Slow Motion

The end of summer is always difficult, even this year when it's hung on much longer than usual. Things have been hard lately, at home, at work, with the kids, with me. I have no motivation for anything besides getting through work and keeping things ticking over at home. My new job is going pretty well, but some days it's too much, a steep learning curve. 

As a result, I haven't written much, even though autumn is sneaking in, my favourite time of year. Usually, I'm writing tons connected with the change of season, but I'm just half-heartedly editing the poems I was working on over the summer. A few moments here and there towards my goals.

I've started a series of poems on Finnish animals, really animals in Finland as none of them are particularly Finnish, hares, cranes, elk, magpies. I haven't written about the norppa seal or reindeer, animals I connect with Finland, though I might. The creatures I've chosen take on a Finnish persona, though they are animals I know from elsewhere. I'm mixing my love of nature with my focus on belonging to a place. The animals are guides, gods or representations of myself, moving through Finland with the will to understand, if not accept, the world around them.

These new poems have made the Finnish collection change again which is intruiging. Its early incarnations were about me struggling to adapt to living here in connection with my family, hanging on to the remnants of my life in Scotland. As I said, these new poems are not necessarily about accepting my life here, but more just listening to the voices of Finland more intently. Stepping out of myself for brief wanders.

All this sounds like I'm writing a blurb for the book, but it's nice to sort out my thoughts on it. And who knows, it might be useful someday as a blurb.

I'm not submitting as much as I usually do either, focussing more on sending manuscripts to book publishers for the inevitable rejection or just radio silence. I can never tell if publisher

My poem 'Sisu and Jag' has been published by Sídhe Press in their collection Glisk and Glimmer. I can't wait to get a look at it.

It's a three-day weekend, the leaves are starting to fall and even though I have a 10-year-old sleepover happening tonight, I'm going to try and chill for the rest of the weekend. Maybe even do a bit of writing. 

Take care. 

Finding a Balance with the World

I survived the camping with the girls and my youngest son, barely. Our fave campsite has now become stupidly popular, we had a 12-man bachelor party up singing and shooting bb guns until late and a group of giggling mothers into the morning. So I didn't get much sleep. 

The next day they all cleared off and I thought we'd have a couple of quiet hours to decide whether to stay the next night when a 40-person party showed up for a bbq picnic. I need a new campsite close to a fire pit and toilet and not too far to walk from the car. I want to sit near a lake with just my kids splashing about, I want to sit by a fire in the silence of the woods. We had a lovely time cooking over the fire and swimming and just chilling, but it was just too noisy and crowded. I felt like I was crashing someone else's party just trying to cook a sausage on the communal fire pit.

There's a balance point that I always struggle with between what I need and what others need. I'm not always good at meeting both, especially with my kids, but also with my own needs and with others. I'd be happy camping alone, so I can write and do as I please. However, I went camping with my kids who have their own wishes, to a place where there are conveniences that make camping with kids easier. They loved it, having everything near and so did lots of others, so I had to share or not stay a second night. We came home. 

I have an upcoming writers' retreat with my writing group Helsinki Writers. It's also a weird balance. We want a social atmosphere, but we want to focus a bit on writing. We say we want to do writing activities and talk, but when we get there we mostly want to drink and chat. This is our third year and we're still getting the mechanics in place. It will be a good time however we work it. I will make my own time for writing and hopefully, some people will show up for my own little session. And least we're keeping our festivities in a private place, not taking over a public space.

I've been reminded on Twitter recently that coming in August is The Sealey Challenge, to read a poetry book or a chapbook every day. I have a pile of books unread that I'll give a go. There are probably not enough for one every day, but some of them are longer, so it might take me a few days to finish. I'd like to write a short review of each as well which I'll try to share on Twitter and this blog. 

Here are a few of the books I have for the challenge. I also have a few on my Kindle app. And if I have time I will also read some of the magazine issues I've fallen behind on recently. As school starts in a week and I have a new role, I know I won't be able to keep up with the Challenge every day, but if I manage to get through this pile and write a quick review, I will be happy

Sorry, realised I've read the Fiona Benson book, it's her new book Ephemeron I'm reading this time. I thought it didn't look right. 

That's another balance I'm not good at, keeping up with my poetry reading. I read a lot of fiction, I write a ton of poetry, but I struggle to read poetry. I love individual poems, but collections are hard for me to get into unless they have some strong pull. I'm not sure what it is, a theme or story going through or just really outstanding poems or what, but The Sealey Challenge is a good way to read those collections I've bought over the year, but never finished or sometimes even started due to other commitments. Even reading whole journals I've been published in can be a challenge. 

If you write poetry, do you read much of it? Do you read the magazines you're published in? Please, tell me how to balance it all. 

Rewriting Memories and Poetry Colllections

Summer is winding down, I only have a few weeks before I go back to work. I want to just wallow in it a bit longer, enjoy the lack of routine, the untethered flow of hours. The kids need a bit more structure but fight against any attempts. We're still going to the lakes, picking blueberries, working in the garden, enjoying the slow days.

The youngest wants to go camping, but it never works out like she thinks. She wants to build a fire and eat marshmallows but forgets the rest, the forest without screens, with insects and uncomfortable sleeping bags. But she's looking forward to it, so we'll give it another try. The boys already opt-out of stuff like this, so it will probably be just us girls. The boys have decided they don't like that sort of things, though the last time they came they enjoyed it. It's funny how we rewrite memories. 

I said in my last blog that I had started writing some different, fresher material. This has coincided with me going through all my poems and retiring poems that I didn't feel were strong or good enough. Most of these poems were not in one of the two or three collections I have in progress, so it was easy to just pack them away in a Retired Poems folder. I might go back in the future and have a look at them to try and refresh or reuse some of the material and I know they're still there if I want to use one or two, but it feels good to shift them out of sight. 

I write a lot, see note about having three collections going, but many of the poems I write are good enough on their own, but don't work well with others or my style has changed and I just don't find them as appealing anymore. I then went through the collections and had a cull as well. I didn't take out as many poems, but I changed the direction of one book, so I did need to take about a third away. It feels liberating to pare things down, to turn towards this new direction. 

I have one of those collections with a publisher, but it's been stalled for four years. In the meantime, I've rearranged and edited it over and over. It's better, certainly, but it doesn't make the wait feel any better. It's just so frustrating, not knowing when or if it will happen. I don't know if I'd be happier to have the collection the way it is, basically better, or to have it earlier, so I can move on. I sometimes feel like I'm still stuck in that place where the collection inhabits until it's published as I keep revisiting the poems as I edit. It will be nice to be free of them, in a sense. Until then it's a waiting game. A wading game as I move through the poems, just up to my ankles, occasionally plashing about.

My writing group is having its third annual retreat in two weeks. I'm looking forward to it. I have to drive, but besides that it will be just hanging out with people I like, writing, talking writing, eating and drinking, jumping in the hottub. It's a blast and I always manage to write a poem or two while I'm there. The day after we come back, I'm off to work. So that will be the end of summer, a proper send off. 

Slowing Down into the Summer, Summer, Summertime

School is finally done and the sun is shining. The weather has been amazing, so hot and clear. Not great for the garden or the forests to go so long without rain, but the long days of light and heat are a relief. Beach weather, park weather, proper summer weather while we off to enjoy it. 

Appointments are winding down and most alarms are turned off. I'm trying to make the most of each day, doing a mix of things I want, things that need to be done and things I should do. So a little housework and repair, big cleaning, gardening and, of course, writing. I have a huge puzzle to finish from Christmas, a cardigan I started years ago, my genealogy research is never-ending. 

I had two weeks after school finished to do what I wanted, but now I have a visitor here and then summer school in Scotland to teach English for ten days. After that's done, I'll be able to focus on having a more relaxed summer. I'm not writing much while my guest is here, but I still get a few minutes here and there. 

I'm enjoying what I'm writing now. My style has changed a bit over the past year. My poetic style is always changing, but I sometimes get caught in a loop of subjects or styles, writing very similar poems for a period and when something comes along to shake me up, I find it refreshing. 

I use prompts to push me out of my rut. Writing from different points of view, occasionally trying a structured form (I'm currently trying to write a palindrome) and looking into unusual events for inspiration. I've even managed to put a bit of humour, sometimes black humour in my poems, playing with ideas that often aren't found together. 

I hope while I'm on my course I'll have time in the evenings to write and continue with this new mood. 

A wee book review of a new Scottish title: I recently read Angus Peter Campbell's Electricity. I'd heard a lot about it and had hoped to be blown away by it. But it's not that kind of book, it doesn't make you want to steam through it, to see how it ends. It's a slow read, a wander through a world that barely exists now and you don't want to rush through it. It sneaks up on you. 

It's a reminiscence of a grandmother, writing to her Australian grandchild about her Hebridean upbringing on an unnamed Scottish island. The people still speak Gaelic and cling to traditional ways in the wake of electricity and an airport coming to the island. 

It's not a novel, in a traditional sense. There are beautifully drawn characters, the speaker Annie, her family, a local shepherd who resists all change, her friends and neighbours. There's not much of a plot other than change is coming to the island. Annie writes what starts out as a letter, but it soon meanders beyond that, skipping through time and theme to draw a warm, comforting picture of a community steeped in traditions and memories. 

I don't believe the book is set on any particular island but seems to connect closest to North and South Uist and Benbecula with its tiny airport. It looks at subjects important to the history of the Hebrides; migration, language, the culture of ceilidhs and farming. Annie's parents and some of her neighbours cling to the traditions of paraffin lamps and peat fires as electricity tempts others with the simplicity of electric fires, refrigeration and lights. But we know how the story ends and from the beginning, there is a sense of loss that too much of this way of life has been lost. 

Campbell's Electricity does a beautiful job of capturing island life and Gaelic culture. It is a reminder to slow down and take note of what is going on around you, right now. 

Enjoy your summer. 

A Rough Spring Start and GloPoWriMo

Every year I desperately wait to be out of the Finnish winter and into spring. Every year Finnish Mother Nature slaps me in the face with my birch allergy. If you've ever been to Finland, you'll know this is a totally unfair allergy. The snow is finally gone, the sun is shining and I can't work on my allotment, my garden, go for a walk or enjoy a Vappu (May Day) picnic without suffering. I was working our annual Finnish Scottish Society ceilidh yesterday and even though I didn't drink I'm suffering because we left a lot of windows open to keep the place cool during all the cooking and dancing. So today is a good day for couch writing with cats and a quick review of my April Poetry Month GloPoWriMo - Global Poetry Writing Month.

As expected I didn't write or post every day, but I think I only missed a few days. Some days were token writing exercises as I just couldn't find a prompt to inspire me, other days I wrote a whole poem. There are bits that might be expanded into a poem, some that just aren't worth it. It was nice to have a kickstart into writing regularly again. I especially enjoyed @toddedillard's prompts as they were unexpected, sometimes surreal but always very original and fun. He has several years' worth of prompts linked there, so I think I will continue to dip into them for inspiration. 

I also used the https://www.napowrimo.net/ site and was introduced to the Finnish poet Olli Heikkonen. He's the first Finnish poet I really could connect with and I could almost understand all the Finnish. It was great to hear him read it on the Poetry International website. It was really inspiring and I've written two poems from that prompt. It also led to some interesting discussions in my writing group about the difference between moose and elk and whether I can use them interchangeably as the Finnish word is the same.

My writing group now has a home after struggling to find a venue. Before Covid, we used the Oodi library in central Helsinki, but they've never gone back to the later opening hours, so we felt a bit rushed to be out by 9pm. Global Art Point - GAP - in Helsinki has kindly agreed to let us use their meeting room on some Friday evenings. Check the Helsinki Writers Facebook page to see which days we're meeting In Real Life. It was so nice this week to catch up with people I haven't seen in ages. 

GloPoWriMo and Spring Cleaning

The holiday weekend has been bliss. I put aside anything I had to do except a first aid online course and just focussed on what I wanted. I tidied toy boxes with the kids, I worked on my puzzle, crocheted, did yoga, some shopping and loads of writing. I should have spent more time outside as it finally feels like spring is here, but I'm not going to beat myself up because I didn't. There were things that I wanted to do inside, so I did them. There's still snow on the ground here, so I can't get into the digging the garden mode yet, so I'm happy to wait. 

Week 1 of GloPoWriMo, the Global Poetry Writing Month, and I've managed something every day. Sometimes a whole poem comes, sometimes just notes. Some of the notes have been used in other poems. some will just decay as compost. I've used a mixture of the NaPoWriMo website's daily prompts and ideas from other places. One poem was inspired by a 6th-grade maths lesson I was in. I hope I didn't look like I was fangirling while taking notes. 

Today I have an online write-along booked with Jen Hadfield. It seems strange to write silently with other writers on a Zoom call. We don't interact except at the check-ins at the beginning and end. We don't share what we've written, and many turn off their camera and mic while writing. It's the booking time with other writers, with the muse to write and the shared activity. Others are with me, struggling to put words on the page, finding the gentle pressure to produce. It does inspire me somehow. 

I just hope something will pop into my mind when I sit down to write as at the moment even with a bunch of prompts in my head I'm drawing a blank. That's often how it works, everything percolates in my skull until I start randomly writing and then somehow it comes together. I see a thread and start tugging on it until the beginning of a poem unravels beneath my hand. Other times I write complete crap, but that's the risk. 

I'm feeling the need to go through my big electronic pile of poems and take out the stuff I really don't like. I could work on fixing them, but some might just be binned. Maybe my style has changed so that I can't see what I like about them before. I've never been one for binning or burning my old poems, my notebooks, my childhood scribbles, but I do put them aside and stop working on them. 

Maybe I need to do a radical version of that. Create a new file of just the poems I currently love, that I want to find a home for, that fit in a collection. Maybe more than one file then, as some I love have already been published. Some have collections where they fit, while others don't. 

This seems to be a symptom of my current spring cleaning fit, not guddling in toyboxes for the broken toys, those who aren't played with anymore, but in poetry files. That's my day planned.  

Global Poetry Writing Month - Getting Started - Day 1

I feel the spring creeping into Finland. It takes its time here, but there are blue skies above the melting snow. The warmth streams in through the windows, but the wind is still biting outside, the grass is finally being revealed, but it's gray and dead. 

I started a yoga class a few weeks back as a way to get my body into motion again after my winter hibernation. I've practised yoga on and off for decades, but with my studies, the kids and generally just being unorganised, I haven't done a class or done much at home for years. I stumbled on a brilliant class and am really enjoying the feeling I get from gently pushing myself. Afterwards, I find someplace for a cup of tea, cake and writing. However, I've been also been struggling to get the writing going, so April's Global Poetry Writing Month challenge #glopowrimo has arrived just in time to give me a creative kickstart. It is most needed. 

From past courses and challenges, I know that I am able to start a poem a day and have learned to enjoy the challenge, so this will be a way to get me working again. The NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo website linked above has a daily prompt which helps. I also have a few books to play with for ideas. Even if I don't write every day or write anything decent when I do sit down, I should get a few poems out of it just from that act of trying. 

Day 1 - the theme is 'to judge a book by its cover'. I pondered the idea while I swept up as I waited for the kettle to boil. My life is always a series of multi-tasking, so finding some quiet time to just think and write is unusual. And as often happens the things I was doing snuck into my poem.

Notes from my draft:

You cannot draw a conclusion

from the cover illustrations 

unread at my bedside, 

from the pile of crumbs I sweep away,

from the statues that clutter 

my never used for writing desk

a queen in dismay

a bog cat

a berserker biting down on his shield

we are all cliched

and we are all jagged

a switchback of contradictions

The line 'we are jagged' came from a training lecture we had at my school recently, referring to the fact that on any continuum or spectrum, we are never just a straight line or all one thing. You can look at aspects of our personality, our thinking, and our actions and we will all have our own quirks and diversities. I liked the idea of it, but I'm not sure how to use it yet though it seems to fit in this draft poem for now. We'll see if it goes anywhere. 

At least I've started.