Hello! I hope you’re all well and enjoying the first signs of spring – I have daffodils poking up all over the place and the birds are definitely pairing up – I fear I may have pigeon wars again this year.
If you’ve been a subscriber to Kathryn Anna Writes for some time (thank you!) you’ll have noticed some changes to my content over the last few months. In an attempt to streamline things a little, and also to be part of the growing community of writers and thinkers on Substack, I’ve switched some of my more writerly content away from this website to make space for more about my new venture writing personalised wedding poems and making poetry prints. My initial idea was to copy all my new musings over to here, then I remembered Google hates (and I mean hates) duplicate content, so I’ve had to make the decision to make a more definite split.
I’ll still be posting updates and news on here, but any longer essays and poetry film are on my new(ish) publication This Wild Feeling. I’d love it if you’d join me over there (it’s completely free) and I’m ever grateful for your continued support, which ever platform you choose to use stay in touch.
One of my goals for this year was to commit to regular updates on my blog. I’ve been a keen blogger for a while – it’s very much a diary as well as a way of connecting with people. Last year I lost my way a little (I suspect grief may have been a driver for this) and tried all sorts of ill-fitting hats. I want to get back to writing in my own voice and valuing my own thoughts and ideas – a blog is the perfect place to do this, and my new platform, Substack is a veritable feast of ideas and excellent writing.
My aim is to post regularly. For me this means posting at least once a week with a regular update of what’s going on for me as a writer. I also intend to longer form pieces that look at ideas and thoughts about writing in more detail. I aim to post every other week alternating with my poetry films.
The best place to see these updates is Substack – you can subscribe for free, and you’re guaranteed to see what I write. You’ll also find some of the most interesting new writing on all sorts of subjects and by all sorts of people. It’s as far from mindless social media scrolling as you can get – other than going to an actual library and reading of course, but that can be tricky to do in a snatched few minutes between all the other things we all have to juggle.
Just a word on visibility; you’re probably familiar with the fact that social media is a woeful way to keep up with all but a very few folk (I think I see about five friends!) – it’s almost as though all they’re really interested in is getting me to advertise… if you’re keen to keep up with how things are going keep an eye on your inbox. My original WordPress site is still very much alive too, so you can always look me up there if Substack isn’t your thing.
I’m excited to see what this year will bring, and as with everything, it’s always better when I’ve got my friends with me.
On to this week’s round up then. I’ve had a week of solitude, which has been rather nice. I’d like to say I’ve devoted it to writing, but domestic duties have got in the way. We’ve had the last two windows replaced in our little terrace, so things will be much less draughty. As with any job like this the dust was, shall we say, exuberant, and much of my week has been devoted to calming it down.
As well as my role in dust control (always the poet) I’ve spent more time tweaking and fretting about my commercial venture Kathryn Anna Writes Bespoke, written another article for one of my lovely content writing clients, before finally finding time to write and review some of my own work. I’ve sent off a mini round of submissions, caught up with some of my What to Look for in Winter notes and still not started Poetry Projects to make and do! Top of the list for next week.
What I love about writing is that it gives me a sense of who I am beyond anything else. It’s the most important thing I can do in terms of self-care, and the most important thing to make time for. I’m making changes to the way I structure my week which I hope will have a positive impact on my writing. I’m also making changes to how I use social media – you can read more about this on Wednesday!
For someone who considers themselves a private, almost secretive, soul I appear to be happy to share my exploration of poetry film without filter. I think this is because it thrills me. I make a film, I want to share it immediately. This is possibly foolish. Until a few weeks ago I was in the merry state of unconscious incompetence. This is the point at which you’re learning a new skill and have no idea of just how much you don’t know. The simple thrill of the activity carries your beyond any sense of reason or caution. You plunge in, flail about, somehow manage to doggy paddle your way to where you need to be and are so thrilled to be there the method really doesn’t matter. It’s a joyful place.
To become good though it’s necessary to edge into the most uncomfortable part of any learning process. Conscious incompetence. You suddenly realise you know nothing. You have been deluded, ridiculously enthusiastic and entirely foolish. You feel embarrassed, despondent – all those emotions that make a person want to give up. A couple of weeks ago I joined “ Poetry Film Live”. This is a free event where people talk about their work, explore ideas about poetry film and showcase their own creations. I felt myself shrink inside. You see I’m fairly ignorant about this world. It’s new, I didn’t know such a thing existed until around this time last year and I was overwhelmed by not only the brilliance of the work but the brilliance of the people making it.
The initial gloom and grind of imposter syndrome crept in of course. I batted it off. I love making these films. I realised the main thing I felt embarrassed about was that these first few films made use of a lot of stock media. The answer? Well initially I fretted about not being able to get out to make loads of films, worried that I would never be the type of person who considered themselves a “real” photographer. Then realised that I take dozens and dozens of photographs, I take photos that play with light, that try to capture a feeling, convey a mood. I have a library of images that is perfect.
Using my own images brings something else again to these films. The senses of words and pictures intertwining is even stronger and I feel I have created something beautiful that enhances the poem – one which is even more poignant since Dad died last December.
You can see all my poetry films, including this latest one, on Words and Pictures
A cool week in Coalbrookdale. I’ve started a business course (free from Learning Curve) that’s giving me the basics of business start-up. A lot of the course harks back to my old days at Dollond and Aitchison, training people how to dispense specs but there’s a fair chunk that is stuff I’ve studiously ignored for much of my life (think tax, profit, accounting) but realise I need to give a little attention to. It’s a straightforward course and a good grounding in the basics.
More excitingly I’ve received a set of paper samples ( my definition of exciting has always been quite niche) from GF Smith and they are beautiful! I already print my Bespoke Poetry on quality paper and as things expand I’m hoping to offer a range of ready to buy work as well. Creating something with this kind of attention to detail elevates it to be the quality product I’m aiming to produce.
These are small steps, but mark a point of both clarity and of valuing this project. I realise that I can create work that is easy to place as part of an event as well as being a pleasing piece of writing. I want to create something that people value and that can only happen when I value it myself. It’s slow to build this kind of thing, but orders are coming in and I can’t tell you what a thrill it is to know my words are being read as part of milestone occasions, and enjoyed as a genuinely thoughtful gift.
The final boost to this project happened last week. A friend (who’s always been incredibly supportive of my work) introduced me to someone a web designer and proceeded to tell me they could help me with a new site, and that they’d be willing to do this free of charge. I’m still a bit overwhelmed at this level of kindness and belief in what I do. It’s given me such a boost and will make a huge difference.
I’ve had a productive week with my own writing too. I’ve sent my new book out into the world to see if it can find it’s publishing home, entered poems for consideration in two anthologies and printed a selection of poems for an exhibition in our local “Free Little Gallery”.
One of the poems that will feature in my mini exhibition in Coalbrookdale’s Free Little Gallery
Amongst all the “business” side of writing there has been very little actual writing. I’m hoping this will change with a couple of courses I’m part of this month. First up is Wendy Pratt’s Late Summer – A Sensory Experience a writing challenge that I hope is going to help me calm the busyness and really focus on the world around me. On Monday I have a workshop with Liz Berry via The Poetry Business called Twilight and Dusk – I love everything about Liz Berry’s work and her gentle subversiveness makes for inspiring workshops. I’m excited to begin work on something new.
If you’re interested in in my poetry film and in hearing me read some of my work you can find me Substack – I’m going to be adding more readings and film over the next few weeks and I’d love it if you’d join me there. Follow this link and subscribe to stay up to date!
I’ve had a little holiday this week. I’ve been to very few places, talked to very few people and existed in a quiet calm I’ve not enjoyed for months. Being introverted is doesn’t mean I don’t like people, parties and the general bonhomie of a crowd. It means that too much bonhomie is exhausting. It’s not always easy to find time to be alone, and when I’ve over-peopled, it’s really hard to wind down. A few days alone at home has restored and rejuvenated and given me time to reset a little.
I’ve also had more time to play with because of a downturn in my content writing work. I really miss the rhythm of it and hope things will pick up soon. One of my goals for the week was to apply for five new jobs, and as part of my application I realised I really love the idea that my words are helping a business succeed. I take so much pride in what I do, and whilst it’s not always the most glamorous of roles, it’s something that brings structure and calm to my week.
I love this view from my window
So what have else I done with my few days of introvert solace? Another goal was to submit five poems for consideration by lit journals. My focus on Dust meant I submitted very little last year and I feel I need to get myself back into the scene a little. One of the side benefits of exploring potential publication opportunities is that it means I read a huge amount of new poetry, which informs and inspires my own work.
Creative focus
I have a poem about murmuration (it’s hard to find a poet who doesn’t) and I’ve been looking for images to use alongside the words. It’s taken a while to identify the right ones, but the wonder that is Andrew Fusek Peters has kindly agreed to allow me to work with his fabulous photographs taken at nearby Cheswardine. I’m thrilled.
Poetry film seems to nudge something awake for me. I enjoy the fact that I can create something similar to a cut up or blackout poem, using the combination of image and language to shift emphasis. I’m very new to it and the treasure that is imposter syndrome creeps in of course, but the excitement I feel at building layering each element outweighs these nerves.
Endings and beginnings
This weekend sees the end of my exhibition with Maggie Cameron. It’s fantastic that what started as a fun thing to do each morning has become something that we’re both proud of. My only regret is that I didn’t read at the launch (for exceptionally good reasons). We are planning to create a book that will include poems and images that weren’t part of the exhibition and my goal is to read for that.
My final goal for the week was to spend some time reviewing and editing what I hope will be my next pamphlet. I have a month of mentoring with Wendy Pratt in April, and I’m keen to nail down both the theme of the pamphlet and the poems that fit. My problem is that a lot of the work drifts in and out of my three major themes and I’m in a place of ridiculous indecision. My desk is flurry of A5 sheets with ever-shifting homes. At least i know what next week’s goal is…
Restoration not renovation
This week has been invaluable for me. As many of you know, M.E. means I have limited useful hours in each day and careful planning is needed to get any tasks done. I’m coming up to my 10 year anniversary of being ill (party hats at the ready…) and I’m proud of the way I’ve learned to live with my health. The relentless search for a cure has ceased and I focus my efforts on living the best way I can within my limitations. Having time to focus on creativity, and on myself means a sense of reconnecting. It’s the kind of feeling I always get on holiday and to have been able to find it in my own four walls is wonderful.
I’ve spent my morning creating a poetry film. It uses a piece I wrote about twelve months ago. based on the charming tale of the tiny owl found in the Rockefeller Christmas tree. The original poem is a “blackout” poem inspired by a transcript of one of the many news reports at the time and first appeared on the fabulous Sledgehammer Lit earlier this year.
I love blackout poems – the unsaying of things. The contrast between what the brain sees, what it knows and what it thinks it sees is a long-time conundrum and this type of poetry presents a powerful visual vehicle to express this. Transforming it to a film seemed like the logical thing to do and you can watch it here.
I’ve had news of another acceptance this week, for another more experimental poem which will be part of the next issue of Spelt magazine. I’m learning that I know when something is working – there’s a specific unnameable feeling that emerges. I need to listen to it more.
Poetry is a powerful thing. I’m reading Cooking with Marilyn by Angela Readman at the moment. It’s one of those books that stops me in my tracks. Inside the prettiest of blue covers are words that illuminate the realities of living with trauma, as well as illuminating the absurdity of living in the spotlight. It’s clever, tender, heartrending and the kind of poetry I dream of writing.
Which gets me thinking – what is missing in my own work? I think it’s the sense of other. I tend to write very domestic, down to earth stuff, which is fine, I’m often a no-nonsense type of person. My best/favourite work it the work that goes beyond this though – stuff that I read back and almost don’t recognise. Fear of being airy-fairy stops me I think – the old “who does she think she is” – what’s the answer?
The answer, I think is to shift my focus back to the words – I’ve had a taste of publishing and love the thrill of having work accepted. I write to be read, after all. But the temptation is to learn to the test, to try to figure out the current zeitgeist and reach the point where when people ask, “would I know your work” I can shout “yes!” and point at a billboard. And then the magic fades.
A zeitgeist is just that – something that captures a mood. It can’t be manufactured or pre-empted, not without diluting it’s very point. Popularity comes almost by accident – it’s the result of a huge amount of hard work of course, but the conflation of moment, time, people, cannot be predicted. Trying to anticipate and pre-create simply reduces the validity and impact of the work itself.
All this sounds like an excuse, and I wouldn’t blame you for thinking “well she would say that wouldn’t she”. Honestly though, this whole business is a pull between longing for success, for publication, for recognition, and longing to immerse myself in words, absorb and bathe in language and pay no mind to the outside world whatsoever. Getting the balance right it what makes a great poet I guess. Until I reach that point, I shall keep reading, writing, gnashing my teeth at rejection and being childishly delighted every time a poem is accepted for publication.
Kathryn Anna Marshall 