12 or 20 (second series) questions with Jeremy Clarke
Jeremy Clarke isa British/Canadian poet. He has lived and worked in North America, Europe andthe Middle East. A former poet in residence at Eton College, he currently livesin London. The book, Stone Hours,brings together twenty five years of his work.
1 - How did your first book or chapbookchange your life? How does your most recent work compare to your previous? Howdoes it feel different?
Publicationof my first book didn't change my life. It was certainly pleasing to have somethingof mine venture into the world, but I saw it as a first adventure, and simplygot on with continuing to try to write.
Thatfirst book is very different to what I went on to write. It was a record of aparticular episode in my life - an experiment in country living. Since then, Ihave not written about 'me' so much as I have attempted to offer a particularvision of the world.
2 - How did you come to poetry first, asopposed to, say, fiction or non-fiction?
Itwas a relief in some ways to realise that what I was writing (indeed, how Isaw) was best suited to poetry not prose. Poetry is not simply chopped-upprose. It is infinitely more complex. A line of poetry, rightly, takes an ageto do, get right.
Sound,rhythm, balance, how it feels in the mouth and in the ear, how a line relatesto the previous line and the one following, how the whole looks on the page... Thereis so much going on, so much to consider.
3 - How long does it take to start anyparticular writing project? Does your writing initially come quickly, or is ita slow process? Do first drafts appear looking close to their final shape, ordoes your work come out of copious notes?
Afew notes yes, but really very few. I've learned that the more notes I make,the less likely I have something to say. Having some general outline or idea isall one really needs to get started. Onelearns the 'thing' as you go. I have a quote on my bookshelf, 'Make something.The idea will come afterwards'. It's attributed to Rodin, but it predates him Ithink. Ted Hughes said something similar, re an idea, 'Just open its mouth andstick your head in'. A comment fromPhilip Pullman is exactly right, 'It's not about working with ideas, but aboutworking when you don't have them'. Yes,you need the germ of an idea, an initial subject, something you want toexplore, but you have to be brave enough to actually explore. To go off andtry to find, figure something out. Writing is not about being 'ready' to tellothers what you know, it's about admitting that you don't know, and beingwilling to put in the work of the finding out. The process takes an age. As itshould. Why should some deep mystery suddenly and simply reveal itself to you.Why shouldn't it require some lengthy (and at times frustrating) investigation.
Irecall many years ago a story about the mathematician Andrew Wiles, who solvedFermat's Last Theorem. Every day, for seven years, he went up to this atticstudy in the hope of finding a solution.
4 - Where does a poem usually begin foryou? Are you an author of short pieces that end up combining into a largerproject, or are you working on a "book" from the very beginning?
Inever think in terms of a single poem. If I have an idea it is always for a'project'. Which is usually a series of poems, or prose proems, that willcontribute to the understanding of the subject I want to investigate. My book, StoneHours, is many sections of thesestandalone pieces. Each section contributes, in some fundamental way, to the'idea' of the whole. I never think to write a poem about how I 'feel', or aboutsome event that happened in my life. As I said earlier, I have a particularvision, and it has really nothing to do with me. It is not about me (as justabout everything in the world isn't).
5 - Are public readings part of or counterto your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?
Idon't do many readings. I have in the past done a few, and when I was poet inresidence at Eton I gave several readings for the school. But I did not 'read'in the usual way. I would spend weeks memorising a series of poems or a single longpoem, and then give it from memory, in a kind of performance. Not acting it outas it were, just inhabiting the text and putting it across as if I were livingthrough it in that moment. It's a lot ofwork to do this (and a bit of a high wire act on the day), but it is so muchmore interesting and rewarding for the audience than watching someone standthere and read from a book or a page. I find readings of that sort incrediblyboring, and kind of lazy. The writer should 'know' the work. I want someone whois there listening to the text to really 'feel' it. Indeed, for us both to be sharingthat experience together.
6 - Do you have any theoretical concernsbehind your writing? What kinds of questions are you trying to answer with yourwork? What do you even think the current questions are?
Stone Hours posits the urban world as a kind of New Jerusalem. As the 'holy city'.
Whichdoesn't need to be understood in a religious sense (though it can be), butsimply that the city is a place of wonder. Within the length of a footstepthere is something (indeed hundreds of things) worthy of our attention. I amnot so naive to think that there are not problems, suffering, injustices, uglyrealities within the urban experience, but I am wanting to show that, if weregard the whole differently, if we lived a little differently in it, it wouldbe transformed (and as a consequence, we would be transformed also).
Perspectiveis everything. If we were told that every place was holy ground, how
newlylit would the city appear to be, and how different our experience of it.
Someonewho read an early version of Stone Hours commented, 'The church is outside'. Ithought that was the right interpretation of the work. If we went about ourlives with this thought in mind, we would indeed inhabit a different world (andhow much better would we interact and treat each other in this 'new world').
7 – What do you see the current role ofthe writer being in larger culture? Do they even have one? What do you thinkthe role of the writer should be?
Inmy view, the role of the artist is to pass on some particular insight or way ofseeing. At his or her best, the artist offers a fresh interpretation orunderstanding of the world, and our place within it.
8 - Do you find the process of workingwith an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?
Both.You need an outside eye to coldly look at what it is you've done. How you havedone it, how you have presented it or laid it out. You need an objective viewand viewpoint. In this way, the editor becomes the first reader, and you need agood first reader before it goes out to all the other readers. A good firstreader is one that appreciates your vision, understands your intent andintention and is genuinely sensitive to what you are attempting to do.Crucially, they must set aside their particular preferences and prejudices andattend to what you have done with an entirely open mind.
9 - What is the best piece of adviceyou've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?
Probablywhat I said earlier, 'Make something, the idea will come afterwards'. Irecently wrote down a quote from Jordan Peterson directly onto my wall, 'Lessthan your best hurts everything'. I think that's marvellous. A way to livedaily, whatever we do. And something a priest casually said to me at a booklaunch, as people came in (or didn't), 'Don't worry about numbers, Christ neverdid.' The truth is of course, so many people (ie, everyone) can, in any moment,say something unexpectedly brilliant or essential. We must always be open andready to listen, and learn. From everyone. Everyone has something to teach us.So often our prejudices get in the way. To our detriment.
10 - What kind of writing routine do youtend to keep, or do you even have one? How does a typical day (for you) begin?
I tryto work every day. It doesn't always work out like that, but it is rare if Idon't at least try. If I am not constantly trying to do what I think I shouldbe doing, I feel that I am being neglectful, disrespectful of my purpose (asfar as my purpose can be understood).
11 - When your writing gets stalled, wheredo you turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?
Iam always 'stalled'. I don't believe I ever have 'inspiration' as such, just,hopefully, the seed of an idea. I then have to suffer the not knowing anythingand try to figure out what I am supposed to do with it. And that comes purelyby continually 'attempting'. I constantly read, mostly modern poetry, and thatboth feeds and keeps me going. Coming across the odd jewel that has beenproduced by someone else, often sparks some new discovery in my own searching.
12 - What fragrance reminds you of home?
Iprobably think more about sounds than smells. The urban landscape is so full ofthem, and every one is telling a story, is an event (as every smell is too, ofcourse). The best ones are the faintest,the most insignificant. The subtlest things are always the most interesting.The quietest sound, the slightest movement, the faintest smell... They allbeckon. Try following just one on its journey, from origin to end, for a trueadventure.
13 - David W. McFadden once said thatbooks come from books, but are there any other forms that influence your work,whether nature, music, science or visual art?
Justabout everything supports the work, often without your knowing it (at least notat the time). Every hardly noticed, incidental detail that you see or hear andchoose to not bother remembering, feeds your vision and your voice. Stand on onepatch of pavement and look and listen - there are more mysteries waiting thereto be attended to and understood than you could possibly deal with in a singlelifetime.
14 - What other writers or writings areimportant for your work, or simply your life outside of your work?
AsI said, I read a lot of modern poetry, the poets too numerous to mention. Thegold standards of the past I certainly have on my shelf, and of them, if I haveto pick out the most supportive, I would say Dante (The Divine Comedy), ifsimply for the size of his ambition. As a sustained work of the imagination, itis almost beyond belief. Of course, one can't consider Dante without Miltoncoming also to mind. Milton wrote Paradise Lost when he was blind. Dictating itfrom 'memory' to his daughters. Realising this, one really has no businesscomplaining about one's supposed difficulties in trying to write.
15 - What would you like to do that youhaven't yet done?
Ifyou mean artistically, I'm not sure. I used to worry about having nothing newto go to once I'd finished a particular text, but something always popped upsoon after. Having just now produced such a large, collected work in Stone Hours, I'mslightly less worried. I mean, it is possible to write too much. It is asimportant to know when to stop as when to keep going. Both require discipline. Having said that, one must always remain opento a 'prompt'. If something is asking to be explored, one has a duty to get onand find it. Another quote on my wall is from Pasternak, 'Don't give way todrowsiness, poet. You are the pledge we give eternity, and so a slave to everysecond.'
16 - If you could pick any otheroccupation to attempt, what would it be? Or, alternately, what do you think youwould have ended up doing had you not been a writer?
I'vedone many things both before and after I was writing. I was an EMT (emergencymedical technician) with ambulance services for some years. I've worked in thefitness industry, as a personal trainer and club manager in many places. Ifwriting had not been constantly calling, I imagine I would have remained in oneof those industries. Most likely the former. Making a difference to someone'slife (or saving a life) is unequivocally satisfying. Indeed, it is a reason tobe alive...
17 - What made you write, as opposed todoing something else?
Ibelieve an artist is someone who answers a call. There is something that is'asking' to be done. Something inside you requires that you respond to some'impulse'. The responding to the call is of course a conscious decision, butthe call is not.
18 - What was the last great book youread? What was the last great film?
I recently re-read Elizabeth Smart's, By Grand Central Station I Sat Down And Wept . Really quite a marvel of poetic 'prose'.It is a shame it was published as a novel. If it had been published as poetry,and laid out as such (it was published by Editions Poetry London in 1945), I believeit would be considered a poetry masterpiece.
19 - What are you currently working on?
I'm trying to complete a short sonnet sequence.The idea for which I wish had come earlier, because it absolutely belongs inthe StoneHours book. Really quite annoying! Well, it will join its friends in the nextedition...
