Category Archives: #snow

What’s the first rule of M.E. club?

Yep. Don’t overstretch yourself.

What have I done?

Overstretched myself. I’ve signed up for all the things, said yes to all the jobs and I’m just about coping…

The thing is, new year, new intentions, the weird belief that being in lockdown means I’m less busy (being in lockdown isn’t that different when you’ve got a chronic condition) and a good deal of need for distraction means my “no” filter is well and truly clogged.

Cat is disappointed with my lack of discipline

Starting the year with a rejection or two

is never ideal. It’s part of being a published writer, and I am less likely to weep and wail and snap pencils in half* than I used to be but it still hurts. One in particular was for a set of poems I’ve worked really hard on, and pinned a host of hopes to and the days after finding out they’d not been chosen oscillated between Pollyanna-like positivity and a touch of crushed despair. Putting your heart on a page to be judged will do that I guess. Add in the context of knowing people are going through a whole lot worse than you, others are working round the clock to save lives, continue education and feed people who are too stubborn to wear a mask, and the whole business of submitting poetry feels a little hollow.

Poetry isn’t pointless though

nor is music, art, tv (unless it’s actually Pointless of course) film or any hybrid collab you can shake a stick at.  It helps distract, comfort, crystallise emotion. It might make someone laugh or be the gateway for unshed tears. I’ve said before, the thing that means the most to me is when people getting in touch to say what I’ve written resonated with them, moved them, mattered to them. And of course I’ll keep going because that appears to be what I do, what I stick at despite the challenges and what I seem to be good at. I’ve sent another batch of submissions out today…I’ll spend the next week or so checking my inbox far too often, then forget about them and get either a fabulous surprise or another knock. And so the cycle continues.

Reading is hard at the moment

because I’ve taken on all the things, when I stop, it’s hard to focus on reading. I know this is bad – my brain needs food to function. Having said that I’ve enjoyed a fabulous collection of short stories Black Vodka by Deborah Levy is a collection that explore all kinds of love, in all kinds of cities and all kinds of lives. I miss travel, I miss people, and this collection of stories has snaked its way around my heart and mind. The writing is so beautiful I can almost taste it as I read.

Poetry wise I’m revisiting an unfinished book Urn & Drum by Lila Matsumoto. The poems are sparse. They leave me with a sense of hanging in the air. I enjoy the quiet that surrounds the words, the focus that inhabits each line. It’s a collection I’ll return to.

Halfway through February

already and it’s Valentine’s day! I love this day, the hearts, the kitschness, the overcommercialism. I am taking the weekend off to spend time surrounded by paper hearts  eat every heart shaped item of food I can find and drink every pink drink produced to celebrate the brutal martyrdom of a 5th century member of the clergy I can lay my hands on. At this point in winter, it really is a case of any excuse for a celebration and I really do love a heart or two.

Thank you for reading, stay safe, wash your hands, eat your greens and hug a tree

Kathryn xx

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Does your brain hurt ?

I can feel mine scrunching up, almost twitching with over-use.  The vast quantities of snow that covered Shropshire and the Gorge in particular have given me so  much time to write that I’ve managed to get myself in a bit of a pickle. I’ve always been one to push and pressurise (whilst maintaining an demeanour of not caring a jot), and I seem to have decided that the best way to tackle my degree is to race through the course in a bid to finish this module and get on to the next.

And then I had to stop. Nothing was making sense, all the reading was getting harder and I finally realised I was wasting my time. I had to give myself a talking to, and remind myself that the reason I am studying is not to get yet another piece of paper, but to be a better writer. The carrot of qualification is a powerful one, but ultimately meaningless. This is even more ridiculous when I consider that this section is on a subject I adore, is introducing me to a range of writers and leading me to revisit some of the work that has most influenced me. Racing through is making me feel rotten, dissatisfied and frustrated. It’s time to breathe, and to allow myself to enjoy what I am studying, to make the most of the opportunity. When I’ve decompressed a little, I shall write a few more posts about the stories I’ve read this week. They are stunning, and have shown me the art and beauty of short fiction.

In other news, I managed to get out to take some snow pictures, which was a wonderful thing. Being out, wearing the  unworn snow boots I bought in the excitement of the last snowy winter (2013), seeing my breath, being immersed in the bright chill of the wooded landscape, it was wonderful. I feel at home in winter.

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Coalbrookdale Pools ©kam

 

 

All in all, a time of learning, both from books and from the wise, interspersed with throwing snowballs for the cat.

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Unimpressed. ©kam

 

 

Winter is icumin in

Winter is properly here. No snow in the Dale as yet but it’s forecast and I’m excited. Odd really, but it feels different to be trapped by snow rather than trapped by being poorly. Perhaps it is because it makes me think of being small; playing out till I got too cold, then pikelets by the gas fire,whilst being warned of mysterious things called chilblains . Whether I will still feel like this when I am cold and slip-sliding around is a different story but,for the moment, I shall remain excited.

Winter is also wonderful for writing. There is nothing else to be done, no gardening, no lazy barbecues with friends, no trips to the seaside, no temptation to try to write outside and end up distracted by pretty much everything. I have had two solid days alone and it has been wonderful, allowing me to focus on finishing my third assignment and to begin my next module. This module is all about the history of the short story, and whilst interesting , it is somewhat condensed. Nineteenth century fiction is given a grand total of two pages. Poor old Chekhov.

I find I am comfortable with this kind of study. A lot of it is familiar territory and because of this I am able to use the course materials to understand my own writing and how to improve it. I feel quite calm, whereas whilst studying the previous section on Flash Fiction I felt like an excitable puppy. My confidence is growing, and I am finding I seek to criticise my work in order to improve it, rather than to convince myself I’m worthy of even trying. This is a massive step forward.

I haven’t entered a great many competitions lately. For one thing it is very expensive, and for another I am focused on trying to get the most from this course. As well as the technical knowledge, I get high quality criticism from my tutors, who are all published writers,so hopefully by the end of this course I should be in a better place to win, or at least get shortlisted. Or long-listed. Or the ‘we really like it but it won’t sell’ listed. You get the gist.

I am waiting for feedback on my most recent assignment . I submitted three pieces of Flash Fiction, and I adored writing them. This is an area I am new to, as both reader and writer but, despite initial misgivings, I find that I love to work in this way. It’s a tight, disciplined way of writing that forces the writer and reader to focus on the details and undercurrents to gain understanding. The most memorable pieces of flash I have read stay with me in the manner of a good poem. I am happy to have found it. One of the reasons I love this format is because the end product is easier to navigate. Proof reading two thousand plus words when I have brain fog is incredibly hard and a source of constant frustration. I generally manage about two hundred words before I realise they are starting to swim and merge and that I can barely remember what a comma looks like, never mind how to use it. A short, sharp piece of flash is possible to proof in two sittings, which means I feel a little more in control of the process and that I am working with the story as a whole.

It’s a fabulous feeling to finally be doing what I’ve always wanted to do.

Thanks for reading. As ever I love to have your support. Having people to write for, however few, is helping my confidence and skills grow day by day. If you have read this, would you help me out by liking my Facebook post, or liking/commenting on here ? I am trying to see how many people my blog actually reaches.

Finally, a picture of a snowman.

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