Tag Archives: experimental

Moving Forward When You’re Stuck Looking Behind You

How do you move forward creatively when you feel like you’re stuck looking back?

In the last couple of weeks I have been re-reading the collaborative epistolary novel, Post Marked: Piper’s Reach, I wrote with Jodi Cleghorn between January 2012 and April 2013. 

The novel has been thoroughly edited and we are now at the place of writing the synopsis. Late last year we began the process but due to a range of metaphysical circumstances it had been put on hold. 

For me, because I cannot speak on behalf of Jodi, the latter half of last year burned me out creatively. The pressure of my job (high school English teacher) and other external pressures saw me roll into January hoping for a recovery. But it never happened.

Putting this out there and waving it around with abandon: Writing a synopsis sucks.

It’s the Pit Of Despair from The Princess Bride coupled with the Pit of the Almighty Sarlac from Star Wars topped off by The Buzz Cut from Wayne’s World (Boy, it really does suck). As we wrote it, we felt the summary sucking the life away from the narrative we had created.

On top of the synopsis situation, other projects lay scattered like discarded underpants and it was killing me that they were unfinished. My sense of self in regard to my creativity and writing had disintegrated. I doubted my writing skills and wondered if it was worth continuing. Doubt is insidious, and lethal, to a creative life. 

But I am not one to go quietly into the night for a bag of doughnuts and never return. I used February and Post It Note Poetry to begin the rebuilding process. I gave myself permission to put projects on hold, think them through again.

Now that it is March, I returned to the first project on the list: the Post Marked: Piper’s Reach synopsis. I opened up the final document and began reading, familiarising myself with the story again. It was nice to come at it again with new and fresh eyes, delving into other aspects of the characters again and their development, marking up plot points and knowing I’ll probably cry at the end. Again. (And, yes, I did cry).

While doing this I went back to other pieces written in the Piper’s Reach world. The stories precede the events of the novel in that they are about the lives of Jude and Ella-Louise in their youth and in their adult life. They were done as an indulgent exploration of our characters from different perspectives (letters have a very limited frame of reference when writing).

The first is the Christmas Special Jodi and I wrote at the end of 2012. It recounts the events of the Surf Club Christmas party (mentioned in the novel) when Jude and Ella-Louise were in Year 11 (their second last year of high school). It introduces the main characters from a different perspective as each character had the opportunity to speak in their own voice, not limited to the first person recounting of Jude or Ella-Louise. You can read the Christmas Special here.

The second story is from Jodi. “What I Left To Forget” tells the story of Charlotte MacKay and Jake de Britto and is told from the 3rd person, a departure from the narrow focus of a personal letter.

I wrote a companion piece to it, which precedes it chronologically, but was written after a comment I left on Jodi’s blog where I riffed an idea. Jodi dared me to write a romance from the perspective of Jake. The resultant piece was The Photographer’s Concerto.

Any of the pieces can be read without knowledge of Piper’s Reach, and you can read the first letter from Ella-Louise here.

How did this help me move forward? 

Up until the reread, I doubted I could write well again. I hated what scrawl occupied my notebooks. Even when writing Post It Note poetry I felt hesitant and uncertain.

By going back into the past, I could see the progression of my writing skills. What I wrote 3 years ago is still good. Sometimes I wonder if it was really me who wrote the passage. It has been an encouragement to see that I can write. I am proud of those stories, the world that was created. Yes, it’s hard work, but rewarding when you see readers gain a connection. That was one of the most rewarding aspects of writing “Piper’s Reach” and releasing a letter a week to our small, but faithful, following who shared their love of the series and the characters.

Taking pause to reflect has allowed me to refocus my creativity and move forward.

If you’re stuck, unsure of the direction, pause, reflect, give yourself permission to stop for a time and look back as a way of seeing progression. It may help you move forward. 

Are you stuck? Feeling like momentum has stopped? Would looking back work for you to help you move forward?

What To Do When You Doubt Your Creativity

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I wrote this last week as Post It Note Poetry was coming to a close. For the month of February I was writing something new every day on the spur of the moment with very little editing or development. Dedicated crafting and revision is not the point of Post It Note Poetry.

Side Note: Post It Note Poetry presents its own set of creative issues and problems. I’ve reflected on them at the end of the month in 2013 (Post It Note Poetry Wrap Up) and 2014 (Lessons Learned from Post It Note Poetry). There is no need to revisit them again.

It has been a long while since I have written something new as I’ve been trying to complete the first drafts on some longer pieces (one of which is the stupid novella I’ve been saying I’ll write for the past 2 years). I have another short story (approx. 3.5K) that still needs work and has been revised and reworked numerous times.

What it all means is the process from idea to first draft, then edits, more drafts and finally, completion, is time consuming.

It’s the long drag between first draft and end of first draft (when you know the work has potential but it’s not yet realised) that makes me doubt. Even the short story mentioned above has been languishing for almost 12 months as I sort through various drafts, comments and plot issues.

Similarly, my novella and verse novel need some serious reworking in terms of plot. I started the novella with an outline but have realised it needs further revision. The verse novel started without an outline (trying different methodologies) and it needs a clear direction and focus. 

On top of that, the latter half of last year was a creative wasteland in some respects. Work demands were a high priority and a creative sink hole as I worked through marking papers, editing students’ major works and completed edits on a friend’s 104K sci-fi novel.

It meant I approached January as a time to rebuild myself creatively. But it didn’t happen. Everything I returned to felt like drinking a cup of sand. It was exhausting. And I seriously contemplated bailing on Post It Note Poetry as I doubted myself and my creative abilities.

What to do, then, if you are beginning to doubt your creativity? I have 2 solutions.

1. Stick with your creative community.

Your creative community is your most valuable asset. I have a group of people I can rely on to listen when I vent, whinge, complain, throw a tantrum, doubt, despair, consider chucking it all in.

They were there either via text or Facebook or messaging. Most of the time they simply listened. Occasionally they offered advice or encouragement. I have a creative colleague at school and we have our “Mea Cuppa” sessions, talking through ideas or talking rubbish while having cups of tea.

If you’re not part of a community, seek one out either in real life or online.

2. Keep turning up to the page as persistence pays off.

Deciding to complete Post It Note Poetry meant I had to turn up to the page Every. Single. Day. to complete a poem. Some poems came easier than others but I was compelled to keep going.

Even if you think you are creating rubbish, it is all about priming and preparing yourself for the next project whether it’s something new or returning to complete something older. It’s like training is for an athlete. Do the practice, complete the exercises in readiness for the main event.

For me, March (and the coming months) brings new vision and clarity for the projects I want to complete and the new ones on the horizon. For right now, I’ll keep turning up to the page and pressing on.

How do you keep your creativity flowing when you have doubts? Leave your ideas in the comments.

Post It Note Poetry Recap Week 4 – The End

Welcome to the end of the official month of Post It Note Poetry (don’t stop writing Post It Note Poetry; I won’t be stopping, only slowing down the production) but its time has come to an end for this year.

28 days of poetry. 28 poems. 1099 words (of questionable merit). In reviewing the poems I wrote, I am proud of many of them. Others have the potential to be developed or refined further. Some should be consigned to the rubbish bin. However, the point of this month was to simply write, and with permission to write badly, so I wrote. 

And now we have come to the last weekly recap. You can find the other weekly recaps here:

Post It Note Poetry Recap Week 1
Post It Note Poetry Recap Week 2
Post It Note Poetry Recap Week 3

At the end of last week’s recap I set myself a challenge to remix my own poems for the final week of Post It Note Poetry. I would take a single line from the poem and use it as the opening line of a new poem. Perhaps not so much a remix as an inspiration. Consequently it has opened up new ideas for next year with found poetry, other remixes and collaborations.

I found myself censoring lines, or thinking which lines might be good for the next day. It was a distraction from the poem at hand but I found the “OFF” switch to allow me to finish the poem. It may be easier to take the line from someone else’s poem because there is not the built in expectation of having to write something worthwhile. Maybe next year I’ll have another remix week where I borrow from other participants’ poems.

The poems are presented here in chronological order so you can see the progression, unlike previous weeks where they have been posted in reverse chronological order.

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Thanks for coming along for the ride of Post It Note Poetry. It will be back again next year. I will be writing more Post It Notes poems from time to time. Be sure to check my tumblr, Post It Notes and Poetry, for posts and poetry updates.

Do you have any favourites? Leave yours in the comments.

A Little Prompting #5

A Little Prompting

How have you been doing? What have you been creating? I would love to hear if anything has transpired.

Here is this week’s set of prompts.

THEME Reconnection
RANDOM LINE PROMPT The telephone wires kept pace with the road; long tendrils connecting the lover and the loved as a physical symbol of their connection
PHOTOGRAPH RetroTelephone_01_640x-thumb-520x390

http://gadgets.boingboing.net/2008/12/04/a-perfect-nobullshit.html

SONG/MUSIC VIDEO Primitive Radio Gods – Standing Outside A Broken Phone Box
SENSORY SUGGESTION The pulse of the dial tone before you hit the buttons
QUOTE You can discover more about a person in an hour of play than in a year of conversation – Plato

A Little Prompting #4

Welcome to the fourth A Little Prompting.

Are you finding some good ideas? What is inspiring you?

When I am compiling the prompts, the focal point could be the theme, the sensory suggestion or a quote. In this case, it’s the song. The groove and quiet delivery of the vocals that intrigue me in this song. One of my favourites to hear on the radio  when I was growing up.

THEME Isolation 
RANDOM LINE PROMPT She felt the coolness of the vinyl bench seats warming to human contact.
PHOTOGRAPH TN_isolation-

http://www.artshole.co.uk/justinebeckett.htm

SONG/MUSIC VIDEO Suzanne Vega – Tom’s Diner 
SENSORY SUGGESTION The taste of bitter, burnt coffee.
QUOTE Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask and he will tell you the truth – Oscar Wilde

 

A Little Prompting #3

So, how have you all been doing with these prompts? Have they been useful? Have they sparked ideas you’ve planted like seeds in your notebook? Nothing yet?

Here is this week’s prompts.

THEME Invisible in Plain Sight
RANDOM LINE PROMPT Pages were torn from the book, not with rage or fury, but with meticulous care, guided by the ruler’s wooden edge and placed in order upon the dining room table.
PHOTOGRAPH kevin-carter-vulture-and-child

Kevin Carter http://brigitteofseon.wordpress.com/

SONG/MUSIC VIDEO Pink Floyd – On the Turning Away
SENSORY SUGGESTION A child’s red t-shirt spotted in the middle of a crowd
QUOTE If you would convince a man that he does wrong, do right. Men will believe what they see – Henry David Thoreau

Post It Note Poetry 2015 Recap Week 1

It is the end of the first week of #postitnotepoetry.

I have collated here the first seven poems. This series of poems began after I heard a song titled, “Things To Do In Winter” and it inspired the idea of a loosely linked thematic suite.

Instead of seasons, I chose days of the week. Each day of the week was prefaced with an idea. In my notebook I hastily scribbled down a list of potential ideas and throughout the course of the week amended, deleted or built upon the idea for the day. 

Some poems were easier to write, others took longer to compost and come to fruition. I was surprised at the thematic darkness of some of the poems as it was not the initial intention; only in the repeated readings did the layers of darker interpretation emerge.

It made me wonder whether I was subconsciously channeling a darker theme, or purging the darkness within. I think that’s another blog post/poem in itself.

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If you want to join in the fun of #postitnotepoetry, grab a pen, a wad of Post It Notes and write. Take a photo it and upload it to twitter with the hashtag #postitnotepoetry

Post It Note Poetry 2015

It has begun!

I am collating all my poems to a separate page, Post It Note Poetry 2015.

Drop in each day for a new poem. The new poem will be posted at the top of the page each day.

Here is today’s poem.

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Friday Flash Fiction – Indentation

Welcome to another Friday Flash Fiction.

This piece was the development of a very short piece (sub-200 words) I had submitted for a competition. I wanted to explore the idea a little further and see what happened. 

I toyed with the idea of subbing it out again but am leaving it on the digital practice pile. 

Indentation

I dislodged your glasses the first time we kissed, tripping over the hidden arms of the frames as I ran my hands through your hair. Unseated physically and linguistically, I fumbled an apology.

“Romance inhibitors,” you said pushing the glasses over your forehead, collecting your fringe, before taking them off.

The kiss interrupted we drew away from each other. You felt behind your ears the indent of a new paragraph.

“I’ve worn glasses for years,” you said. “Never really noticed it before.”

You drew me in again and before our lips cautiously brushed, I wondered how you could see without your glasses; a stupid thing to think because our eyes were closed. My fingers returned to the place behind your ear and traced the indentation, a small eroded furrow, and I stopped, retreating my lips from yours.

Your face, now naked without adornment, I saw two more dents, small and red, on either side of your nose. The slight weight of pressure bridging your face giving you the chance to see.

Over the years I watched the indentations change shape with each new pair of glasses, watch you adjust to how the new frames sat on your nose and behind the ears. You pinch your nose when you buy new frames, adjusting to a new bridge; push them back up your nose when you’re sweaty and they slip down when you lean forward. You push them onto your head when you read a book.

You never really get to see it, except when you look in the mirror, but with each new pair of glasses I create a new character: the bookish librarian, a 50s executive, the hipster folk musician. Only when we retire to bed do I see the character removed when you put your glasses beside the clock radio on your bedside table. Your face is no longer framed by what I impose upon it; the only evidence the two small, red indentations on your nose.

 On the couch I slip under your arm, fit into the shape of your body, perhaps worn as smooth as the spot behind your ears and wonder if we have worn a furrow between my legs each time we make love. I feel the shape of you within me, the pacing of your movement when you’re above me and I focus on the bridge of your nose. Or when I sit astride you and move with my own rhythm. Have I worn you down through the repetition of our lovemaking?

Now I turn the wedding band around my finger, notice the furrowed shape encircling, evidence of the presence of you in my life.

I still run my finger along the indentation behind your ear, searching for that first kiss. But you hate it when I dislodge your glasses, especially while you’re watching TV.

I’ve learned to wait until the ad breaks.

 

A Found Poem

Rifling through this list, 51 Of The Most Beautiful Sentences in Literature (via Buzzfeed) a poem formed in my mind by compiling, editing, amending some of the sentences.

I have come across this form by other writers. It’s an interesting new form in that it is almost a type of plagiarism (except I am acknowledging my sources), to create a new piece of work with words that are not mine. In some ways it is another form of blackout or erasure poetry.

Follow the link above to see which sentences I have borrowed and what I have changed. There are some instances of changing letters for the sake of grammatical accuracy, and I have divided up some of the sentences to link them with specific ideas or imagery.

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I took a deep breath
and listened to the old brag of my heart;
I am, I am, I am.
Sometimes I can feel my bones straining
under the weight of all the lives I’m not living.
Do I dare
disturb the universe?
What are men to rocks and mountains?
Folks say God crumbles up the old moon into stars.
The pieces I am,
I could see
standing there
leaning on the balcony railing.
How wild it was,
to let it give
them back to me
in all the right order.
an enormous, unmerited gift
given randomly,
stupidly
holding the universe together.
Everything was beautiful
and nothing hurt.
Let me be something
every minute
of every hour
of my life.
Let the wild rumpus start.