Beacon

Good evening readers. This week on the blog we've been considering writing spaces. For me, the best writing spaces are the places where poetry almost finds itself- the brilliant countryside, the breathtaking views, the cross-country journeys are just some of my favourite places of inspiration. I always remember Lara telling me how her tutor Paul Farley loved to write on trains- and given the abundance of train poems out there, I would say that he is not alone in his poetic rail loving.
We all know of the great poets based in the Lake District and there have been many great observational poems written from cafes and bars, which leads me to deduce that the only key factor in a 'writing space' is the chance to ponder and to breathe for yourself- that it is somewhere with the ability to be secluded and allow the thoughts to dance.
On that note, this Wednesday I will be taking a workshop for the Walking on Wyre project at Rossall Point in Fleetwood. I took a stroll out there yesterday and as always, was amazed by the serenity of the sea. It made me think of journeys, of holidays, of mythical creatures and of childhood. I like places like that, and there is a wonderful, over-leaning building from which we'll be writing so, if that is your bag or you like free tea and coffee, I'll see you in the week.
Until then, I'd like to share a brief poem with you that was inspired by a recent Beacon Fell visit with Lara. It really is a cracking place to sit, eat and think so if you get the chance, it is well worth a visit.

Hillside view from Beacon Fell, May 2014

Beacon

A hilltop view out to the coast
as the sun sinks in the sky
provides a chance for looking on
as birds below us fly.

The cattle graze on buttercups
a chewing sound serene
that's permeated now and then
by a two-stroke farm machine.

And as we picnic on that hill
set in oranges and greens
it's not just trees casting long shadows
but nights stretched out like these.


Thanks for reading,
S.

Read More

The "Nook"

I don't know why, but I do my best writing when sat in "The Nook". It's cosy, almost like a hug. Usually in solitude when my little chap-ster is at school, the idea's and words flow better when perched on the third step of my stairs on the small landing. It's nothing fancy, but this is my "Writing Space". The stairs lead up from the corner of my kitchen and the wall has just been re-plastered and painted this very week. I prefer to use trusty pen and paper when attempting to transfer my thoughts into poetry, so if you were ever to look through my kitchen window this is where you will see me scribbling away.

It is also true that a writing space is also a frame of mind. If you're not "in the zone", you are invariably struggling to write anything that is of much use. This is the problem I am experiencing today. I have swapped my own kitchen for my Mum's today, and with not being in my Nook or the right frame of mind, I am experiencing a touch of writers block, hence the reason for the lateness of my post today. It has taken me all week to try and create this poem. It still requires work. Therefore, apologies for today's blog post if you feel it is below par.


"The Nook":

Safely tucked away
in my haven
or "The Nook",
I can submerse myself
in my own little world
leaving the humdrum behind.
Closing my eyes
a blanket wraps itself 
around my day to day,
information overloaded soul,
filtering out the unnecessary.
Almost in meditation
I open my eyes,
inspiration and creativity
flow from brain to fingers to pen,
scribing words upon the paper.
New viewpoints and universes 
unfolding and blooming
before me. 
I'm in the zone.

Well, it needs work, but that's the start of it.

Thanks for reading. x

Read More

Interruptions & Love

Dear Boy Poet,

Last night, after you'd returned from work, you dropped your backpack

in the middle of my writing space. You pulled off your shoes,

and began to retell your day with a loudness I'm still not used to.

The ideas and half-formed lines (from an afternoon of silence)

fell like glass marbles.

Later, on the computer, you typed a new poem. I listen

to the speed of the tapping and know you've found that zone

which so often seems to evade me.

And, for a moment, I am jealous and resenting...   

This morning, I eased myself away from your warmth, quietly

made black coffee and settled back into thinking.

At seven your alarm began to cycle through those sounds

(specifically chosen to force you from our bed).

By half past, you've pressed the snooze button six times

and I'm forced to leave my thoughts behind

to wake you.

Our differences sometimes cause us to clash,

but our similarities always bring resolution.

For every time you have made a picnic, coaxed me

into the car and taken me to a place that allows my mind

to breath - I thank you.

Read More

Space in Time

Ideally in my mind I'd like a little room at the bottom of my garden to write in, a space just for me away from everyday life. Roald Dahl famously had a little shed he sat in with an armchair where he wrote his books by hand, and something like that sounds perfect. I have 3 boys and the noise and bickering and constant requests for nourishment can snap me out of anything quite quickly.I have room in my garden for a little bolt hole and plan to build one whenever I can. But I have realised something recently. I don't actually need a specific place to write in.

My most important writing space is time to do it in. An allocated spot of time when I can actually say to myself, "I can't do anything else right now other than write." Workshops are good for me to do this in, I have an allocated spot of time to come up with a piece, no matter how rough so then I have something to work with. It comes together after that. I keep a notebook handy when other ideas come, as they tend to when I'm doing other things. In the shower, walking home from dropping the kids off at school, or gardening are all times when my subconscious starts to shove out snippets to add to the piece. I've also started to go to café's or coffee shops and just allow myself a set time to just write, which also proves productive. That's what I am there to do so I get on with it. At home there are too many distractions, unfinished housework plays on my mind, jobs that need to be done and the demon internet.  As long as I allow myself a set time to write then that's all the space that I need. At least until my little bolt-hole is built. With a little wood burner and radio.

Read More

The Religion of Solitude

Over the years, I've adjusted my definition of a 'writing space'.  This is due to a shift in the way I perceive writing.  Earlier, I considered the process of setting glyphs on a page to be writing but as I've progressed I find that more of the writing process takes place in my head, before a pen touches a page or my fingers feel the keyboard. 

So much of writing is, in fact, contemplation of writing.  Not thinking about writing is writing.  Reading is actually writing.  All of these actions are part of writing.  For these tasks, I don't need a desk or ink.  Solitude is helpful but not always essential as external suggestions, unwitting or not, can be as vital as any prior knowledge or hard won epiphanies. 

The writing space which my mind desires is more about tempo than dimensions.  In order to observe, to really see what's around me, I must first be still.  And slowness is hard won.  It requires that I deliberately jettison anything which is pushing or tugging at me; distractions and tasks which seem important but can, in fact, be thrown aside without injury or harm. 

Here's a test which you can use to find out whether you are ready for writing.  Ask yourself:

• Am I content to sit quietly without the need of a purpose?
• Am I happy for long periods to pass before a thought troubles my mind?
• Can I tolerate silence without being disturbed by the need to fill it?

If you can allow the silence, the lack of voice, to exist and not be troubled by the emptiness, then you have found the space to write.  And by writing I mean inviting some small thoughts to gather.  Notice what was always there, but invisible in the fog of activity, and capture it in your mind.  Leave it there, like a vase of flowers on a mantelpiece.  Decorate your mind with other observations and allow them to share the space in peaceful room at the back of your mind.  Then walk, breathe, live.

Writing will take place.  When you have finished writing, then you can start to rearrange shapes on a page.

Read More