Lemn Sissay Interview

Here's the link: https://scroll.in/article/953193/we-actually-think-in-poetry-because-we-cannot-speak-in-poetry-we-speak-inadequately-lemn-sissay?fbclid=IwAR07NUTNKOmu_EGfsbYGho2tnfuDiau8wDWqA5XJ92C6LVJWsNe3vtbqP6U

Two things struck me. First is the line about 'thinking in poetry'. Maybe someone out there can help me, but I think I've heard something similar before somewhere? Not that I'm trying to call Sissay out on being unoriginal, I'd just like to read more about it. Anyway, I read it and thought 'yeah, that's a nice soundbite', but then mulled it over a little more, and it's quite apt, really. The ramifications of its truth are that speech (and prose, according to him) are standardised against our own inherent nature. I had understood why, in terms of a system of writing, we would want to standardise things, so that everyone can understand each other, but to think that there is such a disconnect between how we experience things, and 'the' rules of expression... It's a bit thought-provoking, anyway.

Certainly I think poetry is in the best place to reflect the experience of living. In prose you can describe it, and set such a scene, you can capture it, but not the experience of it, i.e. to make you feel like you're going through it. Sort of present tense vs past tense. Drama you can really pierce the heart of issues and emotions (and radio, film, TV), but they're a vastly different kettle of fish being as though the disparity between the way it is on the page and its performance is much bigger. They are great at conveying emotions, but again, generally it's not as close to the living experience. Form is how I see poetry better reflecting life's experience, and drama is close to that (or can be), but I think it's the acting that brings that out, you know, the power is more latent on the script's page, whereas poetry has it in ink and in performance in more similar levels. I've always said poetry's the purest use of language, and therefore it stands to reason for me that it would be more potent - but I don't expect anyone to buy that as a great objective argument lol. And the disclaimer to this whole ramble is that I'm more into the 'experimental side' of writing, so most comparisons between genres have huge holes in them, not only because borders (i.e. standardised definitions of genre) are blurred, techniques and forms are happily nabbed between them, but also because the very newness that is (trying to be) found could completely discredit what I'm saying. Have I made any sense? I suppose, to say it another way, I mean that there are going to be exceptions to what I'm saying because of the scope of the world's imagination, and I feel that once there are exceptions, what I've said is a bit pointless. But then again, I've never let that stop me before. Anyway, enough!

Second thing I wanted to say was just that I'm happy about his stance on universities - that they provide a worthwhile space for people to develop their craft. Some people I know (who are lovely, yes, and good writers, sure) have these negative ideas about unis, not limited to; they are a robot-factory, producing many people who all do the same thing; no-one can teach you how to write anyway (the implication being that unis are a waste of time, and people are idiots for going to them), and; people who write at uni are somehow 'softer', they don't have any bite or an engaging voice. Not necessarily true, by any means! I guess it would have been interesting to read what he would have said had he had more time to answer the question, what nuances he would've brought to the fore, but anyway, like I say, it's nice to know that a chap of his calibre, and his appealing poetry, is for universities. I found that my experience was illuminating through exposure to possibilities rather than 'rules' or whatever (and I had the desire to be educated, you know, I opened my aperture to the light. But then that's true of any discipline - if you're not being listened to, you can't teach a new dog old tricks), not some kind of methodical 'write by numbers' thing that I think my aforementioned uni-sceptic friend was hinting at. There were plenty of discernible 'tools' we were given, for sure, such as poetics, for which I could not have had a better experience at Edge Hill with Robert Sheppard. That's one thing I wonder - where would I have been without even just that one facet? I analyse writing, look at techniques etc, but I don't think I'd've realised the energising power of speculation without that tutelage. Hmmm... No answers, only questions...

Obviously there's lots else to take from the article, so I hope you have time to read it 😊 I just wanted to focus on those couple of bits 😀

And, since you've been so good as to get all the way to the end of this post, have another interview - this time with Roger Robinson: https://globalvoices.org/2020/02/14/an-interview-with-roger-robinson-winner-of-the-2019-t-s-eliot-prize-in-poetry/?fbclid=IwAR0YS6-qUxscuVrJgkqbNahj4RZU6bvLZt6920or-aAyi0B82yQ5UNHRfmw

Back to Bad. Minton.

I've been back playing badminton now for about two months. Before that, it had been about seven years since I'd played, back in the days of doing my BA at Ole Edge Hill. It was great to get back to playing, like an existential homecoming. Not only is badminton one of the only competitive sports I've ever played with any regularity - and therefore become reasonably good at - but also it used to get me out the house and socialising in a meaningful way, and all these feelings and memories ran back to me, arms open wide. I'm incredibly lucky to have been introduced to the group I'm going to, which itself is lucky that the EU has funded it, and thankful. As the memories mill around my mind like lazy gas molecules, I got to thinking about the badminton-based writing I used to do on this very blog, so went back and had a read.

Faintly amusing I find those posts. Generally they comprise of me evaluating my performance, or moaning about some perceived social injustice wrought against me, alongside thrilling thoughts on Liverpool FC's latest match. I remember how it was, though, going pushing myself as hard as I could for a couple of hours, having plenty of laughs, then walking out into the cold, dark air, feeling also the chill of loneliness as I walked home, past the wooden fencing around the hospital that made a zoetrope of the wall behind, and in through the front door. I'd go from joking and exercising with everybody, to being by myself. Then I'd usually have a bit to eat, a shower, and a blog, and felt purposeful again.

Occasionally I would attempt to uncover - poetics-like - some nugget of wisdom about my badminton practise (how to play better, what makes a good player, etc), and I'm pleased with myself on that front. But anyway, whatever I think of having written it all, it doesn't matter. It's there. The most interesting thing to note was how I used to react to my performance. I'm a lot less celebratory after a win these days, rarely even opting for a fist-pump (does that suggest that there's less to fist-pump about?). I could be very puerile, as I let myself get carried away in the genuine elation, but this had been perceived to be trying to rub it in people's faces, which I don't, and never have, agreed with.

My reactions to losing are pretty similar. I'm still not bothered if I lose games, and still find dropping points with poor play disappointing, i.e. where I know I should've done better. However, I'm nowhere near as aggressive with myself as I used to be (there'd be an inner dialogue going on that would make a telepathic sailor blush), and in general now I look forward to the next shot, rather than dwelling on the one I've missed. Good advice for life, methinks. Indeed, some of these tools help interpersonally, too. There are a few people at the place I go to now that like to laugh at you when you miss a shot. I find this annoying, because I'm a stupid man-child with a hugely over-sensitive disposition, and an unfortunately robust ego, even after all this time and effort. That being said, when people do laugh, I take it on the chin, and by breathing and contextualising it better, the knot of annoyance is gone in a moment. Part of the contextualising can be thinking about how, objectively, a complete air-shot might look funny - like physical comedy, as it were - to others. Also, there's the fact that all you can control is trying to hit that shot, and your reaction. You missed, so what? Try and hit the next one. You can't control how other people take anything, so don't try. Let it be.

Anyway, I didn't expect this all to go on quite so long, and then turn into a weird Buddhist sermon at the end... So goodbye for now! Hope you feel inspired to dust off an old hobby, or even start a new one, after reading this :)

Bye!

Robert Sheppard Symposium @ Edge Hill University

Oh gosh, is that the date already? Please forgive me for being so late to advertise this. I thought March seemed like a way off, and yet here it is, being the second day of itself already. Anyway, enough of my incredulity at time's passionless passage - if you can make it on the 8th (next Wednesday...), then do come to what promises to be a great and illuminating gathering of people, papers and presentations on the legend that is Robert Sheppard.

If you click anywhere on this whole paragraph, you'll be taken to the Edge Hill website, where you'll find all the details you'll need, and the opportunity to reserve your place. Both the presentations through the day and the reading in the evening are completely free to attend, but booking your place is what you gotta do. I just booked mine, and I'm getting excited! That's why I've knocked up this wee post, because now I've done that, it all seems very real and imminent...

I hope to see you there!

The Enemies Project: North by North West Poetry Tour

Biiig news! It's barely more than a week away now, and Blogtastic is proud to announce the upcoming collaboration between myself and Laura Tickle. I've been saying for a while [in fact, it's on my blog bio thingy on this very site] how I'm open for collaboration with other artists, and my prayers have been answered. I'm extremely happy - and even luckier - to be given the chance to be a part of The Enemies Project, a massive and wide-reaching organism that has swallowed up most of the world and showcased a lot of talent across many disciplines in a [successful] bid to examine artists' creative interrelationships. I really enjoyed the one I went to a couple of years back at the Fly and the Loaf, and to perform at one is huge for me.

The process has been cool, y'know. Sort of different and sort of the same with respect to what I was thinking it'd be like. It's really exciting, I find, as there's a pleasant pressure to the whole thing. Might go into that more at a later date, might not. Right now, it's just important that you remember the date: 19th January 2017. You should also remember the venue [Edge Hill Arts Centre], and the time [1800hrs]. It would be great to see you there :) There are other dates as well, so here's a re-link to the North by Northwest Tour so you can check them out - hopefully I'll be at the Liverpool one :) http://www.theenemiesproject.com/northwest/

Here's a link to Laura's piece that appeared on Pages [more links to some of her other work in that post]: http://robertsheppard.blogspot.co.uk/2014/10/25-edge-hill-poets-laura-tickle.html

Here's a vibrant flash fiction she wrote for Calum Kerr's Flash Flood, 'Carry Him Safely': http://flashfloodjournal.blogspot.co.uk/2016/06/carry-him-safely-by-laura-tickle.html

Steven Fowler already has a collection of collaborations published with Penned in the Margins [sold out at this link, but free sample available: http://www.pennedinthemargins.co.uk/index.php/2013/09/enemies-2/], any other Enemies related stuff just check the link I've already given you.

And as for other poets and their works - Google it! I've not got time to go into it all, I've got poetry to do :D

September-time Blues

The thing that really triggers it for me is the adverts. Sure, there are those on TV, but it's the ones that pop up when I'm on my laptop, when I'm on my own and feeling more vulnerable. Young folk talking about 'your next big step', standing in front of some big, beautiful building as students mill about, smiling, chatting and buzzing silently with knowledge, promise and Jagerbombs. God I miss university...

Last year was the first year in my life, since I was three, that I've not gone into an 'academic year'. It wasn't too tough, though, because I had just recently finished my MA dissertation and had yet to graduate. This year was more like cold turkey. It's not the ideal time to get nostalgia-based blues of any kind, not when there's such sorrowful suffering in the family and the rest of the world at the moment. But I felt like putting this out there. I don't want to make others feel bad, but maybe it'll encourage others to think about education or their life or whatever.

I still remember first moving into halls, how I had three plastic litre bottles of spirits I'd brought back from Salou that September and how I tried to make new friends by sharing some of it with people in the same halls as me. I remember my first lessons, the feelings of awe at tutors, the attraction to those in your class who 'got it' in their way and made you look up to them because of it. I still remember the sometime loneliness, but also the fantastically oddball days and nights with friends I still love today and the freedom to be your own person in a way you couldn't imagine, even just a few months ago in sixth form. I remember losing my virginity [ish...]. I remember the greenery on campus. I remember the uni shops, the bar, the computer rooms, the odd spaces they'd try and shelve us writers during our lessons... I remember pride, fear and disappointment during/after assignments.

I remember so much. It's not really gone. It's made me who I am now and, crucially, who I will be. I'm not sad because it's over, I'm happy it's happened. I'm appreciative of all the luck, love and hard work that got me there, too, and I know it's silly of me to feel down about not being as young as I was.

Would still like to re-live it though...

A Line A Day Keeps... Me Busy

Last year, I started a 'diary a day' thing. It was essentially an exercise in writing fitness, but I also had other hopes, such as examining/enhancing the way I look at and process the world. Anyway, whatever the results, I'm glad I did it, but this year I've been on a different 'adventure': a line a day. Already that's not accurate, because actually it's a sentence a day, but 'line a day' trips off the tongue a little easier, and in general I'm into that whole 'brevity' thing, man.

So, what's the thinking behind this? I wanted to move from writing lots about each day, to writing just a little. The idea was to 'become more poetic' - to be hygienic in my expression, but stronger in spirit. I wanted pith, humour, drama, formal inventiveness [as is always the wish], rhythm, music, soul... so many things, and so much, all inside a singular sentence. And, sure, I've bent 'the rules' a wee bit, vis-a-vis grammar, utilising ellipses, dashes, kerazy kommas and line breaks to cram in a lot, but I think I've already managed most of my original aims. Making long sentences isn't what I wanted the project to be about, originally, but it's fine that that's krept in [sorry, I'll stop using ks instead of cs now]. I still get days where I want to be 'plot focused' and record as much of what happened as I can, but then there are times where the 'more poetic' instincts lead me to express my summary in a natural breath, rather than mechanically ground out.

Another hope of this project was that it would take less time each day, therefore allowing me to crack on with other creative works [you may remember me wondering if the full diary a day doofer was sapping my time and energy each day so that my production of, say, poetry suffered]. Well, my production in that respect is still not really where I want it to be, although I have got a few new drafts to work on. I guess I can pretty definitively say how much work I do's got nothing to do with my little forays into life recording.

It has occasionally been the case that even this diddy-diary was 'too much' for me to do. I think, at my lowest point, I've let eight or nine days go by without writing anything. If I remember rightly, I was quite depressed at that point, but I got out of it at least. Other than that, at most it's been two days, and not very often at that. I've only managed to confuse myself once with respect to 'what day I'm on' [in my notebook, each sentence is literally just numbered. In hindsight, it would have been much more pragmatic [though 'less poetic' imho] to date them, so there would be no doubt, but then I guess I assumed my discipline would have been perfect for such a seemingly easy task], but I can at least say that, so far, my discipline has been better than last time. Would be a bad job if it wasn't, like, but I digress... I don't really want to dissect how/why I've not managed to diligently do every day as targeted, but I will say that life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans.

Another way in which this year's project is the same as the last is in what I might do with the resulting mess. After seeing Richard Barrett's collaboration with himself [not a euphemism] at an Edge Hill symposium, I was really intrigued by 'processing' one's diaries, reforming, regurgitating, repurposing and examining what remains. My hope with this, as you can imagine if you're familiar with certain language poets [or prose poetry?], is to turn it into a poem. In fact, in many ways it already is, always was and was always going to be a poem. I like the idea of it completing itself, maybe as twelve individual poems or a twelve-stanza 'mini-epic', or even something between the two. I can already imagine it being published, and where, but that'll obviously depend on the quality of the material I end up with etc. Watch this space...

But more on what's different. Of course, I don't get that hand-numbing marathon sensation that I used to. That was quite something, burning through, what was it, eight sides? Did I get up to sixteen once? Writing that much in one sitting was, as I say, somewhat wearying. And it was interesting mentally, because you got into a flow state - always nice - but one that was less dependent on outright creativity. Sure, memory in general is a creative process, but with the memories often being less than a day old, I didn't really need to stretch the truth to fit the day-sized gap. It made the flow feel a bit more... tranquil, I suppose, than with fiction, say.

With this 'line a day', however, memory plays a different process. I have two main sentence types - the one I write at the end of the day that I have just come up with on the spot, or one that I've formed and drafted in my head, either earlier on in the day, or just before I've picked up my pen. The latter is often less of a 'did x, y and z' type report, and more of a sweeping sentence. Especially if I've come up with this relatively early, the process of memory is more about remembering the words, rather than the experiences - so that's a strange kind of inversion that's interesting to note. Speaking of notes, I believe I note that this project slots into my life easier than the last, doesn't get in the way, and also makes me feel like I'm appreciating my awareness of what's going on in life without having to obsess over every little detail and, in doing so, be blocked from enjoying things as they happen. The contemplative processes of the two activities is radically different and - apologies if I'm overusing this word and/or its concept - this year I feel it's 'more poetic'

Speaking of 'more poetic', next year I think I'll do a haiku a day, just like Neil Schiller's done. That's actually a pretty decent challenge, I'd imagine. Haiku[s] are tough to get right at the best of times, so doing them in bulk could be worse [or the practice could improve your skills?], but I'd allow myself more editing freedom than I have done these past couple of years, so that'd be cool. But hey, let's not get ahead of ourselves...

Last thing to say is that I feel there's less to analyse about my journey this year. I think the reason is as simple as I'm writing less, the process is less arduous... there's just not that meat that there was last year for my masticating molars to malform. Or maybe I 'got it out my system' last time [lol]. Either way, good for you guys 'cause I won't be boring you with loads of posts on the topic. Although this one has built into an overly-long post. Sorry about that...

Pages: 25 Edge Hill Poets: Leigh Harlett

Pages: 25 Edge Hill Poets: Leigh Harlett: Partners in Crime POETICS Start with a single line / a phrase / a concept / a sequence. Ruminate on this beginning, on this ...

Pages: 25 Edge Hill Poets: Steven Fletcher

Pages: 25 Edge Hill Poets: Steven Fletcher:   As a mature student, 47 years old at enrolment, I have found the BA Creative Writing course to be a life enriching experience. It giv...

Pages: 25 Edge Hill Poets: Anthony Arnott

Pages: 25 Edge Hill Poets: Anthony Arnott: https://www.facebook.com/arnottbarcode My time at Edge Hill was an enjoyable time, ...

Pages: 25 Edge Hill Poets: a bonus post: Three and A Half...

Pages: 25 Edge Hill Poets: a bonus post: Three and A Half...: One of the 25 Poets, Luke Thorogood, publishes poets like Steven Fowler and Sonya Groves in the latest, fourth, edition of his magazine Thre...

Pages: 25 Edge Hill Poets: Bill Bulloch

Pages: 25 Edge Hill Poets: Bill Bulloch: The manifesto is tentatively named 'Pausa' and basically reflects my desire to enjoy and experience the moment, recording my perce...

Pages: 25 Edge Hill Poets: Jason Argleton

Pages: 25 Edge Hill Poets: Jason Argleton: dip                                     mist we called it fog would have done as well a haze             in the dip of the roa...

Pages: 25 Edge Hill Poets: Dee McMahon

Pages: 25 Edge Hill Poets: Dee McMahon: Trad   Baby sweet full frontal lyrics launches successive sound of high notes and holidays, high notes and holidays, zingera’d to slit...

Pages: 25 Edge Hill Poets: Matt Fallaize

Pages: 25 Edge Hill Poets: Matt Fallaize: Partially recovered Too slow morning starts inaccurate my state is shifting a sudden occlusion before partition obligatory sun ...

Pages: 25 Edge Hill Poets; Carol Fenlon

Pages: 25 Edge Hill Poets; Carol Fenlon: Big Bill Troublin’ Mind   ( Big Bill Broonzy ) Musical bruises punch your brain suck your gut in the hollows of your heart val...

Pages: 25 Edge Hill Poets/Liverpool Camarade: Elio Lomas ...

Pages: 25 Edge Hill Poets/Liverpool Camarade: Elio Lomas ...: Two 3rd Year Edge Hill students telling it like it is... This video counts as two of the contributions to 25 Edge Hill Poets as well as a ...

Pages: 25 Edge Hill Poets: Janka Theisler

Pages: 25 Edge Hill Poets: Janka Theisler: The link to my blog (which has some poetry on it amongst other things) is:   http://apieceofmyhead.wordpress.com/ My time at Edge Hill:...

The Other Room 52

So I was writing this big gushing thing about how much I liked last Wednesday's The Other Room, but I went gushing on and on and didn't really say all that much about the actual poetry. So here I'm going to say something [not much] about the writers, and even less about the writing. Enjoy. Don't forget to turn your disappointment into another click on my wep-bage. Here is my head:

Joanne Ashcroft read from her Purple Moose Prize-winning collection Maps and Love Songs for Mina Loy, which I'd heard some of before, and heard discussed during the Edge Hill University symposium on literary collaboration. Even in performance, you get the sense of the formal inventiveness inherent in the work. She also read from a work in progress, 'What the Tree Said'. This impressed me with its soughing song and vogelsang vibrancy, which she and her tree performed well.

Next up was E. J. McAdams, who is from New York and launched straight into a pressurised whisper of a poem. The main thing I reacted to with his work was his conceptual prowess. He reacted to a 'movement research' performance, in the aforementioned city, by essentially coming up with a found poem piece with added formal ingenuity - for example, using one of my fave writing alignments ever, the boustrophedon ['as the ox plows'], to shape his poem. To paraphrase him, this project became about reappropriating the city in terms of language. He and Scott Thurston performed his last piece together, which was nice.

Then a wee break and some Robinson's Double Hop, thanks to Tim Allen there.

Lila Matsumoto crescendoed the night with a collection of poems from various places, one from collaboration, then a few from a collection of hers. The first overriding feelings I got from her work were an incredibly deft wit - which results in a lot of laughter - but also a powerfully hygienic use of imagery, very reminiscent of the best haiku. I regret that I can't remember which works she read from respectively, but - as ever - the whole point of me giving you links is that you check'em out four Yusef...

Sow goo und hay valook. And don't forget to check out my next [gushing] look at a lovely reading. Peace and love xox

UPDATE: You can check out videos of the performances by clicking on the names - Joanne Ashcroft, E. J. McAdams, Lila Matsumoto.

Pages: 25 Edge Hill Poets: Cliff Yates

Pages: 25 Edge Hill Poets: Cliff Yates: Boat 1. Boat In the morning she found a boat marooned on her pillow                                             she couldn’t hea...

Pages: 25 Edge Hill Poets: Christine Riaz

Pages: 25 Edge Hill Poets: Christine Riaz: Christine Riaz Martins Bank Building As I walk up Water Street The wind blows off the river A paradox: that to move forwar...