To go, or not to go.

Last week I received a phone call. It was a member of staff calling from East Barnet Library. My first response was well I'm pretty sure I owe my local library a huge fine for overdue library books but East Barnet Library..? A bit out of my way.

The gentleman said 'Did you enter a poetry competition at East Barnet Library?'

'Probably,' I replied, which was true, but sounded dumb. I have, after all, entered quite a few competitions over the Summer. And there was something familiar about the name East Barnet.

'Can you remember the name of the poem you entered?'

'Er no.' Again, an honest, but stupid-sounding, response. He must think I am a moron. I am a moron.

'Would it have been called "Lifting the lid"?'

'Oh yes!' I say (duh!). 'That one.'

'Well it came runner up in our competion.'

'Really? Oh great.'
(Well, what else can you say when you're mouthing "shut up" at the kids who are beating each other to a pulp (very loudly) on the stairs, while the dog is barking dementedly up and down the hall.)

'We'd like you to come and collect your prize from the poet, Sarah Wardle on xxxxx and read out your poem at our performance poetry evening.'

Er. Did someone say read out my poem? Oh no. no. no. no. no. Did I say no? That was a NO.

'Are you free that evening?'

'Weeell...let me just check the calendar...turning the page...No. Sorry. Can't possibly....I have my course that night...we've only just started the term...would be very difficult...we're a long way away...'

'Oh.'

I have just broken the man's heart.

'Oh.' He says again. He will hate me forever. I will be ostracised from the poetic community for life. And probably throughout the afterlife.

'But if I manage to fix it so that I'm able to come, I'll call you back.' Bugger. Why did I say that?

I AM NOT GOING TO READ MY POEM IN FRONT OF AN AUDIENCE. I DON'T EVEN LIKE MY POEM. IT IS CRAP. I CAN'T DO IT. PEOPLE ARE SCARY. I DON'T DO THINGS LIKE THAT. THEY DO NOT EVEN SELL ALCOHOL IN A LIBRARY. (I can dance after three pints of Stella, so I assume I could probably read poetry too, even if very badly.)

'Right. Well it would be really good if you could come.'

Resist. Resist. Resist. But be polite. 'Ok, well if I change my plans I'll call.' Damn.

I get off the phone. Damn. Damn. Damn.

As Morrisey would say:
"Shyness is nice
Shyness can stop you
from doing all the things in life you want to...'"

Bugger.

I'm going to have to phone him back again.

The Poetry Book Fair, London, 24 September

More details here:
http://www.cbeditions.com/book_now.html

Television

Is too much tv bad for me?

Yes.

And how do I know when I've been watching too much tv?

I start thinking in an American accent.

We are not talking 'adult American' here. Nothing sophisticated. Not even something out of Friends.

No. More like something out of The Goonies or Home Alone. Original or the sequels, my thoughts still sound like Kevin McAlister sucking on laughing gas.

And so, my conclusions about this are that:

a) It's not conducive to writing anything intellectual.
b) It's not even conducive to writing anything funny.
c) And it definitely doesn't work for poetry.

Catching a breath

The first year of my diploma is done and dusted.

I feel both happy and sad.

Happy that I've got through this year, made friends, learnt heaps and heaps, passed the exam, the assignments and the portfolio.

But also sad that this means I am one year closer to finishing the diploma. And, fearfully, I will have to wean myself off the deadlines and comraderie and return to going-it-alone in my writing.

So I am setting some small challenges for what remains of the summer holidays.

The first is to enter as many poetry competitions as I can with existing poems I've written this past year. I don't have many, but what I have needs to be edited and sent out into the world.

The second is to put together a small collection to send to Happenstance poetry publishers. One of the rewards for having a poem awarded runner up prize in a magazine competition (Writers Forum) is to send Helena Nelson a further five poems (plus my original winner) for critical comments. There is a small chance that she will take on one of the successful poets to produce a poetry pamphlet. Well, a small chance is just that. But in the meantime I need to be writing some bloomin' poetry or I'll have nothing to send but blank sheets of paper.

The third, which kinda ties in with number two, is to get down to writing more poems. Now that I have put the house and garden straight after a year of focused neglect, I shall abandon them both again to put pencil to paper. I WILL write and I WILL NOT feel guilty about it.

btw. If you happen to be poetic it's worth checking out the Happenstance blog for great tips on submitting poetry.

Next Word, Better Word.

At the moment I'm reading Next Word, Better Word by Stephen Dobyns which gives an interesting and enlightening account of the process of poetry writing. Compared with other books it sits somewhere between the 'How to' beginners books and the 'High Brow' lit crit tomes.

I don't claim to understand every word in Next Word - on occasions I've read a paragraph three times and still haven't deciphered it's meaning - but I do feel as if this is the perfect book at the perfect time for me. Just a shame it's published on such cheap paper and with such a flimsy cover. It will take hardly any dunking in the bath - alas, a regular hazard for my books - to turn it to pulp.

The portfolio is in. For good or bad 'tis finished. Having substituted Rurik the Viking takes Torremelinos by Surprise for a poem titled The Interest in a Worm I can truthfully say that is is a unique (interpret that as you will) collection. God help the tutor who marks it.

I have also entered three poems for the Mslexia poetry competition (closing date 18 July). Of course I don't seriously consider that I have a pickle-in-a-Branston's chance of coming anywhere, but I have some half-decent poems and better to be out there doing something than sitting in a file.

For some time now I've been following Jen Hadfield's blog . Always beautiful and inspiring to read. Check it out if you get a chance.

The Home Strait

Portfolio due in next Thursday.

Sadly, Rurik The Viking Takes Torremelinos By Surprise wont be making it to the final selection. Shame. I was quite fond of it. Maybe next year, if I choose "Light verse about Nordik Travellers" as my theme...

I'm aware that I've never seen a poem with the word "anus" in it. And conscious that I'm about to hand in such a poem to a very nice, well-spoken, middle-aged lady who will be marking my portfolio.

But how else can one describe the bum hole of a worm?

'Writing Class'

Yesterday and today: Matthew Barton.