Will Burns:

The second half felt like the big-hitters, with Nigerian poet Inua Ellams (check out his beautiful and stylish website) full of warmth and humour getting things off to a cracking start, Tim Richardson – a big character with an even bigger following in the room, Roisin Tierney – authoritative presence & many Spanish food references and R.A. Villanueva, a vibrant American reader who I wish I could have paid more attention to, but I was a bit tired and thinking about my train at this point.

My favourite reading of the night was by Will Burns and I couldn’t wait to snap up a copy of his pamphlet. Something about his poetry made me sit up. There was nothing exotic about it, but it was extraordinary. The problem with writing about the extraordinary, whether it’s people, experiences, places, is that the writing has a lot to live up to. (See point 7 of Don Paterson’ tips). Plus there’s not always space for the reader. Whereas writing about the ordinary, in an extraordinary way, feels to me like the real work of poetry. It doesn’t just let me in, it reminds me there’s a reason to write and how much there is still to discover both in myself and in others.

On the home page of the website, a quote from Billy Collins declares that the Troubadour has “evolved over its 60 year history from a hidden-away beatnik coffee house to a world famous center for the performance of music and poetry.” Well, it still feels pretty beatnik to me, and nothing wrong with that.

Blog/ 22/02/2015

A Bridge (not) Too Far – workshop with Anne-Marie Fyfe

Today I made my first visit to the Troubadour cafe, after thinking about it for a long time – I thought I’d start by going to one of Anne-Marie Fyfe‘s Coffee House Poetry workshops, which always sound enticing. The theme was ‘bridges’, and the first irony of the day was my inability to locate Wandsworth Bridge, despite the satnav lady giving it her best shot. Thankfully I managed it second time around. I’m glad I drove – although it’s a couple of hours away from where I live, parking around the Troubadour is free and easy on a Sunday, whereas the rail service from the South coast is non-existent on Sundays, making for miserable four-hour journeys. And it was pouring with rain when I left so jumping into the car was wonderful.

There’s something a tad intimidating about the Troubadour cafe – the door is solid and heavy so it’s as if you have to be ‘in the know’ to enter. The interior is, well, quirky. As I quietly ordered my cup of tea, wondering if I’d see anyone I knew, it was a relief to hear my name being called from out of the darkness by none other than the grande dame of Swindon Poetry, Hilda Sheehan. Brilliant – and when I uploaded my photos I realised I’d captured Hilda in shot without noticing – ha ha! Hilda introduced me to Anne-Marie and some of of the participants, many of whose names I knew – Angela Kirby, Dorothy Yamamoto, Jill Abram. There was a slight panic as Hilda and I rushed upstairs for the start of the workshop only to find ourselves in someone’s kitchen. Ooops! Luckily no-one appeared to ask what the hell we were doing there. All I can say is that the door to the gallery is right next to someone’s flat. You have been warned!

It was a well-run writing workshop – to time, with lots of reading material to get inspiration from and to take away to read properly later. Anne-Marie was a warm & supportive tutor with a toolbox of tricks, from guided writing exercises to a pack of bridge photos around which we were to invited to write just one line before moving onto the next. In the break we had time to polish up a poem to share, and although I didn’t come up with anything very original it served its purpose to get me thinking and writing. Lots of interesting stuff produced by others.

There were rather a lot of participants, although for once I wasn’t bothered by this. And I was lucky to find myself sitting between two lovely poets whose names rang a bell and who I’ve since looked up, to discover they are indeed both talented and accomplished writers: Agnieszka Studzinska and Frances Galleymore. Exciting and humbling to have been in such good company. I’ll be back.

Troubadour cafe - the bar

Tag: coffee-house poetry

Workshops, readings etc

Declined … again

The Booklet!