Self-belief is both nectar and poison. Too much – I risk being seen as arrogant, pushy or proud, too little and I remain shadow side, whispering about the things I like to do and *might* be good at. Self-belief is not for people like me- female, working class background, chronic illness. Self-belief slips through my fingers at every turn.
And yet it must be there. There must be something that wanders in to my mind and tells me that I have something to say, and people to hear it. A poetry tutor saying “You’ve a voice that needs to be heard” took my breath away. I mean, everyone needs to be heard, but I think this was meant in a positive and particular way.
Yet still I wrestle with myself – to grow courage to join in with the group, to speak in class, to read what I’ve written during an exercise. Yet I feel wonderful once I’ve done it, once my breathing has calmed, my heart has slowed. Once I learn to quiet the voices that mutter of the fool I have made.
Reinvigorate your writing
My third workshop with Nine Arches was led by Ian Humphreys. Ian’s book Zebra was one of the first books of modern poetry I read from cover to cover, and one of the first that showed me that poetry does not have to be a puzzle. The concept that poetry must be oblique, must be something to “get” is one I was taught, and one that leaves many people thinking poetry is not for them. Popular poets are derided and sniffed at, well-known poets are seen as somehow letting the side down. The idea that poetry is not for everyone is perpetuated.
Back to the workshop. Yesterday’s session was all about writing poetry in a direct manner. Reading for the session included work form Andrea Cohen, Collette Bryce, Hannah Lowe, and a stomach twisting performance piece by Lily Myers. It is the kind of work I love to read, and the kind of work that I seem to write.
Giving my self permission
I’ve long worried that I’m not “poetic” enough. I use the all the tools, love to play with rhythm, repetition, white space. I love the way imagery insinuates itself into my work without my really knowing and I love that these tools work to create a connection with other people. Reading and hearing work from people that write in a way that is direct, that is pointed, makes me feel there is a place for my less than pretty style.
Another point made by Ian was to embrace the power of the new – to push out of what makes us comfortable. Again, this requires confidence but what I love about taking part in a workshop is the sense of immediacy. There is little time to mither and fret – the focus is firmly on writing and embracing the now for that workshop moment the words come and knit themselves together – and later I will remove the fluff. Above all, the time spent yesterday helped me feel there is a place for my writing, and a reason to keep trying. That’s got to be a good thing.