It feels like I am barely out of Post-It Note Poetry and now we have NaPoWriMo.
I struggled to write a poem a day that would fit on a post-it note and now here I am contemplating another daily challenge.
I very much doubt I will stay on target, but I miss the focus of being required to write something. Mr Malone and the rest of the Heugh Writers gang will no doubt laugh...or at least smile wryly at that. Like I managed to even produce a poem a month for that project! But, as I told Martin, it wasn't that I wasn't writing anything, it was simply that I was too terrified to hand over my few meagre words.
Strangely, despite all my doubts, it seems that people like my meagre words. Either that or they are being very polite.
But I digress!
My point was, I need something tangible to focus on. Someone - or something - to say, "Here, Denise, write about this today". And so, for my sins and for the salvation of my writer's soul, I am signing up to write a poem a day. Again.
Lord knows where I will find the time or the words. But perhaps the writing gods will be merciful and send down manna from heaven.
There now follows a Shameless Plug on behalf of the Heugh Writers Party!
I should say, on behalf of the poets from the Heugh Writers, copies of 'To Cross the Wine Dark Wave' are available to purchase from Hartlepool Libraries. A snap at £4 - cheques payable to Hartlepool Borough Council.
Ta very much.
/Shameless plug ends!
And if you're interested in the Post-It Note poems you can read them here https://guerillawriting.wordpress.com
Showing posts with label Heugh Battery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Heugh Battery. Show all posts
Saturday, 21 March 2015
Monday, 15 December 2014
Shell Shock
Last week I went to my first poetry reading.
Hang on, you say, Denise has finally lost her marbles. We all know she has been to poetry readings before, in fact we know she's organised a fair few of them herself!
You're right, I have. But this was different! This was a reading for the launch of a new poetry pamphlet that includes me. I stood up - well, sat up - and read words written by me, to complete strangers.
I know!
Steps back in amazement!
Me - the "I am not a writer" person. I have poems (plural) in a book (published!). And what's more I'm in there with proper poets. People who do write, and call themselves writers.
I am, to put it mildly (and not too poetically) a bit gobsmacked. And it is perfectly okay if you all are too!
How on earth has this astonishing thing come about, you cry? And well you might.
For the past year I have been part of a project set up and run by Martin Malone, writing poetry to commemorate the centenary of the Bombardment of Hartlepool in 1914. I have spent a Saturday afternoon once a month holed up in the Heugh Battery on the Headland, Hartlepool, learning about war (and people's reaction to it), and poetry (and people's reactions to that, too). I have in fact spent not much of that time actually producing poetry, much to the consternation of Mr Malone. (If his hair had been long enough to get hold of he'd have torn it out by now).
Martin's idea was to produce a pamphlet of poetry that went to the hearts and minds of the people affected by the Bombardment. Not to glorify the fighting or lambast the politicians, but to document the emotions and reactions of ordinary people caught up in an extraordinary event.
At the time Martin was trying to get the group up and running a few people had said one or two nice things about the scraps of writing I had done and I was looking for a way to develop myself and my writing. Writing about people and feelings was something I was pretty sure I could do, I thought.
But, oh my word it was hard! Coming from a base of inexperience and very shaky self confidence, and discovering such a wealth of talent in that little cafe in the Heugh, I wondered what on earth I was doing there. I felt a complete fraud, sitting among people who could pull words together and create such expressive and poignant pieces. Surely I had no right to be there? But I gritted my teeth, girded my loins and I held the line.
Every month I brought along a scrap of writing, and every month I skulked away with it unread in my notebook. Mr Malone, I am sure, despaired of me. It became a something of a standing joke that I came to a writing group but never wrote anything. In actual fact I was writing, I just wasn't confident enough to share it (imagine that!). In eleven months I handed him three poems and each time I felt sick with trepidation, because surely to god, this four or five lines couldn't count as a poem? And even if it did, it was not likely to be any good...but apparently (to quote another proper poet*), "it was good enough".
In the end, I managed four scraps, handed in at the 11th hour (but not of the 11th day) and probably surprised everyone, but frankly, no-one more so than me.
It's been an experience - a scary one, and a challenging one but a good one. The reading was unbelievably daunting, but the work, read in sequence as it appears in the book, sounded amazing and incredibly moving. I am immensly proud to have been part of it and to have my words included in the pamphlet alongside some right proper poets.
If you are interested in the pamphlet, get in touch with Martin via his website or Twitter, or pop into Hartlepool Central Library where they will be on sale shortly.
http://www.hartlepoolmail.co.uk/news/local/memorial-day-to-commemorate-the-bombardment-of-hartlepool-1-6944087
*John Hegley - another proper poet who has considered my words good enough.
Hang on, you say, Denise has finally lost her marbles. We all know she has been to poetry readings before, in fact we know she's organised a fair few of them herself!
You're right, I have. But this was different! This was a reading for the launch of a new poetry pamphlet that includes me. I stood up - well, sat up - and read words written by me, to complete strangers.
I know!
Steps back in amazement!
Me - the "I am not a writer" person. I have poems (plural) in a book (published!). And what's more I'm in there with proper poets. People who do write, and call themselves writers.
I am, to put it mildly (and not too poetically) a bit gobsmacked. And it is perfectly okay if you all are too!
For the past year I have been part of a project set up and run by Martin Malone, writing poetry to commemorate the centenary of the Bombardment of Hartlepool in 1914. I have spent a Saturday afternoon once a month holed up in the Heugh Battery on the Headland, Hartlepool, learning about war (and people's reaction to it), and poetry (and people's reactions to that, too). I have in fact spent not much of that time actually producing poetry, much to the consternation of Mr Malone. (If his hair had been long enough to get hold of he'd have torn it out by now).
Martin's idea was to produce a pamphlet of poetry that went to the hearts and minds of the people affected by the Bombardment. Not to glorify the fighting or lambast the politicians, but to document the emotions and reactions of ordinary people caught up in an extraordinary event. At the time Martin was trying to get the group up and running a few people had said one or two nice things about the scraps of writing I had done and I was looking for a way to develop myself and my writing. Writing about people and feelings was something I was pretty sure I could do, I thought.
But, oh my word it was hard! Coming from a base of inexperience and very shaky self confidence, and discovering such a wealth of talent in that little cafe in the Heugh, I wondered what on earth I was doing there. I felt a complete fraud, sitting among people who could pull words together and create such expressive and poignant pieces. Surely I had no right to be there? But I gritted my teeth, girded my loins and I held the line.
Every month I brought along a scrap of writing, and every month I skulked away with it unread in my notebook. Mr Malone, I am sure, despaired of me. It became a something of a standing joke that I came to a writing group but never wrote anything. In actual fact I was writing, I just wasn't confident enough to share it (imagine that!). In eleven months I handed him three poems and each time I felt sick with trepidation, because surely to god, this four or five lines couldn't count as a poem? And even if it did, it was not likely to be any good...but apparently (to quote another proper poet*), "it was good enough".
In the end, I managed four scraps, handed in at the 11th hour (but not of the 11th day) and probably surprised everyone, but frankly, no-one more so than me.
It's been an experience - a scary one, and a challenging one but a good one. The reading was unbelievably daunting, but the work, read in sequence as it appears in the book, sounded amazing and incredibly moving. I am immensly proud to have been part of it and to have my words included in the pamphlet alongside some right proper poets.
If you are interested in the pamphlet, get in touch with Martin via his website or Twitter, or pop into Hartlepool Central Library where they will be on sale shortly.
http://www.hartlepoolmail.co.uk/news/local/memorial-day-to-commemorate-the-bombardment-of-hartlepool-1-6944087
*John Hegley - another proper poet who has considered my words good enough.
Friday, 31 October 2014
Bah Humbug!
A Christmas Carol - Review - Royalty Theatre
October is a little bit early for me to be getting festive, but I made an exception for a production of A Christmas Carol - it's suitably ghostly for Hallowe'en and is, after all, the original "bah humbug" tale!
The Victorian tale of redemption and the victory of charity and goodwill over greed and wealth is as relevant today as it was when Dickens wrote it. It also happens to be one of my favourite stories, loved ever since I first saw Alistair Sim's Scrooge some 40 years ago.
So would The Royalty production meet my expectations? I ventured out with my friend Irene (a Royalty virgin) to see!
A sparse set, effectively enhanced with scenes projected onto the backdrop, Christmas carols, and a brilliant narrator (Thomas Potts) ensured the audience was drawn in from the outset.
Marley's Ghost (Paul Lonsdale) had a slightly vampirish air, as he pleaded with his old friend Ebeneezer Scrooge (Billy Towers) to mend his ways, and pay heed to the spirits who were about to visit him. The Christmas Spirits were each quite distinct - from the playful and sympathetic Christmas Past (Siobhan Brennan) dressed as the fairy from the Christmas tree, to the positively Brian Blessed-ish Christmas Present (Scott Henderson) with his deep rumbling good humour (and it has to be said, the most preposterous wig), to the ominously silent and forbidding Christmas Future (Jordan Carling).
There are some good performances - most notably Thomas Potts as the narrator and James Lee as Bob Cratchit, whose carol singing as he returns from visiting Tiny Tim's grave is heartbreakingly beautiful. Billy Towers plays a convincing miserly Scrooge. Under the direction of Andrew Barella the story flows well, certainly in the first act and I think this is due in good part to the quality of the narration and smooth scene changes. The second act saw a few technical glitches, with lights coming up too soon, which meant the audience knew the ghosts hadn't appeared and disappeared quite so magically as they should, and stage crew struggled to get the set pieces in place before the scene began. The spooky mist that accompanied the ghosts was a tad over done, which unfortunately did detract from the atmosphere of Christmas Future rather than enhancing it, proving more amusing than ominous as the front two rows disappeared into the fog. A note for future productions - where dry ice is concerned, less is definitely more!
That said, this was a joyous production, and was certainly entertaining and we left with a warm, festive glow at the end of the night.
October is a little bit early for me to be getting festive, but I made an exception for a production of A Christmas Carol - it's suitably ghostly for Hallowe'en and is, after all, the original "bah humbug" tale!
The Victorian tale of redemption and the victory of charity and goodwill over greed and wealth is as relevant today as it was when Dickens wrote it. It also happens to be one of my favourite stories, loved ever since I first saw Alistair Sim's Scrooge some 40 years ago.
So would The Royalty production meet my expectations? I ventured out with my friend Irene (a Royalty virgin) to see!
A sparse set, effectively enhanced with scenes projected onto the backdrop, Christmas carols, and a brilliant narrator (Thomas Potts) ensured the audience was drawn in from the outset.
Marley's Ghost (Paul Lonsdale) had a slightly vampirish air, as he pleaded with his old friend Ebeneezer Scrooge (Billy Towers) to mend his ways, and pay heed to the spirits who were about to visit him. The Christmas Spirits were each quite distinct - from the playful and sympathetic Christmas Past (Siobhan Brennan) dressed as the fairy from the Christmas tree, to the positively Brian Blessed-ish Christmas Present (Scott Henderson) with his deep rumbling good humour (and it has to be said, the most preposterous wig), to the ominously silent and forbidding Christmas Future (Jordan Carling).
There are some good performances - most notably Thomas Potts as the narrator and James Lee as Bob Cratchit, whose carol singing as he returns from visiting Tiny Tim's grave is heartbreakingly beautiful. Billy Towers plays a convincing miserly Scrooge. Under the direction of Andrew Barella the story flows well, certainly in the first act and I think this is due in good part to the quality of the narration and smooth scene changes. The second act saw a few technical glitches, with lights coming up too soon, which meant the audience knew the ghosts hadn't appeared and disappeared quite so magically as they should, and stage crew struggled to get the set pieces in place before the scene began. The spooky mist that accompanied the ghosts was a tad over done, which unfortunately did detract from the atmosphere of Christmas Future rather than enhancing it, proving more amusing than ominous as the front two rows disappeared into the fog. A note for future productions - where dry ice is concerned, less is definitely more!
That said, this was a joyous production, and was certainly entertaining and we left with a warm, festive glow at the end of the night.
It runs until Sat 1st Nov, so if you are looking for a hallowe'en activity that's a bit different, just want to avoid the trick or treaters or fancy an early start to your festive spirit then you could do worse than pay a visit to the Royalty this week!
This review was published on Spikemike ...is breaking a leg
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)