by Sheilagh Dyson
I am hardly the best qualified to
be writing on this week’s theme of ‘preparing for a poetry event’. My glib answer
is that I put on lipstick, check I have enough money for my tea at the
excellently hospitable Number 5 café, find a seat in same and prepare to be
entertained – by others.
To date, the triumphant tally of
poetry readings to which I have contributed in a vocal way is precisely nil. This is not through any reluctance to
perform in public, nor some maidenly reticence on my part to plying my wares in
an open forum. On the contrary, down the years I’ve been no slouch at speaking
up and speaking out, loud and long, about issues that concern me. But this is a
new world to me, one in which I still have to find my feet, take a few risks
and have the confidence to put myself on the line, as my colleagues in the Dead
Good Poets do so impressively and, seemingly, effortlessly each time we get
together.
To this end, I’ve been reading up
on the myriad advice available (as ever) on the internet to those shrinking poetry
violets like myself who are yet to make their reading debut. I’m particularly
taken with ‘One Night Stanzas’ which advises:
1) Say
yes, put your name down, make
yourself do it. Make a commitment you can’t get out of. Do it when you’re half-confident. Don’t wait until you’re
fully confident, that happy moment will never arrive.
2) Be
prepared. Know exactly which poems you’re intending to read and stick to them.
3) Put
yourself on first, when nobody’s tired, bored, drunk or desperate for a
cigarette.
4) Enjoy
yourself. Make eye contact with the audience. Smile!
5) Enjoy the audience. They’re on your side. They
appreciate how hard it is to write a
poem, never mind get up and read it in public.
6) Look
forward. Remember that this is the last time you will feel so nervous. Next
time will be a piece of cake.
Less conventional advice found
included:
1) Drink
beer. (It’s a thought!) But not too much.
So, will I be taking my own advice? Soon, but not yet. Not
next Friday. Maybe the time after. But I know someone who might take the
plunge. I turn to my husband, Dave. Look Dave, it’s easy. Just put your name
down, then you’re committed. Choose your poems, get yourself on first, you’ll
enjoy it, they’ll be on your side, it will never be as hard again. Drink beer!
I will finish, not with a poem
this time, but a quotation. Irish poet Eavan Boland, asked what she has learned
from writing poetry, had this to say:
‘That reading and writing and sharing poetry has power in
it. Poetry is often misunderstood by those who’ve never really dealt with it —
people think it’s archaic and serves no purpose. This isn’t true. Poetry is
what language was made for. Get struggling students to write poems and their
literacy scores will sky-rocket, as will their social skills. Get a poet to
write your advertising copy and see what happens (a lot of companies have begun
to do this – look how many TV ads are written in verse these days.) Poetry is
not old-fashioned, doesn’t have to be self-aggrandising or dull. I’ve learned
that none of the rumours are true. Poetry is seriously hip, and what’s more,
it’s a long way from being dead.’