Oh crap, is that really the time.

I've just woken up and it's 6.30(pm that is!). I had a very stressful day yesterday as I had to go to the doctor then had about 10 hours on my own. I don't like my own company in the least bit. I did some writing for my story when I couldn't sleep during the night. I'm not writing it in a linear fashion, when I get ideas or images for certain chapters I just go and write. Annoyingly I couldn't wake up my friend to get my computer lead so I wrote on the back of a leaflet. I must type it up soon before it gets lost.

Anyway, lets get on with draft 2 of the pants poem I put up the other day! For a dry, witty kind of poem I feel it is lacking in rhyme. Also the line about the destuffed teddy is such a cliche. Also, I feel it needs a new title.

Memories from the Biscuit Tin

Weak squash and a custard cream/fruit shortie
These comforts of my childhood
Now, a remedial dream/remedy
Comfort disintegrates like
the last digestive, crushed in the packet
Stale memories haunt the floral biscuit tin
An omnipresent smell of decay.
I lament, and reach for the tonic, the gin
It was all so much easier back then.

It still has a total lack of a decent form. This may be one to abandon. Still I like the God-like quality of the word 'omnipresent', it kind of indicates faith. The ritual of the remedy having been like a prayer. The flowers on the biscuit tin are designed to contrast with the decay of the reality. Also a pun in the last line, that gin is the new tonic. I still can't decide on the first rhymes, the custard cream one sounds a bit pompous and the fruit shortie just loses any sense of rhythm that there was as it is too short. Also assonantal rhyme just doesn't seem to fit. I should probably regig the lines to get a rhyme scheme as opposed to random rhyme but then I suppose the lack of structure could be helpful to the feeling that everything is falling apart.

Hooray! I'm finally managing to download the How To Write guides from the Guardian, took me forever to find them. Hopefully some of the exercises will be helpful. I've got an email from Danny about a creative 'unblocking' weekend - sounds like cerebral irrigation for creative constipation!

I'm not too good today though, I had to go to the doctor this morning which made me nervous all night. I was sat outside the uni library with my notebook last night while Arkady printed some stuff for me. It feels so much like uni has just spat me out into some awful abyss. I'm glad I had my new notebook with me, it's not a snazzy looking one but it's small enough to carry pretty much everywhere so hopefully I won't lose as many good ideas through my porous memory.

Night Owl

It's 5.44. We stayed up to watch the election results but now everyone else has gone to bed. I did too, but now I am up again. Assaulting my keyboard with a nighttime bout of creative insomnia. I am writing my story. Like baking cakes or painting pictures I find it so much more flowing when I should be doing something else, it used to be revision I was avoiding, now it is trying to get back to sleep.

Photoetry

Autumn

The leaves can flourish now,
Now the sun has burned her glory out, too bright
No jade of envy stems from them
Not jealous of the sporadic clout
Sapping the life of gentle green gems

No, chestnut will triumph now,
When luminous yellow is a memory
Leaking from the delicate pores of gold
As crisp feathers fall from the tree
To blanket earth, abandoned, frozen, cold.

Yay! Just emailed Danny some poems. This is the bravest I've been since I sent in my portfolio to apply to Writing Squad, and then I didn't know the person at the other end of the email address, which is so much less scary.

A Poem in Progress

Ok, here's a rough draft. I'm trying to write such emo stuff so I thought I'd write about daily things like yummy cups of tea, routine and simple stuff. Seems to go into depressed mode quite quickly though. Anyway, here's draft one:

Kiss It Better
Weak squash and a rich tea biscuit
These comforts of my childhood
Are a failed remedy.
Comfort disintegrates like
a de-stuffed teddy at my touch
Stale rich tea memories haunt the biscuit tin
An ever present smell of decay.
I reach for my gin and lament
It was all so much easier back then.

Ok, so, it's crap but I think there is something here I can work with.

Where am I? What day is it?

I think one of the biggest obstacles for me in writing is my health. I'm not capable of being on my own for more than a few hours, so once again I am writing this from Arkady's computer. My laptop and all my writing folders are the other side of the city. At the same time being ill gives me something to write about. I am really aware that I have a different perspective on life to many other people.

A lot of people with severe mental health problems find it difficult to express themselves but this is not the case with me. I want to be useful to the mentally ill community by helping them communicate. Perhaps through documenting my experiences the family and friends of people with similar problems may be able to access some understanding. This is why I want to write: to help.

I did a module at uni called Narrative, Identity and Crisis and we studied a very avant garde book called Spasm which was about an epileptic girl and the problems she faced. It had a really chaotic structure to reflect her disjointed life. I'd like to do something similar with my depression. All too often books about depression are written by people who haven't experienced it themselves and like I say you can smell the chocolate, see the chocolate and read the packaging but you'll never know how it tastes until you take a bite. Hmm, nice analogy there, I should save it to my ideas file on my computer so I can use it in a 'poem'. I think my depression book will have impulsive writing and then reflections on the impulsive writing. I want it to be a useful explanation rather than a 'woe is me' whinge about life. Lists will also ply a major part and hopefully pictures. Art therapy is used for a reason. It is a horrible cliche to say that a picture paints a thousand words but it is unfortunately true. I like to take photos of how I feel, maybe I shall try to upload some onto here.



Phew, this blogging stuff is addictive!

A busy sunday.

Today I got the train back to Sheffield and now am writing from Arkady's(best friend) computer. Normally I write on the train. I can't read because I get travel sick, so I like to muse on phrases and ideas for 'poems'. Yes, 'poems' not poems - it would be a travesty to put my self-indulgent scribblings in the same category as Blake and Shakespeare and Nuala Ni Dhomhnaill. Today I was with my older sister for most of the time so we talked and then I people watched. A guy was trying to comfort his depressed girlfriend on the phone. It got me thinking about my new project.

I've just joined the Red Cross and I'm going to be putting together my own 'Youth and Schools' project. People seem to think the Red Cross is just about First Aid but they do heaps of education, humanitarian work and disaster relief in this country too.

Check them out here www.redcross.org

There are loads of ways to get involved, they make it so easy to help.

My project is going to be providing first aid skills and education specifically about self-harming. It's something I've had experience of and I now have scars that would have healed properly if my wounds had been treated at the time. I also want to provide some comfort on the mental health front and let people know how to help their friends. There can't be many teenagers in the country untouched by self-harm. So, tonight my writing is very functional. I'm designing my presentation content.

If I can find my memory stick in my rucksack I might type up the ammendments I made to a few 'poems'. I need to send them off to Danny at Writingsquad for some feedback. I'm not a very confident writer(even though I'm the oldest of our group) and so far I've only shared 'poems' among the other students. It's still nice to get feedback though. Right, better get on with it!

An Introduction

This week we have been asked to keep a journal of our writing. I'll probably talk about my favourite subject too, which is myself. I talk far too much, I think people are glad when I pick up my pen because it shuts up my mouth. I thought I'd sketch out a little picture of my life for you in the form of a plan before the week starts. So here goes:

Main Character: Likes to eat biscuits for every meal, wishes she liked to eat fruit. Her favourite item of clothing is her long, fleecy jumper dress made from recycled plastic bottles. She smells of??? (I haven't a clue what I smell like - I can't smell my natural smell.) Her greatest fear is her nights of suicidal despair, which seems like a rational enough fear! Everyone notices her ready smile. She loves her parents, not just because you have to love your parents but because they are genuinely good people for whom she has a lot of respect.

Setting:
1. Sheffield. Our heroine has just last week moved back to Sheffield, where she graduated from the uni in the summer. She loves the vibrancy: the people, a few of whom you'll come to meet; and her new room in a primitive Methodist chapel which has an ornate Victorian pillar in the middle.


2. Market Rasen. Her home village, a rural market town. Her boyfriend lives of a farm in the posh nearby village. His Mum animals and besides the usual ones, sheep, poultry, horses, a dog etc there is also a llama named William.

Well, I hope I have whetted your appetite to learn more about me and my writing projects. Now lets find out how to post one these things up onto the interwebs!