Tuesday poem: Tribute

September 9, 2019

A strange tendency
we adore that which monsters
Stephen Edwin King

travelers-lured

I am very much enjoying the current Stephen King glut of films and TV series. But for me, the prospect of a new book by King beats all of that. Can’t wait to read The Institute, which I think comes out in November. Long may King continue to scare the crap out of us, all the world around.

UPDATE: I don’t know where I got that November idea from, as the book’s out now!

This is a link to a poem I just had published at Verity La, called ‘Carrying an Injury’. I an settling down for a few weeks watching the World Cup in Canada, so it seems appropriate, although the players in the poem are male. And this is an image of a far less pretty sport than that being played in Canada:

bigstock_Scrum_348970

Last week I bought the latest Stephen King novel, Finders Keepers, and read it in the usual feast, all in one sitting. Each new book by Mr King leaves me actually trembling until I hold it, and obsessional until I have finished it. It’s a weird sort of bliss!

I can’t stand the idea that eventually, there will be no more new novels by Stephen King; his Carrie and Cujo and Pennywise will haunt his study like Dickens’s characters, looking for their creator.

Hopefully not for another thirty years! (Though I suppose that might be up to the writer himself…But can anyone believe that Stephen King would voluntarily stop writing?)

Read the works of the other Tuesday Poets around the world by pressing here.

Wednesday 24th June, I am reading poems old and new at Manning Clark House in Canberra at 7.30pm. I think that Mark Tredinnick will be the other reader. More on that later.

11.22.63 by Stephen King

November 17, 2011

Here’s a link to my review of 11.22.63 by Stephen King, a time-travel novel about trying to prevent the Kennedy assassination.  The review was just published in Eureka Street.  Today, President Obama has been in Canberra, and fortunately, that visit by a US President to the South seems to have gone a lot more smoothly.   I travelled back from Melbourne to Canberra today, and we taxied quite close to Air Force One.  Amazing to see a plane treated like a celebrity!

When you witness the level of security that necessarily goes with a visit from the US President, it makes you very glad to be living in a less important country, globally speaking.

It’s been a good week for my fiction writing, which I generally see as a secondary function to poetry.  I sometimes sneak prose poems into story competitions, and hope that the judges will accept the lack of plot and character development!  My first small collection of ‘real’ stories, A Quiet Day, was published in 2009 by Ginninderra Press, and was just highly commended in the 2011 Society of Women Writers Awards in Sydney. The judge was Susanne Gervay, who is an established and prolific young adult and children’s fiction writer.  (Here’s a link to her blog.)  This was very gratifying for me.  Susanne told me that there was a poetic element to my stories; I didn’t mention that this element is always threatening to eat the plot!

This week I am going down to Melbourne because my flash fiction ‘A Writing Unexpected’ won the Big West Festival Competition and I’ll be reading it at one of the events.  That’s if the airport is open, as a certain President Obama is visiting Canberra this week.  The only other problem with the awards being in Melbourne is that I come back to Canberra missing that city too much.  I am still having withdrawal symptoms from Sydney last week.

My very silly story ‘Little Nell’s death scene from The Old Curiosity Shop by Charles Dickens,  ‘improved’ into a happy ending by an alien’s tool’ was recently highly commended in a humorous story competition.  You can read it here if you feel like something quite ridiculous, along with the other prize-winners.  There was a special prize for the funniest title, and I thought I would win that!

I am such a pessimist that I focus on one typo I left in the story when I read it.  Perhaps you will find it if you go there.  There is no prize, dear reader, if you are a pedant too!

Speaking of US Presidents, I just read Stephen King’s new novel about the Kennedy assassination.  There’s a real storyteller, like Mr Dickens was before him.  I have spent many night with these writers over the years, running through the hours in a readerly marathon, totally absorbed.  I just don’t have that narrative urge, but prefer the sound of words.  They left plot off my mental Swiss Army knife, and put on extra tools for wordplay.

Which is why I’m mostly a poet, who dabbles, however seriously, in fiction.  Here’s the link to my skimpy story again.

must adjust trope...