Elizabeth Baines: Author and Roman Bonus Victus

We are so delighted to welcome Elizabeth Baines today, author of Balancing on the Edge of the World, a scintillating debut collection of short stories. In honour of this being the first stage of a virtual tour of blogs, I decided to experiment with Roman cookery and have a feast. The menu is… erm, different: but the fish sauce is par excellence (if I do say so myself). I might add that any Latin mistakes are all mine! Welcome Elizabeth, please do pull up a couch and recline away there! Have a heartwarming cup of wine.

Thank you, Barbara! May I say how great it is to be virtually here in Ireland, and most especially to be invited to a Roman feast! Let's just hope I'm not too distracted by my appetite and also manage keep a clear head…

Gustatio: milk fed snails fried in oil, boiled fungi served with pepper and fish sauce…

Milk-fed snails! Madame (or should I say Domina?), you are spoiling us!

You just wouldn't believe how difficult it is to get snails to drink milk...

Anne Enright describes her writing process as 'writing sentences.' I believe what she means is that the writing comes first, the editing and worrying about how/what you're saying come second. How would you describe your writing process: do you have to fight hard from the coalescing of an idea to the final cut?

Hm (hang on while I get my drinking cup and find my best lounging position): Yes, I'd say there's a stage in writing a piece of fiction, usually an initial stage, when it can seem to 'come' without your having to think about it in any very conscious way. It's as if you're 'hearing' the sentences and seeing the images on a screen which somehow miraculously has been presented to you. It just 'happens' to you, as it were. (And when you're 'blocked' it's as if you know there's something there, but you've not yet been shown it and can't yet 'hear' it!) I guess this is why people talk about 'inspiration' and also why people ask writers where they 'get their ideas from', as if the ideas are just out there waiting to be picked up or tuned into. In fact, of course, it's coming from you, but at this stage in a largely subconscious way. It's what I call the 'dreaming' stage of writing, and yes, I do consider it the important and real one, because this, I find, is when I get the rhythms – and in some ways rhythm is the most important thing in prose, in creating a 'voice' – and also the associations and connections which I'd be less likely to come up with were I thinking more logically. So this, I would say, is what always characterizes my first draft. Often when I go back after that less conscious stage, and look at what I've written, I am amazed by meanings I wasn't aware of earlier. Of course, the editing stage can also show up the fact that you haven't made sense, but I do also think you need to allow for the fact that you don't always see straight away, on the logical, editorial level, the things which your subconscious has spied (so always be prepared to put back things you've cut, is my advice)

Usually I will begin a story with an image, or sometimes a phrase, which intrigues me, and a vague situation. I will know that the image/phrase and the situation are connected in some deep thematic way, although not necessarily how – that's the point of writing: to find out how. In 'Daniel Smith Disappears off the Face of the Earth', for instance, I had the idea of a teenage boy walking home alone at night and the image of the cold planet hurtling through the universe; in 'The Way to Behave', I had the scenario of a wronged and vengeful wife and also the image of the elder tree with all its witchy associations (and was therefore dismayed when the image of the tree was dropped in the abridgement for a BBC broadcast of the story – though of course I completely understood the restrictions which broadcast must impose). With these stories, and nearly all of the others in the book, this was enough to trigger me haring off into the 'dream'. I say 'haring off' but then I very often have a couple of false starts – sometimes a few – because the first line or so always has to feel absolutely right for me to carry on without hesitation (although of course, even when I've thought it was absolutely right at this stage, I may go back and change it afterwards).

The more conscious editing stage is, as you imply, more like work. I'd say the level of struggle – ie, how well-formed the story is after the first draft – depends very much on the story, or more accurately on your prior relationship with the material of the story, the amount of time you have already mulled it over and consciously given it a meaning. Most of the stories in Balancing didn't give me much of a struggle, and had only two drafts. I hasten to say it's not always like that, and I should also say that the process isn't quite as simple as I've made it sound. Even when I'm writing a first draft and going with the 'dreaming', that editing faculty is still coming into play to some extent: really, it's as if there are two of me, and the 'dreaming' one is leading the way, but the 'editing' one is there hovering at her shoulder and reining her in to some extent as she goes along (and then pushes her out of the way and takes over for the proper editing phase). (You see, I don't need Roman wine to make me sound bonkers!)

Mensae Primae: Baked dormice, stuffed with pork and pine nuts; roast hare, stuffed with chicken livers and boiled brains…

Barbara, yum!

The dormice are quite a delicacy. But it's very hard to get them to wake up...

Stories like 'A Glossary of Bread,' and 'Leaf Memory,' show that you are willing to experiment with the traditional methods of storytelling: one uses dictionary & etymological definitions; another uses early childhood memories. How useful do you find the process of renewing the short story in this manner?

Erm… sorry, just swallowing. Now the wine is making you flatter me, Barbara: I must say I don't see myself as doing anything so grand as renewing the short story! All I'm doing, I have to say, is telling things the way I see them. And I simply couldn't tell them the way I see them if didn't use the modes I do.

'A Glossary of Bread' is the story of a girI coping with an itinerant childhood and a mysterious but strict and bad-tempered father. The story takes the structure of a dictionary and is built around definitions, drawn from different editions of dictionaries, of the different kinds of bread she encounters as they move around the country. To me this structure is indispensable, essential, and indeed came to me right at the start – it is the story – because it carries in a very concrete way the meaning, ie the idea that situations and indeed meanings which can seem rigid, laid down in stone, are in fact questionable and subject to change. 'Leaf Memory' consists of the splicing of two narratives, the protagonist's first-person memory of being pushed in a pram by her grandmother interwoven with the starker (and italicized) authorized family version of her grandmother's life. As far as I was concerned, this was the only way to tell this story: it was both the way that 'came to me' and it was the way that, when I thought about it editorially, best conveyed the impact of the difference between two dynamic but clashing realities or versions of the truth. In fact, this story – and much of my work generally – is about the fact that the ways in which we tell stories, the modes we use to tell them, can very much affect their meanings.

And of course not all of the stories in the book stretch the conventional short story form. I'm more than happy to use conventional forms if they suit the purpose. 'The Shooting Script', for instance: as the story of a conman and the plot twists he engineers to keep ahead of those he's conning, it fell naturally for me into a traditional satirical and linear-narrative mode. I must say I rarely use the omniscient mode, which generally seems to me to carry outdated authorial certainties about the characters, but I found it was just right for 'Compass and Torch', for watching from an objective vantage point the emotional struggle between a camping father and son who hardly know each other and are failing to acknowledge their own emotions, who have less grip on their situation than any casual observer, and less instinctual understanding than the wild ponies watching them prepare to camp.

Mensae secundae: dates with almonds and honey; yoghurt flavoured with pepper and fish sauce (must use it up somehow!)…

What a perfectly unusual and inspired combination, Barbara…

Erm, yes... err, thanks! ( I knew two gallons of fish sauce was far too much.)

How do you know when a story is 'finished': how long might you typically work on one?

As I've said, most of the stories in Balancing gelled very quickly and were written in a week at the most, some of them in just a couple of days or so. But as I've also said, it's not always like that, and 'A Glossary of Bread' caused me a deal more trouble. As I say, what I had this time was the structure (including the idea of bread), which I knew was all-important, and the notion of a family setup, but only the vaguest, and so little sense of how the two fitted together that I couldn't even make a start. Each attempt I made to write the story failed. I must have had two or three tries over a period of two years, and each time I put it away, thinking maybe it was a dud, until it pressed on my consciousness again. Looking back, though, I'm not sure if, for this particular story, it was to do with my relationship to the material or simply a matter of focus and concentration. I do have other, abandoned stories from that particular period, which was a time of quite mad busy-ness; I was doing a lot of teaching, I was editing, producing and marketing a print short-story magazine, metropolitan, and it was the start of my most prolific period as a radio playwright – I kept getting radio commissions, and how do you turn that down, especially when your kids need new trainers? It's interesting perhaps that the story finally gelled when at last I had the chance to give up other things and concentrate on prose once more. So I guess for me it's a case of needing lots of time and few distractions, because the main essential ingredient for the process of bringing a story to fruition, I'd say, is focus. I do really envy people who manage to do other things (and earn decent livings!) while somehow focusing on their writing and doing it successfully.

I do now have more time to focus, yet, interestingly, some of the stories in the new series I'm writing are requiring far more drafts than previous ones, and sometimes I'll return to a story after setting it aside for weeks. I'm finding the process even more of an exploration than ever before, and it truly is a question of my relationship to the material.

And that moment when I know a story is 'finished'? Well, on the deep level it's definitely the moment that I suddenly spy the final connection which brings the story together, lights up all the rest. With some of the stories in Balancing it could be as early as when I was haring towards the end of the first draft, in which case the editing stage felt more like mere titivating, putting a coat on the thing and brushing it down. However, I can sometimes get to the end and know that I haven't really found it – not the real ending – even when the whole thing is already brushed down and looking spotless. What I do then is put the story aside and wait for the real ending to come to me, sideways, which it usually does over the next day or so.

And talking of finishing: really, Barbara, I couldn't manage another thing – not even another date! Thank you so much for having me; what a generous host you have been, and what a great time I've had on this feast of a blog!

Not as much as I've enjoyed your thoughtful answers: it's always a great pleasure to get a sneak peek behind the writer's practice and it is clear you've thought deeply about your own methods – it gives great hope to those who aspire. Elizabeth, the pleasure was truly all mine!

The next stage of Elizabeth's tour takes place at Me and My Big Mouth Scott Pack's blog on the 21^st of January 2009. Each week Elizabeth will visit all through the blogosphere on her Cyclone Tour until the 18^th of March.

Poetry Ireland News

Poetry Ireland have their latest roundup of events, news and competition titbits. There's a bit about the judging panel for the Strokestown Poetry Competition (John F Deane, Joe Woods, Penelope Shuttle and Máire Ní Annracháin); closing date 22nd January.

If you click here you can download it yourself (it's a pretty quick download), and have a browse through it. Do have a look at the winning poem from the Ledwidge competition, 'Scooter'; it was written by Catherine Ann Cullen; a fellow Doghouse poet, whose collection 'A Bone in my Throat,' was launched in the same year as my own: 2007. Hugh O'Donnell is another Doghouse poet (from the same year), whose article on Poetry Aloud, the national children's poetry reading competition is a lovely inspiration.

It seems we are often out of the Doghouse these days ;) (okay enough puns for today!).

Today I Shall Be Mostly...

...stuffing dormice. Virtual ones of course!

Elizabeth Baines is visiting with me tomorrow. I thought, since it was the first leg of her Virtual Cyclone tour with Balancing On The Edge Of The World, I really ought to mark the ocasion with something special.

So we will be 'enjoying' a Roman style feast.

Before she gets here, I want to briefly talk about her debut collection of short stories. Right from the off, with the opening story, 'Condensed Metaphysics,' I was hooked. How can you set a story in a pizza parlour, with several people in various stages of drunkenness and still make it a story about humanity, and all our vices and virtues - but one that doesn't preach at you?

You can if you're Elizabeth Baines. This is the way she works: she makes the ordinary (the things, the attitudes, the way that people think) that you or I would pass right on by seem quite extraordinary. She does this by simply showing how characters really are, without apology.

If you read and re-read her work (yes, it really does bear re-reading), there are so many layers to it that each time there is a new freshness to each of her stories. 'Balancing On The Edge Of The World' really is a fulsome collection of short stories, each story fully realised and full of new ways to appreciate our human traits.

I'd better stop myself now... I mustn't let the fish sauce (an important element of tomorrow's meal) spoil!

Mick Imlah

Just as the TS Eliot poetry prize is to be announced, Mick Imlah, author of one of the short-listed books, The Lost Leader, has passed away. The Guardian carry the story.

I have mentioned before how hard it was to get Imlah's book, last year, but how much it was worth the wait: a little like himself making the reading public wait so long for his follow up to his first collection, Birthmarks.

When you look at the actual collection titles, you do wonder. Very sad news indeed.

The Intimacy of Radio

I did another interview on local radio recently with Harry Lee of Dundalk FM. Before you scoff at the idea of local radio, think of this: through internet technology, this community station (and many, many others) are available to a much wider audience than they are through the wavelength restrictions imposed by their license conditions.

Anyhoo, through the generous help of the wonderful qarrtsiluni, I've been able to get hosting for a recording that I made on Wednesday. To hear the interview/reading click on that link just there. I hope you enjoy the discussion of poetry, life in general and the Irish economic downturn!

Iota - New Year, New Ways

Iota magazine changed hands across the summer and is about to be relaunched with a bumper issue 83/84. Overall editor is Nigel McLoughlin, (his fourth collection is Dissonances which I mentioned here before).

Iota are also launching a major poetry competition with Tim Turnbull as judge

The details are as follows:

Closing date is 30th November 2009

1st Prize £2000
2nd Prize £1000
3rd Prize £500
+ ten supplementary prizes.

Now, doesn't that sound pretty cool? Go and visit Iota's new website, and for goodness sake take out a subscription: I reckon it'll be well worth it!

A Week 'Til Landfall, folks!

Forgive me for the hurricane/cyclone allusions, but it's a week today until the devastatingly talented Elizabeth Baines (I am allowed use 'ly' words on this occasion) glides towards land over Dundalk bay, or more precisely the land of Cuchulainn & the Tain legends (seriously, he did come from these parts). She has agreed to talk about writing and specifically one or two of her killer short stories in Balancing On The Edge Of The World.

Elizabeth and I will be having a Roman styled dinner, where we quaff words as well as wine and our apparel may well be derived from the most luxurious peplos you can imagine, although I may just go for a roomy chiton to hide all that post-Christmas gluttony. Mustn't forget my stola either!

We'll be hearing directly from a writer whose work has been described as "Almost ethereal in its strangeness [with] great energy at its heart." Brendan O'Keefe, Literary Review. Woo ha!

Oh bugger

Some poems come easier than others. Usually they come after about three or four aborted attempts, when you've stopped thinking about what it is that you were trying to put into a poem. That doesn't make them any less hard-earned though. I seem to remember Richard Hugo talking about this in his book, The Triggering Town. That book is a collection of essays on poetry and is well worth getting. I remember buying Strunk & White at the same time... gosh, four years ago now, oh dearie me, how much poetry water has flowed past the bridge now, eh?

Well, tomorrow I'm on Dundalk FM again , Wednesday 7th January, talking about the Bursary I won and maybe reading a few poems, at 10:45 To listen via the internet, click on this link, and then click on the second 'Click Here' in the second paragraph.

I would give you the link directly but blogger is playing silly buggers. I will try and record it later on, if I can... I might pop in a poem tomorrow when I'm not feeling so critical.

Sixty Years since The Second Sex

It is sixty years since Simone de Beauvoir's book, The Second Sex, was originally published. This book became seminal in feminism, because of the attempt to define woman as she is rather than as the Other, or counterpart, to men. It's combination of existentialism and feminism, as well as discussion of sexuality contributed to the growth of feminism and the (still continuing) search for equality in society.

It's original 'rushed' translation by Howard Parshley meant that the message did not survive completely intact. Apparently Parshley had a limited understanding of French and existentialist philosophy; his expertise was in sexual reproduction; not really a good basis for rendering something so complex as Beauvoir's book.

The Second Sex came about from Beauvoir's attempt to write about herself. After writing that she was a woman, Beauvoir realised that she needed to define 'woman.' The rest, as that awful cliche says, is history (herstory, ourstory?).

I remember reading from my mother's copy a long time ago, on the cusp of womanhood. I don't remember much though I like to think I absorbed some of it by osmosis... (obviously not enough, if I had six children - ah!). I'm very intrigued by whispers of the new translation coming from Cape (Random House), but I can't determine how soon this new translation will be forthcoming, if indeed it has been published. If you have good French, apparently reading it in the original is the most illuminating method of discovering The Second Sex. In the meantime, Happy Anniversary year, Simone & The Second Sex.

Random 2008 Book List

I went upstairs this morning to look for a book that I need to complete something, and found myself absorbed by looking through some other books that I acquired across last year (yes, I can now call it last year). So I wrote them down:

Me & The Dead, Katy Evans Bush; accomplished debut collection from Salt.

More About the Song, Rachel Fox; another debut, from a very interesting writer.

New Room Windows, Greagoir O Duill; first English collection from a charming and erudite Irish writer, Doghouse Books.

Down the Sunlit Hall, Eileen Sheehan; breathtaking second collection, Doghouse Books.

Time Gentlemen, Please, Kevin Higgins; second collection from well-known Galwegian poet, Salmon.

Big Pink Umbrella, Susan Millar DuMars; another accomplished first collection, Salmon.

Torching the Brown River, Lorna Shaughnessy; and another... Salmon.

The Glass Swarm, Peter Bennet, Flambard Press Poetry; think this was a Poetry Book Society Choice - must renew that oul subscription.

The Company of Horses, Peter Fallon; the editor of Gallery Press himself, some cracking poems in this.

Dissonances, Nigel McLouglin; a fabulous fourth collection from Bluechrome, some real magic in this.

Thornfield: Poems by the Thornfield Poets; think I mentioned this elsewhere, but it's a good reader for what's contemporary in poetry (by Irish Women) right now - Salmon.

The Bees, Sally Evans; a Diehard publication, this is a virtuoso collection of cantos written in terza rima - not something everyone tries and my children really enjoyed the beautiful illustrations that accompany the text.

The Enthusiast Field Guide to Poetry; this book is very entertaining, well worth the read; from Quercus.

Europa, Moniza Alvi; another Poetry Book Society choice; grim and disturbing reading, but still a worthy choice.

Smoke & Skin, Aoife Casby & Celeste Auge; a dual chapbook featuring two Galway based poets, showcasing their work, Lapwing.

Tornadoes for the Weathergirl, Celeste Auge; a pamphlet of poetry from Invincible Poetry Pamphlet Press.

Paris Stories, Mavis Gallant; recommended by WRW, I'm still reading this, slowly and with savour.

William Hazlitt: The First Modern Man, Duncan Wu; I'll be making my mind up about this soon, OUP.

Hungry For Home: Leaving the Blaskets, Cole Moreton; I'll be honest, this is a gorgeous book - I reviewed it for Verbal Magazine, August issue; even got an interview with Cole!

Slipping Letters Beneath the Sea, Joseph Horgan; another Doghouse poet who won the Patrick Kavanagh in 2005 with the ms that makes up the most of this book about the immi/emigration from/to Ireland. Chilling and startling, and very, very relevant now, given that our 'Celtic Tiger has turned into a Deflated Baboon' (The Guardian, today).

The Canals of Memory, Aine Moynhan; another worthy Doghouse poet whose bilinguality peppers this collection.

The Collected Poems of Geoffrey Holloway; from Arrowhead Press, I am still working through this brilliant resource.

Brace: A New Generation in Short Fiction; from Comma Press, this is a good reader and has some lovely imagistic resonances in the way that the stories reverberate off each other. A notable introduction by the editor, Jim Hinks and a story by a writer who lives locally, Jaki Mc Carrick.

On Form, Angela Leighton; for the early chapter on form itself, a spectacular book and a resource I'll use over and over again, from OUP.

Sister Morphine, Catherine Eisner; another unusual fiction book from risk-takers Salt.

Veronica Forrest-Thomson & Language Poetry, Alison Mark; this should be treated as a companion book to:

The Collected Poems of Veronica Forrest-Thomson; both interesting books, one sheds light on the other's poetry and VFT is overlooked, but hopefully going to get plenty of attention in the future.

Thow in the Vowels, Rita Ann Higgins; since Rita Ann chose a poem of mine to be placed in the Feile Filiochta Competition, I thought it only fair that I purchase and read one of her books - very enjoyable poetry that will have a second relevance in these straitened times.

Letters of Ted Hughes, edited by Christopher Reid; I loved this book from Faber, another valuable resource, I reckon.

The Lost Leader, Mick Imlah; I had terrible trouble trying to get hold of this - it took me three trips to Dublin to finally get hold of this tome from Faber.

Selected Poems of Michael Longley; had to get hold of this when I'd been working with him last year.

Selected Poetry of John Hewitt, ed. Longley & Frank Ormsby; one I'd had on the wishlist for ages, this Blackstaff number was enjoyable for reading the poet of whom Heaney has referred to as the 'Daddy of us all,' with reference to NI poets.

Tattoo: Tatu, Nuala Ni Chonchuir; another worthy solo debut collection from Arlen Press. Nuala is known for her short stories, but her poetry is equally worth reading.

Walk the Blue Fields, Claire Keegan; I've been singing the praises of these short stories to all my classes - justifiably so: they are so, so good, from Faber.

Buzz, Templar Poetry anthology; the pick of the crop of 08's competition entries, a good read of what's up and coming in poetry.

Consorting With Angels, Deryn Rees Jones; despite the title, this is a valuable resource, examining women's poetry from the more recent side of the 20th century, from Bloodaxe.

I can see that it's mostly poetry; no surprises there. Now I'm looking forward to getting my hands on some more poetry this year: especially looking forward to seeing what comes from the Salt stable, amongst many publishers that I'm watching - and the poets; well interesting times ahead for us, I think. Now, back to trying to find that book I was looking for!

Take Five

Middle son has been taking piano lessons for two years now. He's lately taken up playing jazz, where it's all about improv. It's done wonders for his eleven year old hands and brain.

This is the song that got him loaded on jazz:

The Turn

I'm taking a leaf out of Mr Sunny Dunny's book and facing Janus' stone visage forward: I have lots of things I think I'll be doing:

Looking forward to the set up in early January of a new writing group: members drawn from here and there in Ireland.

Also looking forward to using a bursary that Dundalk Town Council awarded me: two whole weeks at the Tyrone Guthrie Centre, Annamakerrig, Newbliss, Co. Monaghan. New bliss all right!

What else: getting my finger out and making substantial submissions to the usual suspects: The Stinging Fly, Crannog, The SHOp... & also some UK journals. I need to build up publication credits for 2010 publication...

Writing up and organising the new series of classes for Dundalk and Newry: quite a few of them are getting publishing credits, so I must be doing something right, but I still need to keep their fires stoked and imaginations running.

Applying for more teaching positions - there's always the OU - might get the old foot in the door there.

And I have a hankering to go to StAnza, been wanting to go this few years, and I see Ben Wilkinson is reading at it - there's an opportunity to see an up and coming talent before he becomes famous. ;)

When I cast my eye back over this preliminary list, I don't feel quite so disorganised, or as disgruntled as I have been lately. I tend to feel over the holiday period that I've lost momentum and that there are things I should be doing, other than feeding, cleaning and washing clothes. But that's what happens when holidays are here. There's simply no time to luxuriate in what I could be doing. Contentment lies in what is to come.

A Cyclone Cometh...

Readers, we have the honour of having the first stop of Elizabeth Baines whirling tour, Around the Edges of the World, with her book of short stories, Balancing on the Edge of the World.

The tour begins on January 14th, 2009: right here!

Virtual tours have been a feature of Salt Publishing since early September, and this new resource of promoting books and bringing authors to prominence is an imaginative way of using t'internet to get the message out there: books are still very much alive and kicking! It's also a fantastic way of linking up bloggers: whether literary or not.

If you haven't already checked out Elizabeth's great blog, you can do so here. Balancing on the Edge of the World is available from Salt Books. More about the tour very soon!

An Irish Wake

My best friend's dad died on the shortest day of the year, unexpectedly after a short illness. He was aged 73, and it came as a shock to his wife, three daughters and son.

I visited yesterday to offer my condolences and to give a hand, as he is being waked at home. It's amazing to see the kindness of neighbours, friends and relations as they arrive with sandwiches, tins of biscuits, tea bags, crockery or even entire meals. All the visiting women take turns and muck in at the kitchen sink: filling up the urn with water; wetting and drawing tea; washing tea-cups and keeping the smooth wheels of domesticity running as the family come to terms with their loss.

I think there's something very special about a home wake for the recently departed: they are still very much part of the family, being remembered and celebrated and its an important part of the grieving process. It is a hard time of year to lose a family member as it will always be part of future Christmasses to mark their passing. I am thinking now, especially of anyone out there who is in the same boat, or who has an anniversary this time of year.

May the road rise up to meet you,
may the wind be at your back,
may the sunshine be warm on your face
and the rain fall soft on your land.
And until we meet again,
may God hold you in the hollow of his hand.

Traditional Irish blessing

The Shortest Day

No prizes for guessing what this day is, solstice, turnaround day. Now we look forward to the stretch in the evenings; glimmering slowly as they do, until around the end of January those stretches become more noticable.

Not that it's sunny today here in grey old Ireland: there's a woolly blanket of soft cloud pulled over us to keep us warm. A few glimmers of sunlight there at 2pm, but the cloud took over again. Still. I wouldn't say there was any bright light bouncing off the back wall at Newgrange, for the few lucky enough to fit in there and watch dawnrise.

I prefer to think of today as the day to look back at June 21st and try to remember what the weather was like, as well as the temperatures. And maybe even picture the flowers out in the garden in my minds eye. Won't be long, now...

And for some cheery moments, pop over to Minx and see her pics

Oh, Hallelujah

There's a whole of talking going on about Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen's much covered song. Books Inq mentions Dorian Lynskey's article in the Guardian, online today, where a lot of different artist's versions are given the once over and yet, for me there is only one version: the master's voice. Even the Times has covered the phenonmenon in a leading article.

I caught five mins of the BBC's Breakfast show this morning (yes, I am having a strange day) where the topic of discussion was the 'battle' for a Christmas #1 between Jeff Buckley's stripped down guitar and vocals version and the X Factor winner Alexandra's power ballad version. The BBC website has also produced this, er, helpful guide to the lyrics: Smashed Hits by Alan Connor. You can even take a quiz to see how well you think you know the song.

I've often wondered about the power of Cohen's song to resonate so strongly. I think it's down to the fact that Cohen uses an ancient story to stand, perhaps as allegory (but so much more than that) for feelings that cannot be wholly expressed, or satisfactorily expressed by our modern lexicon of mythology as well as language. It reminds me of how well Michael Longley's poem Ceasefire worked too: taking the story of the retrieval of Hector's body, Priam's grief and the appeasement of Achilles, and telling the story in a new quiet way; but the modern context in which it is written (N. Ireland, 1998) gives it a whole new slant.

Longley spoke about how he snatched 'from the narrative flow [of Homeric Greek myth], moments of lyric intensity in which to echo my own concerns, both personal and political.' The particular moment in 'Ceasefire' worked because it spoke both to the moment, behind the moment and beyond the moment. And that's what I think happens with Leonard Cohen's 'Hallelujah,' and why it is that so many artists cover it. Dress it up, dress it down, take it all round town, the words and the music line are still the same: it's a spun thrill that speaks to the emotional moment that we all carry inside us - humanity and, dare I say it, love.

Wot I did - Part Two

It's getting increasingly more diffcult to steal time away from my kitchen lately to report on doings outside of the familial home: I've gone a bit mad making chutneys, jellies and cakes... and I've not even started on the suet-free mince pies. I'm telling you, feeding six kids and eight adults takes the best out of you, never mind adding in the festive glut-fest on top of things. That Nigella one has a lot to answer for...


Anyway, another photo. This time I'm gowned up for the graduation from Queen's University, last Friday. I've got on the hood for the MA, which is a fetching little maroon and blue number over the black gown. At some point during the ceremony (probably when the procession arrived in) I thought how weird it is at this point in our lives that we all dress up like extras applying for the role of court jester at some olde worlde castle. I should probably write a poem about that...

Back to the stove-face. And will someone please save me from the over-excited hobgoblins who seem to have invaded my children's bodies...?

More later in the week about the Seven Tower's Anthology launch on Sunday gone... It's called Census.

Wot I did -Part One

A very busy week indeed, beginning with the launch/talk of the Picture Text module artist's books on Tuesday evening.


The photo of yours truly, in an 'oul paisley number holding aforementioned handmade copy of her artist's book. This comes via SGB, our intrepid tutor/photographer/inspiree. I think I am talking about how William Blake was one of the most notorious combiners of art and text, in his illustrated texts.

More about the rest of my doings over the next few days... and here also a wee teaser about Elizabeth Baines/Fiction Bitch's visit to this blog in the early January!!! I can't wait - I have lots of questions that I want to pitch Elizabeth's way: not least, how she makes her short stories look so effortless... tum te tum te tum.

Pork Recall... No Hams for Christmas?

This just in: Ireland recalls pork over dioxin contamination

Just weeks before the big ham-fest that is an Irish Christmas. According to Reuters: "Laboratory results of animal feed and pork fat samples obtained on Saturday confirmed the presence of dioxins, it said, with toxins at 80-200 times the safe limits."

Apparently the culprit is a batch of feedstuff that has used by many pig farmers. We've heard a lot about milk contamination lately in other parts of the world, but we're unused to hearing about this sort of contamination closer to home. The thought of sub-standard sausages, bacon and black and white puddings tears quite a hole in the Irish psyche, when you consider the universally loved traditional Irish cooked breakfast (complete with brown bread).

However, the IFA have tried to reassure consumers that "the recall was a precautionary measure" and that most pork products are still safe. In fact, IFA President Padraig Walshe added, "There will be perfectly safe pig meat on sale to consumers I expect from the middle of the week." Tell that to the people who put pork off the menus for Christmas, and probably for a good while longer after that.

Which probably means that the consumer will have to pay much more for their Christmas ham than usual. Makes you re-consider those vegetarian options a lot more closely, I think...

Source: Reuters

Caomhnú Literary Festival & Competition

Caomhnú Literary Festival Poetry/Short Story Competition

Competition Rules:
Entry Form must accompany each entry.
Each poem/short story submitted costs €3.
Cheques payable to Cavan County Council.
Entries to be forwarded to: Cavan County Council Arts Office, Farnham Centre, Farnham St, Cavan, Co Cavan. The closing date for entries is January 16th, 2009.
1st Prize €200
2nd Prize €100
3rd Prize €70
For any further details please contact Cavan County Council’s Arts Office on 00353 (0)49 437 8548
Poetry Adjudicator: Noel Monahan
Short Story Adjudicator: Shane Connaughton

Picture Text Update

Some pics from my 'real' and virtual desktop: what I can do when I have three clear hours and more materials you can shake a stick at. It's a handmade artist's book (well, it will be when it's finished), designed and made by me, for a launch in Belfast Exposed next Tuesday 9th @6pm. Not anyway near as sophisticated as some of the others' work, but I know how to work within my limits!

Another day, Another Rachel

I've been watching Rachel Allen's 'Bake!' and I've received her glorious cookbook as a birthday present (I'm easy to please these days!). Since when I've been busy baking her delicious oatmeal and vanilla cookies for the kids. Pure simplicity they are too. Now I'm thinking about lemon curd, and how to get my hands on a good recipe...

Rising to Rachel's Challenge

It's been a terribly long time since I had a poem up here and as Rachel rightly points out I rarely talk that much about what I'm doing writing-wise, which probably leads a lot of people to think that I don't write much.

Au contraire! But I am horribly self-critical of my own work, so I like to try and get things into the best shape possible... which ain't easy in present mega-biz conditions: finishing off CW classes for this term; assembling Santy lists; booking me graduation at QUB for me masters; trying desperately to finish B&W photography work for artist's book of image/text to be launched on 9th December at Belfast Exposed... and there are other things I have to do too, like get a job (He's told me - no more slacking!?!)

Anyhoo, here's a poem. It's not great, but there ya are :)


removed for editing

What to Do?

Nothing as wearing as nothing concrete to focus on. Yes, there's Christmas... but all I feel for that is a world-weary 'neugh.' If I didn't have six young 'uns to satisfy, I'd quite happily head off to an island somewhere, preferably uninhabited.* Possibly it's because I'm almost 'another year closer to death.'**

Some new plans are needed... but what?

* And definitely not with Tom Hanks!
** Pink Floyd have an awful lot to answer for sometimes.

The Marvellous Bill Bailey

Times article on 11th November, on why Bill Bailey doesn't Mock the Weak... and what he's doing next year to raise the profile of dear old Alfred Russel Wallace, who will be ignored whilst Darwin is celebrated... even though Wallace reached the same conclusions as Darwin at more or less the same time!

Comedy is a funny art.

Dundalk Writers Enjoy Workshop

Today was a fantastic day with the writing workshop that I organised for my Wednesday and Saturday classes with the short story writer and poet Nuala Ni Chonchuir.

Some pics:














As you can see from all the smiling faces, everyone seems to have enjoyed Nuala's input. We covered the 'theory' aspect of short stories in the morning, and then in the afternoon, Nuala gave everyone useful feedback on the work that had been submitted. The standard of work in short stories and poetry was very high indeed, which is very encouraging and affirming for everyone involved.

As ever, huge thanks to Dundalk Arts Office for their fantastic support, without which these workshops simply wouldn't have been possible.

Guess Who's Coming to Town

It's been a hectic few weeks. We've got Nuala Ni Chonchuir coming to Dundalk tomorrow to work with the two writing groups that I teach CW to.

We're very much looking forward to her visit and words of encouragement and advice. It's going to be a full on day, with lots to mull over afterwards.

On other fronts, I'm knee deep in a project at QUB, an artist's book that each of us has to make, incorporating text and image. I've spent the last three Thursdays in the dark room at Belfast Exposed, making photograms, and developing B&W pictures from negatives. I'm using a poem about taking photographs with an old fold-out camera.

Our tutor managed to source a camera shop in Scotland which was selling off old camera stock. She brought me home a rather marvelous 'Soho Cadet,' made from bakelite, about mid 1930s or so. I've taken pictures with it, developed the film and am dying to see the photographs - alas no time yesterday.

Still waiting for the result from the MA... at this stage I'm pretty nervous. They should be out soon...

Judging Stories

On what elements this particular judge was looking for in a short story.

It includes the silly formatting mistakes that people make that eliminate them before the story's even read; and how important the authorial voice is in a story.

Brian Hodge describes 'voice' as "the fusion of 1001 little aesthetic and stylistic choices." Yes, voice is that hard to quantify: it's similar in poetry too.

Storytellers Unplugged is one worth keeping an eye on, if you're into short stories, and the competition end of things especially.

The Times they are a changing...

So, what's next?

"If there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is a place where all things are possible; who still wonders if the dream of our founders is alive in our time; who still questions the power of our democracy, tonight is your answer."

Obama's Acceptance Speech at Chicago's Grant Park.

Musing on the Muse

I've been having a thought (see comment in box below previous post) about the muse. Mine's definitely a male figure, but poets in the past of the male variety have had a predilection towards the female Muse. I'm thinking Robert Graves writer of The White Goddess (and much else besides) and his muse was, for a while, Laura Riding.

The concept of the muse for the poet (or writer) is certainly nothing novel. Coming from Greek myths and legends, the muses number nine and you'll find plenty of references to them in names being used for all sorts of things.

My dictionary of etymology relates muse to muzzle: the image of a dog scenting the air when in doubt as to the scent. And there's the thing. Sometimes you're thinking about something (or nothing at all) and an idea pops into your head. You decide it will make a good poem, but you don't know the outcome. Finding the outcome is why you write the poem/short story/novel. It's how we all work.

That dictionary also relates muse to mosiac work; originally from the Latin and Gk, mosaic work literally belonged to the muses... so does museum; lit, a temple to the muses. How we piece our work together slowly and painstakingly.

So, if my muse is male and unkempt, a bit hairy and um... very male... what's your's like? Or could you be arsed to have one. They're terribly hard to keep going...

On Form

Just bought a copy of On Form today. It's by Angela Leighton and I am wholly absorbed by it.

How I wish I'd had this book when I was studying the 20th C Texts and Debates course! It really brings together the development of thought about how form is one of those words/concepts/vitally important things that has continued to develop and morph from Kant's time, through Pater and the 'art for art's sake' debates, through aestheticism, utilitarianism through the bankruptcy of aesthetics into the thirties, equally through modernism, postmodernism... ack - I sound like I'm ranting now and that's only Chapter One! So lucid and easy to read... why had I not this book last year when I turned to form, seriously?

More later, when I've read and digested the book and written all the poems which are crowding around me like little vampirelets begging for life force.

Ah, my muse is back! Thank the muse.

Taking up the Review Cudgels

Emerging Writer has picked up on a New York Times article that highlights the seven most overused words that reviewers employ when writing reviews. I've seen a similar vein taken up on Poets On Fire forums recently too.

The problem, I guess, might lie with the time that you have between reading the book/journal/zine etc. and having to write and then deliver the finished article to whichever editor is taking it.

It's a topic fraught with its own rules and regulations and areas of writing negotiation that the reviewer must come through. Last year (at QUB), we had Ian Sansom (he of the Guardian reviews) come talk to us. Not so much about how to write a review, more how not to write a review. Some of it makes perfect sense.

There's no substitute for knowing what you're talking about. If it's the poet's third collection, you should, in all honesty, be familiar with their work. If not, go get familiar with the work. Perhaps this is what leads to reviews that employ such overused words as the ones listed in the NYT review of reviewing; the time constraint of having to make your deadlines as you whizz through the tenth book in that bursting jiffy bagful that you've agreed to review.

If you're going to diss a writer's work, at least make it humorous. Ian used Randall Jarrell's prolific output as a good example. But the thing about Jarrell's reviews is that they were good; in fact some would argue that they were far better than his poetry output. Which makes me wonder whether reviewing is such an art, in and of itself, that it impinges on the other work of the writer - whether they are involved in poetry or prose.

I am reminded of Rob MacKenzie's recent post, where he asked what people are looking for in reviews. I know that this pertains to poetry reviews in particular; prose reviews are more telling what the book is about and whether it is well written or not; poetry reviews have to look at the techniques involved and whether they contribute to the sense of the collection. Form informing content, and all that, which makes poetry reviewing far more specialised than the general all purpose reviews.

Reviewing is an art: I think that a reviewer should be aiming to convey their passion and knowledge about the book they have read to the reader. It's an act of persuasion as well as conveyance; a gentle balancing act of accessibility and refined language. It is, after all, only an opinion. But it should be the very best opinion for the reader to trust your words.

Having said all that, there's one book that I would really recommend for the would be reviewer: How to Talk About Books You Haven't Read, by Pierre Bayard. Read it and smile with amusement at how much we know about books that we've never opened... I am thinking of Joyce now, for some reason...

Review of Downside Up

Downside Up
Anne Connolly
Calder Wood Press
£4.50

A curious thing happens when you read the poetry of someone who has lived in exile from their birth country for a while. You are forced to face the issues that you might have dodged in your own work; issues of religion or politics, as well as people and places that evoke strong connections to your own way of thinking.

Anne Connolly’s accomplished chapbook, Downside Up, faces these issues implacably; affording us a good hard stare at life as it has been lived in Ulster as well as in Ireland too. Poems such as ‘The Price of Petrol,’ take us back to the 70s, to a time of petrol shortages and sectarian preferential treatment. But this poem cannily reflects the present as well: ‘ “How’re ye Wullie?” / “Disappointed.” ’ It’s how little words like ‘Disappointed’ can wholly capture the resigned feeling of that time. All one could do was to quietly endure, when you were refused petrol at the station in favour of someone like ‘John Citizen,’ who

marches,
holds a banner in his hand
and on bonfire night
his boys laugh
as they burn
a well-stuffed pope.

Connolly leaves it as it is: the actions of the small (minded) community speak for themselves.

But her poems go far outside the hold of the near-polemic as well. There’s a strong lyrical touch about her work that reminds me of John Hewitt, in the use of townland names in a poem like ‘Sky Road;’ ‘Derrygimlagh bog,’ ‘the tail of Clifden bay. Connolly easily straddles the border in Ireland, drawing out the essentials of all myths and legends, whether it is a recent tale, such as the landing of a Vickers Bomber in a western Irish bog, in ‘Sky Road,’ or ‘the ancient tumulus of Newgrange…her belly pregnant with the dead,’ in ‘Solstice.’ In this latter poem, Connolly imagines ‘Kings lie at Newgrange waiting… long[ing] for luminescence, / the solar triumph.’ She catches completely the significant essence of Newgrange, without resorting to over worn clichés, bringing it shining into the modern era.

I admit that poems like ‘Aran’ lie close to my own interests and interpretations. In this poem Connolly uses the interwoven lines to underscore the intricacy of the stitches described, as well as their ascribed meanings. I remember my mother explaining the meaning of the stitches that go into making up an Aran pattern; each islander family had its own specific set of stitches used, and these explanations are deftly ‘knitted’ together in this poem.

I think one of the reasons why I’ve responded to Anne Connolly’s work so deeply, is because I find strong echoes of my own themes and meanings. In Anne’s ‘Reflections,’ I see Heaney’s ‘Peeling Potatoes,’ one of the Glanmore Sonnets he wrote in memory of his mother; which in turn sparked off my own ‘Roosters.’ In Anne’s ‘Reflection,’ her mother ‘peel[s] potatoes / elbows leaning on the sink edge.’ In that sparse economy we have a woman getting on with the everyday chores that must be done; her ‘Jesus, Mary, Joseph’ the refrain of many a woman in pain. The life before is succinctly captured as, ‘Her dancing days lay / at the bottom of the drawer,’ inverting the old-fashioned trousseau drawer as something that holds memories of a former life, rather than a future.

Connolly’s work is deservedly garnering attention in Scotland, where she resides now, but I would hope for a wider audience for her pamphlet, Downside Up, in Northern Ireland, and indeed across the hazy border into the Republic. I hope to see more of her work soon. Visit Calder Wood Press for this and many more reasonably priced poetry pamphlets

Sharing the 'isms'

Yesterday's Irish Times carried this article: a very useful and humorous guide to the various 'isms' and other trivia that we take for granted.

A quick example: Socialism: You have two cows. You give one to your neighbour. Communisim: You have two cows. The state takes both and gives you some milk.

One of my favourites is this one: Surrealism: You have two giraffes. The state requires you to take harmonica lessons.

But my total favourite is this: A French Corporation: You have two cows. You go on strike, organise a riot, and block the roads, because you want three.

Go check out Magpie's whole article.

Cambridge Play Readings

In November, there is a drama reading festival in Cambridge, UK: the project is called Naked Stage, and various plays will be given readings in front of an audience, with an opportunity to give feedback afterwards. If you live in or near the area, you might want to go along.

I mention this because Jaki McCarrick, a Dundalk based writer is having a reading of her play The American Hotel, on Sunday 16th November.

Jaki's work is popping up all over the place lately: her play Leopoldville, (more details at the link) an edgy drama set in an Irish border town, recently received two readings; one in Virginia, Cavan, and the other in London. That play was received very well by intrigued audiences in both countries, so it will be interesting to hear how The American Hotel is received.

Tickets are £3, at the door: B Bar, Market Passage, Cambridge, UK. More here on the Write On website.

Radio Interview Recidivus

Here's the recording of the interview I promised a week or two back. It is a bit long, so it may take a while to load; I hope you think it's worth it!

The interview is conducted by Harry Lee, of Dundalk FM, at Dundalk Arts Office as an outside broadcast on October 2nd, as part of the Poetry Ireland 30th Anniversay All-Ireland Poetry Day celebrations.

The first interviewee is Patrick Chapman, who came down to Dundalk on the day from Dublin. The collections that he mentions are Breaking Hearts and Traffic Lights, from Salmon Press, and A Shopping Mall on Mars. The link I've given are for two of the poems that he reads in the interview.

The second interviewee is Paddy Dillon from Drogheda. An irregular regular in poetry events in and around Drogheda and Dublin as well as further afield, I am rather hoping that Paddy will have a collection published sometime soon. His poems are always unexpected in their trajectory.

And then there's me; I was blabbing so much that Harry hadn't time to ask me for a third poem. Who'd think that I could talk that much about poetry!

Hectic Happenings 2

Lots to report back on from the trip to Cork. I went down on Sunday so that I didn't have to drive up and back in one day. Boy did I get a treat! I met up with Paul Casey of O Bheal and Eilish, a writer friend of his and we went to The Long Valley to hear the poems and life story of Mahmoud Darwish

October 5th was a designated day for everyone world-wide to celebrate his life and poetry, so that was what we were doing, sitting there listening to translations of his work, in Irish, in French and in Arabic. Darwish's work came from his own feeling of exile from his country of birth. He explored this feeling of alienation and exile many times in his poetry. You can explore his work and life all over the internet, but here's a small sample. from U tube.

As if that wasn't enough, we went off to sample Soul Driven at the Crane Lane. They're a jazz/soul outfit, with a very tight brass section of sax, trombone and trumpet, with a fantastic vocalist. A nice taster of what I'll miss at the jazz festival in Cork later this month.

On Monday, Paul Casey suggested visiting Kinsale to pay court to Desmond O Grady. If you don't know about this poet, you're in for a real treat. He is now in his eighties, but very sprightly, erudite and also tres, tres charmant! He is famous for his connection to the Fellini film, La Dolce Vita, and has known writers like Beckett, Joyce, Sartre personally. He taught widely on the continent as well as in the University of Cairo and the American University of Alexandria. He told us he has around 36 books published (and me there with me piffling little 1).

Known particularly for his translations, which include a Selected Poems of C. P. Cafavy, he proved very generous with his thoughts on poetry, translation and even seemed to enjoy a quick scan inside the covers of my own humble Kairos. Desmond even quizzed me on the origin of the 'quis custodies' quote titling the first poem inside; thankfully my hungover head was able to pull the quote from Virgil. I will be forever grateful to Paul for his inspired invitation; sheer magic.

As for the reading itself: that went very well indeed. I was sandwiched between the five word challenge and the open mic session. I really enjoyed the opportunity to have a longer length reading than I'm used to; I was able to try out that controversial 'boob' poem as a rousing close, and was also able to read from some of the Mallory sonnets, which indeed went down very well. Something for everyone in the mix and the reaction afterwards was positively heart-warming. I shall go back to Cork!

It almost wipes the memory of the four hour drive back that night, and falling into bed at 4am... & the rise again at 7am to wake the kids... ah, reality!

Hectic Happenings

Right. All Ireland Poetry Day went very well. I have a recording of the radio interview/reading, but just need to sort out hosting issues so I can post it here. The Lunchtime Recital went very well: we had a good crowd turn up and they seemed to enjoy the variety and the poems themselves. I read from 'Kairos' and also from the new manuscript.

Patrick Chapman's work was really interesting and also went down very well with the audience. Myself and himself did a swap and I've been reading from his collection, 'Breaking Hearts and Traffic Lights,' all weekend.

Paddy Dillon also read very well. I hope it's not too long before he gets a collection published; he has so many fine poems to choose from, and his poems are never conventional in expectation or outcome. There's always a surprise.

Today, I'm off to Cork for O Bheal on Monday evening. I've got to travel back Monday evening, as I've a class to teach the next morning in Newry. I'll be meeting up with the organiser Paul Casey for a Palestinian poet's reading this evening in Cork - really looking forward to that!

Poetry Day, Tomorrow!

Live broadcast from Dundalk FM (hai) at 11.30am, from Dundalk Town Hall: Patrick Chapman, Paddy Dillon and my good self will be on air discussing poetry with Harry Lee. Tune in here (you need Real Player/MS Windows Media Player) to listen live at 11.30am... from anywhere in the world (you do the time zones: if this is GMT here...)*

And all three of us will be "Louth and Proud" (say it in a Dundalk accent and substitute 'd' for 'th') at lunchtime in Dundalk Town Hall, for free, for anyone who cares to come in!

There are lots of other poetry events taking place in every county (yes, all 32 of them) in Ireland tomorrow to celebrate 30 years of Poetry Ireland, as well as establishing 2nd October as Ireland's Poetry Day - yay! Over 100 poets have answered the call to bring poetry to a venue near you!

Ask not what poetry can do for you, but what you can do for poetry... to misquote :)

*There is a repeat tonight (October 2nd) at 11.15pm, but I hope to have a recording up here soon!

Castle Chester

Isn't that a grand sounding name? That's where I spent Saturday night, chewing the writerly fat with a friend, and two new roomies that have moved into the Castle with her.

My friend is doing the MA at QUB that I've just finished; except in fiction, and one of her roomies is also doing the MA; except in poetry. My word, but her work is magnificent. She's a relatively young Canadian poet and I got to see a sample of her work. I have a feeling that the world will be seeing a lot more of Maureen Evans before long.

There's a really interesting walk along the beach front in Whitehead that takes you towards a light house. The lighthouse is located at the top of a crumbling cliff, and the walkway is designed in steps and bumps that go up and down and around and back. It would be a real treasure for my kids to investigate, that's for sure. Apparently people come from all around to enjoy this unusual walk that incorporates a good deal of cardio-vascular activity as well as spectacular nature, seascapes and bird watching.

Waiting

I'm not usually very good at waiting for anything. I like to have my time mapped out, so that as I head towards goal A, I'm quietly working away on goal B. Or C or all the way down to Z.

In the next few months I should be starting work on a third collection. I know that sounds like planning ahead, but I think that ignoring the present in favour of the future is a good way of tricking myself whilst I wait.

I'll be waiting for my results. While that happens I'm getting on with the CW classes, which have kicked off again in Dundalk. They're a lot more organised this time, or so I hope. I'm also hoping to get classes going in Newry as well: there's a feature in this week's Newry Reporter about the classes and a bit about me as well. I have an idea for the future involving cross-border co-operation in creative arts that just might work...

And there's a few things that I'd like to enter the current MS in - who knows?

In the meantime a few quiet weeks wouldn't go amiss. Some new writing? Oh yes. I'm brewing a lot of ideas.

Meme thing

Liz in Gran Canaria tagged me to list six unspectacular things about myself.

1. I have size 6 feet, 0r 39 if you do European sizes.
2. I have one thumb smaller than the other.
3. I used to bite my nails. I gave them up three years ago.
4. I really, really love tea. So much so that I limit it to three cups a day.
5. I have no pets (currently).
6. I'm not mad about 'spurt' as I fondly call my husbands obsession with anything that involves a team and balls of varying sizes.

Terms & conditions!
1. link the person who tagged you: Done see above.
2. mention the rules on your blog: (these are them)
3. list 6 unspectacular things about you: (see above)

4. tag 6 other bloggers by linking them: Debi Minx and Rachel

Time to Let Go

It is done!

It has 56 pages; 6336 words (a lovely palindrome of numbers), and contains 48 poems, which have been whittled down from about 80. The poems all lean against each other nicely after much arranging and re-arranging. It has a simple one-word name, which pleases me and feels representative of the collection as a whole.

It needs just one more proof and I will print and bind two copies of it. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you: my dissertation. Four months of hard work: editing, refining, re-editing, refining, re-writing, panicking, re-editing, organising, a bit more panicking (just for good measure) and finally some paper, a cover and some glue.

It's hard to believe that a year ago I was finishing off an End of Course Assessment for the Last module of my OU degree, whilst beginning the coursework for the MA at Queen's in Belfast. A year later, I feel a little wiser about the process of writing poetry and very, very pleased with the results of my labours. I feel I've come a good ways closer to gaining the poetry goals I set myself.

I wish I could say that I'm taking a break, but the demands of setting up Creative Writing classes for the fall term have to be sorted out... as well as a few other new ventures that may (hopefully) come on line.

In the meantime - yee-flippin-ha! :D

Speaking of Performance

Poetry Ireland have sent out details of the brand new event being organised for October 2nd, 2008.

It's a marathon cornucopia of poetry and poets, a veritable glut of word-gorging, and you can see the full details on the Poetry Ireland website. Each county will be represented by at least two poets (some have more) and it's being billed as... tan tan ta... All-Ireland Poetry Day (I wonder are they being a little infected by the GAA and the All-Ireland hurling and football finals... :) ).

Oh, and I've been asked to represent the Wee County: Louth (so called because it's the smallest county in Ireland, not for any other reason!), alongside Paddy Dillon, amongst others... so I am really chuffed to bits to be involved in this marathon Poetry Fest!

***
And in other news, eldest food-muncher has just received his Junior Cert results today. He is very, very pleased with himself, as am I and all of us at home. The boy done good! Now, the teeny, tiny matter of getting him through the two year senior cycle and into college... hmm.

*Late Addendum: Patrick Chapman has also been confirmed for the Louth Lineup - I'm looking forward to meeting him - he has a collection out recently: 'Breaking Hearts and Traffic Lights.' I hope he brings spare copies!

Poetry for Performance

Well, there's something interesting (?!?) going on in the poetry world, when the Daily Telegraph gets together with Andrew Motion to see what sort of poems it can garner for a Poetry for Performance competition.

Enough has been said about what performance poetry is, and what it isn't, what it can be and when it succeeds, so I'm not about to weigh in with some lengthy considered response on what I think it is, or isn't. Sorry!

I will be interested to see what the competition throws up, though... entries are limited to 180 words on relationships: the loss or lack of, whichever suits your method. And the closing date is the 5th of October. Entries by snail mail or email, see link above.

Plenty of time to hone that gem.

No Rest for the Wicked Mummy

A very busy week this week, talk about hitting the ground running! I went up to Belfast on Tuesday employing my usual method of two-birds-one-stone.

I saw American Music Club in the Empire and got to talk poetry the next morning for almost two hours. AMC were astonishing. I've heard Mark Eitzel sing on his abums; especially Love Songs for Patriots, which I brought home from San Francisco in 2005, but nothing had prepared me for the delivery he gives live. Woah - I was near blown off me seat by the emotion he packs into his gorgeous Guinness velvet voice (I may be a little smitten).

I started reading about AMC's stormy history when I got back to my friend's house; it is she who is obsessed with them, having god knows how many of the albums, books and there's more coming, she told me yesterday. Safe to say, I think she is a fan. And now I am one too!

Wednesday, after said poetry chat, off to Dublin for the second leg of the all-singing all-dancing Babsie tour of Ireland. I was going to Poetry Ireland's launch for three Salmon books just out this year: Kevin Higgin's 'Time Gentlemen, Please,' Lorna Shaughnessy's 'Torching the Brown River,' and Susan Millar DuMars's 'Big Pink Umbrella.'

A very enjoyable evening and came home with all three books, which I've loved reading for their difference to each other. I hear Salmon have brought out Todd Swift's new 'Seaways,' and Kevin and Susan will be reading with Todd, amongst many others at a gala evening in November, in London. But I jump ahead too far there!

Last night, Thursday, I visited Virginia. That's Virginia, Co. Cavan. This seemingly sleepy town has a festival of new theatre writing happening all this week. New plays have been selected for 'reading,' on stage before an audience. I believe the plays were solicited by open competition, by the Livin Dred Theatre Company, which is based in the Ramor Theatre in Virginia. This new theatre company are already beginning to get a good name for themselves and judging by the cast reading the play, 'Leopoldville,' last night, are attracting the talent too.

The play was written by Jaki McCarrick, one of the Summer School tutors. It was interesting to hear the play read, having to insert the action in our own minds. I think this play will be one to watch in the future: it's set in a border town and is a fictionlised dramatization of an appalling murder that took place about fifteen or more years ago. Five youths attacked a run-down publican in his own pub... but that's about as much info as you really need to know. The play investigates the calibre of mind of people who would do something so evil and there are lots of connections between the play and 'Heart of Darkness.' Good old Joseph Conrad.

Anyhow, enough gallivanting about in the arts world - I have a house to clean and brats to feed.

The Sound of Silence!

Today is the first day of the new school year! I am practically dancing on my keyboard here, because the peace is simply heavenly after all the running around this weekend. There was a lot of last minute stuff to be bought: pencil cases, things to stuff in pencil cases, things to stuff into the things in pencil cases and another pair of trousers for one of the little ones, because I'd optimistically bought him a pair for his right age, forgetting that he's on the small side, because he's a twin.

Anyway, I come back after my morning walk to post. Two fine books from Salt: Me and the Dead by Katy Evans Bush, and Balancing on the Edge of the World by Elizabeth Baines. Both look extremely yummy from the quick dip I've had. But I'm restraining myself, as I've got more writing to do than can be good for you.

The dissertation is almost due: a little over three weeks, or less... :/ and I really must get my finger out and get the bleeder done. It looks like fifty poems at the moment, the order is wrecking my head and I'm veering from thinking it's a total load of rubbish, to thinking it's okay. Pffft! Revisions, revisions, revisions... if you say it enough times it begins to take on a completely new meaning.

And did I mention how happy I was to be rid of my lil' darlings..?

Caption Competition

Come on, nobody can resist these! Give us a caption for this picture, please! Do have a closer look, if you need to.

Finishing Kubla Khan in 5 days

Well, that's what the latest Guardian Poetry Workshop is advocating as an exercise. I always like to read these challenges put forward each month by a different poet.

This month's poet is Fred D'Aguiar who proposes finishing off Coleridge's unfinished exercise in writing under the influence. Most of us do know the first line: 'In Xanadu did Kubla Khan / a stately pleasure dome decree.'

Two things: does that mean that for a real authentic piece one should resort to Laudanum, as Coleridge is alleged to have used; and should one arrange for a parson to call at some unknown time across the day of composure to add that extra authenticity?

So, that's my weekend's activities all sorted out now, how about yours? Closing date for this one is next Weds, 27th August. Wouldn't want to be an all-weekender party then ;(

The Sound of the End of the Summer

Up and down this fair green land of ours, you can hear the faint sound of glee, tinged with grumpiness, as mothers hand over their last few cents to shopkeepers in exchange for goods that will help the children of this land on their annual 'Back-to-schooling.'

Every year in all sorts of newspapers, big and small, there are researched articles, bemoaning the price of books, uniforms, bags, stationary, shoes (I'm sure I've missed something), totting up the average spend of the 2.2 kid family and making us all have mini-strokes into our Saturday cereals and posh coffees. Other support articles appear on what sort of packed lunches we mothers should try out for our offspring's bored tastebuds (God help the poor wee chap who survived seven years of 'hang sangwiches.')

I laugh in the face of these articles. No-one has the art of Back-to-School as well researched or executed as me. I could wipe the floor with most of the statistics that you'll see in print. Getting six feicers ready for the new school year is one challenge that I relish. My only complaint is that Back-to-School happens during the holidays, making it the most expensive part of the year, matched only by the ferocious spendfest that is Christmas.

You see, I take a certain satisfaction every time I spend money on this ugly-but-necessary-school-badged-fleece, that rare-and-hard-to-buy-school-book: I am buying my way back to a certain (albeit limited) freedom. One that I know the weather will probably support me in too - I call the radiant sunny days that we get in Ireland during September 'Mother's Treats.' Just don't mention the phrase 'Free Education.' That really sets me off!

Lovely Books

Back to reality from Dublin on Thursday, an excellent reading, listening to all gathered in Chapters of Parnell Street. I love the themed readings, this one being Sun, Sand and Ice Cream, because it pushes you out of your normal reading choices and can sometimes urge you into writing about things you'd not considered before.

Most poets managed to link in the sun and the sand, in their readings, without too much stretching the framework. Good to hear the Galway contingent, Aoife & Celeste, who unfortunately had to turn around and head back to Galway. I bought their chapbook, Smoke & Skin, available from Lapwing, Belfast. I snuck in the ice-cream, reading the one posted below about Our Family. I cheated a wee bit on the sun, getting in a long poem that I wrote in June about boobs. It was its first outing ever at a reading and went down surprisingly well. Inspired, in part, as a riposte to Alan Gillis's 'The Lad,' I would post it, but it's under consideration at present. Fingers crossed, eh?

I went on a mini book-buying spree in Hidges Foggis, buying Mick Imlah's 'The Lost Leader,' one I couldn't get back in June, for love or money; a selected of John Hewitt, a selected of Michael Longley and the recent short story collection by Claire Keegan, 'Walk the Blue Fields.' I read the first story set in Achill in the Heinrich Boll cottage (and laughed), whilst sitting on the grass in Stephen's Green - a little hard to imagine the sunshine of Thursday against the storm-lashed day that's outside now! I've since read the opening poems of Imlah's - bloomin 'eck. Great stuff.

Chapters Reading, Thursday 14th August

Chapters and Verse Themed Reading

SUN SAND AND ICE-CREAM

6.30pm Thursday 14^th August 2008

Chapters of Parnell St, Dublin 1

Celeste Augé is the author of two chapbooks of poetry: Tornadoes for the Weathergirl (with the support of Galway County Council) in 2006, and Smoke and Skin (joint collection with Aoife Casby), which was published by Lapwing in Belfast, 2008. Her first full-length collection of poetry will be published by Salmon Poetry in early 2009.

Aoife Casby is originally from Mayo and now lives in Carraroe, Co. Galway where she works as a writer and visual artist. She has published in Poetry Ireland, Cyphers, Orbis, West47, Ropes, The Cork Literary Review, The Cúirt Annual, DIVAS 2 Anthology and others. A selection of her poetry was published (with writer Celeste Augé) by Lapwing in a chapbook Smoke & Skin in 2008.

Catherine Ann Cullen was born in Drogheda, Co Louth. She is a regular contributor to RTE Radio 1’s Sunday Miscellany and A Living Word as well as producing current affairs, arts and features. She lives with her partner Harry and daughter Stella in Kimmage, Dublin. Her first collection, A Bone in My Throat, is published by Doghouse.

Ross Hattaway was born in Wellington New Zealand, but has lived in Ireland since 1990. He has had many varied jobs and currently works as a civil servant. His first collection of poetry, The Gentle Art of Rotting was published by Seven Towers in 2006.

Noel Ó Briain was born in Tralee in Kerry, grew up in Dublin and now resides in Camolin, Co Wexford. He has worked as an actor, director, producer and designer and was head of drama in RTE for a period up to 1988. His first collection of poetry Scattering Day, 21 Sonnets and Other Poems was published by Seven Towers in 2007.

Barbara Smith holds a BA Hons. Literature just completed, 2007; and will continue with Queen's University Belfast, with a MA in Creative Writing. Her debut collection of poetry, Kairos, is just published by Doghouse Books. She has poetry and essays published widely and lives in Dundalk, with her partner and six children. Other publications include Poetic Stage (1998).Barbara blogs at Barbara's Bleeugh.

The Scottish Poetry Library

Rob and Colin have put me on to this excellent resource site, The Scottish Poetry Library. In its own words it is "the place for poetry in Scotland, for the regular reader, the serious student or the casual browser.Since its foundation in 1984 it has amassed a remarkable collection of written works, as well as tapes and videos. The emphasis is on contemporary poetry written in Scotland, in Scots, Gaelic and English, but historic Scottish poetry and contemporary works from almost every part of the world feature too."

In amongst the exciting goodies that it offers, there's a Reading Room, where they ask different poets to name their 'classic' poems along with reasons why.
Rob talks about Milton's "Paradise Lost", where "Satan gets the best lines;" Claire Askew recalls her childhood amazement at Lewis Carroll's "Jabberwocky," with its "weird, wonderful, onomatopoeic words;" and Colin Will reveals the "underlying subtleties" of Robbie Burn's "A Red, Red Rose. These are just three of many poets that have taken up the challenge of the 'classic' poem: Vicki Feaver, Billy Liar and many other well-known poets are there.

There's also a feature called the Favourite Poems, where you will find poets like Simon Armitage, Jackie Kay, Michael Hofmann and Michael Longley talking about selections of poetry that they admire. Happy days for anyone wanting to while away a few hours reading and learning about poetry.

An Impression of Our Family on Holidays...

Mam, I’ve got a sore toe.
Mam, I’ve got sunburn.
Mam, there's no milk.
Mam, I can’t find my swimsuit.
Mam, there’s jellyfish in the sea.
Mam, where’s Dad?
Mam, there's no bread.
Mam, what’s for dinner?
Mam, why is it still raining?
Mam, I’m hungry.
Mam, can we have ice-cream?
Mam, can I have a biscuit.
Mam, he broke the 'nocliers.
Mam, she broke my DS.
Mam, he won’t leave me alone.
Mam, she won’t leave me alone.
Mam, they won’t leave me alone and my foot is sore again.

Mam: LEAVE ME ALONE - MY HEAD IS MELTED!

Taking Stock and Leaving a Barrel

I am making the annual pilgrimage to Kerry, with seven kids, two cars, lots of clothes, assorted amusements and another adult for a week.

What chance do you think of me getting some writing done there, with all the distractions?

Sun, sand, barbeques and some sea air. Then there's the view from our sitting room window. Ever changing, it's better than TV! There's a lot to be said about being half way up a mountain looking down over Dingle bay.

I get to read in Tralee on Monday 4th August, with many poets, new, old and young... and chat about the future of books...

See you all when I get back, and feel free to party in the comments box, a wee tradition that started over at Minx/Debi/Pundy's house. I think.