Nobody asks

As I’ve mentioned before, I have been getting some feedback on my writing from friends and my mentor, who is the brilliant Maggie Sullivan.  I promised to share with you some writing, and I am going to do that now - some before and after stuff – so you can see where and how changes have been made and maybe give me your thoughts on them?

As you will know from previous posts, I am completely new to poetry – even reading it, so it is no surprise at all that a large part of my feedback has been about structure.  In writing and rewriting, I am ok with words, subjects, trying to pin down whatever it is I have decided to try and say.  When it comes to how it’s flows – where you punctuate, why you start a new paragraph, how many lines to use – I have no idea.  Along with not having enough experience of reading it, I don’t think it’s something I am good at intuiting.  So I need to work on that.

Another piece of useful feedback from Maggie was about not over-explaining things.  I think that’s good advice in general.  It was interesting as I’d just got back from Birdman and been reminded of the brilliance of Raymond Carver and in my inbox was an e-mail referring to his writing style – ‘get in, get out, don’t linger’.  That’s definitely something to work on.

This first poem will be familiar to my postal correspondents.  It’s the very first thing I wrote for the class and seemed to get a lot of positive response.  It was based on a story that I was by a friend steadfastly ignoring some attention seeking behaviour from a colleague – I’ve since spoke to who I thought told me that and it turns out they didn’t.  Most odd.  Anyway, I am going to post my version and then the edited version.

If they ask

If they ask, I’ll tell them it was my mothers

“She died recently, I like having her things around me”

Or maybe I’ll say ‘its nobody else’s business” and run

And they’ll follow and I can show them where it hurts

If they ask, I’ll say “wouldn’t you like to know?”

And I’ll wink, and we’ll laugh and go to lunch

Or maybe I’ll tell them about my brother

On remand now and the charges are mounting

All I’ve got left and I don’t want him

I sit and I wait, ready at last

But nothing has changed

Nobody asks

If they ask

I'll tell them it was my mothers

"She died recently, I like having her things around me"

Or, maybe "it's nobody else's business" and run

They'll follow and I can show them where it hurts.

If they ask, say "wouldn't you like to know?"

and wink, We'll laugh and go to lunch.

Or maybe I'll tell them about my brother

on remand now, charges mounting

All I've got left and I don't want him.

I sit, wait, ready at last.

Nobody asks.

The things I like about the editing of this one: it’s much more efficient (the removal of the I’lls and conjunction, plus there’s no longer the repetition at the beginning) and I think the space works – the ‘nothing has changed’ being implied.  The gap feels more like a beat, or a breath.

There are suggested edits to others, too, but I am conscious that this has become quite a long post already.  What do you think?  Which one do you prefer (if any)?

I’ll write another post about the other poem I’ve sent out to people – the night journey.  It was a bit of a mess, but I really liked some bits of it.  The suggested changes to that one are more drastic, which is necessary, though I am still mulling them over!  I start a new class tonight, so hopefully that will give me some more inspiration!

Soul Moon Ribcage

So I did it! I stood up and read my poems to people and managed to not die of embarrassment.  The showcase was great actually, it was so good to hear other people’s writing – a mixture of stories, poems and plays – some of them great and very funny.  Then a lot of wine was consumed (shock!) so I was more hungover than I’d have liked to be for the workshop with Buddy Wakefield in Portobello Library the following day.  I’ve never been there before, it’s really cute – a small but vibrant library with an upstairs meeting room.  On the back wall of the meeting room is a Town Mural, something I have only heard of existing before in Pawnee Indiana!  This one is much less offensive though.  I was a bit late so I missed Buddy Wakefield's introduction, and to be honest I’d not had a lot of experience of his work before.  I bought some books though, because I really liked him and what he said made a lot of sense.  I wasn’t disappointed, his stuff is really good – check him out!

I had a real lightbulb moment at the workshop (quite a feat considering my hungover state).  I’ve been in a class where I was expected to read out a bit of writing each week.  Despite my efforts in getting over myself, it was really hard to get rid of the sense that what you read out has to be ‘something’ – ‘something good’ even.  Hearing a successful writer say that even with writing every single day, he has one poem he considers good enough per month, was a bit of a reality check.  A lot of his focus was on performing, obviously not something I’ve done a lot of and I’m not overly drawn to.  His biggest piece of advice – I had my pen poised for this – was ‘don’t fake cry’.  I didn’t write that down.  Do people really do that?  Another bit that made me laugh, mostly because it’s what makes me cringe in writing, is use of clichés – and not all the ones you expect.  “Stop fucking with the moon” he said “and opening your ribcage” – I can think of a lot of these poetic sounding phrases that (for me) disconnect me with whatever the writer is trying to say.  Is that universal, or does that work for you?  Any that particularly rile you?

More has happened since the workshop – I have been appointed a fantastic Mentor through the WoMentoring Project, and some of my poems have gone through an editing process with her.  I am going to share some of the reworked stuff - some that my postal correspondents will be familiar with - in my next post.

the distant future arrives, insistent

I have mixed feelings about this Friday.  It’s the end of my course, and means we likely won’t get together as a group again in the same way.  And we’re a lovely group!  Also the last meeting is in a bar where we’ll be reading out our work to students on other courses run by my tutor.  It feels pretty terrifying when I think about it, so I am just going to not.  I have a lot of work to organise this week, so that helps distract my mind from the image of I have in my head of me standing up in a spotlight, no words coming out.  It’ll be fine, I am sure.  SURE!

So the question now is what to do next.  I’ve been sending out writing to people I know, which has sparked a bit of a letter exchange – which is good, I am a fan of that.  It means also I’ve been receiving encouragement and feedback alongside the critical feedback of my tutor.  Actually that’s unfair, he is very encouraging.  Just also very clear about what he thinks.  My favourite so far has been “this starts really well, I love that bit, but then it gets boring. It’s like reading the news.” But generally apparently there’s a level of irritating self-consciousness in my writing sometimes.  I think that’s fair, though a 10 week class isn’t going to undo a lifetime of that sort of programming.

Luckily there’s a lot going on in Edinburgh, and with courses and workshops I hope to keep my momentum in writing, getting feedback and rewriting.  I’ve also applied for a mentor via The WoMentoring Project and I’m on the waiting list for another course at the University.  I plan to continue, and next week I will a) let you know how the reading goes; if I burst into flames and therefore am unable to go through with it and b) post the poems that I read out on Friday.

Incidentally, the picture above is a beautiful Edinburgh sunrise - I love that in winter, even the lazy get some morning prettiness.

Don't Think Twice, It's All Right

So the writing and reflecting has continued over the past two weeks, with some useful critical feedback.  It doesn't wound as much as I thought it would, but it does make a mark! It lingers, which isn't a bad thing, it's good to remember these things.  For the first week's class, I wrote two things that I shared - a poem based on an experience I had, then a more abstract thing about trying to remember a dream.  I was more worried about the latter, but I went over it a few times, trying to zero in on what I was trying to say.  Then I was on a webinar, doodling, and ended up re-writing it to a point where I was more comfortable with it.

The first poem came easily, and made me laugh. To my surprise when reading it out, it was that one that came in for the most criticism.  Self conscious, trying too hard. Argh! It burns! But I know what they mean.  I was a bit too comfortable with it, I think.  There was a layer of something...too smart? Too knowing? That meant it was funny for me, and the other person involved (he liked it too), but not really relatable by anyone else.

My tutor said 'stop thinking too much'. But I am still thinking. A lot. I'm not sure how to not do that.  So not sure how that will work out.  On the positive side, I had feedback that the good poem used a nice balance of concrete and abstract language and imagery, which is a good thing.  That's something I can work with.

In the last class, I had another two things to share.  Both were quite critically pulled apart this time, but again – in a useful, practical way.  This is how I expected things to be, but I had quite liked the nice positive bubble I was living in at first!!  In the pub afterwards, my tutor says “I hope I wasn’t too hard on you.” It made me think about how in the past, feedback of the kind he have me would have actually upset me – more out of frustration with myself than anything.  At least I know I’m getting better at something!

If you’d like to read something and give me some feedback, I know I can take it!  E-mail your postal address to the usual place.

Everyday is like Sunday

I had myself a cultural Sunday, after waffles for breakfast then waving my weekend visitor (and postal correspondent!) off on a train to the Highlands. I had decided to go to the Inky Fingers ReadEasy – without really knowing what it was. It started at 3 and with a couple of hours to kill, decided to spend some time in the Scottish National Portrait Gallery. What a place. Beautiful portraits and sculptures, so many interesting new people and stories to discover. The Great War exhibition featured lots of principled and characterful people, and the John Byrne exhibition was remarkable – what a talent! Very impressive, and to think I’d not seen his work before. Entry to everything is free. Free! We are so lucky to have access to these things.

As a result of all of the interesting, the 2 hours I had to kill disappeared fast and I ended up running up to the Forest Café on Lothian Road to the ReadEasy. I needn’t have rushed, it’s not that kind of place. The Forest Café has a community centre feel; ramshackle and mismatched tables and chairs, posters everywhere, communal knitting and good strong tea in a mug for only £1. I had submitted a poem beforehand, and the ReadEasy is about having your poem read by others, anonymously, and getting some feedback. It looked for a while like either it wasn’t happening, or there were two of us, but eventually there became a small gathering.

If you’d told me a year ago that I’d be sitting in a hippy café reading and analysing poetry, I’d have pushed you off your chair. But that’s what I did. I read someone else’s poem, which I really liked – lots of strong imagery and a strong sense of nostalgia. Then someone read mine…it was interesting as they’d interpreted different emotions than I’d intended and it was fun to hear how that made a difference. It was also really nice to get feedback. It was largely positive; in fact, too positive – the “this is a fantastic piece” made me blush. Why is it that compliments make feel like a fraud? I have to deprogram myself of that, I think. The main bit of more constructive feedback was pretty much ‘have you ever heard of punctuation?’ I have, of course, but we aren’t good friends. And I notice in poetry, sometimes it’s used a lot and sometimes hardly at all. I’ll have to give that some thought.

Your recommendations have been really useful in my cultural education. Some of my favourites include Philip Larkin’s Aubade (I was told how to pronounce this but instantly forgot!) and WH Auden’s ‘O Tell Me The Truth About Love’. I love how fun that one is. Something I discovered in my investigations was ‘The Memory of Elena’ by Caroline Forché – quite unexpectedly touching, it gave me goosebumps.

Please keep recommendations coming, and if you'd like to read anything & give me your view - let me know!

Exploration

This week I’ve been mostly exploring poetry and looking for inspiration. My tutor says to ‘read something that scares me’ but really, all of it does. My knowledge and experience of poetry is woeful, so it’s quite amusing really that my interest has run off in that direction. Thinking about it though, I do love lyrics, and my favourite musicians tend to be terrible singers but great at writing something ambiguous enough to be interesting as well as meaningful. And by meaningful I don’t mean something deep and worthy necessarily; something true, honest, funny, clever or well written can be just as impressive, engaging, inspiring. In fact, I think my favourite writing of any kind encompasses all of these things.

So, as well as finding some poetry anthologies to pick my way through (I have the excellent Staying Alive anthology trilogy), I’ve also been listening – again, as instructed by my tutor – to Bob Dylan. Have you heard of him? He’s quite good! There’s lots of debate, seemingly, over whether Dylan was a poet or a musician and honestly, I don’t care. I enjoy his storytelling, turns of phrase and the abstraction in his writing. I think that last bit is where I will struggle most when writing, to leave enough for interpretation? Although looks like from interviews Dylan did get annoyed by the “what is this song all about?” question!

So what kind of poetry would you recommend? What will be interesting or a challenge to someone completely new to this? Leave me a comment below!

Also, my offer of sending you some writing is still open, email me if you'd like something. I’ve sent off a bit of poetry so far, it felt good! I am looking forward to seeing what comes back.

My Haiku Habit

Something has happened since I moved to Edinburgh, something totally unexpected. I keep writing and I can’t stop. This is a good thing, for the most part. Writing is something I’ve always wanted to do but when I’ve tried, I’ve always been disappointed with the result. Not just disappointed. Embarrassed, in a ‘crossing out isn’t good enough, now we must burn this’ sort of a way. Now I’m amusing and entertaining myself with my writing and it seems to be happening more and more. Positive encouragement from the creative writing course also helps puff up my feathers a bit and seems to inspire me more. Not that I’m ready to just post something up and leave it here all vulnerable.

I love the Internet, but criticism can feel brutal at the best of times and this electronic connection can depersonalise us both. I think divorced from the look you’ll see in my eyes when you crush me, you’re free to say anything. That stops us both from learning and becoming better people. I want to get better at writing, and I want to share, but I want it to be more personal than that. Not that I’m going to come round to your house and read at you; I can see you already wondering if you can dive behind the sofa and switch the light off in one fell swoop. "No ears here, no no, move on."

So…a thing I’ve decided is that if you want to read something, I’ll post you something. Into a postbox. Like the olden days. E-mail me your address and I’ll write you out a poem, haiku or part of a story I’m trying to write.

And you can let me know what you think.