Where the Words Went

I'm very privileged to have people who notice.
It reminds me to keep posting, to keep writing and keep pressing onwards.

Creativity like any other beast of existing comes in waves. There are times where I am boiling over with productivity, quick firing emails to anyone how will listen, touring open mics and generally making a bit of a nuisance of myself.
There are times that this seems an impossible task.

As some people have noticed my blog was dormant from July last year - I was still performing, my twitter was still active but those small characters were about all I could manage. I stopped reading, reviewing and at times thinking.

See, last July my Nanny passed away - it wasn't unexpected but it still came too soon, it was quick and slow all at once. She was the spark of my childhood, my imagination and the woman who could listen to me prattle on about new poetry, plays, music, books endlessly. She was a lady with Lavender in her hair and love on her fingertips.

When she passed, I was adamant that I would immortalise her in a long spoken word show - I still will, but I allowed the need to explain myself to consume my grief and my creativity didn't respond. It felt like I couldn't do her justice.

Now, I feel ready to get back into the heart of it all. I am writing again and performing with a zeal I haven't felt in months - that is all thanks to the wonderful support of readers, friends, performers and fellow creative. You are all wonderful and you have brought me back gently to the folds of your wisdom and sharing.

So, what better time to spark this blog back into action than NaPoWriMo!

Speak soon,
Natasha x

Review: Jump by Paula Kelly-ince

I have some wonderfully talented friends.

There is a sweet feeling in watching someone accomplish and succeed. Particularly when you have spent the last few years slogging it out with them and following them every step of the way.

One of my brilliant friends (be jealous, it's okay) runs a hilarious blog  and on this blog Paula Kelly-Ince has released the first section of her long awaited short stories collection.



Jump: Stories of Life, Love and Fear is a gentle whirlwind of emotions and lovable characters. Each story is beautifully crafted to lull the reader into its reality, slowly manipulating itself into a gut punch.

From Jump, which I have had the privileged of seeing performed, you hear the unnerving voice of a woman on the edge, both metaphorically and literally. I won't give the game away but her beautifully traumatic voice rings with a survival that inspires.

On top Tara, like watching strangers connect for the first time on the next street over. Two people devouring each other in conversation. It is like opening up.

To the final story in this collection Mr. Philips, which will remind everyone of 'that' high school crush and how we truly live through our experiences.

The three stories together tell a lot about female experience, giving strong voices to the often sidelined characters and providing weighted feathers to the reader.

Make this your Summer read. Then revisit it in Winter and Spring and Autumn. Show it to your grandparents and your daughter because there is something here for every season and for everyone.

Did I mention that I have wonderfully talented friends?

Again the link for a FREE PDF of these three stories is HERE

On Life

I'm ill. I'd forgotten.
    I forget quite often.
Until I feel my chest and feel the shadow of stickers left by the nurse, testing my heart rate. 'Standard procedure'
Until, on a warm sunny day I roll up my sleeve only to feel the dead scar skin and roll them back down.

I'm ill and I'd forgotten until the nurse called me in and described the funny anecdotes of her day to take my mind off the routine check-up that makes sure that nothing, other than the instability of my mind, is throwing me off balance.

The appointment took all of 10 minutes and yet for the next 4 hours I lie down with a cup of tea, watching the entirety of RWBY until my eyes ached to match my head. Thrown completely.

It's something I am only just getting to grips with in a safe way. Earlier this year I decided to take the step, after 3 days in bed, to see a doctor, and thankfully this time he listened. He didn't tell me that 'everyone gets sad sometimes' like the last one or throw pills at me that would only make bipolar worse and take me to the very edge; but the fact that this has happened before put me off for over a year. The counselor that stood me up before Christmas one year, or told me how great my abusive ex had been because he was also a patient of hers.

Because all of these things happen to too many of us with mental health issues I'm forced to ignore that little voice telling me that my voice isn't worth being heard and to understand that I'm not 'bragging' but merely being visible.

Review: Mandeville by Matthew Francis

After having picked this collection up on a whim at my local library my first port of call was to research a bit on Mandeville; in order to understand the poets source material, the linguistic differences, the subtle nuances of change between Mandeville's original and Francis' reincarnation.
    What i found fascinating was the aura of mystery that surrounds John Mandeville and his travels, an excellent jumping board for any creative to explore. Did John Mandeville really travel to these exotic and completely unfamiliar destinations? Are his accounts anywhere near accurate? Questions that have no necessary answer but that leave space for both the poet and the reader to jump into.

In Francis' collection there are lots of avenues. The imagery is often luxurious, at time's sufocatingly rich such as in Of Circumnavigation where the reader is traded between lands along with 'wool for spices, grey sea for blue, our brass for gold', to the point where the reader becomes almost travel blind with description.
    There is very little subtly about each poem, the over arching journey is at best unessential. Instead I would look towards each poem as a case study, the arch being held in John Mandeville's own writing, this taking one fantastic element of each stage of his journey and unfolding it until it becomes something other than what it was, baring a tenuous likeness.
  The collection is an intoxicating synaesthesic blend of 'cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg..culminating in a virgin sulphur.'. I've read many poetry collection that take the reader on a physical tour, but this is another experience that is tangibly liked to the earth in a way that conjurs the fantastical from familiarity. Francis' description of the dead sea uses familiar images and locations but uses anthropamorphism to conjur the spirit of the sea, as it has ' swallowed its tears and become parched by the salt'.  - so beautiful!
    The relationship between Francis and these objects is one of almost ownership, a claiming of their relation to other things, there is little delicacy, little right to their existence without his observing them. There is something harsh about the poem that is 'now tarnished ' by five hundred years of sandstorms' - of poets that alter colour.





   

Misadventure by Richard Meier - Review

So, essentially I came to this book knowing nothing about it, or Richard Meier and a lot about Picador's poetry collections. 

Misadventure is a collection of characters, atmosphere's and moments on the cusp of change. The poems themselves seemed concerned only with the fleeting moment before change strikes, or in the grip of change before it is fully realized. The composition of the book struck me first, before 'Building Matilda' there is a cluster of darker poems; I preferred these. After 'Building Matilda' there is a change in tone that drew me back into reality and out of middle distance where I personally prefer poetry to inhabit. I found Meier's writing extremely accessible, it reminded me in places - particularly when Father's appeared in poems like 'Building Matilda' - of Billy Collins. 

Purchase here

'Winter Morning' is a glimpse of commuters readily prepared for the cold morning who are taken off guard by the emergence of spring. My favourite line of this poem was 'And not quite under the shelter on / the northbound platform, an old man, the sun'. I was mesmerized by the double imagery in this, this set me up to seek out those unique interpretations of ordinary life in the subsequent poems. 

It then moves on to the title poem 'Misadventure', I loved the way this poem turned from overly ordinary to downright bizarre! It has a very fast flow to it, and at times I had to make sure I wasn't missing any detail throughout that set up the ending. It provokes a guttural reaction, at first you can feel the water on your trouser-leg and the pressure in you mouth, if you've ever opened your mouth in the shower. 

The poems aren't just on the cusp of life changing decisions as with 'For a Bridge suicide', some are so subtle that they could be missed! 'Fabric' has this effect, again a very tangible feeling, but one that goes unnoticed in everyday life, the feeling of silk. Ending in the words 'as I reached for her.' A re-reading it reminds me of biblical imagery.

A refreshing element of this collection is the way that Meier brings inanimate objects like chair's and bird feeders to life, sometimes through the touch of a character, as in 'The Feeder'; or with its simple existence, like in 'Psychotherapy'. I'm at a loss, not wanting to term it personification but I feel that Meier delves into their own 'spirit' without attributing to many human qualities to them.

I'm excited to see what Meier comes out with next. This collection has an air about it of a writer who's compiled his life up to now into this. It's raw in places and that blends with the most polished line breaks and story development in certain poems. Meier seems like an everyman writer, like most of us first timers, waiting behind an email address; so it's nice to see that there are still a lot of chances out there for all of us.

Tumblr. II

If you want to see what goes on inside the wendyhouse look on my tumblr it's where I store all of the nice things -  and not so nice but interesting things -  I find on the interent. It's a bit chaotic and mainly a reference point for myself but I like it and you might too.