Strip

I don’t do book reviews, as regular or long time readers will know. Not because I don’t want to mention good fiction (god know!). It’s simply because I’m not very good at them. But despite that I do, when I read something great, like to give it a mention.

Which is why I’m mentioning Angela Readman’s ‘Strip’.
‘Strip’ is mostly a poetry collection. It’s about sex.It’s about porn (one of the poems is about an actress who performs with animals and there are others about Bettie Page – someone I previously knew very little about). And it’s brilliant. It’s honest. It cuts to the truth of things. It’s about being female and about what’s often expected. It’s raw and it’s beautiful and it’s wonderfully sad. And it’s written beautifully, Angela Steadman is clearly a master (or mistress!) of words and of language.
Perhaps my favourite section was ‘The Porn Star Letters’. They’re written by a young girl, in the midst of her sexual awakening, to Traci, a porn actress (or star). That bit broke my heart a little and reminded me of Caroline Smailes’ Black Boxes in its use of language and the way it was brilliantly affecting.
A brilliant, brilliant collection that I’d say was well worth checking out.

Inkspill Magazine Interview

I’ve known Sophie Playle through the blogosphere for a fair old while now (her blog’s great and one that I read often), so, when she told me she was launching a quarterly magazine I couldn’t not talk to her about it, could I? Of course not. So I did.
Hi Sophie, welcome to the blog. Lovely to have you here. So, you’re launching a new literary magazine, Inkspill. What can we expect? 
Thanks, Nik – great to be here.

Inkspill Magazine is not intended to be solely a lit mag. It’s going to be a host for all things creative. There’s going to be a lot of different material on show. In each issue I am aiming to include the best short stories, the most compelling poetry, an article or two (about anything in the creative industry), a debate (the first issue’s hot topic is about self-publishing), some artwork and photography, and other goodies. I’m open to suggestions for content, so please feel free to get in touch and pitch me something.

There will also be a few pages of readers’ letters. I want the magazine to have a sense of community and interaction. I want to know your thoughts and ideas – not just about the magazine, but the creative world in general.

I want Inkspill Magazine to be a magnet for creativity. So what can you expect? What can you expect from creative minds? Even I can’t predict what might head this way.

The content’s going to be varied, with features and art alongside poems and short stories. Is there anything, or any theme, Inkspill will naturally lean towards? 
At the moment, I’m not looking out for any particular theme or style. As the magazine progresses, its identity may become clearer (to me and readers alike). I’m keeping an open mind at the moment. I don’t want to create any restrictions. Above all, I’m looking for quality.

Why did you decide to launch a magazine? 
It has been something I’ve been itching to do for a long time. I’ve been a reader, writer and critique of short fiction and poetry for years. I studied literature and creative writing to degree level, working with authors such as Giles Foden (The Last King of Scotland) and poets such as George Szirtes. My nose is always in a lit mag, or a book about writing, or a book about publishing… It really is my passion.

I did a unit on publishing at university. As my main project, I created my own magazine and got a high mark for it. It was hard work, but I enjoyed it and it gave me confidence that I could physically put a magazine together.

I now work in the publishing industry full time. However, I work for a company that makes educational books. It leaves me a little starved for creativity…

What formats can we expect it in?
I’ve always loved the tactile element of books and magazines – the feel of paper and the smell of ink. I enjoy the old-school portability of a magazine, folded into a handbag or stuck in a coat pocket, ready to be read on the train or in a coffee shop – as opposed to lugging around a laptop! So, naturally, Inkspill Magazine will be available in hardcopy.

If I’m honest, I haven’t quite finalised how I’m going to go about printing Inkspill Magazine. At the moment, it is a toss-up between finding a suitable local printer (and boy have I been looking!), using print-on-demand technology, or going really old school and buying my own laser printer and guillotine and printing it myself. I’m very tempted to do the latter – after all, the magazine is all about being creative – but I would worry about the quality and effort involved to print it this way. I have a couple of months before I have to decide.

The printed version of Inkspill Magazine will be A5 sized (this seems to be quite a popular format, according to my research). It will be stapled bound, and around 60-70 pages. The exterior will be in full colour, and the interior will be black and white.

The pages won’t simply be text-filled, like so many small press publications. I intend to give Inkspill Magazine a more creative design: a more tradition magazine-like layout.
I know that many people want to read magazines without having to pay for and wait for a printed version. Inkspill Magazine will also be available as a downloadable PDF, at a reduced price.


Where will it sit in the market?  
For the moment, it will sit in the swelling, overflowing market of fledgling literary magazines. It is going to be a struggle to pull Inkspill Magazine out of that pool. I know that the market for these kinds of magazines is hugely competitive.

However, I hope I’m providing something a bit different. Hopefully Inkspill Magazine will be able to make a name for itself. Hopefully lots of people will want to read it, as well as submit to it. (A lot of hoping!)

At the moment, Inkspill Magazine only pays in contributor copies (I’m very much of the philosophy that a writer should never have to pay to see his or her work in print). As you can understand, I’m running this on a very small budget. As soon as Inkspill Magazine starts to make a profit, I will pass those profits onto the contributors. At the moment, I’m relying on contributor’s sharing my vision of a quality, creative publication to make this work.

Do you think now’s a good time to be launching a magazine? 
No and yes. No because so many people are doing it at the moment. And why are people doing it? Because modern technology has made it easy. Which is why it is also a good time to be launching a magazine. The image of a snake eating its own tail comes to mind.

As I’ve mentioned before, I believe the key is to break free from the masses. Even if people are finding it easy to set upmagazines, it doesn’t mean those magazines are any good. If I can break away from the masses and create a quality publication, I think Inkspill Magazine will be on the way to success. Or at the very least, escape complete failure!

As editor, what are you looking for in submissions. How can we impress you? 
Submissions for Issue One have been open for a few weeks now. And I’ve been overwhelmed with responses. It has been very encouraging!

As mentioned, I’m not completely sure what exactly I’m looking for, other than quality, entertainment and creativity. But after reading so many submissions already, I can tell you what puts me off.

Short stories need to hook me right away. I’ve read a few well-written stories, but half why through I’ve found myself thinking ‘So what…?’ and put the story down.
Literary fiction doesn’t mean boring. Again, I’ve read a few well-written pieces where nothing much happens. Even if you write beautiful prose, you still need a captivating story.

I like poems that have meaning behind them – but I don’t want them to be indecipherable riddles. Sometimes I read poetry that feels excessively ‘poetic’ for the sake of it. I love poems that reveal more the more you read them, but not poems that are like hitting your head against a brick wall. (How’s that for subjective?)
And above all, please read the submission guidelines. I know they are long, but they are there for a reason.

I’ve got a few interesting articles lined up for the first issue, but I’ve not had any submissions for the rest of the non-fiction sections. I would love to read some!

Sum up Inkspill in no more than ten words. 
Inkspill Magazine: An inkwell of creativity.

When can we see the first edition? 
The first edition will be out in mid April. You can join the Facebook group or follow @inkspillmag on Twitter to keep updated.

Anything you’d like to add? 
Yes. Firstly, thanks so much for having me here on your blog. I’ve often read your interviews, Nik, but never thought I would be the one being interviewed. 

Secondly:

Readers and writers and anyone in between – keep in touch! Tell me what you want from Inkspill Magazine. Let me know your thoughts on my ideas and philosophies. Don’t be afraid to submit to the non-fiction part of the magazine. Creativity is interactive. YOU are all a part of Inkspill Magazine.

Don’t be afraid to spill some ink!

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Inkspill’s website is here. What are you waiting for? Go see it, go submit!

Carolyn Jess-Cooke Interview

Inroads, a poetry collection by the lovely and talented Carolyn Jess-Cooke has just been published and I was lucky enough to be able to ask her some questions earlier, and put to her some questions by some other lovely and talented people. 
I do love doing these interviews.

Welcome to the blog, Carolyn. Your debut poetry collection, Inroads, has just been published. Can you tell us about it?
Thanks Nik! Inroads emerged from a poem I wrote (titled Inroads) as an undergrad at Queen’s University, Belfast – I was doing a creative writing module and just beginning to take my writing seriously (as I’d already been writing poetry for about ten years by that point). Once my undergrad tutor, Carol Rumens, alerted me to the fact that a mere mortal like myself could one day rise to the dizzy heights of an entire poetry collection, I was off! The name of the poem stuck as the title – although the poem got scrapped and replaced ages ago – and during the next ten years I explored a variety of forms and themes, which is probably why the collection is about motherhood, travel, failed romance, oh, and astronomy.
What does the word ‘poem’ mean to you?
Oooh, what a good question. For me, a poem is something beyond music, photography, sculpture, etc. that takes me into a new realm of insight with endless textures. It’s an incredibly personal instance of revelation and art. It should be an experience of creativity for the reader.
What kinds of poems can we expect to read in Inroads?
Boisterous poems, reflective poems, formally subversive poems, formally obedient poems, political poems, poems that are intended to rouse audiences at a poetry reading from their armchair slumber and send them out into the streets like wild animals, ravenous for more poetry…
It’s notoriously difficult to have a poetry collection published – could you tell us a little about your road to success?
It took me about ten years or more to get a publishing contract for the collection – I think I have letters dating back to 1996. Rejection letters, of course. It also took some publishers over a year to respond (with a no) so I got quite discouraged along the way. Finally, magazines started saying yes. At first, they’d offer to publish one poem, then two, then five, so I felt I was at last getting somewhere. In 2008 I received a letter from Seren, completely out of the blue, saying they’d like to consider my collection for publication… I think I choked on my hot chocolate at the time. I’d never expected someone to approach me.
What’s your writing process?
I write intensively, rather than often – although on the other hand, I would say I’m always writing, as I’m constantly rolling ideas and phrases and characters around my head, even during important meetings, which is probably annoying for everyone else… I simply don’t have time at the minute to do the typical 1000 words-a-day routine. Though when I wrote my novel, I wrote 12,000 words in one day – simply because I had only one day to write those words, not twelve. Pressure brings out the best in me when it comes to work.
I absolutely adore Inroads’ cover – how did that come about?
Thank you! I was scouring the earth for a surreally-type photograph and found Jamie Baldridge’s amazing collection of photos at his website, http://www.jamiebaldridge.com/. I had to have this one – something about the woman writing with strings was incredibly evocative of what I wanted to say with this collection. I emailed Jamie and begged him to let me use it and he very kindly said yes!
What advice would you give to someone wanting to be a published poet?
Put the writing before the publishing. It’s amazing how much writing time can be used up by trying to get published. It’s horse, then cart. I think that actually reading contemporary poetry helps – I’ve met a lot of aspiring poets who hadn’t even heard of some the major poetry magazines – and giving readings wherever possible. Some people don’t advocate poetry workshops (for fear of the dreaded ‘workshop poem’, whatever that is) but the few I’ve attended have helped me work to a deadline – there’s always a million reasons not to write, especially when one is being rejected left, right and centre… Persistence!
Why poetry?
I write in many genres, but poetry has a special place in my heart. There are things I can articulate and express in poetry that I simply can’t in any other genre.
Could you recommend some good contemporary poets to us?
Loads! I was lucky to study at Queen’s University alongside some of our finest contemporary poets: Sinéad Morrissey, Leontia Flynn, Alan Gillis. I also recommend Luke Kennard – the range of his wit astounds me – and, on another side of the spectrum, Sharon Olds. Her poems seem to reach out of the page and bash me over the head with a blunt object. I love Alice Oswald’s collection Woods Etc. and am inspired by the contemporary surrealism of Kathryn Simmonds and Valeria Melchioretto. 
Julia Bohanna asks: I have always felt that poets are simply more alive than most people, that they see the world in a more intense way. How far would you say that is true?
I think poetry requires an intensity in terms of how we view and experience the world: for me, a poem is most effective when it makes me see things in a way I’d never seen them before. There are many poets out there whose work is celebrated for its intellectual exploration of textuality and form, but if the work has no soul, no sense of honest human encounter, it’s dead to me.
And Vanessa Gebbie says: How does she know a poem is about to be born? What does it feel like?
It usually begins with a line that won’t leave my head, sometimes a title. One of the poems in Inroads is called A poem without any vegetables, and when that title came into my head I was so intrigued by it that I spent a good few weeks wondering what on earth it was meant to be about. Eventually, it became a poem about sibling rivalry in early childhood. Occasionally, I’ll set out to write a poem about something and eventually the lines will follow.
Vanessa would also like to know:
And how does she know when to stop tinkering, and walk away because the poem feel’s ‘cooked’?
When my gut says so. It’s a wonderful feeling. However, I’ve been known to return to a poem months after the ‘cooking’ and find that I want to shift something very minor, but the core of it is unalterable: I know that if I tried to fix what’s ‘cooked’, I’ll be severing an artery… 
And this from Michelle Teasedale: Has she ever thought of writing song lyrics? Is poetry for everyone or just the literary elite?
I wrote a musical about six years ago and loved the lyric-writing part. I have such strong objections to poetry being for some literary elite that I won’t even submit my work to a particular poetry magazine because the stuff they  publish is always by the same poets and never reaches me on a personal level (oh, and because they’ve rejected me a few times!). Poetry should reach everyone; if it’s enshrouded in intertextual references or cryptic messages, then it’s code, not poetry.
What’s next for you?
I’m currently editing my first novel, The Guardian Angel’s Journal, which is being published by the Piatkus imprint at Little, Brown in April 2011, and then I’ll be working on a second novel, A Very Human Thing, which Piatkus are publishing in April 2012. The launch for Inroads is March 11th at the City Library here in Newcastle, and shortly after that I’ll be having a baby!
Anything you’d like to add?
I’m looking forward to reading some amazing new poetry collections: The Water Table by Philip Gross, A Scattering by Christopher Reid, and Through the Square Window by Sinéad Morrissey. And I’ve a bookcase full of novels I’m anxious to read, just trying to find the time… Thanks for the invite!
*
Carolyn Jess-Cooke was born in Belfast in 1978 and now lives, works and sometimes plays in bonny Newcastle upon Tyne, UK. Following several careers as a musician, photographer, filmmaker and academic, she has finally and conclusively opted to be a mother and a writer. She has published 4 non-fiction books as well as ‘Inroads’, a poetry collection, and has many pieces of public textual art dotted around England. Two novels, a children’s story book, and a poem for an astronomy sculpture in Durham are forthcoming. 

Music

How’s about a bit of music? I’ve been listening to The Indelicates a lot of late (probably because they’re really good – and fresh). They’ve also just realeased a poetry collection which you can buy here. And keep your eyes peeled for an interview with them in the not too distant future. I know, I spoil you, I really do.

***
And a thank you:

As a lot of you will know these past few months have been, in places, really difficult for me. One thing happened and everything changed, and that’s a lot to cope and/or deal with even if you’re not a super-sensitive person like me. But miserable times have been made better by a handful of extremely lovely and caring people. You know who you are, and I wanted to say thank you because you’ve really made a difference. So, um, thanks folks!

And I must say that things feel like they’re starting to look up. 
The future? Bring it on!

A Clearer Head

My head is now feeling less bruised. Thank god these migraines don’t occur that frequently anymore and are far less severe than they used to be. A few years ago I’d have been out of comission for days. (This is all down to not eating chocolate or cheese or red wine.)

Following the funeral of the last remaining First World War survivor yesterday (see previous post for the link) I’ve been musing on being The Last, and also on how much that war influenced my writing. I think it was while studying Owen and Sassoon and the like (under the wonderful Mr Wilson) for GCSE that I first got an actual itch to write, as well as an interest to read more. It was the first time I think I was close to understanding what writing (about real things ie the war, racism in To Kill a Mockingbird etc) could make you feel and understand (things/the world/people) better, as well as understanding better how literature fits into the rest of life. And it’s strange also to think that the previous English teacher had all but put me off my favourite subject (he told me I’d amount to nothing, which isn’t strictly true). Thank the universe for the brilliant Mr Wilson.
Important lessons. And lessons that have stayed with me. You know, last night, I went back to the poetry collection we used for that part of the GCSE course, and went over some of my old faves, and was surprised at how I’ve clearly taken (borrowed/been influenced) by their structure. The chattiness and realism and BANG! ending of The Chances is definitely something I strive for in many of my stories.
So now you know!
And being the last must have been an odd feeling. Sad, proud, a heavy responsibility. But what of those who’ve been forgotten? What of those with no known graves? What of those who are just faces in browned photographs now, who are nameless curiosities and heirlooms?
And why, why – why – why don’t we learn?
Just some thoughts to, you know, cheer you up of a Friday! 
(Here’s a poem which sums things up rather brilliantly, I think, though there are many, many more.)

Shaindel Beers Interview

As you probably know I’ve been rather excited about Shaindel Beers’ poetry collection, A Brief History of Time, so just imagine how excited I am about having her here on my blog. Yes. Very.




Welcome to the blog, Shaindel. It’s a true pleasure to have you here. So, who are you? What do you do?

Thanks, Nik! Lovely to be here. That’s certainly a broad question. Let’s see. I’m a writer and full-time college writing instructor in Pendleton, Oregon. I spend most of my time teaching, reading, and writing, at least, I hope. I’m afraid if we timed my life, I might spend the most time grading, followed by laundry, dishes, and cooking, but let’s not think that way. And then I work part-time jobs on weekends—Saturdays as a fitness instructor at Curves and Sundays doing yard work for a couple in a nearby town. I’m always busy, it seems. Oh, I also teach poetry writing online at AllWriters.org, if any of your readers would be interested in looking into online writing courses with me or with other great writers in the States.

 

The poems in A Brief History of Time are varied in theme, form and subject matter; is there one place they all started from?

That’s really interesting to think about because I guess that one place would be my consciousness, unless everything starts in the subconscious? I’m really just someone who’s always looking at the world around me and taking note of things. There are images that just need to go into a poem, and you save them. On the road to Pilot Rock, the nearby town I work in on Sundays, a white dog had been killed by a car in front of the country cemetery, and someone put a bunch of red silk flowers on him. It was the most shocking sight—snow-covered ground, and this dead white dog, and bright red silk flowers on him. I’ve always thought about that. All of those levels of meaning—winter and snow and a cemetery and a dead white dog and red silk flowers and a mourner who either took those flowers from another grave or didn’t put them on the grave they were meant for and instead put them on the dog. Anything we see could be a poem if we look long enough. Life seems to be largely tragic with a current of beauty running under the surface. Writing is what I choose to do with it.


Talking of content (and perhaps theme), it seems you’re fearless in what you write about and how you write – is being brave part of a poet’s job?

I think being brave is a part of everybody’s job. At least, in my experience, the world seems like a tough place. We have to be brave to learn how to crawl and walk and then to get out of bed every morning. According to the British Romantics (probably the poets I most admire), the poet was supposed to be the bard, the spokesman, for the everyman. So, while everyone has to be brave to get by in the world, the poet has to be brave for everyone. For the people (and other beings) we don’t notice because we’re too caught up in our own lives—the woman with cancer, the starving child, the dog hit in front of the cemetery.


Talk to us about your childhood. What sort of poetry/literature were you exposed to?

My mother had a degree in English and taught high school and section edited newspapers and wrote, so I was exposed to more literature than most children, I’m guessing. I read voraciously and oddly. I read everything about horses ever written (at least, it feels like it), tabloid newspapers my father would buy, and my mother’s old college literature textbooks—especially the poems of Byron, Keats, and Shelley, which were included in this one massive volume, and an anthology of Victorian poetry that she had from college.

 

When you were younger did you dream of becoming a poet and writer when you grew up? And is that kind of aspiration a usual one to have for someone growing up in rural America?

By the time I got into high school, I knew I wanted to do something related to literature. The only job I really knew of was high school teacher, so I went away to college to double major in Dance and Secondary Education with an emphasis in English. As soon as I got into a British literature class (which, incidentally, had a female professor), I knew I wanted to be a professor. At this point, I was still taken with the idea of teaching other writers’ literature; it hadn’t occurred to me to take my own writing seriously. And I don’t think it occurred to me to take my own writing seriously until possibly graduate school (the first time around—1999-2000 for my MA in Humanities). The second round of graduate school was for my MFA in Creative Writing, so I was obviously taking my writing seriously by that point.

I’m sure it’s a crazy aspiration to have in rural America, but then most aspirations are crazy to have. You’re sort of expected to stay put, marry a farmer (if you’re female), and take over the farm (if you’re male). Some people obviously do other things, and times are changing, but generally people do what they know. I think my professors were probably the first middle-class, none rural people I’d ever seen in my life. I grew up in a town where everyone farmed or worked at factories, and there was the one doctor’s office, the one lawyer’s office, that sort of thing. So, obviously, the doctors I grew up seeing were middle class, but they were sort of like characters in a play who didn’t quite fit in with the rest of the cast. They were always somehow apart from everyone else.

I think my one high school English teacher was joking because she is very happily married to a farmer, but one day she told us, “Don’t ever marry a farmer, your whole life will depend on rain,” and something about it stuck with me. After that, I saw factory closings and people lose their farms, and I wanted to try to work outside of that and stay in school and depend on my mind to make a living for myself. Obviously, that plan has its own kind of difficulties as well.


There are a number of scientific terms in your poems – why’s that? Is science something you’re interested in?

I love science. If I could study something because I enjoy it and not for any particular reason, I would love to study theoretical physics. I don’t have a mind for math (or at least I didn’t in high school), and I’m not good with things like dissections and whatnot, so I never took a biology lab in college, but I love reading about theoretical physics. It fascinates me. I actually find the theories comforting in a way. If something horrible is happening here, there’s always another dimension somewhere where the possibilities are different. 


You’re an English professor. How has that influenced your work?

I think it has influenced my work in really practical ways. Reading and writing is an important part of my job, so I don’t have to “switch” anything on or off when I come home. I know writers who are nurses and medical sales people and things like that, and I can’t imagine being different people in different worlds and doing something completely unrelated to writing all day then coming home and writing. If I want to go to a writing conference, my college pays for it; if I have a reading or something like that scheduled, the college is understanding if I need to miss a few classes.

I also get to be in contact with so many amazing people—something like one hundred students each quarter. Many of them have the most amazing life stories, and some are phenomenal writers in their own right. Being around them keeps your writing energy up. It would be the perfect job if it weren’t for the grading. And it’s not even all of the grading that’s bad; it’s grading the weaker papers that takes away from your writing energy. I really think the brain is like a computer as far as GIGO (garbage in, garbage out). If you read good writing, you’ll produce good writing. Sometimes the less than stellar papers you’re grading sap your energy, but then, you’ll get a brilliant one and feel privileged to be reading it.


What’s the best piece of writing advice you’ve been given?

My former colleague at College of Lake County, Larry Starzec (a phenomenal writer, please find his work) would tell his students, “Writers read with larceny in their hearts.” He’s right. Any time you read and find something that knocks your socks off, think how can I steal that? (Of course, meaning, how can I do that?)


How can good writers become great?

I think I’m at the point in my life where I think there are only three rules to writing. (1) Read a lot, write a lot. To this I would remind people of the GIGO principle. You have to read good writers to be a good writer. (2) Show, don’t tell. (3) Make sure each word is the right word. Go through your writing and make sure each word needs to be there and that it’s the best possible word for the job. If it isn’t necessary, get rid of it, and if it’s not quite the right word, find the right word.


Why isn’t poetry more popular? Do you think it has something to do with the way it’s taught in schools or is there a tendency for poets to write for other poets rather than a wider audience? Or is it down to the way it’s marketed or perceived?

I think you’re right on a lot of points. I think that most people aren’t exposed to modern poetry until college, if at all. For that reason, they expect it to be rhyming or archaic, and then when they are exposed to modern poetry, they feel stupid and intimidated because they thought it was going to be rhyming and archaic, and it isn’t.

I think that poetry isn’t marketed well. It’s definitely marketed with a sort of snob appeal a lot of times. People need to read poets who are accessible and who are like them or who they feel are like them. I don’t know how to solve this problem, but I think there are projects in the States that are doing a good job like American Life in Poetry (http://americanlifeinpoetry.org/) which provides newspapers and online publications in America with a weekly poem and some commentary. It was started by Ted Kooser who was the US Poet Laureate from 2004-2006. He was born in Iowa and has lived in Nebraska for most of his life. This is the type of influence that would have helped me as a young writer. I’m sure for someone in a city or of a different background, it would be someone else, but we need to see poets who are like us to see it as something for us. It’s very easy to see something as belonging to another race or social class or region and to not even bother with it because we think that means it’s not for us. We need to do something to fix that and have all types of poetry represented so that there will be future generations of all types of poets.


You don’t just write poems, do you? You’re a successful short story writer as well. Can you tell us about that side of your work?

I just like to make things up. Being a writer is a privilege. What other adults get to play with imaginary friends all day and aren’t in a loony bin? I’m very pleased with my short story writing, but it will feel more real when I have a full collection placed with a publisher. I think to have the length of a standard short story collection I need maybe three more stories. Right now, it would be a slim volume. I’m not in a rush, but some days I wish the ideas would come to me. Right now, I’m working on what I hope will become a novel, so that seems to be where my energy is.


Story writing process vs poetry writing process. How do they differ and which feels the most natural?

I think they both feel natural. Poems seem to start with an image or feeling, and fiction seems to start with a character in a situation, for me, at least. I’m sure it’s different for everyone. I try to write whatever feels like it needs to be written at the time.


I mentioned in my review of A Brief History of Time that your last lines are often stunning. How important is a poem’s last line? And how does it relate to what’s gone before?

I think a last line is extremely important. It’s what you’re leaving the reader with—your last chance if they’re only reading an individual poem—or if they’re reading your collection, your last chance until the next poem. You don’t want to rely on a sort of trick or twist-ending or anything that would make the reader feel cheated, but you do want to leave them with a lasting image, a lasting emotion.


What would you hope people came away from reading your collection thinking?

I think that good literature has to change people. It has to change the way they look at something or think about something or feel about something. I hope I can do that for someone. One of my friends, Wes Saylors (someone else whose work you should look for), told me that Italo Calvino’s If on a Winter’s Night a Traveler would change the way I thought about writing. I thought he was exaggerating. He wasn’t! I hugged the book when I finished it. I would love to think that somebody, somewhere hugged my book when they were done reading it.


You’re an editor at the wonderful Contrary Magazine – what do you look for in a poem when you’re wearing your editor’s hat, and do you look for something different when you’re just reading for you?

I think what I said to the previous question pretty much answers this one. If I’m a slightly different person after I’ve read the poem than I was before, then it’s done its job. The treat of being an editor is that someone else chooses what makes its way to me. I read, perhaps, twenty poems that the readers before me have whittled down from sometimes nearly a thousand submissions, and I choose the top half dozen or so to go into the magazine. Many of them aren’t the type of poem I would look for in a book store, so it’s exciting when something finds me that I never could have dreamed existed and it opens up my world into a whole new type of poetry I’d never thought about before. 

 

What’s next for you?

I have a two book deal with Salt, so I’m working on The Children’s War, which is poetry inspired by artwork children have done during times of war from the Spanish Civil War to wars that are currently going on. I hope to get those few stories finished and have a short story collection ready to send out soon, and then there’s that novel I’m working on.


Anything you’d like to add?

I’d love for your readers to find me on Facebook or Twitter or Goodreads. I try to be as accessible as possible to readers, and it’s always good to get to meet other writers. As I mentioned before, it’s a tough world, we have to stick together!

 

***

 

Shaindel Beers was raised in Argos, Indiana, a town of fewer than 2,000 people. She studied literature at Huntingdon College in Montgomery, Alabama (BA), and at the University of Chicago (MA) before earning her MFA in Creative Writing (Poetry) at Vermont College of Fine Arts. She has taught at colleges and universities in Illinois and Florida but feels settled in the Eastern Oregon high desert town of Pendleton. Her awards include: First place Karen Fredericks and Frances Willitts Poetry Prize (2008), Grand Prize Co-winner Trellis Magazine sestina contest (2008), First place Dylan Days Poetry Competition (2007), Award-winning poem published, Eleventh Muse (2006), Honorable mention, Dorothy Sargent Rosenberg Poetry Awards (2005), Honorable mention, Juniper Creek/Unnamed Writers Award (2005), and the title poem from this collection, “A Brief History of Time,” was nominated for a Pushcart prize (2004). She is the Poetry Editor of Contrary (www.contrarymagazine.com).

 

 



You can find more about Shaindel and her work at these places:





Thanks, Shaindel!


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Today is anti-plagiarism day over at How Publishing Really Works. I’m not going to go into too much detail on the subject other than to say I’ve witnessed it recently twice and I can tell you it’s hurtful and it’s wrong. It’s theft and it’s violation. And anyone who does it should be utterly ashamed off themselves and ask themselves why they need to steal others’ ideas, and whether it’s all really worth it; surely winning competitions and gaining publication with one’s own ideas is far more rewarding.

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And lastly, but by no means leastly, happy birthday Tania.

Happy Reading

Mr Postman brought me this a couple of days ago. I had been excited about receiving it for a good while.

And look at what the lovely author wrote in it.
But the question is: did I like it?
And I can tell you, I absolutely loved it. I read it in one go. Front to back, right the way through. That doesn’t happen very often (the last time it did, I think, was Sarah Salway’s Something Beginning With), and then I read it again.
Shaindel Beers has a remarkable talent for making a reader feel something. And she might just be the queen of last lines. There were a number of times when reading her last lines caused me to gasp or (I’ll admit it) nearly cry.
And she’s fearless in what she writes about, and although there are some big themes they never feel sensational. But they do feel honest. And they echo.
I’ll have to go a long, long way to find a poetry collection this good.
***
(And if you like the sound of Shaindel and her work you might want to keep an eye on this blog. I’ve broken off from typing up her interview questions to write this post…)
And here’s a video of her reading HA – which is almost my favourite in the book.

A Brilliant Show

Yesterday evening I went to see The Fourpenny Circus, which, says the website, is ‘a lightly staged poetry show which combines good live literature with silliness, sadness and stagecraft‘ – and it was really, really good. Funny in (plenty of) places, sad in others and on one or two occasions even a little rude. I enjoyed it a lot, not only for the poems, which were mostly great and at times brilliant, but for the show as well, for the movement. And when those in the show are poets (Jo Bell, Joy Winkler, John Lindley and Andrew Rudd)and not actors I think that’s quite an achievement. Great stuff. I’d recommend it to anyone, I think.
(And a big thank you to Jess for driving me there.)



Hectic

Well, this is the end of another hectic week and I’m really starting to feel like I could do with a little break, or at least a little time to just write. But that’ll come. I’m almost up to date, which means that those people who are waiting for things from me won’t have to wait much longer. Almost, almost there.


***

And I received this yesterday from the fab Jenn Ashworth, who’s doing a terrific job with the Preston Writing Network:

Word Soup #3: The Poetry Edition 
@ The New Continental Events Space, South Meadow Lane, Preston 
01772 499207
£3 on the door 7.30pm – 10pm – Tuesday 23rd June

Up until now our focus has been on prose but for 
Word Soup #3 we’re focusing exclusively on poetry. We’ve three great performance poets booked to perform (see below) and – in a change to our usual format, have open mike spots available to book on the night. 

Each open mike slot will be for three minutes, and unlike our first two nights, there is no theme – the night is completely open to new and emerging talent. 

Sarah Miller is a playwright and performing poet.  She recently performed for Apples & Snakes at PUSH in Contact, Manchester and at the Spoken Word Open Mic in the Brewery, Kendal.  Sarah is influenced by youth culture,  overhearing conversations and  Barrow-in-Furness where she lives.  Her plays Asboy, Ice Baby and Surfacing were recently toured by the Ashton Group Young Apprentice Actors.

Gary Bridgens is new to the spoken word scene but has been performing as a clown and street performer for 20 yrs.  He took part in Superheroes of Slam which was his first slam last year and got through to the semi final.  Since then he has impressed audiences with his witty banter and fast patter uke numbers.  He has been support act to internationally renowned Polar Bear and he’s been a guest performer and compere for Apples & Snakes in Cumbria. 

Ann the Poet has been performing poetry in pubs, theatres and at festivals for fifteen years.  She was the Poet Laureate for South Cumbria in 2006.  She’s a regular compère at the Brewery spoken word nights and at Solfest.  She published her collectionSynesthestic last year.  She features on the poetry/sonic art net albums The Resting Bench by Ann Wilson and Clutter and The Resting Bench Remix Projects 1, 2 and 3 which can be downloaded free at www.earthmp.com   For more info on Ann the poet or to sign up to her mailing list visit www.annthepoet.com

Word Soup is Preston Writing Network event. For more information, go to www.prestonwritingnetwork.blogspot.com.



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And that is all. Have a top weekend, folks.


Last Post

I’ve just had an email from my writing group member, Jenny, (you might remember I mentioned her the other day; she’s the one who’s the British Legion member) informing me that we’re in The Whitehaven News. Excellent stuff.

One of the poems Jenny contributed to the collection we did for the BL is about a former Whitehaven resident. I’ll not go into too much detail because you can see the whole article here (I especially liked this bit: “and it feels to me now like Richard Eaves wrote it for Nik, using me as the vehicle to get his message across.”).

And here’s the poem (great innit!):

LAST POST
Jenny Martin

Nineteen-fifteen silk postcard
hand embroidered flowers
and greeting
To dearest Mother on your birthday.
Pencilled message
‘Out with my pals
got this
hope you like it.
Love from Tommy.’

Shells scream, ears sing;
stars silent.

Nineteen-sixteen silk postcard
pink wild roses
leaves fresh green.
From your loving son.
‘I’m all right but
CENSORED
Love from Tommy.’

Lice, rats, barbed wire, entrails, putrid water
scum, slime;
itching, scratching, retching, thirsty.

Nineteen-sixteen silk postcard
fir trees
holly, mistletoe
Happy Christmas to my mother.
‘They said we’ll get some Christmas dinner.
Love from Tommy.’

Stacked corpses trampled

tree stumps jagged
bleached bones broken
in foetid cesspit, crying murder.

Nineteen-seventeen silk postcard
fleur-de-lys
Je pense à toi.
‘Somebody told me it means
I’m thinking of you.
Love from Tommy.’

‘Stand-to!’

Machine guns
d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d

TELEGRAM
REGRET TO INFORM YOU

Silk postcard
hand embroidered cornflowers, poppies
Flowers of Flanders.
Pencilled message
‘These flowers grow in churned up ground.
Love from Tommy.’