I like to turn to the surrealists for inspiration. The poems I write may not always eventually be surreal, but reading the surrealists and using surreal techniques can lead the way towards writing something true and fresh.
“The word
``surrealism'' having thereupon become descriptive of the generalizable
undertaking to which we had devoted ourselves, I thought it indispensable, in
1924, to define this word once and for all: SURREALISM, n. Pure
psychic automatism, by which it is intended to express, verbally, in writing,
or by other means, the real process of thought. Thought's dictation, in the
absence of all control exercised by the reason and outside all aesthetic or
moral preoccupations.” Andre
Breton.
Some favourites of mine below and suggested reading:
I've spent the last week reading short stories. Mainly because I have a unit to teach at New College, and each time I teach it I have grown myself as a writer and teacher, so I end up rewriting the whole unit! The pleasure of reading and discovering new stories can take you to new imaginations. I started with Best (British) Short Stories 2016 (Salt) I wanted to read what writers are writing and publishing now. There is a lively introduction by Nicholas Royleand he reminded me to read some of the excellent journals that publish short stories, in particular, Brittle Star, Lighthouse, and Ambit.
I've also been reading, That Glimpse of Truth: 100 of the finest short stories ever written. Selected by David Miller.
'Any anthology is a weird wonky wonder ...' he writes.
And it is a wonky wonder. I have loved revisiting The Red Shoes by Hans Christian Anderson, The Tell-Tale Heart by Edgar Allan Poe, and How to Write a Short Story by Sean O'Faolain.
It's hard to teach people to write, and giving structures and science can help a great deal. I was reading these stories with structure in mind, I wondered how they fit into Nigel Watts’ eight points, fromWriting A Novel and Getting Published. Here's my conclusion from The Red Shoes.
•Stasis
ONCE upon a time there was little girl, pretty and dainty. But in summer time she was obliged to go barefooted because she was poor, and in winter she had to wear large wooden shoes, so that her little instep grew quite red.
•Trigger
In the middle of the village lived an old shoemaker’s wife; she sat down and made, as well as she could, a pair of little shoes out of some old pieces of red cloth. They were clumsy, but she meant well, for they were intended for the little girl, whose name was Karen.
Karen received the shoes and wore them for the first time on the day of her mother’s funeral. They were certainly not suitable for mourning; but she had no others, and so she put her bare feet into them and walked behind the humble coffin.
•The quest
Just then a large old carriage came by, and in it sat an old lady; she looked at the little girl, and taking pity on her, said to the clergyman, “Look here, if you will give me the little girl, I will take care of her.”
Karen believed that this was all on account of the red shoes, but the old lady thought them hideous, and so they were burnt. Karen herself was dressed very neatly and cleanly; she was taught to read and to sew, and people said that she was pretty. But the mirror told her, “You are more than pretty—you are beautiful.”
•Surprise
Meeting the soldier: Now every one came out of church, and the old lady stepped into her carriage. But just as Karen was lifting up her foot to get in too, the old soldier said: “Dear me, what pretty dancing shoes!” and Karen could not help it, she was obliged to dance a few steps; and when she had once begun, her legs continued to dance. It seemed as if the shoes had got power over them. She danced round the church corner, for she could not stop; the coachman had to run after her and seize her. He lifted her into the carriage, but her feet continued to dance, so that she kicked the good old lady violently. At last they took off her shoes, and her legs were at rest.
•Critical choice
At home the shoes were put into the cupboard, but Karen could not help looking at them.
Now the old lady fell ill, and it was said that she would not rise from her bed again. She had to be nursed and waited upon, and this was no one’s duty more than Karen’s. But there was a grand ball in the town, and Karen was invited. She looked at the red shoes, saying to herself that there was no sin in doing that; she put the red shoes on, thinking there was no harm in that either; and then she went to the ball; and commenced to dance.
•Climax
She danced, and was obliged to go on dancing through the dark night. The shoes bore her away over thorns and stumps till she was all torn and bleeding; she danced away over the heath to a lonely little house. Here, she knew, lived the executioner; and she tapped with her finger at the window and said:
“Come out, come out! I cannot come in, for I must dance.”
And the executioner said: “I don’t suppose you know who I am. I strike off the heads of the wicked, and I notice that my axe is tingling to do so.”
“Don’t cut off my head!” said Karen, “for then I could not repent of my sin. But cut off my feet with the red shoes.”
And then she confessed all her sin, and the executioner struck off her feet with the red shoes; but the shoes danced away with the little feet across the field into the deep forest.
•Reversal
On the following Sunday they all went to church, and she was asked whether she wished to go too; but, with tears in her eyes, she looked sadly at her crutches. And then the others went to hear God’s Word, but she went alone into her little room; this was only large enough to hold the bed and a chair. Here she sat down with her hymn-book, and as she was reading it with a pious mind, the wind carried the notes of the organ over to her from the church, and in tears she lifted up her face and said: “O God! help me!”
•Resolution
Then the sun shone so brightly, and right before her stood an angel of God in white robes; it was the same one whom she had seen that night at the church-door. He no longer carried the sharp sword, but a beautiful green branch, full of roses; with this he touched the ceiling, which rose up very high, and where he had touched it there shone a golden star. He touched the walls, which opened wide apart, and she saw the organ which was pealing forth; she saw the pictures of the old pastors and their wives, and the congregation sitting in the polished chairs and singing from their hymn-books. The church itself had come to the poor girl in her narrow room, or the room had gone to the church. She sat in the pew with the rest of the pastor’s household, and when they had finished the hymn and looked up, they nodded and said, “It was right of you to come, Karen.”
“It was mercy,” said she.
Flarf is not easy to get right. It does make me laugh, and think, and wince. Steven Waling reminded me of this process on his visit to Swindon in February. In the poem below I googled Syria and Rainbows, then cut and pasted the text in the search lines. I then sculpted it into something. You can read better Flarf here as I'm not entirely sure I have made one. Can you make a Flarf? I'm not sure Flarf cares.
https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/text/brief-guide-flarf-poetry rainbow of the famous rainbow massacre has a double car
with the jihadist
I think they will agree to temporary
f amous Rainbows (at least 46)
via stop
to take a bite
in the Bay of Auckland
near Syria the community
early Tuesday (opening a new front) with the jihadist warrior
we are going to bomb rainbows, it is obvious -
I love stories told mainly in dialogue. It's a great way to explore subtext: what's said/held back/inferred. In 'Beginners' by Raymond Carver, we have a story told almost entirely in dialogue. Carver is a master at this, and of handling subtext.
Have a read and try short story using mostly dialogue. What can you show in the relationships between your characters and the stories they tell? Can you handle this in poetry? Try a Dramatic Monologue:
Each week I encourage my students at New College, Swindon, to read something new. It doesn't matter if you are writing a novel, a poem, or a play, wide reading can help you become a better writer. I've chosen a few brilliant pieces that I feel are surprising and make up new realities for their subjects.
Ange Mlinko is writing about poetry here in More Than Meets the I, but it rather reads like a poem. 'poetry is more plastic than sculpture, has more microtones than any formal musical system.'
"For a brief and torturous moment I could sense her presence locked up in the Tupperware, like some twisted and desperate ghost ..."
Free write about something you know very little about. Write down the word then write without stopping for ten minutes. What you don’t know, make it up. Choose an object, person, animal. The stranger the better.
Read the above stories and poems to help you into the idea.
Each week I encourage my students at New College, Swindon, to read something new. It doesn't matter if you are writing a novel, a poem, or a play, wide reading can help you become a better writer.
This week I chose AntonChekhov’s story, Oh! The Public: A bus conductor gives up his drinking to become more serious about his job. He is then confronted by a difficult customer ...
"HERE goes, I've done with drinking! Nothing. . . n-o-thing shall tempt me to it. It's time to take myself in hand; I must buck up and work. . . You're glad to get your salary, so you must do your work honestly, heartily, conscientiously, regardless of sleep and comfort. Chuck taking it easy. You've got into the way of taking a salary for nothing, my boy -- that's not the right thing . . . not the right thing at all. . . ."
In Archaic Torso of Apollo, Rainer Maria Rilke, through art and beauty, shows the fragmentation and completeness of human nature. He makes use of what’s missing in the piece of art to show us what is there. He experiences a transformation through this process: you must change your life.
I suggested they write a short story, flash fiction, poem, or play that features a change of life moment, or a discussion of change, transformation.
Each festival inspires the next. In October 2014 Poetry Swindon was fortunate to welcome such poets as Don Share, Jacqueline Pope, Robert Peake, Kathryn Maris, and festival friend Carrie Etter ... the list was brilliant and beautiful and I was left feeling inspired and creative. I knew, at that point, why we went through all the hard work: it was a buzz to see how much poetry can be enjoyed and I wanted it to happen all over again. I wanted more of it, I wanted it to be bigger, and longer, and always better, because there is so much to learn. We added an extra day and invited Jo Bell last November. It felt like a long time to wait, but it was worth it. Jo brings community and a lot of love for poetry and Swindon, she's a positive force for good.
Tania Hershman, Jo Bell, and Jonathan Davidson
Jo also brought with her a question on prose poetry, 'Is there really such a thing?', and this led to us having a fantastic discussion on Day 1 with Luke Kennard and Tania Hershman, on a couch, in an old cow shed at Lower Shaw Farm. It doesn't exist, said Jo (I Think). Interesting paragraphs, said someone (who said that?). Our audience asked questions: is it a matter of class? and all became clear (perhaps). Who cares? The prose poem doesn't care, said Tania Hershman, to me once upon a time. There is no rumour of the universal ecstasy of all things, wrote Charles Baudelaire, in a prose poem that happened long before we did. I argue that prose poetry started in Swindon, with Richard Jefferies ('Prose Poet' stamped on his gravestone). It all starts in Swindon.
One of the loveliest events I've read at - such a warm and responsive audience and a buzzing, intellectual atmosphere.Luke Kennard
This year we had five days of poetry. We started in the Central Library on Thursday 1st October with Poems Aloud and ended at Lower Shaw Farm on Monday 5th October listening to Jo Bell read her very first prose poem (see what I mean about Swindon). She also read from Kith,and her new work. We admired Dog on the table, ate my dad's eggs, ate croissants and enjoyed good company. We took poetry to Savernake Community Social Hall, ninety people joined us to enjoy Andy Jackson's Double Bill poets and the incredible Kei Miller. We had tea and cakes at Savernake with our own Maurice Spillane who didn't quite rhyme enough for some, and George Moorehead who gave away poetry stuff and our postcards at Free Shop. We took poetry to the Swindon Cricklade Railway where we celebrated our heritage with Early Train writer Jonathan Davidson and our Jo Bell. We took poetry on the Wiltshire and Bershire Canal with Jo, Canal Laureate, and met Mrs and Mrs Swindon plus a heron on the fabulous Dragonfly narrowboat. There were workshops, Jo Bell, Tania Hershman, Robert Vas Dias and Jacqueline Saphra, all fully subscribed to and perhaps over-subcribed at times. Lots of new poetry was written, or is about to be written.
A space opened up for a genuine exchange of ideas, and with it a kind of heady freedom. I honestly thought when I woke up this morning that if we could encourage more people to read and write poetry the world really would be different. Jacqueline Saphra
We had poetry and Minecraft with Paul and Simon at the Museum of Computing and now the Magic Roundabout is on fire, we will rebuild it. We had Nine White Horses with Jacqui and Robert plus crew, quite something!
Nine White Horses
What did I learn?
I learnt that I need to pace myself (and others) That I can not be in three venues at once. That we don't need chocolate bars, but we do need peanut butter. That lists are not always poetic, or useful. But I must respect them. That I should meet our team each festival morning so we are all on the same page. That we have suddenly grown up and people like us. That poetry can be brilliantly enjoyable in so many ways. That there is a lot more to do. That I really do love Swindon and all it has to offer up to the world culturally. That I love being with the people who have the generosity to join us in our unfashionable town. That there is a fourth wall and it can be broken by great people of poetry. That poetry and community can do great things together (thank you Eastcott Community Group and Central Library).
Next year? I'm thinking 10 days. I'm thinking the beautiful landscape of Coate Water at the Richard Jefferies Museum, I'm thinking more Community events (Today I booked an afternoon of poetry in Kings Court Residential Home and we are now Dementia Friends).
We mustn't forget our first home, Lower Shaw Farm, it has been a delight and a privilege to have time there for poetry, hospitality, and pleasure. Thank you Matt and Andrea! It has been wonderful to grow up there, like so many children have and still do, thanks to this great place in Swindon, but grow we have.
Thank you Mike Pringle, who with little thanks did a lot of things: Put up and dismantled our Poetry Postcards exhibition and then transferred it to the Beehive. He also gave us a great poetry programme, and solved our PA problem on day 2.
The enthusiasm of tea with Mike Pringle
Thank you Jennifer Berry for such brilliant photography and for bringing the lovely you to our events.
Thank you Cristina Newton: there are no words to say enough about the spirit and hard work you give Poetry Swindon and Battered Moons. You are amazing.
Cristina Newton
Thank you Festival Chronicler and marketing wonder Louisa Davison for being a steady force of brilliance and helping us develop.
Louisa Davison - Man for a Day Film
Thank you Maurice Spillane for being every where all at once and for being light on your toes, supportive and welcoming to all. Thank you for the PA system provided by Appligenics.
Maurice Spillane with Tania Hershman
Thank you Louise Crossley for brilliant organisation and for coping with great swathes of people and helpers up at the farm.
Louise Crossley entertaining the new-comers
Thank you Anna-May Laugher for fabric in the colours of Dog, for Flowers, and for food and friendship. You are an amazing Poetry Swindon friend who goes beyond the beyond to help us all.Thank you for Ganderflanking with me!
Anna-May on National Poetry Day
Thank you George Moorehead for sudden children's workshops, for good spirits and company along the way. Also, for the best Kei Miller poetry introduction ever. I am still imagining the poem on the back of your cupboard door and that is a lovely thing.
George Moorehead
Thank you Sam Loveless, MC and hardworker, for all you do. A huge part of the Poetry Swindon success is the way you are and what you bring.
Tania Hershman with Sam Loveless
Thank you Sophie Boyce, your good will and brilliant mind are a joy to be with and I hope you come back from Wales next year. It won't be the same without you.
Sophie Boyce and Sam Loveless
Thank you Hannah Linden, our long-distance lover, our friend and supporter. It was great to have you on the team.
Hannah Linden with Jonathan Davidson
And thanks to so many people who helped us this year. We were very fortunate to have such an amazing team, and amazing audiences too.
Thank you, Arts Council England for supporting us with funding and advice.
Thank you to our partners, Swindon Artswords, Eastcott Community Group, Central Library, and Richard Jefferies Museum Trust.
Eastcott Community Group supporting poetry in our locality
Read all about Poetry Swindon Festival on the Festival Chronicle or see the photographs by Jennifer Berry HERE
Thank you to everyone who took part, join us again next year: September 29th to October 9th (Big Poetry Weekend 6th to 9th October)
Next is the (I don’t have enough words to describe just how incredible this experience was) Swindon festival of Poetry. 5 days of back to back poetry events, workshops and readings. The entire event is up there as one of the best experiences of my life, the people, the poetry and the sheer energy was unforgettable. It’s tough to nail it down to a few things, but the highlights for me were: Kei Miller reading from his first two collections – it has changed the way I look at my poetry and was truly inspirational. Jo Bell – as the resident poet she had a lot to live up to – I think the key to making this work was to make every visitor feel special and Jo did this in so many ways, from the readings of her work, to holding great workshops, helping out the organiser’s in their hour of need and putting up with all our ridiculous questions about living on a longboat! Jo really was the star of the show and it wouldn’t have been the same experience, had she not so willingly thrown herself into the event. Brilliant readings and workshops from Jacqueline Saphra and Robert Vas Dias – other stand-out readings were (and there are a lot), Jo Bell and Jonathan Davidson in a train carriage keeping us all entertained, Tania Hershman and her wonderful blend of flash fiction and poetry, Luke Kennard delivered some wonderfully varied poetry and has definitely gained me as a new follower! There was an incredibly powerful reading from Isabel Palmer, I can’t wait until I have some time to dive into her new pamphlet. Then there was the exuberant performance of Sophie Herxheimer – she had us all entertained and surprised with the many giant sized poems she provided. It’s tough to recap everything, but there really were so many highlights (some of which haven’t even been covered here) – it will be the must attend event of 2016! From http://stephenkirkdaniels.com/ From Jacqueline Saphra
This morning I’m thinking of
Hilda Sheehan at The
Swindon Poetry Festival, dashing about in her little car, checking the poets
are collected and delivered at the station, making their beds, opening and
locking doors, running events, dispensing hugs, selling glasses of wine, smiling
at everyone, saying thank you all the time and meaning it; all of this on
practically no sleep. And this is aside from the poetry itself, the process of
organising the events, arranging for the poets to come, getting the funding,
finding the volunteers and buying their donuts, thinking about catering,
accommodation, ticketing. Above all, there is the creative input, the process
that happen before the festival: coming up with the ideas for different events –
so many different events! And then making them happen. Not forgetting that Hilda
must earn a living, find time to write her own (extraordinary) poetry and (I do
hope) have a life beyond poetry too. The volunteers are also doing it for love:
the ones who look after the poets, wash the teacups, answer the questions,
introduce the poets, do the photocopying …
