NaPoWriMo Day One: Deer, Fret and Endless Cups of Tea
A couple of weeks ago, I got a nudge on Facebook from the poet Carrie Etter, suggesting that I might like to get involved with National Poetry Writing Month, or NaPoWriMo if you want to make it sound like a sunny island where people go to get frighteningly drunk and dance to repetitive beats over the summer.I was cautious, cagey even.
I'm not the most prolific of poets. I like to take the time to stop, to consider, to consign a poem to a drawer for a few weeks and then get it out again and see if it's still breathing the same air as me. Especially if the topic is of personal interest.
I have written a fair amount of public and occasional verse, which of necessity needs to be blurted out and left to run around on wonky pentameter if needs be, but NaPoWriMo requires one to combine personal interest and the ability to let go.
Basically, I fretted.
Then, yesterday, I decided to go for it, which lead to a deal more fretting and a considerable number of avoidance tactics today, the first day of NaPoWriMo. Good grief, I even cleaned the kitchen and hoovered, and made sure I had plenty of friends visiting me so that I could make endless cups of tea.
And then my friends left, and the sun started to sink, and I began to do the washing up. Which I stopped suddenly, midway through a mug, and rushed to the kitchen table for pen and paper, the image of a deer peering through my front door at me this morning lodged in my head, and the sound of someone's voice laughing pleasantly at me rattling in my ear. The poem came in a giddy rush.
It will take some editing (and is already sat in a draw waiting for me to look at it again in a few days time) so I will not be posting it here. Instead, here is the diary of its arrival, and there are only 29 more poems to go.It helps, doing this, that I have a manuscript slowly taking shape for a second book - there are cogent themes to work within and around during the coming month as a consequence - but if NaPoWriMo works, maybe I'll surprise myself completely in the next 29 days.
Unless I suddenly decide to run away with a bottle of something and dance to repetitive beats instead, that is...