I have a few different blogs, as well as this one, each of them on their own main topic. I write mostly on this particular blog, that you’re reading right now, but if something comes to mind that more closely relates to one of those other blogs, that’s where the blog post goes.
Today the thing that attacted my brains interest was related to issues connected with my chronic illness, Multiple Sclerosis, and so that is where I put the blogging words I wrote earlier today. This is the link to that blog post, you may find it interesting.
And yesterday, I think it was or maybe the day before, Stoicism had captured my attention, and so I wrote a post for my blog about being, or strying to be a Stoic. This is that blog post, here.
When you’re a writer or poet, but also a blogger, you spread yourself around and hope to find people, or more correctly, that they find you. Having a few different blogs though, it is distracting me from actually working on my novel, is that a problem? Well, I don’t have any outside due date for this novel-in-progress, but I do have people who know about it, and they want to read that novel, so I guess I’d better leave off with those blogs for a while again, and get writing the novel!
But before that, lunch for Missy and me, and then I’ll have an hour or so for writing more of “Winds of Death At Talloola” before I head off somewhere else, and watch my husband playing lawn bowls at the Mallala Bowling club, and perhaps come up with some more ideas for this novel, or the “At Talloola” series … Talloola isn’t Mallala, but the two towns are similar in terms of setting, for sure. I’m ‘writing what I know’. Mallala is the closest town to my home, and I’ve lived here longer than I’ve lived anywhere else. Mallala is my town …
So I write about what I know, things that pique my interest, personal things I want to explore a bit more, ideas, notions, possible poems. Life, that’s the best thing to write about, we all have a life, and we know more about our life, and care more about it than anything else, so Life is a great subject to write about!
We all have differences in our lives, different ways of looking at the things in our lives, and writers could all write about say sport, and come up with completely different books. Playing it, watching it, loving it, hating it, betting on it, killing people over it even, many ways of looking at sport, and so many sports. I doubt anyone has ever been killed over a game of lawn bowls, but who knows … It would make for an interesting story!
If you feel there is a Creative something bubbling away inside of you, but you don’t know how or what that creative form may be, don’t stress or strain about it. Calm down, settle down, give yourself some room!
Relaxing your way to personal knowledge, resting, relaxing, Playing even, these can help you see what you truly enjoy, what lights your fires of creativity. For some it may be music, others painting, some sculpture, others still creating wonderful food, or decors.
For me it’s playing with words, poetry, short stories, this novel I’m writing, and yes, blogging. Writing blog posts are a way to explore ideas, and knowing there are some people ‘out there’ who see what I’ve done is great feedback!
Trees reach high to find more sunshine, moving with the wind, providing perches for birds, they find thier best way by going with, not against that wind, and they allow those birds to roost on their branches, and benefit from the bird poop/fertiliser. Reaching high happens coincidently, they don’t stress or strain over it, it’s just what they do.
So don’t you stress or strain over it either, do things, try things, rest and relax, try things, and you’ll find the thing that best works for you! Not a painter, why not try sculpture. Not a poet, how about writing prose instead, Try things out, and if they don’t go well, hey, just try something else, don’t strain over it, calm down and have fun.
Life is for living and enjoying yourself. Work is just to pay the way to have a good and creative time!
Why are we even writers, those of us who spend much of our time thinking about, and writing about things? Is it a higher calling, something that invades the most holy of ourselves, reaches in and wrenches out things deep and meaningful?
Well, looking ot some of the trash I sometimes write, that certainly isn’t the case. But sometimes, I do feel something almost holy has reached inside of my mind, and wrenched parts of me that have been sitting there forever, wating for the correct time to emerge, startling me with the depth of meaning there, so I wonder who it was that put those words in my head.
So writing things deep and meaningful, as some writers do, sometimes, is certainly one of the reasons for writers, to show, or to remind others about things felt important enough to write about, and then work to share these words with others. Writers can be almost a conscience keeping people honest, or reminding them anyway, if and when they stray from the path of honesty, anyway.
But writers are fun too, penning limericks, and cute little books for children, sometimes with a pithy thought hidden amongs the funnish and funny parts. Writers of comedy, they bring laughs to us, and surely making others laugh is a fine thing to do, we all need more good laughs, if you ask me!
Writers remember, and comment on things from the past, in the hope others may learn, and do better in the future. A vain hope, that one, it seems at times, but writers are at least trying to make things go better. And of course that’s another thing writers do, they tell people how to do things, based on what they have done, or seen done, sharing knowledge, improving people’s lives.
So being there to help other people live better lives, that is certainly one of the things writers are for. Showing where people have got it wrong too, that is an important task of writers. Making people pay attention and act to prevent the bad things happening is certainly what some writers do, or at least try to do. A fruitless task at times, that one, but at least there are writers working to try to make it happen.
Are writers the positive polly ones, who see things, and work at showing the things, bring better things to others, reminding them about the beauty of Nature? When I write a poem about my bird bath, and the shenanigins happening there, and then go on to share that poem with others, am I hoping I might show, through metaphor, the idea that greed and need are different things, and that there are, or may be, other answers to life’s ‘issues’?
Well I wrote that poem today, who knows where or if that poem will go anywhere beyond the space it was written. Not every word, every poem or story has to go out into the world. Sometimes people are writers so they can write things, issues, out of their heads, and find peace. And sometimes it’s so they can make note of things they find interesting, that will be there to remind them of that interesting thing, if they need a bit of geeing up.
Sometimes writers are for those people to live the life that best suits the how and why they want to live. Writing, sharing or not, their words, thinking, penning poems or prose, pontificating, perhaps, but just being a writer, that is what that person is for, to Be A Writer.
I’d love to know how you feel about this – why are you a writer?
So today has been an odd day, but really, are any of us having many days that aren’t odd, at the moment? This Covid Pandemic is the oddest thing most of us have ever been through, at least in part, and even though some of the time, things seem fine, further thought will show that isn’t the case.
Things are dangerous, some people are dying, and others may be damaged in ways the experts are just beginnings to understand … And of course others are perfectl fine, no problems at all, except, if they think about it, things are changed, and they’re not sure they like the changes.
I’m more or less fine, staying at home more, missing out on hugs with friends, not sure about what’s going to happen next, and hoping things for those I love are going to go well. But there’s no way of knowing that, is there? Being OK now, doesn’t mean you’ll be OK tonight, or tomorrow, or next week.
But life goes on, as close to normal as possible. And the things that tend to go wrong, will continue to go wrong, just like always. And while some people have more ready money, others have less money, and they have to deal with that. And health related things – the big ticket item health-wise is Covid-19, but there are still other health things we need to think about, worry about, deal with.
I have two main health things, at the moment. one is Multiple Sclerosis (MS) that has brought disability to my attention, and even though I’m going quite well right now, there’s no way of telling how long that will continue. I just have to play things by ear. The other thing, which may or may not be realted to MS is skin cancer. Skin cancer is a thing that may be related to the medication I take to help with my MS. That medication, Gilenya, while perhaps dealing with my immune system, and stopping it from attacking my body, may actually be allowing my body to not fight skin cancers.
I don’t know about this, whether the medication , while ehlping me in some ways is also hurting me in other ways. I’m going to keep on seeing my GP and having my unwanted lumps and bumps looked at and disposed of, whether by Cryo treatement of being frozen off, or by excision, being sliced off and stictched up again.
When I was young, I had many bad sunburn times, blisters on my shoulders, and so on, but I never knew back then, the sunburn had done lasting damage. I’m certainly paying the price for it now.
This is from my most recent skin cancer ‘adventure’ an incision, rather that the more usual Cryo treatment. Cryo is much easier, Go to doctor, get skin blasted by freeze burning gas, perhaps causing a blister, then blister heals up, all gone, more or less. Stitches though, they need a pain killing injection, which (ironically) hurts, OUCH! Then have circle put around area of skin to be cut open and scooped out, and once skin is numb, the doctor and team stitch it all back up, and BINGO, I have a bandages on my skin, and have to keep it all dry for a couple of days, then, if the bandaging comes off, you have Spider Leg stitches there, for all to see!
See, Spider legs, I have a Spider on my hand!
If I’d known this might be the end result, would I have stayed out of the sun? Well, I was just a kid, fifty years ago, so who knows. I know I’m much more careful these days than I was back then, and I never get as severly sunburnt as I did back in the sixties and seventies. But I don’t cover my skin with sunburn cream every time I go out in the sun, so perhaps I should take a good look at myself and do better. Who knows.
What I do know is that I will keep on seeing my GP, and discussing any suspicious lumps and bumps, with a view to having them dealt with as appropriate, Cryo for perference or excision if needed. In the meantime here is a poem I wrote today, about the Spider I have on my hand!
Scars From The Past
It’s not a spider on my hand -
I’ve seen the doctor about it, and
he readied me, and his team too
to prepare them for what they had to do.
It’s not really a spider on my hand,
but doesn’t look good, I’m not a fan -
It looks a bit yuck and it feels worse,
all because of an Australian curse.
See, my hand there had a little lump,
if I’d left it there, I’d be a chump …
But I hadn’t considered the implications
or possible pain, or even frustrations
of this procedure, and the aftermath -
Not being able to have a bath,
but that aspect’s allowed now, bathing is fine ...
Under the ‘spider’ is a little line
showing where the scalpel cut skin -
And that ‘spider’ is stitches my doc put in -
Black stitches looking like spider legs -
as fashions go, this is the dregs!
But in a week or so, stitches come out
Hooray, hoorah, I’ll inwardly shout -
Skin cancer’s a thing I’ve too often got -
and I’ll know if the lump was one or not …
Yes an Aussie curse, caused by the sun
that we love being in, when having fun,
but sunshine, though fine in moderation
has damaged many of my generation -
Sixties and seventies, causal and free,
baking our skin by pool or the sea,
working to get the best tan we could,
not caring whether we shouldn’t or should.
But the damage is done, results are clear
that’s why I have this ‘spider’ here -
Sun damaged skin, cancers growing
Frozen or cut off, scars all showing ...
(c) Carolyn Cordon 2021
So I had some painful times as a youngster, horrible and painful blisters on my shoulders, that meant even putting on my t-shirt was painful. I'm so glad I've far more careful about this, these days. But the damage done all those years ago is still a thing I'm having to deal with now. Ah well, it could be worse, I guess. If you have any stories about sunburn and this Aussie curse of always wanting a tan for summer, even though we know it's dangerous, I'd love ot read about it, and commiserate with you!
So, as I wrote in my previous blog post, I decided to write a poem while I was there, if I had time for it. I did, and the poetry form I chose was the Rondeau poem, at my first Writer in Residence session at Gallery 14 Hamley Bridge, South Australia. I explain a bit about it all in that other post. Back to that poem though, the main thing about the Rondeau poetic form, is that it’s a deceptive little poetic form, if you’re trying to get it exactly correct!
There are various points to get right, the rhyming scheme, and the rhythm, as well as the number of lines in each verse, and putting in the correct number of syllables for each line. These things are all very well, but sometimes the poem isn’t exactly perfect, and as was pointed out at the Rondeau Writing Workshop I recently attended, even Shakespeare didn’t always stick to the rules.
“Breaking rules is OK as long as you know which rules you’re breaking” is an oft repeated line! So having written that, I now present my Rondeau for your consideration. It isn’t perfect, but neither am I, nor you, nor you either! Poetry and perfection? Nah, Poetry and peeking through the rules and working toward making new things and making them as perfect as you can make them!
The presenter at that workshop, Margaret Clark, had written her own Rondeau, and presented another, much more famous one, and then we all had a go at creating one, with all present getting involved in that one poem. It was then tidied up by Margaret, and then sent to me, so I could share it with those attendees. All good stuff!
But that was Sunday just gone, getting back to my Writer In Residence event on MOnday just gone, here is my imperfect Rondeau, first draft written whilst at my Writer in Residence session, and edited a bit since, to try to get closer to perfection!
THE WRITER IS IN RESIDENCE
I'm sitting here, I'll wait; I wonder how I'll go -
The possie here is fine, my books all out on show,
but see that dog? Yes that one there, it's squatting as they do
when Nature calls and says it's time for them to do a poo.
Both dog and owner gone again, so no-one needs to know ...
But I'm a writer here, and I tell stories though -
Some stories flights of fancy, notions high and low,
and other tales more personal, they're painful ones and true.
I'm sitting here, I'll wait.
My writing brings me solace; sharing former woe
can bring a sense of calmness, over cups of joe -
For coffee, that inspires me, come share a cup or two -
It might well prompt some words or lines, results are up to you!
If not today, I'm back next week, some poems come so slow -
I'm sitting here, I'll wait ...
Carolyn Cordon - Creative 