It was recently National Poetry Day, and a feeling waved over me that has been kept at bay since being in Spain. It has been around a month now, and I can’t remember the last time I was this happy. Aside from the usual stresses that come and go, especially when settling into a new place, I have had no doubt that coming here has been the right decision.
Yet, I still feel a pull back to London, something partly a fear of missing out (FOMO), but also more than that. FOMO has become all the more common since the age of social media. This means that I am seeing so many of my peers in poetry do all these amazing things I wish I was going. To be clear, I am pleased for their success, but I feel a gnawing at me that I have never really given myself a chance to truly reach my potential in writing.
I know that with full dedication, I am capable of doing what others are doing, in carving a space in the poetry world where it is possible to make some sort of living from what you love doing. So, I know that I want to return, to give myself that chance to blossom without having to dedicate so many hours to a full-time job. At twenty-eight, I will be doing this much later than anticipated, but I wouldn’t necessarily be where I am now if I had done anything differently up to this point. And, like I said, I’m happy where I am.
Beautiful Cordoba
The point is, that one of the things that has been infringing on my contentedness is my own habit of comparing myself to others. Especially when others are younger than me. I berate myself for not having that version of success, for not doing what they’re doing. Even when I’m actually doing something completely different, with its own set of goals. I mean, how amazing would it be if, by the end of the year, I could actually speak Spanish. If I could write and perform poems in Spanish. I’m having an experience that may just be for this one year, and so I need to appreciate every moment of it.
I came here to learn Spanish, to make that my priority. I’m going to be having around 8 hours of lessons a week, plus homework, plus living somewhere that I can gradually use it in everyday life. The concierge at my block of flats already told me that I was getting better… after I asked how he was. I’m in the lowest group at A1 level, but I hope that with a bit of hard work, and a bit of Duo Lingo, that I can improve. I’m also obviously working to teach English as a foreign language, and still acquiring a whole lot of skills whilst doing it.
I’m still writing all the usual things – poems, stories, articles… blog posts! Just because I’m not earning money for the writing I’m doing at the moment, doesn’t mean I have to hand back my “writer” badge. So, in the vein of these thoughts, I wrote a poem that I started in the early hours of the morning following National Poetry Day having been busy with things not poetry related. It’s dedicated to all the late bloomers out there. Enjoy.
Today, in case you hadn’t heard, is National Poetry Day. I’m feeling like a bad poet because I’m not attending any events to mark the occasion. At the most, I’ll probably watch and listen to all the stuff that’s happening online, trying to understand the mixture of pride, envy and joy at watching/listening to poetry by my peers featuring on national television and radio.
As I write this, I’m on my way back from my day job, where I work as an Academic Mentor for English. This morning I played Year 10 ‘Origin Story’ by Sarah Kay and Phil Kaye, whilst trying to convince them to come to my Creative Writing Club. This is something I will do again no doubt, and in fact, I ended my day going into a class to hand out letters with permission slip. One student took one. There are currently two members in my club. Replacing First Story is going to be harder than I thought. But still, it’s early days. Last year, two Year 8 students – a boy and a girl – made their own version of ‘Origin Story’ and, along with my new Feminist Group, my main goal this year is to make this a success.
That goal applying to my day job. By night, I used to be able to go to events like National Poetry Day Live at the Royal Festival Hall, which is where I was this time last year. However, tonight I will be largely writing an assignment for a CELTA course I’m studying part-time. This means I’m doing two 13 hour days each week (because, you know, full time job), plus attending some Saturdays. On Mondays and Wednesdays, I rise at 6.30am and go to sleep at 11.30pm. On top of this, I have to do these assignments, thoroughly plan lessons for the course, observe others teaching, and be observed myself… By five people (I was less than happy when informed I’ll be observed twice in my day job too, but hey, I should be used to it, at least!)
Tonight I’ll also try to fit in a rehearsal for a poem I’m performing on Saturday night (details below), and if I’m lucky, I can work on the poem I started writing last night when I should have been sleeping.
If I sound like I’m being negative, I am. I have Generalised Anxiety Disorder, plus some mild symptoms of depression. I’ve had six weeks on CBT, and been offered to take part in a trial. However, I find it too stressful to go to my “local” service provider, so we’ll see what happens with that. Sometimes it just feels like another thing to tick off the to-do list.
All-or-nothing thinking: I’m not on TV, I’m a failure as a poet.
Overgeneralisation: This can be really bad, it’s like when things pile up so much that one thing sets off a continuous stream of negative thinking and it’s like there’s no way out. These days are usually a write-off, and the best thing is forced relaxation and an early night.
Mental Filter: I hate making mistakes, so whenever this happens, or if I say something stupid, I will thinking about it constantly for multiple days. Sometimes if I feel like I’ve been talking “too much”, I have to just not say things I think of saying because I overthink what I say so much.
Disqualifying the Positive: I guess this one is similar to number 6, but my parents’ support probably best explains this.
Jumping to Conclusions: a/ Mind Reading: I haven’t heard from members of my poetry collective; they must not like me anymore. b/ Fortune Teller Error: If there’s a slight indication of a problem I have to nip it at the bud. This is probably how this one manifests itself as I worry about the outcomes of things so much that I do everything I can do to prevent the disaster in my head to the extent that I don’t seem to care how others perceive me in that time, until afterwards when I feel immense paranoia about how I’m viewed.
Magnification or Minimisation: Like I said, links to 4, but I will focus on not being picked for one thing, and minimise the success of other things, such as recently being emailed about an opportunity linked to a project that saw my poetry played at the Southbank Centre, where the individual described a new poem I sent as”Visceral and shattering. Hard to hear but necessary.”
Emotional Reasoning: For this one, I guess it’s mostly in terms of relationships with other people. I find it hard to keep up with my friends because of lack of time, and distance with certain people, but they’re so important to me. However, when I don’t hear from people, I assume because I feel sad about it that they’re not as bothered about seeing me.
Should statements: There was something in the book that was a bit of a revelation. By expecting too much of myself, I obviously end up exhausted and unable to keep up, but in turn I also place those same expectations on others and I become “bitter and self-righteous” when they are not met. This was something I realised was really harmful to my relationships with others. Communication is the key here.
Labelling and Mislabeling: I feel like I don’t do this as much, but it could be because it can be quite subtle in a way. The automatic thought of “I’m so stupid” etc. is so familiar that it’s hard to even be conscious of it. The last time I did this, I cried and felt bad on my journey home from my Gran’s, where I’d stayed with my boyfriend, as I’d left chicken and fish bones in the bin because I didn’t know where to put it outside.
Personalisation: This happened on a project where everyone was so positive about it, but the person I was working with said they couldn’t wait until it was over. I took their honesty as being about me, and saw it as a failure, when really they had a lot more going on that was nothing to do with me.
I hadn’t intended this to be so long, but this seems to be what happens… I write nothing for ages and then ramble on for so long that people will inevitably get bored before the end! But if you’re still with me… I guess my point is that I have been feeling disappointed in my progress within the world of poetry, but that part of me knows that I need to enjoy the journey rather than be so focused on an essentially imaginary end-point. I’ve been working on overdrive since I started working full-time, to the point where I don’t know what a normal existence looks like. Now I’ve taken on this CELTA course, I know that I won’t be able to participate in the poetry world as much as I would like to… including my beloved Burn After Reading events (now on Mondays) and The Writing Room Presents… Jawdance (Wednesdays). Recently, I wanted to take more care of myself. My goal was to give myself the time that normal people have to unwind, to make it Sundays. But, I need my Sundays now to work as I have such little time to do so otherwise. Maybe a New Years Resolution then.
I was inspired by one of my tutors on the course, who now works freelance. This was my aim over three years ago, and I’m now making plans to launch my career properly. I’ve been performing my poetry for nine years now. I count it from my first open mic’ event, and why not? There are poets out there who have achieved more than me and haven’t even been doing it a year! Is that the negative voice talking? Maybe.
Anyway, my plans – or my hopes – for the future are to use this CELTA course to live abroad for around a year, a year and a half. I then hope to come back having saved enough money to move out of my parents’ house (that was why I’ve been in this job for so long) and buy myself some time. I’ll try to get some part time work that will allow me the flexibility to truly focus on my passion. I’m hoping that with time to devote to my artistic practice, that I will start enjoying the journey more. I’m also hoping that my travels will allow me some perspective that I simply can’t seem to get when I’m exhausted on the 7.25am train towards Waterloo. And as fellow poet Sophia Walker pointed out, that other than just thinking about what I can offer the countries I go to, they will also have much to offer me and I will grow as a writer and as a person in ways I won’t know now.
So, these will be the last few things I’m up to this year, but I reckon it’s the max I can afford to do time-wise:
-Feminism in London Evening Party
-Working on a Burn After Reading project
-An event on Superheroes and Supervillians
-Homeless Not Hopeless event
Hopefully I’ll catch some weekend events and open mic nights, and, of course, there’ll be She Grrrowls… I don’t want to end it so soon, so maybe I’ll do a January goodbye party… I’m not sure exactly when I’ll be going, but January seems like a good time for a bon voyage!
Okay, I can’t quite end it there. Here are some nice things to look at for National Poetry Day:
Selina Nwulu won the prize for Young Poet Laureate for London. Since working with her on Word’s a Stage (Apples and Snakes), we’ve shared pre-poetry food, post-show feminist discussions and dressed up in 1920s gear to see Laura Marling. She’s a fantastic poet, has featured at She Grrrowls, but is also such a lovely person. Representing the shy girls!
I celebrated National Poetry Day by taking some of my intervention students to NPD Live at Southbank. Then I went to a slam with some recycled poems, plus one from my Nasty Little Intro that I learnt whilst waiting.
I came joint first place in the Genesis Slam (there were only three of us…) Sadly I will have to Skype/send videos in for the final in December as I’m on unpaid leave for an Arvon writing residency (exciting!). I also managed to forget my lines in a poem-song I did because there was a head-to-head to attempt to get a winner, but I took a RISK, and that happens.
I am also very happy about getting fancy cinema tickets for two, plus pie and mash!
Last Tuesday I went back to Hammer & Tongue at The Victoria in Dalston Junction. I had just been to Nando’s with my friend Hannah and went to the slam on my own. I ordered a tap water, as I am on the “cabbage budget” as my course leader, Ian Chance, calls it. I settled into a comfy sofa at the front and watched the likes of Keith Jarrett and Henry Bowers, competing in the slam in between. I was the only woman competing and there were only a couple of women even at the event. And I came second place! Representing!! Only missed the top spot by 0.2 marks, so I’m progressing. After all these years, thank God. I spoke to a couple of people, including the host of the night, Steve Larkin, and even gave out a business card, though the guy hasn’t been in contact, I hope he will do because I wanted to tell him about my own Jack & Jill poem (though not nearly as good as the one he performed).
On National Poetry Day I went to Southbank and listened to loads of poets from 1pm-6pm. There were so many, but my favourites were Michael Rosen, Laura Dockrill, Richard O’Brien, Catherine Labiran, Lemn Sissay, and Simon Armitage. The Foyles Young Poets winners were there as well, which made me feel very inadequate and old. At only 22. I feel I am behind and trying to catch up with these youngsters.
I went to another slam and got a good score but was beaten by a couple of people. I was feeling a bit messed about by the host beforehand and it rang true that artists are taken advantage of by event runners etc. I calculated that with around 50 people showing up, charging a fiver-a-head, the artists themselves should really getting paid more than £10 for “travel”. There are plenty of venues that are free to hire, so it is something that really needs changing. I was asked… or rather, just told, that I would be the sacrificial poet and then as I accepted this and made my way towards the stage, I was made to look a fool by the host announcing into the microphone that I was actually going to compete in the slam after all and someone else was going up. I was also told that if I got one of the prizes that cost £5, to put it back… I thought wait a minute, why am I not entitled to get the prize? Because I asked to be on the guest list?! Come on, poets that compete in the slam shouldn’t even be paying anyway. I spoke to a couple of men, one of which I had met a couple of times before, and he has expressed the event is ‘for poets’ rather than ‘for everyone’ so maybe that’s part of the problem as to why the slammers also have to pay. Also! Some of the features hardly had five minutes! It should be 10 minutes minimum really, I reckon.
Anyway, this irritation made me reluctant to want to go back, which is why I’m leaving the event unnamed. I felt aggravated before I went on stage, and that’s just not how it should be. There were plenty of events to choose from that night, so I could have gone elsewhere but I didn’t. Maybe next time I will think about it harder.
Anyway, overall, it was a good week. I am getting used to working at Sainsbury’s (although I had a nightmare about uniform and turning up late and clocking in, last night) and my nerves are getting lesser. I am loving my MA course, although I stayed up doing work until 1am the night before it was due, only to find out half of it was actually due the week after, silly me! Things are looking up and I’m thinking of making this WordPress site into my website (part of my coursework) but there are things I need to think about. Life is busy, but it is good 🙂
To celebrate National Poetry Day, as secretary of LitSoc at UEA, I organised a reading session for people to share any poetry they liked in a nice, relaxed environment. We put up fairy lights and lamps, and set out rugs, cushions, snacks… and FREE WINE! Here’s a picture of some of the committee members there… just under twenty people turned up in the end. I would have liked lots more, but there we are.
Aside from the regular people reading, fellow committee member and some of her friends read, as well as a couple of freshers and Josh Jones, who has never read before and is now addicted and now has his first collection of poetry out – Thought Disorder.
All in all, a good time was had. Here is a video of me blogging a bit about it, and doing a (pretty bad) reading of a couple of the poems I did on the night as I didn’t film any of it, and it’s a rare thing for me to read Benjamin Zephaniah and Kate Nash.
Poet on page and stage. Creator of She Grrrowls. Facilitator. Writer. 