A Refreshing Retreat

Last week I was at Tŷ Newydd, the National Writers' Centre for Wales, for a poetry writing course with poet and artist Rose Flint.


The house, Lloyd George's last home, and situated on the Lleyn Peninsula with views over Cardigan Bay, is a marvellous place to write.


ty_newydd2


In the mornings we  all sat round the dining room table for workshops. When we were writing we could wander off to a secluded nook looking out onto the garden, or sit in the conservatory. The house is at once cosy and yet filled with light – many of the doors are glass, etched with beautiful words and patterns.


After dinner we gathered in the library for readings.


ty newydd library 


On the first evening Rose read to us and talked about the things that inspire her writing. The following evening Sîan Hughes, the guest reader, who also lead a workshop for us, read some of her poems and talked about the controversy a couple of them had provoked. The two very different voices: Rose's, lyrical and musical, Sîan's, spare and direct, complemented one another very well.


Since I'm a novelist, you might be wondering what I was doing on a poetry course. I didn't go with any expectation that I would produce a poem. I was attracted by the course description which sounded appealingly open-ended:


'W.B.Yeats called poetry the 'voice of the soul', and in times of emotional intensity, when our spirit is out of kilter, full of longing, the art of poetry  can perhaps open a way to discover another voice, to speak differently…risking it, individually and together, in a time and place apart. We can think also of prose poetry and at any level of engagement with the wish to write…'


That description, of being 'out of kilter' yet 'full of longing' fitted me; my longing was to write, so I went with the hope that I would write – something, anything – and without any expectation of what it might be. In the event I wasn't disappointed. In response to the stimuli offered by Rose and Sîan, I wrote every day. Whether what I wrote could be classed as poems, I don't know and it doesn't matter. What matters is that I was enjoying myself. And not just when I was writing.


In the afternoons I walked by the river, the Afon Dwyfor. The wood was full of bluebells, the leaves on the trees that green you only get at this time of year, so fresh and always surprising. And for one morning session, Rose took us to the beach and we built a fire. Collecting driftwood was great fun and it was good just to be there sitting in a cool breeze within hearing of the waves, watching the flames devouring our offerings.


If any of you are writers feeling stuck or jaded, I would recommend a course like this. I have come back refreshed and feel more confident that words will flow if I let them.


A Refreshing Retreat is a post from: Jane Eagland


©2011 Jane Eagland. All Rights Reserved.

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Published on May 17, 2011 10:51
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