Sally Murphy's Blog, page 22

Poetry Friday: Tiddely-Pom!

It’s Poetry Friday, and it seems an age since I last posted. Who could have known, back in January when I promised myself I would post every Friday this year, just what a year 2020 would be – not just for me, but for the whole world.

But today as I was walking on the beach, I found myself, as I often do, reciting a favourite poem – and, of course, knew it was a sign that I should share it.

The poem? The Winnie the Pooh poem, ‘The More It Snows’. Why was I reciting it? It was not snowing (we are, finally, in the early stages of Spring in my part of the world). My toes were not cold. In short, why that poem came to my mind, I don’t know. But there I was on my beach ‘tiddely-pomming’ my way along. What better way to share it than from the voice of the bear himself:

back home, as I thought about the sunshine and the beach and the joy a poem can bring I decided to have a go at writing my own tiddely-pom poem, as an ode to my beach.

Upon the sand

(tiddely-pom)

Life is grand

(tiddely-pom)

Come take my hand

(tiddely-pom)

And frolic.

Cos you’ll soon see

(tiddely-pom)

That by the sea

(tiddely-pom)

It’s hard to be

(tiddely-pom)

Melancholic!

Do you know about the Tiddely-Pom Effect?  It’s also, more boringly known as the Snowball Effect. Basically, the more you focus on something, the bigger it gets . This can be a good thing, or a bad thing – depending of course if you are focussing on a positive or a negative. This year it’s sometimes been hard to find positives, but, today, I’m going to tiddely-pom my way through the day and look for more positives. I hope you’ll join me. and, if you’re in need of a little beach therapy, I hope you’ll enjoy this glimpse of my beach from earlier this week:

Now I’m off to tiddely-Pom my way around the net to see what other poetry goodness I can find. Bridget, from Wee Words for Wee Ones is hosting the Poetry Friday roundup – and pondering all things orange.

A Quick Catch Up

2020: the year of time simultaneously racing by and standing still. It is hard to believe it is late August already, and yet so much has happened this year, and looking back to February (when 2020 was just starting to look interesting) seems an age ago.

So what have I been doing since I last posted? Quite a lot – my day job (I teach future teachers at university) has been busier than ever this year, mainly because of the impact of the pandemic on my students’ studies. I’ve also been working on what I hope might be a new verse novel, and I was lucky enough to actually visit a real school last week.  Thanks to the staff and students of Yanchep Beach Primary School for welcoming me so warmly.

Although it hasn’t been the ideal time to launch a new book – no booklaunch  or other physical events during a pandemic – Worse Things has been read and shared and talked about lots online, which is really pleasing. Some highlights:

Tamara at Tamara Reads admitting she sobbed uncontrollably while reading it.
Writing WA calling me  master of the verse novel genre in their review.
Being interviewed by my wonderful friend and writing colleague Teena at In Their Own Write
And chatting my other wonderful friend Rebecca at Alphabet Soup 

I have also been delighted by the people who have told me they’ve read and enjoyed it, and lots of posts on Instagram and other social media by readers spreading the word. Thank you!

Lastly, in between all this busyness, I have been walking lots. I am fortunate to live in Western Australia where, although we must remain cautious about Covid 19, our current situation means I can move around the state. My daily walks, mostly to my much-loved beach, are a form of meditation for me. If you are on Instagram, you can see the glimpses I share, hoping to spread the beauty to those who can’t wander far from home. In the meantime, here’s a glimpse of a wintry beach.

Thanks for dropping by.

Poetry Friday: Orange Cats

I always love when one of my poems is published, ready to be discovered by young, and young at heart readers.  Sometimes, that joy gets to be repeated when that same poem is republished, and shared with a new batch of readers. But how lucky am I to have that happen, with an extra cherry on top?

My poem Marmalade and Marmaduke was first accepted and published in  the School Magazine Blast Off in 2015.  I remember my delight at it being illustrated by the amazing Matt Ottley, and have shown it off many times since.

Fast forward to 2020 and I had an email asking for permission to reuse it in Countdown, another of the School Magazine’s publications. Of course I said yes, and was very chuffed. But mail is slow at the moment, and I wasn’t aware that the republication had happened – I am still waiting for my contributor copy.

So I was triply delighted when I was tagged in a Facebook post by the School Magazine alerting me to the fact that, to coincide with the publication, the poem had been recorded, read by Geoffrey McSkimming. What a fabulous reading – and a chance for me to share the poem here on Poetry Friday.

I love those cats – and yes, this is a poem about cats, and sunshine, and even punctuation, but it’s also a moment of coming together over finding something small in common. I’m working on gratitude at the moment, and today I’m grateful for poem videos,  Poetry Friday and  moments of peace.

Today’s Poetry Friday Roundup is hosted by Tricia  at The Miss Rumphius Effect. Tricia is sharing a thoughtful Golden Shovel poem, as well as linking to the other poetry goodness around the blogosphere.

Poetry Friday: Angry Ocean

If you drop here in often you will know that I love my beach walks and, in the past few months, especially, I have been incredibly grateful for being able to walk everyday. On Instagram I have been sharing one minute of my beach every day for two months. Until this week.  This week a series of storms have rendered my beach inaccessible – because  so much sand has been washed away that the stairs  end well above the sand line, and the footings of those stairs are hovering mid air.

Versions of this problem occur right along the coast, but I did manage eventually to find the one point where the beach is accessible, about ten kilometres from here.  You can imagine I was already feeling sad about my own favourite beach being out of bounds for the forseeable future, but when I did get onto this other beach, I was doubly sad when I saw all the rubbish washed up by the storm – plastic of all shapes and sizes, ropes, bottles, fishing tackle, you name it. I stomped around the shore collecting what I could and ferrying it up to the bin, and came home a little cranky about people who litter and pollute our oceans.

But later I paused to wonder if there was any good in this. All I could come up with was that I was giving back. The beach has been my sustenance these past few months, and now I was returning the favour with giving the damaged beach some care.  From that, I was left with the seed of a poem.

Here’s that poem (or its first draft, anyway):

Naughty Corner

All summer

You have frolicked on my shore

Swimming splashing diving

In my nourishing waters.

You’ve felt my sand between your toes

And taken deep breaths of my essence.

In boats

On skis

And boards

You’ve glided across my depths.

 

And I have welcomed you.

 

But I have not been fond

Of your discards:

Wrappers

Straws

Rope

Baskets

Bags

Casually left

Carelessly left

Dropped

And forgotten

By all but me

(It’s hard to ignore the sick rumbling

Deep in your stomach)

Now, at last.

I’ve had enough.

All night I’ve raged and rumbled

and now your waste

Is spewed upon

Those very shores

You’ve wandered.

 

Take it back.

I don’t want it.

 

As punishment

I’ve also reclaimed  some of my sand.

If you are very good

And show you’ve learnt your lesson

I might give it back some time.

Maybe before next summer.

(Copyright Sally Murphy 2020)

 

Funny how writing a poem always makes you feel a little bit better. I do still miss my beach though – so I went looking for another poem I wrote (and recorded for Poetry Friday) a few years ago about the things the sea leaves us:

 

I look forward to more treasures – hopefully I don’t have to wait till next Summer! (Although I do know, especially now, that being unable to walk on the beach is a very first world problem!)

If you want more poetry treasure, Mary Lee is hosting the Poetry Friday roundup at A Year of Reading.

Poetry Friday: My Shadow

Last Friday I shared some of my favourite poems from my childhood. I chose just thre, but there were some really fabulous ones that didn’t make last week’s post, including one that ranked a few mentions in the comments: My Shadow, by Robert Louis Stevenson. Coincidentally, I’ve been aware in my many beach walks over the past few months, of how often I capture photos of my own shadow – either deliberately or not ( I call them shadow selfies, except, because they’re of me, they are SALfies).  So, I thought I’d collect up some of those photos and share them, with the poem. As you listen, see if you can spot the dolphins – a mother and her new calf, who I spent an hour walking with a couple of weeks ago.

And, here’s the poem, which is in the public domain:

My Shadow
by Robert Louis Stevenson
I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.
He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;
And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.

The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow—
Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;
For he sometimes shoots up taller like an India-rubber ball,
And he sometimes gets so little that there’s none of him at all.

He hasn’t got a notion of how children ought to play,
And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.
He stays so close beside me, he’s a coward you can see;
I’d think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!

One morning, very early, before the sun was up,
I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;
But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepyhead,
Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.

When I came to post this video and poem I realsied I shared a poem with my shadow once before when I wrote a poem to a Stingray I met on a walk


– and the ray’s response:


Today’s Poetry Friday roundup is hosted by the amazing Carol Varsalona, who is offering gorgeous poems and images from her Nature’s Nurtures  Gallery, as well as her ow not to Mother Nature. Head there now for your Poetry Friday fill.

Worse Things: The Great Unboxing

Poetry Friday: Childhood Favourites

It’s Poetry Friday and, in the midst of writing and talking and thinking about my new book baby, I’ve also been thinking about the poems that lead me to love poetry.  I spent a lovely afternoon rediscovering my favourite childhood collection, and decided to share a few, and why they appealed to me.

You can find each of these poems, which are in the public domain, online:

The Purple Cow, by Gellet Burgess

Eletelephony (which I am sure I mispronounce in the video) by  Laura Elizabeth Richards  and

Forgiven, by A. A. Milne

There are so many more wonderful poems in this treasured collection that I would have loved to share, and perhaps will in future. There is something warm and comforting about poems from childhood.  It isn’t just the words or the rhythms, it’s the physical sensation of the memories they invoke.

What poems do you remember loving as a child that have stayed with you?

 

And, speaking of warm and comforting, there are choc chip cookies on offer at Jama’s blog, where she’s hosting the the Poetry Friday roundup, with find links to loads more poetry goodies.

 

Worse Things: The Cover Story

As part of recent Readalong, I reflected  about each of the covers of my three previous verse novels: Pearl Verses the World had had two different covers, and two different titles, for different editions; Toppling had had three covers and two titles, and Roses are Blue just the one cover.  Additionally, there was branding. As you can see from the three Australian covers, whilst there’s not a series, the cover design links them to me, the author,and to the style of the book, all verse novels.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I have always loved these covers, and the branding part was exciting to me, because it felt like the brand was ‘Sally Murphy’ – even though of course there is a lot more to it than that. I felt that the cover design was a perfect match for the illustration style and for the form and content of the books. And feedback from readers young and old matched that. My post about the Pearl Verses the World cover, especially, drew dozens of comments here and on Facebook and Instagram.

However, the cover of my fourth verse novel, Worse Things is different. Very different.

Everything is different – the colour pallet, the font, the and the illustration style, too. The illustrations take up the whole cover, with the title part of the illustration. But guess what? I love it just as much as I loved those other covers.  Why? Because I think it’s perfect for this book. And I think Sarah Davis is a genius.

Although still a verse novel, and having some similarities in style and even themes, Worse Things is a bit of a break away from the earlier ones. The age of the characters is slightly older than the characters in the earlier books, meaning it is likely to be enjoyed by slightly older readers – although I think readers who enjoy the first three will also connect with the fourth, and vice-versa.

Worse Things is also a multi voice novel, with three characters telling the story, and I love the  way Sarah has captured key elements of each character’s life and their story, and used them on the cover. Readers will hopefully come back, after they’ve read the book, and be able to see why those images are there.

I’d love to hear what you think about this new cover. If you haven’t read the book, what do you think is suggested by the images?  You can comment here, or on Instagram or Facebook.

And, if you’d like to get better acquainted with the cover, I turned it into a digital puzzle for you to have a go at! You’ll find that here.

 

Poetry Friday: Definition Poems

Welcome to Poetry Friday. What a week this past week has been!  I have to admit that I was very worried about releasing a new book in the midst of this terrible pandemic. Why, I thought, would anyone be interested in my little book in the midst of such awful stuff happening. But the love I’ve felt – for my book, and for me, too – has really made me remember that people need good stuff to celebrate in the midst of bad times just as much as they in the midst of good times, or even in-between times. So thank you for your well wishes, your support, and best of all your enjoyment of my videos and ramblings and sharings.

Last week, as part of my release day post, I shared a poem which I term a ‘definition poem’. It isn’t an existing form – just something I played with as I wrote Worse Things. Here’s the one I shared:

BROKEN

[bro*ken] (adj)

Ruptured

torn

fragmented.

No longer whole

or functioning.

In need of repair.

(Copyright Sally Murphy, 2020)

And here’s another:

 

BELONG

[be*long](Verb)

To be part of

Appropriately placed

A piece of the whole.

To fit in

Match up

Meet up.

Appertain

Associate

Apply.

To be apt.

(Copyright Sally Murphy, 2020)

 

If you want to see what these look like in the book (and don’t have a copy at hand) you can see the spreads in this video, which was put together for the Walker Books website. Broken appears at 0.47 and  Belong at 1.24.

 

I had a lot of fun writing these definition poems. First I identified key words or themes that I was exploring at different points of the book. Then I got out my dictionaries and thesauruses and looked at the definitions and similes. Then I simply played with the words and phrases, perhaps adding new phrases,  until I had a poem that I felt both defined the word and also connected with what was happening in the text.

Since I finished writing Worse Things I haven’t played with the form again, but this week I thought I might give it another go, inspired by  things seen on my daily beach walks. First there’s this one, inspired not just by the gorgeous Flo, but by all the pups I watch on my walks (including the recently departed Skipper, who is sadly missed).

Here’s what I came up with.

DOG

[dog] (noun)

Mutt

Pup

Pooch.

Tale-wagger

Stick chaser

Guide

Guard

Shadow

Man’s best friend

 

[Edited to add: yes, I do know dogs’ tails are spelled that way. The misspelling is a deliberate play on words!]

Beach

[beech] (noun)

Sandy shore

Oceanfront

Margin

Between sea and land

Coastline

Retreat

Embodiment of peace.

 

You might be able to pick the couple of lines that did not come from either dictionary or thesaurus. I especially found the definitions for beach a little inadequate for just how much it means to me.

So, over to you. I’d love to see if you have a word you’d like to define poetically?  I like to think it’s a fairly simple challenge,because the dictionary and thesaurus are a wonderful starting point for finding lots of fodder.

Not up for the challenge? That’s okay. There’s all sorts of other poetry goodness on offer around the interweb, courtesy of my Poetry Friday friends. You’ll find the roundup over on Michelle’s blog, Today’s Little Ditty. See you there.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Worse Things: The Story Behind the Book Continues

Yesterday (you can see the post here) I talked about the background to Worse Things – from the initial selection of a theme and a topic, to the idea to have two viewpoint characters, who soon morphed into three.  I touched on having tried to use three points of view (first second and third). The idea initially was that my two characters would be aware of each other but not really interact directly – and so when one was watching the other, they would refer to them as ‘you’.  From there grew the idea that this watcher could be a third character.  The idea to use first and third person for the two initial characters – who became Blake and Jolene – did not last long into the first draft. I have always written my verse novels in first person ‘I’ and I just couldn’t convince Jolene to let me tell her story as on observer (she/they). It became apparent that she wanted to speak for herself. So I had two first person characters.

The third character, Amed, let me persist with something akin to second person. Initially he was a watcher, observing the other characters and talking about what he saw. He was nameless, to the reader, and this, I hoped, would reflect the fact that the others ignored him, but that he was really a wise observer, in spite of his language difficulties.  However, tow problems emerged. Although Amed was talking about ‘you’ (meaning either Blake or Jolene, whoever he was watching), I also wanted to gradually reveal his own story. I needed him to tell us his own thoughts and experiences. And so, he became another first person  narrator – although he does still use  second person to talk (in his head) to each of the other characters, as in his opening poem, which begins “You can’t see me watching you…”  Getting Amed’s voice right was the most challenging – initially he was doing a lot of watching and not enough of anything else, and he came across as a bit too stalkerish.

Finally, though, I had the three voices, and the three sports and I managed to get going on bringing their stories to life. Although this process was more convoluted than my earlier verse novels, what was similar in my writing process was that I really didn’t know their full stories until I started writing. Each character’s story unfolded as I wrote.  Parts of the story appeared before others, so it wasn’t written as sequentially as the others either. It felt a little more of a jigsaw puzzle – piecing together the different poems, the different storylines until it gradually came together.

The other thing that happened along the way was that I realised that my plan to write something less emotionally challenging had failed. Without giving two much away, some pretty tough stuff happens in this book.  And I balked at some of it. I tried to convince my characters that they didn’t need all of that stuff happening – but they were insistent. It seems I never win these battles with my characters but, looking back, I know they are always right, and  that in spite of the emotional toll, I like finding a way to tell such stories.

I had feedback of various drafts and parts of drafts from my doctoral supervisors and, when I was happy with it, I put it aside to work on other aspects of my thesis. This in part explains the six years it took to get to publication.  But there was also, in that six years, quite a bit of toing and froing with the publisher, to get it right for them.  In the end, I had to set aside trying to get it published, and complete the thesis, because the demands of a doctoral thesis, even in creative writing, and the demands of commercial publication, are different and often competing.

Finally, though, I finished the PhD and passed (I even got to wear a floppy hat to graduate) and then I could attend once more to trying to get Worse Things published. To cut a long story short, eventually Walker Books decided the time was right, and the manuscript was right, and said yes. Then Sarah Davis read it, and set to work illustrating and designing that amazing character. And now, here it is, out in the world, ready for you (and you – and you too) to read.