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THE LOST LAST POEM

NEWA0117 Painting by Gillian Rose

I put off finishing the poem a good while ago. There was a bit of a muddle in the middle. It needed plenty of time, and I didn't have plenty. I never have plenty.     

Today it occurred to me that it's been over a year — it might even be nearly two — since I last looked at it. But the last line keeps coming back to me. Gotta be telling me something.

It's the last poem in a long set. A long set that I want to make into a book. It's ten years since my last book of serious poems came out. You can put things off too long. 

I can put things off too long.

So I go to the electronic folder to take a look. Oh. It's not where I thought it was. 

Where is that folder?  I know what it's called. 'Find' comes up with four copies of a 2003 folder. Not the one I'm looking for.

But I'm cool with this. I'll find it.

Systematically, I search the usual places. My hard drive; the USB sticks I take on holiday; the desktop of the laptop; the Cloud. It'll show up.

Except it doesn't. Bummer.

The end of the poem is taunting me. It goes like this (the line breaks may not be right):

So now tell me, she says,
what you've done with my pearls.

This might not sound riveting. But I tell you there was a tricky back-story before those lines. A tale that was the last tale to be told in the bigger story of Mr and Mrs Philpott, who began in a Rialto publication in 2003 and might be finally at the end. Except I've lost the end.

I might once have panicked. But not these days. I know how things get lost. I know how to find them. (I know there are too many poems in the world already.) 

I go to my ring-bound paper files, where I print and file every poem. Well, nearly. It seems I didn't print this one. Or if I did, I didn't file it.

But I remember putting the poem into the large file I'd made of all the poems. The WHOLE SET, which amounted to a great many pages. And I printed that file. It's in a perspex wallet underneath the mountain of books and magazines on the table beside the stove.

And this turns out to be true.

Except when I printed that WHOLE SET, the last poem hadn't been added. I might have guessed, since the plastic wallet is dusty. But at least its physical existence proves I did create a file of more than 80 pages. Because here they are.

But I worked on several versions of the last (and longest) poem. I remember this absolutely clearly. It has to be somewhere.

Two hours later, I can confirm the Pearls poem is not somewhere. It is not even in the back-up drive of time-machine-saved files, most of which could be jettisoned with impunity. I must have been keeping it in the Cloud, in the same folder as the book file to which it was to be added. I must somehow have deleted the whole folder, no doubt thinking I had a copy on the backed-up hard drive. It happens. 

Nobody else has seen that poem but me. It might as well never have existed. They call it The Cloud for a reason.

Idly, I riffle through the stack of metal trays on my desk, where I keep all sorts of odds and sods. Letters, poems, bills, cartoons, pictures. I also go through them regularly and throw old poems away. But not this one. This poem is there.

Nearly three A4 pages. It's THERE.

It's not the last saved version, because a whole lot of stuff is horribly wrong with it. I fixed some of the muddle, I know I did. I'm not even sure it's a good poem, now that I read it again. Maybe I should end with the one before. Maybe it was meant to get lost.

On the other hand, one of the reasons for getting poems published (if you're lucky enough to be able to) is to save them from oblivion, at least temporarily. Or to ensure that they get lost in the right way, i.e. by being forgettable for most readers.

So now I had better help that to happen, if I can. It's time.


Recent Comments
grahaeme barrasford young
At least you found it. I've got a poem I know I wrote (or, I shouild say, have just recalled I wrote): I have no idea anymore what... Read More
Sunday, 19 July 2020 16:46
Guest — Sheila Aldous
Dear Helena, I know the frustrations. I hope you find it soon or your previous edits come back to you. How do you normally file y... Read More
Sunday, 19 July 2020 17:21
Helena Nelson
You might be able to find it from a key word or phrase, Graeme. 350 is not so many.... Good luck! :-)
Sunday, 19 July 2020 17:50
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  10 Comments

When Zoom is doom

ZOOM

'She left the web, she left the zoom'  ('The Lady of Shalott')

For poets inhabiting the online world, all sorts of virtual spaces (and opportunities) are springing up. Most publishers (I am no exception) are delivering online events to help promote books. We learn as we go.

People are using many different platforms. Zoom ('In this together. Keeping you securely connected wherever you are') has the most memorable name, and I think it might yet get into the dictionary, like hoover did – when a brand became the generic term. Wouldn't that please the Zoom people?

But all sorts of other platforms are on the go, with their various not very inspiring catchphrases. For example:

  • ClickMeeting ('We help you stay connected' — unambitious but at least short)
  • Zoho ('Your Life's Work Powered By Our Life's Work' — what's with the capital letters?)
  • Webex ('Webex is here when the world needs to connect, communicate and collaborate' —not a catchphrase, practically a paragraph!)
  • GotoMeeting ('WE'RE HERE TO HELP' — please stop shouting)
  • Microsoft Teams ('Nothing can stop a team'—oh YES it can!)
  • Periscope live streaming (developed by Twitter: 'See what the world is seeing' — ho-hum)

But yes, Zoom ('In this together. Keeping you securely connected wherever you are') is the best name, though limp catchphrase. And in the UK, at least, Zoom seems to be the most popular right now, at least for ordinary people as opposed to giant organisations, whose employees use the one they're told to use (which is frequently one they don't like).

All but one of the poetry events I've attended online recently have been Zoom affairs. I spent time exploring both GotoMeeting (and GotoWebinar) and Webex, but it seemed to me Zoom was easiest to use. Also it has the advantage of being the one I'm getting most used to.

Not that I like everything about it, by any means. And there are many things I don't understand. For example, having read carefully about headsets, I don't understand why the sound quality I get through mine is worse than my Imac's own microphone. Okay, so one of the headsets was cheap but the other was £25.00 and I thought it might have something to offer. Nope.

I have learned quite a bit about things that go wrong. 

Like that sometimes my computer's camera stops working, and I have to restart the whole shebang. 

Like that when I select 'record automatically' in Zoom settings, it doesn't record automatically. 

Like that Zoom is unhappy about screen-share when the document shared is set to 'full screen', though sometimes it's ok. 

Like that sometimes nothing works right, and it is not the user's fault. Sundays may be bad days. 

Today, for example, the Zoom website status indicated that all sorts of things weren't working. 'Our team is continuing to investigate this issue.' I can bear witness to the fact that there most certainly was an issue. 

When its good, it's very very good. When it stops working, Zoom is doom.

But for any virtual conferencing technology, watching poets' faces while they read poems, with variable sound quality, is a mixed blessing. Some events share the poem-text at the same time, though. That adds a little something that you don't usually get at a live reading.

Zoom events where attendees can use public chat are ... risky. Sometimes the contributions are, let's say, less than tasteful. And when chat comments pop up in the middle of a reading, it's distracting. Terribly tempting, too, to send a sarky message about the presenter to a friend (a bit like whispering during a poetry reading). Just wait till you find you've sent it publicly by accident.

It's distracting too, when some of the attendees visible in video windows are eating lunch or (as in one recent instance) applying moisturiser.

Having been to live open mic events where the poets left one by one after they had delivered their two minutes-worth, I suspect precisely the same happens online. A bit like Pass the Parcel, except the final one to unwrap the paper is entirely on their own.

Some attendees turn their video off so they can continue to listen while making dinner, without anybody seeing what they're doing. This is actually quite sensible, though maybe not ideal at a poetry event, when you're secretly hoping people might be concentrating.

But maybe the key issue for any of us at online events is motivation. We sign up because we think it might be interesting. But after the novelty of the first few has worn off, what's in it for us? When you go to a live poetry reading, you know you're going to see some friends, probably have a convivial drink and an outing. But on the web?

From a publisher-host's point of view, one reason for zooming is to sell books. So one could argue, that from the attendee's point of view, a reason for going is to find out whether or not you'd want a copy. Is that enough to offset Zoom-fatigue? What else can online events offer attendees?

I don't think it works to transfer the content of a typical poetry reading into an online event. It's a different medium and something different needs to happen. If it's a live event, it might include some conversation, some insights, a bit of background on the book, a bit of enjoyable gossip. There may be aspects of audience interaction too that would draw people in and make them feel involved. Something to be learned that you can't get any other way – that's what I most like in an online event. I like to leave the meeting feeling I know something I didn't know when I went in.

That's if the technology works!

Essential Zoom terms

  • Zoom-gloomlow mood after Zoom events
  • Zoomophobiafear of Zoom events
  • Inzoomnialack of sleep after too much zooming
  • Zoomo sapiensnew species of virtual human
  • Zoom-tombdeadly boring Zoom event
  • Zoom-exhumepost-Zoom analysis
  • Zoom-grooming (don't ask)
  • Zoombaa virtual dance
  • Zoom-Vrrrroomthe energy boost from an inspiring online event 
  • Rule of Zoomrough estimate of length of Zoom event
  • Nom de Zoomability to change one's name at Zoom event
  • Back to the Zomb Therapya new birthing technique
  • Bride and Zoomvirtual weddings
  • Zoominatingreflecting during a Zoom event; alternatively: eating grass during a Zoom event
  • Superzooman—Zoom participant with special powers

Recent Comments
Guest — Brigid Sivill
For those of us who are disabled or live in remote areas or are just poor I think that the current virtual meetings, films and lau... Read More
Sunday, 17 May 2020 21:37
Helena Nelson
You are absolutely right, Brigid, the virtual activity is wonderful when you can't get to the live event anyway. I think such even... Read More
Sunday, 17 May 2020 21:47
Guest — Davina
Brigid, I agree. It's never been easy to travel across country to readings and events for all sorts of reasons — and, to be honest... Read More
Monday, 25 May 2020 11:34
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  5 Comments

Are Your Modifiers Dangling?

IMG_2013

My reading window last month brought more poems than ever before. So 159 poets sent work. I can't read and respond to more than 1000 poems a month and stay sane, so I was at my limit.

But the challenge remains interesting, not least in the way trends change noticeably from one window to the next. So here are some trends I observed during the window. I've mentioned many of them before, but not all.

(I am aware I have a number of bees in my bonnet. It's inescapable. You get over-sensitized to things.)

  1. There were an unprecedented number of poems formatted in double spacing (often because Microsoft Word may double-space each time you hit the 'return' or 'enter' key). I strongly suspect some people think this is what 'poem' text is suppose to look like.
  2. I have seen the most ever poems with zero punctuation, though the poet may make an exception in the case of a dash, a question mark or an ellipsis. So actually there is punctuation but no commas or full stops.
  3. Punctuation-less poems in stanza form but with a capital letter at the start of the first word of each stanza. Gaps may be used to suggest pauses.
  4. 'So' or 'such' used as intensifiers.
  5. Poems that switch verb tense somewhere in the middle. Most poems these days are in the present tense. We have forgotten that this is a fashion. Once they were mostly in the past tense.
  6. Insertion of the phrase 'I think of', sneaking in even more often than 'I remember'.
  7. Prose poems formatted in very wide blocks, long LONG lines.
  8. Line breaks allowed to substitute for commas.
  9. Punny titles.
  10. 'As' used too often (my most unfavourite word, because of its grisly sound and the fact it can mean three things)
  11. Lists of nouns, but no 'and' before the last one.
  12. Metaphors that create an unfortunate mental image if you take them literally.
  13. Some poets have favourite shapes, so each poem looks rather like the one before (even though it may be about something completely different) eg long and thin, or short and fat.
  14. Enjambing every stanza.
  15. Whilst, amidst (but not amongst).
  16. Not heft this time, and only one shards, but quite a bit of musk and citalopram.
  17. Pantoums (loads): it's the new villanelle.
  18. 'After' poems (I need to blog about this separately because there is no consistency in what people mean by 'after' and it really does get confusing).
  19. The single sentence poem that gets its syntactical knickers in a twist in the middle.
  20. Long sentences with difficult syntax, often with the key verb and subject delayed and maybe three or four line breaks to negotiate before things start to make sense.
  21. That thing called a 'dangling modifier' is an arch culprit in poems. If your modifiers are dangling, I'd say you have a problem.
  22. Anaphora poems, by which I mean poems that start each stanza or each line with the same word or phrase (the 'Because' poem is a familiar example). This can be powerful. This can be powerful, of course. This can be powerful in the right poem. But you can have too much of a powerful thing.
  23. Sentences starting with a verb but subject implied: I am seeing this more and more. She goes to the cupboard. Takes out a cup. Thinks of a bad sonnet. (Is this actually a variation on 'leaning verbs'?)
  24. The ampersand is back, judicious use in some poems, rather than a consistent stylistic feature.
  25. Poems that can only work inside the space of an A4 page.
  26. The single most common problem: unintended obscurity. The poem is behaving as though it's obvious what's going on but the reader is mystified. This is quite different from deliberate obscurity, which can be compelling.

If any of the points above are obscure, it was unintentional. Sometimes you just can't see how difficult you're being.


Recent Comments
Guest — Jinny Fisher
I love your trend round-ups, Nell; SUCH a lot to watch out for! One thing: prose poems surely don't have lines. The printed 'line... Read More
Sunday, 11 August 2019 12:40
Guest — grahaeme barrasford young
Wouldn't surprise me in the least.
Sunday, 11 August 2019 12:53
Helena Nelson
Dear Jinny -- no they do have lines. All text does. And sometimes even the end words are deliberate, not chance, though not for mo... Read More
Sunday, 11 August 2019 13:23
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OPEN THE WINDOW AND WHERE IS RUMPELSTILTZKIN?

20181114_102845

The reading window is about to open. Look back, look out, look forward.

On HappenStance's sister website, Sphinx review, this year we OPOI-reviewed 92 pamphlets. They came in through the front door. But we received far more than we OPOI-ed. 

The stated aim is to write about each and every one that's sent in, but it's an impossible aim. 

Besides, who will read all the reviews? Let's be honest. Reviews are not top of the reading list for most people, unless the review is of their own book.

Sometimes it occurs to me to offer authors an OPOI review of their publication provided they write one (of somebody else's pamphlet). But then some of the authors might write thoughtlessly or carelessly because their hearts weren't in it. 

Still, a mammoth number of poetry pamphlets now appears every year. Of course the authors like critical notice. But how is it to be managed? We did 92. I have 68 more pamphlets sitting here right this minute unwritten-about. I need Rumpelstiltskin.

Besides, there are more, far more. We weren't even sent copies of all the pamphlets that were produced. There must be 200-300 every year in the UK, at a guess. How would anybody ever know the real number? Many of them don't have ISB numbers. 

But the OPOI reviews are (yes, I am biassed) rather interesting to read, and writing reviews (especially OPOIs) is good for poets. I really think that. And if you've never done anything like this before, it's good training. You have a couple of kindly hands-on editors here to help. They're nice. 

This one is also currently sharpening her pencils for another purpose.

The poetry reading window is open from January 2nd to January 29th. Yay!

The window for offering OPOI reviews is open all year round.

Recent comment in this post
Helena Nelson
Making a comment on my own blog, it occurs to me how interesting it would be if a reading group took a particular pamphlet and eac... Read More
Monday, 31 December 2018 14:01
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  1 Comment

THE POETRY ELF FAILS TO WRITE THE RIGHT SORT OF BLOG

MAILSHO_20181118-122706_1 HappenStance mail in waiting

They have switched the Christmas lights on in our town and the shops (those of them that are still in business) are full of tinsel and elves.

Here at HappenStance HQ, two elves are busy putting bits of paper into envelopes. Tomorrow a mailshot goes out to the 310 postal subscribers and 100 or so electronic ones.

We have four new pamphlets out (or will have by tomorrow) and are hoping that some people will want to buy some as seasonal gifts. Poetry needs all the help it can get to find its way into people's houses. But assuming you buy one, the little folded, staple-stitched publication you will hold in your hand has weeks and weeks and weeks of activity behind it. It's the claws of Art, which extend to many activities.

First there's the acreage of time that the poet put into each line: the thought, the revision, the doubt, the risk. In some cases, this takes years. Well, you know about that.

Then there's the discussion of the poems one by one with me, the fate of the semi-colons, the ones that didn't make the cut, the titles that were changed, the order of contents — all of that business. Hours, rather than weeks, but then subsequent weeks of email exchanges about drafts (with four different poets at the same time).

There's the image on the cover and the discussions with Gillian Rose who draws them between fighting off small children. There are the images she and I rejected, and the days spent in In-Design and Photoshop trying (and frequently failing) to make the jacket look like I want it to. 

There's the title registration and uploading of jacket images to Nielsen Bookdata, and then, after an interval to allow them to be processed, the giant Amazon (oops, I haven't done Amazon yet — so add that to the list of things to do today, 21 and counting).

There's the trip with the pamphlet pages to be printed to Robert and Liz at Dolphin Press in Glenrothes, about a mile from here. Yes, this is very old-fashioned. I print them and take them. There's the review of what endpapers we have left or can use from Robert's stock. 

Then, for Robert at Dolphin, there's the making of the lithographic plates, the printing, and this time round there's the day the stapling machine broke and Robert spent three and a half hours fixing it (I think that was part way through D.A. Prince's Bookmarks, but it could have been Geoff Lander's The Lesser Mortal).

But before the stapling, there's the collating of pages (usually Robert and Liz's daughter Nicky does that), the filling of boxes. There's me driving there to pick up boxes, and me and Matt staggering along to the house with them (the hall is full of cardboard boxes and we haven't even picked up Meg Peacocke's Honeycomb or Helen Nicholson's Briar Mouth yet).

And the flyers. Each new pamphlet has a promotional flyer, so those take a while to design and make, and then they're printed by Robert in time for the mailshot, into which (this time) goes not only four flyers but a bookmark, a postcard, a Bardcard, a newsletter and (if it applies) a subscription renewal slip. The postcard was printed by Moo (costs a fortune but they do a good job), the bookmark by Solopress (cheaper and not bad). Designing and uploading and ordering these – a day for each one.

The newsletters take an age to write. Each time I'm fearful of forgetting to mention something or someone essential and obvious. The brain gets too full. Some days I could forget my own name. And there has to be a product page in the online shop for each pamphlet, and an updated poet's page for the poet, and an electronic version of everything in the right place at the right time for the online-only subscribers. All that stuff is ready now: I spent a couple of days on it last week, but it's not yet visible. (Don't publish the product till you're ready to sell it!)

Besides, first I had to update the  publications in print list, and the subscriber list, making sure as I can that the second of these is accurate and that the address labels correspond with the list (there are always anomalies because some people renew by cheque and some online, and the two systems need a human being to bring them together). That takes another half day. Then finally I print the address labels.

Matt collates all the bits and pieces for the mailshot, gets very grumpy, tells me whether we have enough envelopes of the right size, fills the envelopes and sticks on the labels, and checks them off on the list one by one, adding in reminders to those who are due to renew. He usually discovers (and brandishes) at least three mistakes I've made somewhere. The whole process takes him three days and quite a bit of backache, and I am not allowed to interrupt except with meals. Finally we put them in sacks and drive them in a pony and cart (not really – it's a small red car) to the sorting office on the other side of the town. (NB We haven't even sold one pamphlet yet.)

Then there are copies to be sent to the authors (they get twenty complimentary pamphlets), and copies sent to the copyright libraries, and Scottish poetry library, and Southbank Poetry library, and complimentary copies to old friends and supporters, and review copies hither and thither, and there's the bemused expression on the face of the lady in the post office when I arrive to buy another three hundred quid's worth of stamps. Yes, the cost is scary!

In fact, the cost in time and money and elves is all upfront. It takes faith. By this stage, the bank account is at rock bottom so we wait anxiously to see what will sell and when. New publications help to sell the ones that are already done and dusted (literally) and sitting hopefully. 

Oh, I forgot to mention the publisher's blog. That is this VERY document, which has failed miserably to do what promotional text should do – mention the most important thing first.

Well, let me see. What was the most important thing? Oh yes, the titles of the four new publications. Here I am talking about making them and the key fact of selling them and I haven't even told you anything about them. 

Nor have I mentioned the reading window NOT being in December, but in January now. That's important too. Oh bum.

Watch this space. I have just spent four hours writing the wrong sort of blog. I'll be back tomorrow. 


Recent Comments
Oliver Comins
Dear Nell - if I had some sparkly lights in your town, then I would switch them on for a short while each day...to celebrate being... Read More
Sunday, 18 November 2018 23:31
Helena Nelson
Dear Oliver -- If you came to visit, then we would get a double set of lights and have them on constantly until you went away. As ... Read More
Monday, 19 November 2018 09:41
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BORING

BOXES

So it's not all reading windows, and competitions, and new publications. Or whatever else people think poetry publishers (even little ones) do.

Much of the necessary and time-consuming stuff is too ordinary to talk about. It makes for a boring blog.

But I'm not averse to boring people. Otherwise they might think it's all FUN here.

So my August was sorting out the archives in the roof, and getting some of the boxes ready to send to the National Library. It involved dust and cobwebs, ladders and trips to the dump – sorry 'recycling centre'.

And then there was the self-assessment return and updating the accounts. Lord knows, this takes days and days and days.If I would only do it every month it wouldn't be so bad, but I start well each year, and then suddenly I'm five months behind.

And then there's stock-taking. And taking stock.

Ordering new envelopes, all sizes, for despatch and for cards. More boxes!

Ordering new labels, new toner, new pencils, new batteries. 

And letter writing (some people do still write them, by hand, and on paper).

Reading poems for non-window people (promises are promises).

A bit of tidying my desk, and in this case ordering a new one, since this one can't be moved without collapsing. And a new chair, since the current one is the polar opposite of ergonomic.

Getting hair cut. Visiting old friends. Some of them very old.

A funeral or two. Review of black or grey clothes.

Getting teeth scaled and polished (*grins and flashes teeth*).

Working on one small poem of my own. Slowly.

Bramble picking and making jelly.

Watching the crab apples ripening. (Crab apple jelly soon.)

Reading Peter Main's excellent biography of Ruthven Todd.

Reading Matthew Walker's rather worrying book about sleep.

Making ice cream.

Clearing and cleaning the freezer.

Making bread.

Drinking Pact coffee.

Thinking.


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