Reading and Redding Up

As Mid Term Break begins and snow has caused my son’s basketball game to be cancelled, I’m availing of the opportunity to read and redd my way through the mountain of things I have put by my writing space at the dining table since Christmas. These include receipts, schoolwork, notebooks, to do lists, shells and sea glass lifted from Rathmullan walks with Summer, my kindle, novels, things cut out of the newspaper and poetry books. These are hastily bundled to make way if we need the table, as when Garden Room Writers met here last week. It’s amazing how the pile accumulates and appears to the untrained eye (my mother’s) as a mess. Still, I know exactly what is where and that none of it is for dumping.

For years my morning ritual includes time spent with a poem, a pause before the working day commences. The first coffee of the day tastes of poetry. Last thing most evenings when the lights are going out and the kitchen is stilling I dip in again. The pick-up-ability of a poetry book means there is always one in my handbag to pass the moments I must while away over the course of the day.  Bed-time reading is always a novel (The Witchfinder’s Sister these nights), but these are like TV: entertainment, downtime, relaxation and relatively forgettable. Poetry reading is something else, maybe closer to prayer in my life, certainly in that it insinuates its way into most of my waking time. It’s soulful, meditative, for sure but also like the best conversations it is provocative and inspiring. I am the better for it.

Among the books I bundle today are Annemarie Ni Churreainn’s BLOODROOT, and Amanda Bell’s First the Feathers from Doire Press and the beautiful gift of Emma McKervey’s collection, The Rag Tree Speaks, that Lisa sent along with my order. Also in there, the most wonderful Dead End from Joan Newmann from Summer Palace Press and brand-new purchase, Angel Hill from Michael Longley, published by Cape Poetry.  I feel blessed among these books, this rich seam to mine as the snow falls outside. I am reminded with each dip into these collections of Imelda Maguire’s beautiful ‘Why I Love Poetry’ from her collection Serendipidy from Revival Press.

“I love the friendliness of poetry –

the way the poet expects me to see

what they mean. Like a friend would.

I love the trust in that. I love that

 every poem is another hand, reaching,

warming.”

November Submission Mission

In a fog of tiredness staved off by coffee at a Garden Room Writers’ meeting at the end of October, I suggested submitting a piece daily for the month as a writing challenge.

I thoroughly enjoyed the Month of May Poetry Challenge and figured that this would be a similarly stimulating thing to try. 

I approached the task with determination, even posted on Twitter to fasten myself to the commitment and got off to a fine start. (The coffee had kicked in by the time I got home) Over the next day or so,

I researched new outlets, intending not to rely on magazines or sites that had taken my work before and organised a planner with deadlines and T&Cs.

I sent poems out for nine days in a row. After a lapse, I sent out work on three more occasions. A mere forty percent of what I’d hoped.

Still, I learned a few things along the way.

I love Angela Carr for her monthly compilation of  submission opportunities.

It is healthy to probe around the folders and take a fresh look at older work.

I am a fussy submitter. I will not send out work for the sake of it.

I discovered some great new places to read and send work; I like the look of the Lascaux Review, and Jacar Press's  One a lot. Leanne O'Sullivan has a beautiful poem in the recent issue. 

When you send out a lot, you get rejected a lot.

There is a great comfort when rejections come that there is still work out there and with it the continued hope of success.

I have always resisted sim subs, and I plan to continue this. Too much organising required.

Some sites, for example Riggwelter Press  have a very quick turnaround. I’m not convinced this is a good thing but it was helpful to have the work available again quickly in the context of this challenge.

It’s definitely easier to write daily than to submit daily, reassuring to have tested this.

My best outcome is that work has been accepted by Algebra of Owls, for publication in January and that wee validation, that hit of encouragement never fails to give me a boost. 

Some thoughts on reading at Over the Edge next week- and a poem

In ten day's time I will drive to Galway and join Breda Spaight and Afric McGlinchey as featured readers at the Over the Edge reading in the city library. I am thrilled and rightly nervous at the thought of this reading. Moreover, I am  proud to be doing it and glad of the validation of my writing. There is always this nagging question with me, how much of a writer am I really? Do I spend enough time and energy at writing to justify a claim to the title poet? On good days I see the progress I've made, other days I only see the rejection emails.
I don't have this kind of insecurity about my job, I'm good at it and I can say so. I know how to gauge that, how to up-skill and reinvent, reinterpret, keep fresh. I am inspired by my students and my colleagues in the English department and rarely too tired or otherwise turned off to make most days a good day at the office. There is an element of  performance in teaching and of course a script in the form of a syllabus and prescribed texts.

Heritage Days and CultureTECH

This week is Heritage week and there are lots of events running currently around the country including in  Donegal. Information is available here