Blog, poetry workshops and other writerly happenings in Splott since 2011.
Susie Wild is a writer living in Splott, Cardiff... these posts also offer some musings and interesting research facts as she works on poems for her forthcoming collection (spring 2017), her 2nd story collection and her 1st novel.
Susie Wild is a poet, writer, journalist, critic, lecturer, festival organiser and editor with 25 years of editorial experience. She is the author of poetry collections 'Windfalls' (2021) and 'Better Houses' (2017). Her debut short story collection 'The Art of Contraception' was longlisted for the Edge Hill Short Story Prize 2011. Her ebook novella 'Arrivals' was released in 2011. She edited the illustrated short story anthology 'Rarebit' for Parthian's 21st birthday. (All available via Parthian Books). She lives by a mountain in South Wales @Soozerama
An anthology that states it publishes the ‘best’ poetry written today publishes the best poetry written today. There are a range of poetry awards corresponding to the range of poetry being written. It is necessary to categorise poets. All good young poets win Eric Gregory awards.
Written by Hannah Silva. Commissioned by the Broadsheet, launching the Exeter Poetry Festival: 'I’m performing/talking on the 4th October at an event exploring tribalism in poetry, the supposed borders between different sorts of practice and the usefulness or otherwise of labels such as ‘mainstream’, ‘experimental’ and ‘performance’.' Not strictly novel-related, but I've also been drafting some new poems this week...
The Novel has been taken out of the box and now covers surfaces and walls with old and new notebooks, charts and scribbles. My day job work has been put in storage boxes and under drapes and my holiday reply is on my email. Go Away World. I'm (hopefully) Writing. I saw this in The Paris Review today also...
'Most of my childhood notebooks are lost–begun in a state of excitement but half- or quarter-filled and abandoned after a few weeks. It wasn’t until high school that I began to think about my notebooks as things that needed to be preserved. In Florida, when I took four years of notebooks outside and burned them, I thought of the act as a ritual cleansing. I was shedding my past in order to recreate myself in the present. If there wasn’t a record of it, I thought, the past no longer existed. Or rather, if there wasn’t a record of it, the past could be whatever I needed it to be; could return to a state of raw material to be molded and rearranged, refashioned into new stories, better stories, the stories I wanted to tell, and not the stories that were most accurate.' & elsewhere I was reminded of this film, which is a lot to do with how I felt several years ago when I began writing it...
& this overheard beauty from a friend in a local park:
And then this gem from a 5-year old who clearly pays
attention to parental lectures:
"Mummy, don't
lie to me. I KNOW you're on twitter. You promised this was time to play
together, not to text... Now put your phone away immediately...or I shall get
cross!" I heart the park.
