And Then There Were Stories

The contemporary haibun 19 anthology

It has not been the start to 2024 I hoped for and as a result little writing or art-making has happened. However, in amongst the difficult things I had the wonderful news that my very first published tanka prose (and so first published tanka ) which was included in issue 19.2 of contemporary haibun online, had been chosen for inclusion in their latest print anthology – 19. As you can imagine I was surprised and delighted! Copies of the anthology published by Red Moon Press can be bought here: https://redmoonpress.com/product/contemporary-haibun-volume-19-edited-by-rich-youmans-and-the-ch-staff/ or via Amazon, which I confess I opted for due to the postage costs of ordering direct from the USA. It has been beautifully produced, including 32 full-colour haiga that look stunning and which I will be learning from as I hope to create haiga this year. Here’s my tanka prose below. Given how my last month or so has worked out, it couldn’t be more pertinent.

Photograph of my piece in the anthology – text below

The Call

Dad messages me the following day to apologise for talking too much on our weekly call. He got into one of those diatribes against religion. Says he’ll set the phone timer to 15 minutes in future. So I tell him it’s okay, I know you don’t have anyone to talk to most of the time. But do forgive me if my concentration waivers when it’s something I’m not really interested in. You’re 80, I don’t say, I know there may not be many more years of calls. I’d rather not listen to the same rants over and over, but I do it because it matters to you.

you apologized
for going into preacher mode
what you really wanted
was to say
something I never heard

An evolution & a rag ball

Brown rag ball with pink and purple stitching and purple ribbon and bells

Alongside my tanka writing I have become interested in textile art and I’ve decided to use this blog to also capture my progress with this very different form of creativity. At some point this year I even hope to combine the two to create haiga, a Japanese form which combines a poem with visual art. I have already started to experiment with hand sewing text to see how writing the poem in stitch might work. But before I get ahead of myself, let me just tell you a little bit about why I am evolving into textile art and show you what I consider to be my first ‘formal’ completed project.

My textile crafting background is yarn. I started knitting when I was about 10. And I learnt to crochet and spin in my 40s (I’m now in my early 50s). Sewing, on the other hand, has always been something I have considered myself rubbish at but really wanted to be able to do. However hard I tried with hand sewing, I couldn’t do neat work, and I was scared of electric sewing machines. I hated needlework classes at school! But in the last couple of years I have started to view things differently. I have done some basic work on my inherited sewing machine (though we still have lots of arguments). Joining the Upcycled Cloth Collective has helped me appreciate my wonky hand stitches and my less than neat electrically sewed hems. And discovering and doing a form of stitch meditations a while back means I no longer strive for perfection. Then attending the London Knitting and Stitching shows in recent years, pre- and post-lockdowns, I got to see textile art exhibitions in person and I slowly fell in love with the work I was seeing. At October’s show I was so inspired I ended up buying two beautiful books, one by Cas Holmes and one by Alice Fox, and I’ve well and truly fallen down the textile art rabbit hole.

I’ll talk more about my initial thoughts on what my textile art voice might be another time, but for now I want to tell you about my first rag ball. It’s all thanks to Deena Beverley posting about them on her Instagram here. Having never heard of them before, I did as Deena suggested in response to my question about what they have traditionally been used for, and went off, learnt more and watched Lisbeth Werts video and read about the ‘Unidentified Meaningful Object’ project. Here I discovered that I am still in time to submit a rag ball to an exhibition to be held in Chatham in January, so perhaps I will be part of my very first textile art exhibit! Anyway, either way I enjoyed making the rag ball very much and can see more in my future as part of a meditative and restful process. Below I show pictures of the layers, based on Lisbeth’s approach.

I used a snail shell that mysteriously found itself attached to a ceiling beam but when we looked inside there was no snail to be seen! Snails have been showing up for me a lot inside the house in recent months. I suspect a message to slow down in what was a too busy time. I’ve just started collecting old teabags to play with so I decided to pop the shell in one. On the front I wrote ‘Expansion’ – as snails expand out when they move – and on the back ‘& Return’, a reminder that movement also requires retreat and rest and as I go forwards creatively I need also to go slowly. I then wrote an unpolished tanka especially for this project on some old scrap painted paper and after doing the scrunching and smoothing suggested by Lisbeth (a Japanese technique which felt like synchronicity with my tanka writing), wrapped that around. Then the piece of what should have been red thread but I had to make do with dark pink yarn, and several layers of old pieces of clothing from orange to pinks to browns. I wanted the top layer to reflect the snail shell in colour but have the inner layers be the colours of action, passion and creativity. Another reminder of the tension between expansion and return. A purple ribbon which had bells attached to it felt like the perfect finish, purple often being related to mystery, magic and creativity. And I used several strands of a mix of brown, purple, red and pink threads to secure the layers. My first Undentified Meaningful Object!

Another Tanka Prose in Contemporary Haibun Online & a Nomination!

Citrus Veins

Screenshot from CHO (Text at bottom of post)

I‘m a bit behind in posting this one, energy for writing still seems sparse. This tanka prose was originally written for a themed submission to Mslexia on the topic of ‘Poison’. It didn’t get accepted so I decided to try a haibun & tanka prose-focused journal instead and submitted it to CHO (https://contemporaryhaibunonline.com/cho19-3-table-of-contents/alison-clayton-smith-citrus-veins/). The poison it talks of is Lyme Disease. I did not know 33 years ago I had been infected but a few years ago found out the classic bullseye rash from which I removed the tick meant I had been. And that it probably explained at least some, if not all, of my chronic health issues ever since. I’m not completely in love with using the word ‘tick’ twice in the tanka, it feels a little clunky, but I stuck with it.

I also received an email last week that my very first published tanka prose (and my first published tanka) has been nominated by CHO for an anthology. Even if it doesn’t make through the selection process I am very happy knowing that it was worthy of consideration. It’s another sign that I’ve found a home in this form.

——————-

Citrus Veins

I remember beautiful sunny days. Hacking rhododendrons, or ‘rhodies’ as we called them, from the land to halt their invasive run across the Lakes. I remember laughter and hard, physical work. Time in the pub. Playing darts and winning. Evening walks. A romance even, unexpected in a week, but filling me with adult teenage hope.

the tick
I removed from my arm
left toxic waste
another hour ticks by
resigned to lying down

And I remember rhododendrons hate lime.

——————

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Two tanka published in British Haiku Society publications

tanka (written below) with my name underneath

My writing, editing and submitting have slowed down considerably as my brain energy has been consumed by work. One of the challenges of chronic fatigue is brain fog and it’s been very foggy in there outside of work! However, this month I had tanka published by the British Haiku Society. The first in the latest Blithe Spirit journal:

scrolling
for pictures of joy
outside
unpruned rose branches
create puppets in the wind

Alison Clayton-Smith, Blithe Spirit Journal p. 35, vol. 33, no. 4

This describes the absurdity of those times I’m looking at photos of nature on social media to make me smile, and then I look up and watch the rose branches moving against the window across from me. Both give joy but only one creates a sense of peace and grounding.

The second tanka appears in ‘Change’ the BHS Members’ Anthology 2023:


last night
I thought of friends
lost
spinning fibre
into yarn for you

Alison Clayton-Smith, Change BHS Anthology 2023, p.97

Occasionally I get my spinning wheel out to spin plant fibres into handspun yarn for projects that might happen one day. As I was spinning this time I thought about the alternative meaning of yarn, as a story, and how spinning often features in the old myths and tales. And then there are all those stories of friends, and especially for me, Bobby, that we want to hold on to after they’ve gone. There’s this fear that we will forget the stories and that would mean the final end of a relationship. When Bobby first died I bought a notebook to write down all the stories about him but the notebook remains unused. I think partly because I’ve realised I’m unlikely to forget the ones that matter, but also, like doing something final with his ashes which are still sitting in my wardrobe, it would feel like a letting go that I’m still not ready for. My blog’s title ‘And then there were stories’ reflects this idea that once our loved ones, events or days have passed, often all we are left with are the stories. Furthermore, this tanka reflects the fact that as I spin I get lost in my thoughts.

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A tanka & a tanka prose in cattails journal

I am very happy to have both a tanka and a tanka prose published in the latest edition of cattails journal. The tanka is actually the very first tanka I wrote, and it was for the first assignment on the Tanka Online course with Call of the Page.

a life too small
for your spirit
my heart aches
to bring you home
so many never-endings

(on p.106 of cattails 232)

It came to me as I was watching my hamster, Rogue, free roaming. When I set out to adopt a hamster, 30 years after my last one, I didn’t realise how much hamster care had changed. Unfortunately too small cages are still sold in pet shops, as hamsters continue to be seen as cheap pets suitable for children. This is even though the minimum ethical standard is now typically recommended as 100x50x50cm. When I watch Rogue in free roam and in her 122x50cm glass tank, I feel such sadness for my childhood hamsters and for all those hamsters I see in unsuitable cages online. Much as I would love to rescue all the hamsters in need, I have to accept that it’s not possible. The tanka also makes me think about other species, including humans, who are subjected to physical or emotional restriction that stops them from living a happy life.

The State of the Day

wildfires
rising interest rates
wasted years
desperate for donations
my heavy phone

Each day online feels like we are heading towards the Rapture. I want to look but not look, know but not know.

(on p.190 of cattails 232)

This tanka prose was one that came out of that feeling of every time I look at my phone, be it for news, social media or emails, there are awful things happening around the world. This seems even more appropriate at the moment given the situation with Israel-Gaza. For me there’s a tension between wanting to know about these things and not wanting to know. And at what point does looking at all these awful things become a kind of voyeuristic adrenaline kick. ‘The Rapture’ was the editor’s choice, which I agreed to. I had written ‘The End’. I realised afterwards I’m not entirely comfortable with the change as it’s a phrase I wouldn’t use, though it does feel more impactful. It’s been interesting to observe how I feel about this piece as a result. I’m still mentally adjusting to receiving suggested changes from editors. At what point does a change feel like it takes the piece beyond my own work? I’m guessing that this is something most writers grapple with, and not just in poetry.

I have more work due to be published elsewhere and I’m just about to do another submission. My writing has slowed down a lot due to a work project that took up a huge chunk of creative brainpower. I’m hoping that now that is largely complete, there’ll be space in my brain for more tanka writing.

Tanka (& haiku) prose in Drifting Sands Haibun Journal

Tanka prose in DSH, text at bottom of post

I am very happy to have this tanka (& haiku) prose, inspired by seeing and looking out for a missing dog this year, published in DSH here: https://drifting-sands-haibun.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/09/Issue-23.pdf#page86 . I submitted it for the previous journal in a different form and the guest editor for that issue made a few suggestions to improve it, encouraging me to re-submit the next time. The guest editor for this edition, Marion Clarke, came back with very detailed and encouraging feedback and suggestions on my edited piece. I was really touched by the time Marion had taken in reviewing my work and the encouragement to resubmit to her if I could revise it in time. 24 hours later with a little extra to and fro it was done.

The key change Marion suggested was to change the second tanka I had to a haiku and with a different focus. I’ll admit I don’t really feel I’m a natural haiku writer so I wrote a different tanka which came out of nowhere as I was re-reading my prose. Marion liked the start of the tanka but felt the last two lines were superfluous and it became, with another small change, a haiku. So I now have my first published haiku too, though I feel I can’t claim full credit for it.

And now I am thinking how playful it might be to experiment with different poetry forms in a piece and how far you can go with this. Perhaps I should be brave and study haiku further rather than believe it’s not for me.

Text of piece is below, please note I’ve written this post on my phone and WordPress has annoyingly refused point blank to format the haiku with single-line spacing, so I’ve left it as is.

Going Back

another day
muntjacs and squirrels run past
I think of if onlys
lost in the long grass

Ruby ran away a few months ago, after a gunshot startled her. Her family searched for her everywhere. Once, I saw her on my walk by the woods. A red cocker spaniel, muddy, soaked and running at high speed. Despite all the advice not to call out to a runaway dog, I called her name. Instinct, I suppose. But once in survival mode, dogs can be hard to catch, and Ruby carried on running. Every walk I hoped to see her again.

Then one day, an update online. She’d been handed in to a vet 170 miles away.

remembering curlews

I debate returning

to my childhood home

My first ‘tanka in print’

This week I got to see my first tanka in a print publication, the journal of the British Haiku Society, Blithe Spirit. The tanka was part of my first submission to this journal so I was absolutely delighted. I joined the BHS a few days before the submission deadline, not realising there was still time to submit, so it really was a sneaking in at the last minute type of submission. This particular tanka was written whilst I was sitting on my patio. This year I have pretty much given up weeding to allow my garden to determine what it needs (though the brambles, many plum tree saplings and nettles have to be managed otherwise that’s all there would be). There is something about the way that ‘nature’ reclaims its space, when given a chance, that is reassuring. When I look at the patio now, I see a living world of its own. So many things could be enriched if we let the cracks disappear.

The tanka:

I let cracks
disappear
under lemon balm
moss
and forget-me-nots

My first published tanka prose

Brown notebook on pink tray. Cover has cartoon hamster sticker on and the word Tanka handwritten.

In April I joined the Tanka Online course run by Call of the Page, who I am lucky enough to do part-time admin work for. I will admit that though I had been working for CTP for about 18 months by then, I didn’t really know what tanka was. Before I joined CTP, the only Japanese short-form poetry I knew of was haiku. I did the Introducing…Haiku course last year but haiku and I didn’t really click, much as I enjoy reading them. Tanka on the other hand were like finding that space where you know you belong. Unlike haiku, which are focused on concrete imagery, tanka makes space for the expression of feelings. In fact tanka traditionally were mostly about love and relationships and a way of communicating between interested parties. In five lines I can express something poignant and profound or mundane or joyful sparked by something arising in the day. So often throughout my days I think, I should blog about this conversation I’m having in my head, but I don’t because I don’t have the energy or I think I’ll end up wittering on till I peter out and realise actually I don’t really have something to say. But five lines are very much doable. Not only are they doable but they also force me to get to the essence of what is inside my head because tanka are down-to-earth. There isn’t the space for long descriptions and flowery language.

Having found a love of prose poetry whilst doing the Encounters with Kin course last November (the course that started this blog), I knew I had to try writing tanka prose which combines one or more tanka with a prose piece that may be factual or fictional or somewhere in between. To my surprise, and delight, my very first one was accepted for publication by Contemporary Haibun Online and you can read it here:

Alison Clayton-Smith, The Call

I also have a tanka coming out in another publication in the Autumn. Meanwhile I am writing lots of tanka and tanka prose, editing and editing, and submitting when they feel ready. I have also been reading a lot about writing tanka and its history. I feel like I’m just at the start of what is possible with this form of creative expression and I’m excited to see where it takes me.

A little update

Update July 2023 – My daily writing practice which features in the previous posts ended up going on hiatus for a number of months. In the meantime, I did a Tanka Online course (details here) and fell in love with writing tanka and tanka prose. I’ve been learning so much about the world of tanka and had a couple of submissions accepted by journals, that I’ve decide to use this blog to explore my life with tanka. It still fits neatly with my interests below and also broadens out the writing to encompass other areas. I was actually thinking it would take over completely from my daily practice but coming back here and reading some of the previous posts I can hear that little voice calling to be heard again so it looks like this blog will be mixing the two. In fact some of the posts will also provide material for the tanka and tanka prose. I don’t imagine I’ll be posting so frequently as I did before because my writing energy is limited.

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Thursday 9th March 2023

View through blinds to houses and hedges and wall with light snow

Snow from my front window. Soft layers of frozen water crystals lying like icing on rich dark fruitcake. But now snow has turned to damp rain and only falls, drops, from the eaves of the roof.

The birds are quieter. A lone sparrow moves around the black wooden gate of our neighbours. It’s not so cold that I had to de-ice the water for the birds. Snow without ice, how does that work?