Small Details / Big Picture

By Ashley Lister

My current work in progress, as I constantly tell everyone who listens, is set in a pre-medieval Britain. I’m trying to be as historically accurate as I can with the world I’m building, although I have to admit there is a magical element to the content that allows me to fudge some truths when they don’t quite work within the narrative. This is sometimes called ‘artistic licence.’

However, the attention to the small things is relevant to this week’s theme. To make this particular story work I’ve realised it’s all in the details: the micro completing the macro.

The story takes place in Britain before the Middle Ages. To be (vaguely) specific I’m working in a story world that exists somewhere between 0 and 500 AD. That means I have the huge expanse of half a millennia in which to set my story. I’ve got the massive breadth of a sparsely populated British Isles in which my characters may blunder around. And I’m writing about the enormous emotions of love, lust and desire.

Yet it’s the micro details that enrich the image.

Details such as clothing and common fabrics. Details such as fiscal currencies (if they existed). Details such as lighting in any area that did not contain natural light.

In our contemporary age these matters are addressed in such a commonplace fashion it’s difficult to think of them as ever being issues. I’m writing this whilst wearing leather boots, denim jeans and a black cotton T-shirt. It’s an outfit so unremarkable it barely merits mentioning. I’ve got sterling in my pockets but there are a smattering of Euros on my desk and some dollars in my wallet. My office is lit by a single 150 watt bulb.

Each of these details is so micro in our contemporary day and age it barely merits being mentioned. Yet these small details are the points that will make the completed fiction seem credible and allow readers to maintain the suspension of disbelief as they follow the narrative.

Obviously it takes a macro amount of time to thoroughly research each of these details. But that’s another whine for another day. Below is a page from one of the opening chapters of the current work in progress. It’s surprising how much research went into these 257 words.

The deadbolt slammed home with deafening force. The clang of metal sang against metal. The sound reverberated through unyielding oak doors set in solid stone walls. Tavia knew the thick silence that came afterwards was locked in the dungeon with her. She swallowed as she studied her surroundings. She struggled not to be afraid. And she wished she hadn’t paid two gold pfennigs for this dubious privilege.

Blazing torches hung from sconces on the walls. The flames splashed shadows and a glaring orange light onto the cobbled stones of the dungeon floor. Spirals of black smoke spewed upward toward the faraway roof. Sulphuric smells and unearthly stinks crept from the shadowy corners.

“This is not a waste of time,” Tavia muttered the words like a mystical chant. “It was not a waste of money. It is not a waste of time.”

She said the words softly but with determination, trying to convince herself that they held some truth. She had entered the dungeons against the advice of her twin and without the knowledge of her father. It had cost her dearly to bribe guards and keykeepers to get this far. And she wouldn’t let herself believe that it could all be for nothing. She brushed a stray lock of blonde tresses from her brow and stepped nervously from one foot to the other. She wore wooden pattens with leather straps and the heels tripped loudly against the stone floor.

“F**k off,” a voice called. “I’ve got a hangover and I’m in no mood for visitors.”

She stiffened.

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A message from the Head of Marketing

by Rachel Thomas

I was so very excited to accept the position of Head of Marketing at T’Poets until I realised I was being asked to write a guest blog. Suddenly I became pleasantly petrified and started googling prodigious locutions. I can’t really say it made me feel much better.

Here on my holidays in sunny blog world I have to say this is how I imagined my life to turn out. I am mingling with deep, poetic types and although the amount of Guinness involved is considerably less than expected I try to remember that I too am a deep, poetic type and I should really make an effort to fit in.

While poets big, small and understated throw syllabic butterflies out into the cosmoverse I have watched in wonder as they flap their tiny little wings creating phenomenal hurricanes of laughter, emotion and inspiration. – Bear with me here I am TRYING....

My point is that macro isn’t versus micro. Micro IS macro. Macro is micro.

I am not going to get into the valid debate about whether Darwin was big or small but please, have a think about evolution. Out of tiny acorns grow huge oak trees yes and where does the universe come from? A teenie tiny tinchy little minuty sparkly thingy – Right?

Just look at us! My, haven’t we grown!

The only other thing I wanted to mention was that the tiny sparkle is in you. It is the idea that grows into a novel, the football win that lifts your spirits and makes you fling your arms around sheer strangers, (cough cough) it is in your heartbeat when you see pictures of cute kittens and wander off to the cat rescue centre, you are the dream that turns into a whole reality. It is the drop in the ocean of happiness and what more it spreads like chicken pox.

I am all for embracing the micro AS the macro and the macro AS the micro because, after all, the universe is made of stardust.

***

Rachel Thomas is a poet, educator and graduate from Blackpool & Fylde college.

http://www.facebook.com/rachelthomaswrites

http://www.amazon.co.uk/When-Coffee-Blooms-ebook/dp/B005HAB1HO/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1334209937&sr=8-1

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IT’S A MACRO / MICRO THING.

I find that poetry changes the way in which you see the world; the more you write, read and engage with poetry, the more you notice. Eyes, once immature and full of glances, learn to focus, to be steady and to be patient. Like the zoom lens on a camera, life-size is magnified. Thought, rather than being merely an okra seed, becomes a coiled woodlouse; an armoured marble; an ammonite carved into snakestone, complete with the legend of Saint Hilda.

In poetry, it is not the form or the size of the poem that determines whether it could be classified as large or small, but rather it is the subject, the thought, or the idea contained within the parameters of the form. For example, the haiku is small (with  its seventeen syllables), yet its subject is often thought, traditionally, to be great – starting with a macro view of the world and then becoming more specific (the micro view).

Often, within my own poetry, I find myself using this macro/micro technique – beginning with a large image and then zooming in on a smaller detail. It is these little, usually unnoticed, observations that create the depth and prevent the poem from being merely a backdrop. You want to surprise the reader: tell them something new, give them a different view of the world.

Recycling

Compost and soot from allotment bonfires

is forked into the freshly dug soil.

Old wardrobes and skirting boards

are cut to make raised beds.

A rusty swing frame is draped with green netting –

ready for when the runner beans start to climb.

Thank you for reading,
Lara

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Micro v Macro: The Small v The Large

For any long term readers coming back here today, I want to thank you first of all. You have sustained an ego bursting at the seams, a voice of a poet wanting to break out of the box. You've probably also gathered by now that I hold strong feelings towards certain aspects of politics, that I am a vegan and that I have tried to adopt something of a 'be the change' attitude towards life. If you hadn't picked that up, maybe re-read some of my poems. 


Last week the link to our blog was tweeted by the poetry society. I have a hard on for the poetry society and for all the effort they put in to develop access and sustainability for it as a genre. My father also read my blog last week, which somehow meant more. 


As a union man, one of the things that seems to have etched its way from his mind to mine is the idea of the small, individual piece coming together as a much bigger force for the good. This is not a political blog and I don't want a debate about strike action and so on, there are plenty of sites elsewhere for that. The point is that be it in forcing action (or simply consultation), spreading the word for events or just sharing ideas and openly debating things, the force of the many together is often paramount to the success. 


The EDL attempted to form a united European league recently and were outnumbered by incredibly well mobilised anti-fascist protestors. The powers that be are pushing forwards with draconian surveillance measures that will change the lives of most UK internet users and, as sure as eggs is eggs, the Home Office website became a target for hackers over the last week- again the power of the many. 


So what does this have to do with poetry, I hear you ask. Well, I am simply putting it out there to see what you feel the world of poetry could do for people. My father was harping on to me about poetry this week, which was astonishing, and I feel I may have indoctrinated him with it sometime. A customer in the shop was asking why a conservatory tax was fair this morning. I simply mentioned to him that a tax on anything wasn't necessarily fair, but perhaps it is fairer to tax those who can afford to extend their houses than those who can only just heat it. It was, of course, a Daily Mail headline that prompted him and I think then that the message should this. If a cesspool of newpapers can influence public thought, why can't the lyrical, astute, poets amongst us. With twitter, social media and even boat races to contend with as platforms for spreading messages and ideas, perhaps now is the time for poetry to reach out. 


The musicians have had their shot at it, the papers are more than just untrusted these days and so, in times of tough support from the top, writing is as important as ever. When I think of early England, I think Beowulf. When I think of the Elizabethans, I think of Shakespeare and any knowledge I really have held onto about the Middle Ages comes from Chaucer's  characatured monks and vagrants. The past has been documented and we have held on to the best descriptions. I encourage you all then to take up your pens. Our next event is just 11 days away and with the theme of 'Jeremy Kyle' to get stuck into, I am looking forward to hearing the many various voices our window on society will inspire. Maybe, just maybe, I'll have something new to read myself there. 


Cheers for reading, 
S. 


PS I've been doing Napowrimo this month. In an attempt to broaden my horizons and material, I am going to try looking at five or six new poems or artworks every day. Just thought I'd share the method I'm taking, as a warning that there may be some different stuff on the way from me in the coming weeks and also as an alternative if Ashley's three little word scheme from Saturday runs dry. 

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