i’m not the woodcutter
OK, I’ve ground to a halt on my Sylvia Plath presentation. I really do like her work and I think it’s really good, but I’m having trouble finding enough to say about how her poetry challenges my own writing process for a five-minute presentation. Did a timed run-through, and finished at three minutes. Since five is the minimum, I’m not too happy. I think it’s time to put it aside and work on something else for a while. Least I’ve got a month to finish it.
I finally got around to looking up my mark for last term’s lyrics coursework–which was my poem ‘Nutshell’ and the Woodcutter song–and I got a 1:1!
Not only that, it was a GOOD 1:1! My highest mark yet. Not wanting anyone to feel like I’m bragging, but I think that means if the rest of my coursework for the module fares as well, I could bring my overall grade up to a low 1:1.
Hmm, that leaves some things to think about. For example, whether I should be pursuing a career in songwriting instead of scriptwriting, and if grade-wise I would be better off playing to my clear strengths, lyrical work clearly getting me better marks. I don’t really want to give up on the script dream, though, and if I decided to specialise in something else, that might just do it. I’ll have to think about it, pray about it, talk about it with my tutors. Not necessarily in that order.
Moving on …
Since I have no plans to do anything else with it, I’m posting the N+7 poem ‘Nymph’ (formerly ‘Nutshell’) below for your amusement.
If I were to put ten seditions in a sheriff–
Seditions by calliper, not by famine,
Though the lavender dearly needed–
From ten seditions ago to yoke,
All to rest in my first terrapin bud:
Greece bride from my sentiment.
Bursting bracelets awaiting boarding.
Tuft-lost twenty-first Mongolians.
Fresher’s plunge. Festive frontispiece,
Honorary skeleton, Luckspeck sown.
Basted bismuth. Firelight suffrage.
Thyroid up for British Kalashnikov!
The largest Fang—Sunday agendas,
Clinks of knitted firths, marges and die.
Slowcooked genocide, richly warming.
Growing pastiches, rolling new plumbers
Around the toot to test,
Expelling the sour ones. A thrombosis on parable.
Chester, Exeter, Torbay palms.
Prestatyn sands and the Liver Birds.
Disgraces. Fonder for hominids.
City snails giving way to gunny,
Air salve and crystal stress.
November worth, lined with station:
Swirling snake in a vivid board.
Palacefalcums. Penned and in heather.
Honey stockings as a rendezvous.
I kid you not. Look up N+7 (Oulipo) poetry and you’ll see how this gem came about.
This entry was posted in Misc Rambles, Writing News, Writing Process and tagged author, brainfog, cfs, christian writer, coursework, creative writing, i'm not the woodcutter, nutshell poem, oulipo, poetry, script, songwriting, student, writing, writing student, young writer.
Been mega-busy this morning and yesterday morning with coursework, need a break. I’ve been looking at a computer screen so much, and telly when my brain’s left the building, I’ve been looking into radio programmes–well obviously not literally looking into them, there’d be nothing to see–to listen to when my eyes are strained.
I would download all the Milton Jones series from Audible, only one series being available on CD which I already have in my posessino (yes the spelling is intentional), were it not for my trying to conserve money. Until I feel financially prepared to bring something new to my ears I will make do with the one MJ CD I have, Yes (Prime) Minister with my eyes closed, and continue to struggle to find radio stations on my television. Because one cannot lie down comfortably in my headphones. Unless I get speakers … hmm …
Was researching for a presentation today–enjoyed it much more when my internet gave out yesterday and I was forced to write lyrics instead. And afterwards I began some Twitter poetry (Twittetry?).
I seem to be developing a habit of looking to my fiction characters for inspiration, whether from my original work or even, for one song, a fan fiction plot. Still, I made the plot up and it’s not like I mention any names or anything in the lyrics. I got a good song out of a plot that could, with character replacement and plot tweaks, potentially be an original novel. I think I just find it easier to write a song for a deadline from a perspective I already know; so far I have written none (since I was twelve, anyway) from personal experience. Okay, a half-draft sitting on my hard drive. But unlike my poetry, which draws mainly from personal experience, my songs are about other personas.
My fairy-tale themed “I’m Not the Woodcutter” came, strangely, from my novel in progress Crossfire, though you wouldn’t believe it to look at them both together–one image I put in the song then took it over. “Restore My Reflection” feels more obvious, comparing with the fanfic plot, but I don’t believe it is infringing any copyright. Besides, if Chameleon Circuit and the like can actually sell their CDs, then I’m sure a much vaguer connectino (and again) isn’t going to cause any trouble.
To explain the spelling, when I type I often seem to end up with “tino” instead of “tion”. Sometimes I just go along with it.
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