WRITING

I started writing as a hobby about four years ago. To start with, I wrote a lot of poems. I don’t know if there is a reservoir of them in us all just waiting to be tapped, but in my case once I started it was like a crack in the dam and a whole tidal wave flooded out. These poems were often to do with places I have visited and in particular, places that have inspired me, which have often been in the countryside or beside the sea. There were poems about family and loved ones and some that were just a play on words or a reflection of the things on my mind at the time. It didn’t take long for me to start reading poetry books and I remember Sylvia Plath, Ted Hughes and Leonard Cohen figuring prominently. I made a great discovery of the poetry library in Edinburgh and I joined Jim Wilson’s poetry evening class at Edinburgh University. There are a lot of people out there writing poetry, and like many skilled people, good poets hone their skills over many years. I think that at the heart of a good poem is a truth that resonates with the reader. It is, to some extent an exercise of discovery for the writer and the audience.

Another discovery was the Tyne and Esk writers group, which I found on the Midlothian web site. I went along to the Dalkeith group and found a mix of people who brought their poems, short stories and novels to read. They are a great group who listen, offer advice, and are prepared to share their own work. Before long, I was impressed with the quality of the short stories people read and so I tried my hand at that genre. As I found with poetry, I had a lot to learn about writing good short stories… I’m still learning. Luckily, there are great resources to help you on your path. I have found some extremely useful writing web sites, including abctales.com. writers circle and authonomy. There are also any number of good books on ‘how to write.’ I rate Stephen King’s ‘On writing’ one of the best I have come across. People write for all sorts of reasons, but at the core of them all is a desire to communicate. If you write stories, you want to entertain and you want people to read what you have written.

I am amazed by the number of people who write. I only come across a small proportion of those who are published but looking at the web sites I use, people from across the world are eager to tell you their stories. In order to be published you have to develop a whole host of new skills and start to put your stories out there. This year I have been doing that. So far, I have had two stories published, ‘Odd Ball’ on the Southpaw journal and ‘Sunset dog beach’ on Pearl Luke’s web site. This week, I sent a letter, a synopsis and the first fifty pages of my novel ‘Mirror Lines’ to Jenny Brown associates. Their blurb states that if they don’t get back to you in eight weeks, forget it. Here’s hoping.



A quirky poem I wrote in April 2005 (Port Patrick is at the west end of the Southern Upland Way}


THE PATH TO PORT PATRICK

I’m tired of drinking in the usual way
I think I will drink with my eyes open today
Drinking in beauty on the edge of the lawn
Sipping in seagulls just before dawn
Letting sensations seep into my skin
Soaking it up and letting it in

Over the road is a much darker story
Clogged up pores cry out for mercy
Suffering sights assailing the eye
Thirsting for freshness and wanting to die
Drink till you’re merry; drink till you’re full
The path to Port Patrick was never so dull.

Ray Harris   © 2009

PROJECT - AUTUMN LEAVES

Autumn Leaves Watercolour by Ray Harris













Last Wednesday night I went along to the Tyne and Esk writers group in Dalkeith and read them ‘An Autumn Leaf with Attitude.’ It was the final stage in a project to develop a poem on my blog.
Was it worth doing?
I would say yes, because I enjoyed the whole exercise and I got some useful comments both from my writers' group and from the on-line community ‘Writers Circle.’ I was also very pleased that Zoë joined in and wrote an autumn leaf poem… she has gone on to write another (very good) poem – this time about her experiences and impression of India.
So, what have I learnt?
Some people do not like poems about nature. They get a feeling of irritation and boredom when they come across silky stanzas, which extol the beauty of nature. They have perhaps come across Victorian poets who used rich imagery in their poetry. They think that poems should have an edge and make you think. To the extent that poems shouldn’t be boring I agree entirely. I think that the core of a good poem hits on something real which other people reading it can relate to. I like poems that get the reader to look at a subject from a different point of view. Mandy Haggith in her book ‘castings’ does this really well. Her poem ‘Out in the Open’ describes the coastline where she lives from the point of view of a lover.

this morning she waded in up to her belly button
lobsters biting the backs of her knees
winkles in her knickers
fish having sex in her sex

by noon she was posing reflected in sunshine
only her muddy feet in the water
bladderwrack dress clinging to rocky limbs
underwear a squirm of slaters and stranded
shrimps
knees crusty with barnacles
and that tell-tale white jelly stain on her skirt

now she’s inching back in, letting it lap up her legs
nudging a hundred heads, a thousand tongues
under her petticoats
letting the tribe of tentacles touch her
slapping as they come into her
splashing as she plunges to meet them

I hope that I will continue to be inspired by nature and I don’t think that will be too difficult because Scotland has such a lot of natural beauty to offer.

The project isn’t quite over. Tyne and Esk’s writer in residence, Brian Whittingham, took a professional look and suggested that I shorten the poem. I liked what he said, so there will be ‘An Autumn Leaf with Attitude2.’ This is the first version which I would like to stand in it’s own right.

An Autumn Leaf with Attitude

I am an Autumn Leaf.
One of many
and like you,
I have a story to tell.
I know a thing or two
about life.

My ancestors - all 123 seasons
left me a message of growth.
Another year unfolds,
I add to the story,
tick a ring on my Oak.

My season is done but
I’ll leave in a blaze.
I’ve changed already.
I’m a chameleon of earth colours,
fluttering at the tip of my branch.

Soon, I will join my cousins,
feeding the earth
or I might ride the burn
to some far away bank.

Until then,
I’m a note in the symphony.
Rising and falling
in the breeze.

Delight your eyes
on my delicate dance.
Watch me move,
vibrant, in the dappled light.

When the time is right
I’ll join the fall
become part of the ensemble
and fly on the wind

We will cover you
like a swirling storm
and children will play,
amazed by our bounty.

© November 2009