Corona Virus Week Two - Facing Isolation

As so many of us are stuck at home in these crazy times, I've become part of The Stay-at-Home Online Literary Festival. It runs from 27 March to 11 April and will have readings, book launches, discussions, all those things we're missing with social distancing in the literary world. Some of the writers included are Maggie O'Farrell, Louise Welch, the writers of Butcher's Dog, Molly Brown and Tania Hershman.

I'm offering two poets a chance to receive feedback on up to ten poems or to discuss their next moves. If you're interested feel free to contact me via my website www.grimalkinpress.co.uk or via my Twitter handle @grimalkingerry. 

On a personal writing side, E. Christine Murray has included 5 of my poems on Poethead her collection of women poets from Ireland and abroad and there is a link to this blog in her Index of Women Poets. I've mentioned Poethead on here before, I catch up with it regularly to get a taste of what's going on in women's poetry. It's a heady mix of linguistic acrobatics and seamstresses of imagery and styles, every click something new and undiscovered. I usually end up in a rabbit hole of following links to other blogs or publishers sites or looking for more of the writers' work if I find one that really hits home. It's really worth spending some time wandering through.

On a smaller personal scale, everything that's going right now on seems so momentous, but I haven't been able to write about it. I edit unfinished poems, but I can't write more than a few notes about the self-isolation. I have one poem I started just as this began to take hold where the virus is beginning to work its way into. It was supposed to be just about the drama of beginnings and endings at a hospital, but I can't help to see the impact of the virus in the stanza. In everything, I read, watch, think about the virus seems to overwrite itself. 

I started scribbling the previous paragraph last night, far too deep into the wee hours and followed up by rewriting another half-finished poem so that it looked at home isolation. So I guess it will find a way to write itself. I can't approach it head on. I'm uncertain of where to start, worrying whether my view is worth speaking. I feel so insignificant, locked away, protected by the privilege of being able to wash my hands, stay off work, protect my family. Our lives feel on the verge of a huge change and I'm just holding my breath, waiting to see what will happen, how we will be affected, what will remain.

We are all uncertain and waiting. Be safe.

Too Tired to Think of a Title

This week consisted of subbing four full days, the fifth day I had a meeting at my son's school because he's been struggling since we moved him to mainstream and chasing up information and applying for a course or two or three. I managed to get one application in and I think I've decided against one of the courses. It's full time, my son's needs and appointments are obviously going to increase, so I won't be able to commit to going into Uni every day. The new plan is to apply to the other two and see what happens and continue to work as a substitute.

I graduated with my second degree in 1996. I've done a few language and creative writing courses since, but I haven't written an essay or done academic research for over 20 years. I've edited essays for other people, double-checked their bibliographies and facts, but I've not been a proper student. And now I've decided to apply to two one-year courses while working part-time. I'm not sure I'll get into either of them, but I'm getting a bit worried that I'll be able to handle even one of them.

I swore I didn't want to go back to studying. I'm 50 this year and I wanted that part of my life to be done. But needs must. I will get paid more, have more opportunities if I do some training. I don't think I'm ready to be a full-time student again though.

I'm already feeling my age and out-of-placeness, struggling with the online application system, but, honestly, who thought that it would be a good idea to not allow people to go back and double-check, proof-read their details and that if you tried, you'd crash your application. I've discovered even some of the students I've worked with submit essays written on phones without doing more than a spell check. Crazy. Yes, I've complained to the University, being a mature student-hopeful means I won't be willing to sit back and just accept things.

My writing has gotten very little attention until this weekend, but I've found a bit of time to do some writing and editing.

I've also had four poems published in the morphrog 20 issue this week, the online version of The Frogmore Papers. It's nice to have a few poems in one place, to read the other writers and also for myself.

I've also received the new Hedgehog Poetry Press Cult bundle, a big pile of pamphlets that come with my subscription. I was especially looking forward to Raine Geoghegan's new collection they lit fires: lenti hatch o yog, monologues, songs and haibun about her family's Romany life. I had read her previous collection Apple Water: Povel Panni and was really taken by the mixture of poetry, culture and language woven into her writing. It was actually some of Raine's poems on Chris Murray's Poethead website that led me to Hedgehog. I was so taken by her writing and thought the house that published her would be worth looking into and it definitely was.

The new collection doesn't disappoint. I love the colours, the sound of the Romany words her writing evokes. Each piece makes me feel as if I was by those fires listening to those stories, travelling down the roads with a warm, tight-knit family. Raine Geoghegan's writing offers a different and welcome insight to the Romany culture than most popular media offers these days. 

It's sad seeing my writing taking a backseat to so much, but I'm trying to keep myself connected with poetry however I can.