Poetry (pen) Pals #43

What's the opposite of writers block?

This week’s pen pal letter is a day late. Why? I am still asking myself that. Partly because last week I did have some sort of lurgy and my head wouldn’t play ball. Then there was some family stuff going on at the weekend, nothing serious but the sort of thing where your attention and presence is required in real life. And then there was also the elephant in my room - my not knowing what the hell to write.

The latter, if I’m honest, was the real sticking point. I’ve mentioned before that I don’t normally write these posts ahead of time because I like to give my creativity that freedom, I like to be IN the moment of time with anyone kind enough to read along. This Substack was meant to be fluid and joyful and for me that didn’t mean rules and pressure to churn out words. The downside being that sometimes, a blank page.

No, not a blank page. To say that would be a lie. I’ve actually written many things this past week. I’ve written five poems and numerous ‘starts of essays’ on my phone. A few more pieces that have been delegated to the drafts folder on Substack. My morning journaling has been wild and full of emotion. My head is full to bursting with both the dark and luckily, the light.

I have the opposite problem to a blank page. I don’t have writers block I have writers free fall. Writers frenzy. Writers dissent? (what I have is a problem with finding the right definition of the opposite of writers block, ha. Anyone?)

I have a lot I want to say but I don’t know where to start. And then when I do start I begin to doubt myself. Nothing sounds quite right. I have too much swirling that currently isn’t falling out in a coherent manner. I’m asking a lot of questions which leads to a lot of writing but without answers or a neat structure. Even the subject matter of my poems are veering sharply left and right (not actually ‘right’ you understand!)

And I’ve realised that perhaps this mirrors what is going on currently in the world. My North Star hasn’t shifted but my journey across the Milky Way is suddenly (or has always been, hello misguided white, middle class privilege) less clear (apologies for anyone who knows about Space - this metaphor no doubt has errors). And getting used to that feeling of out-of-control spinning isn’t easy.

You know what else isn’t easy: showing up that way. Showing up messy and disjointed and unsure and doing it anyway. Showing up even when you don’t know the answers, in fact, especially when you don’t know the answers. Showing up honestly and being willing to ‘go wrong with the right intentions’.

Earlier this year I made a promise to myself that I would do that more with my writing, be braver, and I feel like the world is demanding that of us now more than ever. Demanding that we find our truths and spread our light. That we figure out what impact we can and want to have and then go all in. Whatever ‘all in’ means to us. And that impact might well feel very small or very local or maybe even pointless, but I don’t think it is. Do you?

This is not a rallying cry (not yet anyway - I’d insert a wink emoji here but yet again I’ve forgotten how to do that on my laptop, ffs) or an attempt to tell anyone how to feel or what to do. There’s been a bit of that flying about (understandably) but that’s not why I’m here.

So much of my writing, including about 80 of the poems I’ve written this year, are hidden away on my computer or in my notebooks because I don’t think they’re good enough or maybe because I’m saving them for somebody, somewhere to one day tell me they’ll publish some of them. Kinda weird when you think about it. I keep imagining all this powerful poetry other people must be writing that is also hidden away (of course this might just be something I do, but something tells me I’m not alone). I also hide behind wanting to cheerlead for others. Now I do think that is part of my purpose and what I can offer up - the tagline on my work email has been ‘cheerleader for women’ for the longest time. Cheerleading for others is my favourite thing to do, it’s something I am planning to do more (in new ways, more on that next year) and I’m told I do it well. But I need to remember that it’s harder to cheerlead when you’re stood behind the stands and not even on the pitch yourself.

So, I won’t lie and say that this week’s pen pal letter is a day late because I didn’t have anything to say. It’s late due to a few different factors, one of which was that I didn’t trust and believe in my own words.

I’ll also acknowledge that this one might lack a bit of clarity and doesn’t finish with a neat poetry writing prompt - not because I’m being self-deprecating but because I value your time and want to deliver on my commitments - not to ‘Substack’ but to you my precious readers. This week I couldn’t find a poetry writing prompt that quite fit the brief. All of my ideas felt contrived and plastic-feeling. The equivalent to that high-pitched, sing-song voice that comes out with your kids sometimes when they are bawling in public and you try to patch up disaster with distraction.

However, here are a few (still unfinished!) poems that might just reassure you that if your writing is a bit, ‘all over the place’ currently, you’re not alone. Oh and give you that REALLY gentle nudge to keep on creating and keep on sharing whatever it is that you’ve got :)

---

Feminist hard truths.

The truth is we've all messed up. 
Walking down the street I'm unsure who understands choices anymore.
Everyone feels like a stranger, including myself. 
Funny how yesterday we assumed today would be different. 
I dream of climbing a mountain with my son - 
we never reach the top - 
his little legs don't have the strength for it. 
My list of disappointments has grown longer, for sure. 
I've done a lot of shopping lately - 
bought myself some new trainers for the gym.
It's just another day after all. 
Are you disappointed with how this poem is ending?
Would you tell me if you were?

---

---

Actually, I guess the poetry prompt (if you want one, which I hope you do) is to keep on writing whatever the hell you are being called to write right now.

Don’t hold back on whatever that is. Even if that means a handful of single words on the Notes app of your phone. Even if it makes no sense whatsoever right now. What does?! Tap into the words that you feel, get curious and let them happen.

The world is currently being destroyed by certain incompetent, unqualified, immoral men (and a few women) who have no intention of saving the planet or anyone else in it aside from themselves. Did these men consider that they might not have the experience or the knowledge or whatever for their positions. Nope, I don’t reckon they did.

My hope is that those with big-hearts and minds, those who believe in something different, something better, are able to start getting bolder. To stop waiting for permission or perfection (it’s a trap) or possibly gate-keepers to open up the doors. The known hasn’t worked out for us, it’s time to take some chances on the unknown.

I’m getting carried away. But I’m writing my truths today. This isn’t about ‘comparing down’ and being ok with mediocre. Far from it. For me it’s about having a bit more faith in creating from a place of light, trusting in the good that we know is out there, understanding what we have to give.

So I’m embracing and playing with and then sharing a few of my messy truths. Including a few of my in-progress poems. I guess I hope that in future you might want to share yours with me too.

Nelly x