Poem on My 27th Birthday…
I'm a bit late publishing this one, my birthday was in September. I'm not very good at celebrating birthdays, they always feel like the markers of opportunities lost, and this poem reflects this.
It's pretty short (even for my poetry), but it sumises how I feel about the event.
It scares the hell out of me,
Ninety percent to thirty gone,
Watershed is fast approaching,
Time marches with a lustful glee,
My time to shine already shone,
Growing up soon unreproachable.
Lines on Office Work
I've been in London since Tuesday, four days out of the office... A blessing. I'm going for geeky reasons it's the Excel User Group's conference, so a room full of people even smarter with Excel than I am, hopefully plenty to learn.
Given that I'm avoiding the office for four days, what better time to post this poem? It's about the working day after all.
Put on the suit,
Brush off the lint,
Mental note for dry cleaning,
It's off to work we go.
But not so quick,
Crush the war cry,
Temporal anomalies at work,
It's a bus missed you burk.
Nut in the plural,
Shush the inner voice,
Gentle hope in the later bus,
It's a minor tragedy.
Cut to the office,
Lush surroundings, not,
Crystal clear emotionless lines,
It's not to be rushed for.
Strut your stuff,
Gush of fake enthusiasm,
Dental included for health,
It's all in a days work.
Tut at mistakes,
Rush to do reports,
Bestial work striving for creativity,
It's time to leave.
Still struggling…
I'm still struggling with writers block. It's spread from my ability to write fiction, to my ability to write poetry, and write here. It is having a decidedly melancholy affect. I'd hoped a bit of travelling might snap me out of it, but no such luck.
I think I need a crisis, I had a crisis this time last year, and coming out of that crisis I started writing again. However, the new improved me deals with problems a lot better, so few even get close to a minor crisis, never mind the life altering ones from last year.
I am now quite scared of NaNoWriMo looming over me, I've got the ideas, but without the ability to actually write, it's fairly meaningless.
I could create a crisis, however that doesn't fit with the new me that works hard not to get life in a state. I've gotten into pretty bad financial trouble this year (after years of owing no more than £400 at anyone time), however I've even dealt with that so that I'll be debt free again in by this time next year, and am comfortable with that.
I could quit my job, which does have double benefits, it would be a major crisis, I wouldn't be able to fix easily, and I would have time to write. However, I'd have nothing to write on, never mind anywhere to actually write - so possibly a level of crisis too far.
Likely, it's still temporary, and that once November hits, I'll be flying. I'm actually planning on doing something insane for NaNoWriMo (assuming I can find the ability to write again), and that is enter NaNoWriMo twice. That's right, I'm aiming for the 100,000 words in a month bracket. I'll be doing it with two different stories - however I personally feel that 100,000 in a month, on one story, that could retain 75% to 85% of it's words after editing, might be worth pursuing. I was tempted to do it one story, however, I worry that I'll balk under the challenge and settle for 50,000, I don't want to settle. With two entries, settling is still a win and a failure, to have a true win, have to achieve both.
What I'll aim to do, is get the first one complete in the first fortnight, and the second in the second fortnight, so I'm not having to switch between stories (which I can do, but might cause problems).
For now though, I'd settle for some good writing for the rest of September, and through October.
Another problem with writers block, it forces you to analyse every idea, as you seek the in roads to it, that will allow you to translate imagination to words on a page.
I just had a brilliant idea for a poem, for about a second, before I realised it's a subject that's been more than adequately covered in myth and legend.
There was tiny spider (but with long thin legs) in the bath, and it was stuck, but kept trying to get up the sides. It'd get so far, and then fall, but used it's web to limit it's fall, then tried again, then the web broke - so it started over, and nearly gets to the top, and then falls again.
Eventually, it drifts along the length of the path, trying to find a decent climb, and it makes it! I actually felt quite happy for it (even as I don't have any like for spiders after being bitten by one, yuck). Then the damned thing, not satisfied with it's monumental climb (they're not after all known for escaping baths), then proceeded to climb a shampoo bottle. It must have realised it was disappointing when it get to the top, as it got back down again. Teetered on the edge of going back in the both, but instead choose to use the grouting to climb up to the ceiling instead.
It was amazing to watch. Unfortunately, it's already a well observed phenomeon, kind of - Robert the Bruce famously is supposed to have seen a spider trying, and failing, then trying again, to get a web from one side of a cave to another, and it inspired him to try again and rebel against Edward. He still failed, but the moral is no less true.
As I said, it was amazing to watch - even more amazing, aside from this ickle spider, there was a much bigger spider (where the ickle one had legs no thicker than a hair, this had legs that were like 0.5mm - and a much bigger body and mandibles that were very visible (shudders). To be fair, I suspect they were the same breed, but probably the bigger one was considerably older (I believe a week might be descriptive enough of age in the life cycle of a spider - but I'm no arachnologist afterall), just sat there watching. I couldn't decide if it was keeping the little spider as an emergency meal for later, or not. After the little spider escaped the bath, it turned and was facing the wall (it had been facing the length of the bath for the entire time little spider had been trying to escape), so I wonder if it was thinking, damn - if only I were smaller, and lighter, with legs that could find every tiny bump and gap to get me up - I could make it. Or maybe it was just cursing it's luck, as the little spider succeeded, while it had sat and done bugger all.
Well there you go, like Robert the Bruce (allegedly), that little spider has inspired me too - because I've written a few words. Maybe I will write a poem about the two spiders... it's a subject that may have been covered, (but then, lets face it what hasn't?), but it was a pretty major thing for me.
I love moments like that, I once wrote down a few pages about a pigeon with a clubbed foot that I saw at the train station while travelling to work once. Still have it, might share that too. In fact, I think I might share inspirational animal stories everyday next week, I'm feeling well and truly inspired.
Thanks for reading, if you did
JL Legend
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It’s a Slightly Strange World Out There
Been writing poems today, only two finished pieces, and one of those is for a friend, but the other I'm happy to share.
I'm not exactly the last of the great travellers, but I do love it. I'm away for the weekend, second weekend in a row - which explains why most of my poetry today has centred round travel.
This poem is about the little differences between "there" and home. It was just quickly jotted down, but I like it for its faults, it is after all silly sentiment, about unimportant things, unless you are the one having the experiences.
Its a Slightly Strange World Out There
Isn't travel funny,
Lot's of things are the same,
But the little things profane,
No guide wheels on buses,
My accent creating fusses,
Same brand shops,
But trading later stops,
History seems all around,
Yet only as rich,
As homeward bound,
Isn't travel funny.
©, Jonathan L. Lawrence, September 2009
NaNoWriMo 2009 – A Personal Preview
NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month - though participation is international) is looming, it happens every November. NaNoWriMo is a challenge to write a 50,000 word novel in a month. Which isn't as easy as it might sound.
It is however worthwhile, it's a talent stretching challenge, and I thoroughly loved/hated participating last year. I really struggled at first, I had the fantastic idea I needed, I had all the equipment I could want or need, but writing to a target did not sit well with me.
My writing was not so much a halting linear growth of word count - more an exponential curve. With two thirds of the word count coming in the last week. As I've mentioned in previoys posts, I manged it. It was an amazing feeling to finish.
It's nearly time to put myself through the torture again. I am more wary this year, last year I wrote quite a bit, this year though, my fiction word count probably hasn't breached seven thousand. I set myself a word count target of two hundred thousand for the year. My only hope of a respectable showing would be to do fifty thousand words a month for the last three months. If I could write, I'd be happy with this, it would be over three quarters - but on the basis I haven't written much, is that plausible?
I shouldn't care, i should just do it, it's only for my own pride, it's not a promise to anyone else.
I do have something I want to do, it's a piece of fic for a friends birthday, so going to get started on that. My aim, thirty thousand words in two weeks - now that's a challenge. Let's see what happens. Fingers crossed.
If you're interested in NaNoWriMo, it's here: nanowrimo.org. If you lkike writing, pressure, and the sweet smell of success, check it out.
My Writing Toolbox
I don't really have a toolbox, however I do have certain things that are either must have's for my creativity, or they're tools that make my creative output quicker, slicker, and better than without.
There are two sets of toolboxes, since poetry and writing do require different things for me. There are also categories within toolbox, from books, to stationary, to software.
I'm going to look at some of the things in my toolboxes, things that are special to me, or are especially useful to me.
Poetry Practice: Day Eight
So my poetry practice continues, where now into the second week, and still I hope to continue upon this path. I am going to start introducing mandatory elements into my daily practice poems, just to liven it up, and stretch myself technically, and emotively. I will cover these in more details in a post later, laying out what I intend on doing.
That being said, it is possibly that I won't be posting for a few days as I go away, however I will try to avoid this, as I really like keeping to a poem a day, and will be writing them, so it is only a minor hassle to fathom a way to post them.
Anyway, onto today's poem - as I write this, I haven't started writing the poem, this is coming straight out of my head and into the pages of this blog. No preparation, or hesitation.
The Gifts of Poets Gone
As I lay here, on the backs of giants,
Poetry forebearers that carried the skill into art,
Whose tireless efforts, and many a sacrifice,
Have given me today,
The bed upon which I lay.
By which I mean the literary warrants,
The rules, tempers, and heritages they impart,
For which I am able to add my words, spice,
And never say nay,
The words my mind may.
As I lay here dwelling in fragments,
Of poetry past and present, musing my part,
I have yet to play, indulging my vice,
I suffer no defray,
It will be words day.
©, Jonathan Lawrence 2009
I think this poem is relatively clear, and it's source easy to identify (see my last blog post), it is also something I genuinely believe and hold dear. Though I am a pale imitation of their art, their skill, and their lives, I am no less beholden to them for the gifts they have given that have led me to where I am.
Where I imitate there style, where I borrow from their prose, I hope they would be flattered, and hope they would appreciate my gratitude.