Tag Archives: #writingskills

Mentoring update

April has been quite the month. I’ve been flying high from inspirational mentoring and also experienced one of my worst episodes of PEM (post exertional malaise) for around 12 months. I should be used to these extremes by now, but they never fail to knock and shock me.

Let’s begin with the mentoring. I have gained so much from these sessions. I feel a difference in my body when I think about my writing. I no longer feel quick of breath and anxious – I feel I breathe to my stomach, pull myself up and, to quote the 2010s “own it”. I don’t feel embarrassed about trying, I don’t feel that I have to be a certain type of poet to be successful, and I have a clear sense of who I am and where I want to be. There will be hiccups and setbacks, but I’m very used to dealing with those, and having a sense of ownership means I can tackle any setbacks head on, rather than spiralling into thinking “I’m a terrible writer I should just give up”.

Writing and wellbeing

I realise this is the thing that drives me as a poet. Poetry and song lyrics have been my strength throughout my life, and the value of poetry for mental well-being cannot be underestimated. On of my goals over the next year is to develop a series of writers workshops specifically designed to manage and enhance mental well-being. Learning to stop and look, to consider emotion and to express those emotions is a powerful and valuable thing. I’m laying the groundwork through research, and you’ll find a series of articles about writing and well being on my Substack.

There is value in time spent writing

Another huge step has been to release myself from feeling I had to keep my foot in the door of the content writing industry. I genuinely enjoy content writing and spent a while mourning the loss of regular income (and goodness I still do). I also realised that the world of the kick ass copywriter is not for me. The endless round of applying for jobs I’m not really qualified for (marketing is a very different animal to writing) is quite a task and undoubtedly soul destroying especially given that the modern way seems to be to just ignore unsuccessful applicants. I ended the first quarter of the year feeling washed up and useless.

The timing of my mentoring could not have been better. I bought the sessions with money I had for my 50th birthday, intending to start in the new year. After the loss of Dad, I simply didn’t feel I’d do the sessions justice and Wendy kindly allowed me to postpone. The first session began with the magic question “what do you want from your writing”. What do I want ? When did I last even consider that? Like many people I am so bound up in meeting the needs of others that “what I want” rarely enters my head and when it does it is swiftly despatched. Wendy writes about this extensively in her latest article How to give yourself permission to write, which is well worth a read. The concept isn’t restricted to writing either – this way of thinking can be applied to anything you love to do but don’t feel able to make room for. I’m almost at the end of my mentoring month and one of the overarching results is that I feel confident enough in my own work to give it priority and protect my creative time.

Commercial ventures as a writer

I do however still need to generate some income. The few hours of content writing I could do was never going to make me rich, but it did bring a little extra cash our way. Part of my new found confidence in my own work means I am refocused a couple of commercial ventures. I have written, designed and printed a series of botanical greetings cards, inspired by the language of flowers and illustrated by Maggie Cameron. Learning about dots per inch, printing quality, bleed boxes and other terms I never knew I’d need to understand has been quite a challenge, but I’ve done it and am really pleased with the results. The cards are available from me, and our fabulous local florist Nettie of the Gorge.

I’ve also relaunched my Bespoke Poetry service. Spending time researching what others offer, finding where my work and style will fit has taken a little time, but it’s been time well spent. I had my first external order this week, and I loved creating something that will be part of such an important day. I feel like one of those people I read about in magazines who find a new life after 50.

This month marks ten years since my diagnosis with M.E. I am astonished at where I am now. It’s really hard, I’m still pretty poorly most of the time. Writing has given me an identity, and a reason to keep seeking a place in the world. Creating workshops to support others, and writing work that connects with people gives me a sense of value that felt impossible when I first fell ill. Here’s to keeping going.

I leave you with these beautiful words about Dust. It’s a year since we successfully crowdfunded the project. I’m proud of this book for so many reasons, and none more important than responses like this.

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We keep going

We do. I do. Even when keeping going is less than simple. This week has been one of peaks and troughs. I began with a visit to Nettie of the Gorge, a beautiful florists in Ironbridge. My nervous gabble about my flower poems was well received, and not only will I be selling my work in this gorgeous space, I got some solid advice about how to make the work into a more appealing format. I’ve also spent time this week fine tuning my Etsy offering, creating Flower Scrolls that I think look gorgeous and can offer at an affordable price point. I enjoy this – it’s hard not to get disheartened (instant success is not going to happen) but I feel I have a strong product and hope that things will take off soon.

I’ve also revamped my Bespoke Poetry offering, thinking about the different occasions I can write for, and increasing my online presence. If you have a moment to check out my Etsy shop and share it via your social media or messages that would be amazing.

Visit my Etsy shop

I’ve also spent time this week writing and researching articles for my Substack. I’m enjoying thinking about the connections with writing and wellbeing, and the research I’m doing is adding substance to writers workshops I am developing for the latter part of the year. It’s good to be using my research skills for something I really believe in.

My substack is also going to be home to my readings – part of my mentoring workshop involves me reading my own work, for feedback and critique and I’ve realised I really enjoy reading the poems aloud, and to an audience. I’ll be adding poems to my Substack over the summer.

Visit my Substack

My week ended with two hours of immersion in poetry. I am so glad I took the plunge to have professional mentoring with Wendy Pratt. I feel more in control of my own work, know where to improve and crucially know where my strengths lie. I feel like I’ve had a mini spa – the tension and strain has left my shoulders and the sense of uselessness (an inevitable consequence of unemployment) has faded a little. And so, I keep going.

Until next time

Kathryn

xx

New Adventures

Image of a pool and trees taken at Attingham Park in December

This year hasn’t been the best. Loss of significant loved ones, loss of stable income, and of precious routine have created a perfect storm that has been hard to handle at times. I write a great deal about my mental health and I know that many of you who read my blog struggle with similar issues.

I am still here. I am still writing (just) and I am determined not to go to ground. The people who are no longer here are two of the people who most loved the fact that I wrote – albeit in very different ways – and their encouragement and sheer joy at the words I put to paper is something to treasure despite the impossible sadness that they’re no longer here.

Adventures in poetry continue

Last year I had a big birthday, and with that birthday came gifts. These gifts were smushed together and I finally had enough cash to get professional advice about my career as a writer. Events took over and I only began my mentoring with Wendy Pratt last week. How glad I am. My nagging feeling that perhaps I needed to take the downturn in copywriting work as an opportunity crystallised in the realisation that if I spent as much time developing my creative practice (and crucially my presence as a writer) as I did writing about drainage in Australia, then perhaps just perhaps I may be able to rewrite my path once more. Wendy has helped me clarify, plan, motivate and move some way towards believing I can do this. Most importantly, she’s helped me give myself permission to try.

Substack news

I’ve long felt this blog was a little to much like a personal diary (which is exactly what it is). I love writing it and I love that people read it – but I want to write other stuff too. Substack has been on my radar for a while, but squeezing in time to manage another platform felt too much…can you see where this is going?

So I now have a Substack. The first post will be published at around 6pm on April 14th and I’ll publish a new post every two weeks on a Friday evening. I’ll be exploring poetry, well being and nature, with more of an emphasis on whys and hows rather than simple focus on my creative practice. I hope you’ll all join me on the imaginatively named Kathryn Anna Writes .

There’s a little more

Eager followers may remember my foray into poetry film. My first steps have stalled a little but this is a medium that excites and challenges me. I’m hoping to showcase new poetry film as part of my substack and hope you’ll join me for that too.

This blog will still be live, and I’ll still record my comings and goings – it’s been a great space to use to connect with people when connecting is hard. Thank you all, as ever

Kathryn

xx

Glimmers

Yesterday I had the privilege of leading a poetry workshop for a local sixth form. It was a joy. A nerve-wracking joy, but a joy nonetheless. In a previous life I worked as a tutor for a major optical retailer and one of my favourite things was reaching what I think of as the “aha” moment – the point when I see a light go on and feel that the group is onboard with me, and what I’m saying.

Poetry is a bridge between two people

Forty-five minutes isn’t long to create an atmosphere of excitement around poetry, but by the end of the session I received comments like “it’s easier than I thought” which is exactly what I set out to do. Poetry is given a mystique that I believe serves as a barrier. It’s a whirl of baffling terms, secret tricks and general otherness that can have the effect of making people consider that poetry is “not for them”. It’s a real sadness. I began yesterday’s session with an extract from this this interview with

‘Poetry and language, to me, is the DNA of our personhood. Ultimately for me, writing is a bridge between two people, a bridge made of language. And language belongs to all of us. If I enjoy a poem, that means I am recognizing within it something of myself, something I must already possess”

Ocean Vuong in the PBS Summer Bulletin

Ocean Vuong “Poetry is a bridge between two people”. By creating roadblocks to this bridge, people miss out on one of the most ancient forms of communication and connection.

Now, you may be about to misunderstand. I’m not saying there is no place for such delightful terms as trochee, amphibrach or kyrielle. Far from it – understanding and exploring these terms is a way in to experimentation and creation. What I challenge is whether understanding these terms is essential to connect with poetry. The academisation of the arts keeps those of us without the necessary cash or education firmly in our place and puts people off trying to break in to a world that seems to be nothing but barriers.

There are wonderful ways in. Literary magazines are, by and large, incredibly inclusive. Publishers actively highlight their desire to receive submissions from underrepresented groups. The sadness is that without a spark of joy and possibility, many people dismiss the very idea that they can write, much less consider that they should as a means of managing mental health and expressing emotion.

“Poetry creates avenues for self-expression that cannot be felt through other means of communication. This in itself can be a healing and restorative process, a self-guided therapy that allows us to strengthen our mental health and connection to ourselves, and to those around us.” DH Xiang

Creating access to poetry, demystifying it and offering a way in to this most fundamental act of self-expression is something that I realise means a huge amount to me. Reading and writing in general, and poetry in particular is a lifeline to me and an anchor in the darkest times. Knowing that I’ve given a glimmer of an idea that poetry is for everyone and knowing that even a few of the students I had the privilege of working with yesterday gained something from our all too brief session has inspired and renewed my enthusiasm and perhaps diluted the ever-present imposter syndrome. I’m building plans to expand my workshop offering, taking advantage of the gorgeous woods nearby and creating space to explore nature and language. The fact that glimmers of sunlight are illuminating the hazel catkins I see from my desk can only be a sign.

Poetry as priority

My week has seen the end of the wonderful Nine Arches Press Kickstart your writing course – and what a wonderful end it was. I adore Tania Hershman’s work, and spending two hours exploring the brilliance of brevity in poetry was nothing short of magical. I have a renewed vigour for my own work, and the power of cutting back. Perhaps it’s the gardener in me, but I am ever more enthusiastic about pruning my poems. Roses bloom on new growth and perhaps by cutting a few straggly stems I can let the reader in and let the essence of the poem bloom.

The combination of Tania’s workshop with Spelt Magazine’s Dawn Chorus week has meant that I have enjoyed an especially creative week. The Dawn Chorus is such a simple, effective idea. Writing together, with one of Wendy Pratt’s gently brilliant prompts to get us started, it’s a way of enhancing my discipline of rising early to write. It couldn’t have happened at a better time. Learning that yet another of my copywriting clients is reducing their commission volume has placed me in a mind that poetry, flash fiction, short fiction needs to be put at the forefront of my days. I won’t deny I’m trying to Pollyanna my way out of worry by seeing this recent reduction in conventional work as a “solution opportunity” (don’t you love management speak). I’ve long been perturbed by the fact that I place “my” writing is very much last on the list – now the decision has been made for me. I’m hoping this downturn will be short, but for now I’m going to embrace the extra time I have and create beautiful work that is indeed a bridge between two people.

Thank you for reading!

Until next time,

Kathryn

Source: Xiang DH, Yi AM. A Look Back and a Path Forward: Poetry’s Healing Power during the Pandemic.

Soothing an introverted soul

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.

Thank you for reading,

Until next time

Kathryn

xx

A belated New Year post and news of an exhibition

New Year is somewhat delayed for me. As many of you know my Dad died over Christmas and the busyness of handling his affairs, supporting mom and the general work of grief has taken up much of my time. Writing has been present as a comfort and means of clarifying emotion, but other than that has taken a back seat.

An exhibition of poetry and pictures in Café 86’d Ironbridge

This doesn’t mean nothing has happened. Thanks to my talented, kind friends and neighbours Maggie Cameron and Lee Proudfoot, our collaborative exhibition of poetry and pictures is able to go ahead. We’re exhibiting our Inktober work in a fabulous local café 86’d in Ironbridge. The exhibition starts next weekend and will run for the month of February. It’s a chance to see Maggie’s stunning work, read some bird inspired poems and eat some of the best vegetarian and vegan food in Shropshire. You’ll be able to buy postcards of the work too.

A new poetry project

I’ve also begun plans for my next collection. After much saving I can finally afford to engage a professional mentor to help me polish my poems and explore the best way to publish them. What was originally an idea for a pamphlet has grown into what I think may be an interesting collection, bringing together key facets of my work under one thread. I’m excited to begin work and look forward to sharing my progress with you.

There’s not a great deal more to say – this is the first day I’ve spent with my work since losing Dad. It will always be bitter sweet – he was very proud (if slightly baffled) by my writing, and everything now comes with the backthought of wishing I could tell him what I’m up to. I’m thankful for all my lovely friends and fellow poets for their support in so many ways.

Much love and thank you for reading

Kathryn xx

A new poetry film and other thoughts

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.

Thank you for reading, as always

Kathryn xx

A whistle stop post

It never rains eh? I’m back to work after a very extended birthday break and suddenly swimming in a whole heap of work, which is a wonderful thing, if a little chaotic. I’m having to put poetry on the backburner for a while, but never fear there are plenty of ideas bubbling up between the copywriting sessions.

Having said all that, I desperately want to give a little update on Dust. This weekend marks eight years since we lost my brother. I am avoiding the date, but I know it is sitting there, waiting to poke me. I also feel this is the right date to turn my attention to other projects. There are still a few copies available to buy of course, and I will continue to sell and remind people of it, but the intense marketing is coming to an end. As I’ve said many times, the most effective thing has been people’s social media posts – if anyone feels like giving the book a last shout then that would be fab.

Fundraising for CALM and SOBs

I also wanted to tell you about the charities that we’re supporting. Campaign Against Living Miserably – CALM is a charity that takes decisive action to help prevent suicide. It has a bold style, and offers something a little more direct than other campaigns. This is deliberate I think and seems to fit their brief of offering a space for who need this kind of style to feel safe and able to talk. The site seems designed to appeal to conventional perceptions of masculinity and whilst this jars a little with me, it makes sense. CALM is a way in for people who need to talk. Complexities about gender stereotypes and gender based expectations are certainly part of the problem, but what CALM does is offer an opening for people to talk about their feelings, with a pathway for those to whom talking about feelings doesn’t fit their profile.

They are verbose campaigners and their work draws attention to fact that 125 lives are lost to suicide each week and  75% of  those lives are men. Fathers, sons, friends and brothers. CALM talks in a different way than I do, but their message and methodology is clear and effective.

What does a donation to CALM do?

CALM spends over 80% of it’s money of delivering direct help. Call answering, webchats, community engagement and continual campaigning to create conversations and make positive change. The remainder goes to things that keep the charity running, and to continual fundraising. Answering a call costs £8, so when you buy a copy of Dust, you’re actively helping save someone’s life

Survivors of Bereavement by Suicide

This charity is a personal one. The moments, days after my brother’s death were bewildering – yet I still had to be strong. It’s hard to lose a sibling – suddenly you’re it. The only hope, the only support and whilst only children live with this all their lives, to have the family dynamic shattered, and to be left to gather it back together is , well it’s just awful.

And then we throw suicide into the mix. All the whys, what ifs, how could I…all those things are multiplied and overwhelm. SOBs were there. I only had to email (I loathe talking on the phone) and I got simple, calm replies that made me feel understood, and made me feel less alone. My role changed overnight, and the simple, authentic understanding helped me step up.

SOBs is a gentler sort of place than CALM. It suited my communication style and offers a space for people to learn and understand about grief from suicide. They offer support in various ways including face to face groups, telephone, and email.

Our fundraising

So far we have raised over £650 for both these charities, and this figure will continue to grow, albeit at a slower pace. This money makes a difference – it means phone calls can be answered, emails are responded too, support groups exist. It means powerful campaigns like Project 84 can take place to start conversations and deliver the bald facts about how many people find their place in the world so untenable they genuinely believe the world would be better without them. I want this to change.

To buy Dust, follow the link above, or send me an email kathrynannawrites@gmail.com

To continue to support this work, share this article and post your reviews of Dust on Facebook or Instagram

My first poetry film

Oh wow oh wow oh wow

This is never the easiest weekend – it marks the anniversary of the last time I saw my brother before…well, before.

Yesterday I did something I’ve never done about these anniversaries – I reached out on social media. I was on my own this weekend and wanted to tell someone I guess, and also now that Dust is out in the world I feel more able to say these things. Previously it was always such a shock to people I’d end up apologising, half explaining, having to stop…anyone who’s lost anyone knows how these conversations go. I’m glad I did (although I feel a little sheepish) simply because it’s nice to know people care, no more no less.

an image of sunlight though winter trees

That’s not the oh wow moment though. The oh wow has come from discovering a new way to create, and a way that has so much potential I can hardly contain my joy. I set aside this weekend to join a poetry film workshop run by Spelt Nature Writing School and I’m so happy I did. Poetry film is an area that I’ve always been interested in, but in true Kathryn style I’ve always thought “I’ll never be able to do that”. This is the gift of this kind of workshop though; participants ranged from those doing a thesis about poetry film, all the way to people like me who just thought “I’d like to give that a go”. The workshop gave me knowledge, an introduction to the skills I need, and a bit of boost that there are things I understand already, like the language of colour and how to use visuals to enhance a story.

I finished the workshop thinking “I want to do this, but I need xyz” XYZ being a bit of equipment, a bit of time to go out and film stuff. I couldn’t get the ideas out of my head though and got up with the lark this morning to “just have a go”. And do you know what? I’m pleased with what I’ve done. I’ve recorded the title poem of Dust, and worked with some abstract stock images to create a short, simple film. I’m pleased with it, and most of all I’m pleased to have a way to read my work aloud. I’m not comfortable speaking to camera (I’m working on it!) and this is a way that just feels more like me. Baby steps of course, but I’m thrilled to have a new way to explore and express my work.

So a weekend that began with a little sadness has ended with a little peace. These are hard poems to read aloud. But they are important, the difference they can make is important and the money we are raising it important. I wish I knew nothing of this – as everyone does when faced with pain, but all we do is find a way to cope – and I guess this is one of mine.

Thank you all

You can find out more about the story of Dust here and if you’d like to buy a copy, the simplest way is to email kathrynannawrites@gmail.com

Autumn sees a return to writing

I had an interesting conversation with a friend this week, asking if writing about trauma is cathartic. My answer was not really. Now this is surprising, because of course it is – the very act of writing means I remove worries, thoughts, feelings from my head and place them on a page. That is a good thing. It can allow perspective, allow for reflection. Journalling is a healthy habit. Why is poetry any different? For me it’s because a poem is almost a living entity. It grows and changes with those who read it, it grows and changes each time I read it. The emotions that gave birth to the writing have not gone – they’ve become real on the page. Producing something wrought from some of the darkest feelings and experiences then reading, re-reading, editing, means revisiting those feelings and experiences time and time again.  And that’s before I even embark on the terror of sending my work out to be judged for quality and possible publication.

Yet still I do it. Still countless people do it. We write and read, agonise over semi-colons and commas, place ourselves into the arena to be pulled apart or raised up high. Why? What drives me? I honestly can’t think of a sensible answer. All I know is that when I write there is some magic that happens somewhere that makes me feel as though I am the very best version of myself. I’d like to say I don’t mind whether work is published or not but that would be a straight lie – external validation is a joy. Would I write if I knew my work would never be published again. Absolutely. Would I write if no one else would read it. I think so – but some of that joy of connection would be lost.

Two new poetry courses

These musings have emerged because I’ve had a stellar writing week. Not one, but two courses on the go and I’ve adored them both. Dawn Chorus writing hour has been a revelation – that liminal space between waking and sleeping allows my brain to flow in such different directions and the simple act of setting aside time to write with others creates a gentle community. Getting up early to write is a habit I dip in and out of, but the difference to both my writing and general well being is such that I’m determined to keep that 5.30 am start and determined to protect an hour for reading and writing.

My second course, The Corn Dolly Speaks has been a journey through myth and legend, not tales of knights and dragons, but the tangible, domestic legends that are so much part of life they pass with scant comment. The poems we’ve read have been beautiful and challenging, and the prompts have set me on research adventures. The work I’ve written has grown from some innate understanding and sense of connection I cannot really name. It’s an affirming way to explore the correlation between past and present, and to explore how these old rituals inform my behaviour and perspective. What makes these courses work so well for me is that we share our work with each other online. I’m not terribly confident speaking as part of a group, so this gentle interaction means I can give and receive feedback in a non-threatening way, and at my own pace. It also means I read some incredible poetry from my talented course mates. I’ve tried a couple of different courses this year, but the work I produce from these courses created and facilitated by Wendy Pratt is far and away the work I feel most pleased with.

It seems that the act of finishing Dust has set me free to write again. In order to create something worthy of publication, and worthy of people’s hard-earned money I had to distance myself from my emotions and look at the work with a professional, critical eye. In the wonder that is hindsight it seems entirely logical, but in the midst of the process I’ve felt quite bewildered at my inability to really engage with writing. I’m very glad to be back.

More ways to buy Dust

Now the initial flurry of family and friends have bought Dust, I’ve placed it on Etsy for general sale. Buying direct from me is still the best option, simply because it means more money for the two charities, but I understand that using something like Etsy is a lot easier. You can also buy your copy from the excellent Poetry Pharmacy or Ironbridge Bookshop.

Your mini reviews have made a huge difference

Thank you to everyone who has taken the time and effort to talk about their response to Dust on Facebook and Instagram. This kind of marketing is worth a thousand posts from me (I guess hearing about something like this from a friend has more impact) and has been the most effective in terms of sales. It also increases my visibility, so when I do post, more folk will see it. Your support is really, really appreciated and the steady rate of sales means we’ve raised over £600 so far.

So that’s my week. Next week’s adventures in poetry will involve is more research into submissions opportunities, plus some time studying The Poetry Writers’ Handbook, which looks like it will answer a lot of my questions about the business side of publication – I have a couple of new pamphlets brewing so the timing is perfect.

Thank you for reading

Kathryn xx