Taking time out… and not writing.

Strange days are these, and everywhere I turn, there is advice for writers. How to make the best of all this spare time during social isolation. How to be more productive. How to finish that WIP. And I fell into all of it — putting pressure on myself to produce, to create, though nothing of worth was emerging.

I was riddled with guilt that I wasn’t writing — until I copped on!

So I stopped trying. Left it alone. Shut the laptop and stacked the notebooks. I read more books, practiced my amateur knitting, stared out the window, did some housework (only the essential stuff!) and used the time to let the mind wander. To let new thoughts percolate. To be inspired.

And this happened: Not Writing. A Poem (Of Sorts) published by Pendemic, a wonderful site, created to publish new writing in response to Coronavirus disease (COVID-19). Check it out for some insightful writing and writers.

Not Writing

Of disquiet

The pang that lingers as reality bites

Mornings open to inspection

What next?

Of the belly ache. Someone forgotten

The distance. Forced and unnatural

Of the worry

The vulnerable

The children not cherished

Of fragile safety nets undone

And inevitable loss

Of love for kin held close

And the hollow of their absence

Of soul friends

The warmth of their knowing

Of energy sent and received

Of being blessed

Of hitting the reset button

For the chance to begin again.

The thing is, we all have the belly aches, the worries that churn. We are all filled with self doubt that our art doesn’t make a damn bit of difference to a world in turmoil. A world closing in to protect itself. To protect us. But, we’re a resilient bunch, us humans. We’ll get through this. We will thrive and we will reset.

And the creativity will flow.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Caroline E Farrell is a writer and filmmaker. She is the author of the novel, LADY BETH and the Writer/Director of the short film FRAMED. She is also the writer of  the short films IN RIBBONS and ADAM. 

Hello Ma, how’s things?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Are you there now?

In your place of dreams

Where the others are

and spoil you still

In your place of smiles

Of fancy fit

and flare and

snake charm gold

Of giggles and

girlish things

Is your Ma there too?

Minding

Berating

Chasing you with time when

He left you home late

 

31st January 2020: 4th Anniversary. Rest in Peace, Detta.

 

 

Intruder

It goes by many names, the space invader, the infiltrator, the head fuck, to name a few. Arrives unannounced and unexpected, taking residence in your comfort zone, droning on incessantly with negative speak, the stuff that hurts your head, while you hover uncomfortably in your own space, out-of-place. Welcome overstayed when none has been offered, sapping strength as the clock ticks and panic builds because you have things to do, life to live, but you can’t turf it out because you don’t know how, and you’re not that strong anyway. So the invasion prolongs  and it grows darker and your brain grows numb with the pointlessness of it all, and your chest hurts, and your stomach feels hollow; but finally it grows tired of your boring, catatonic company and you brace your exhaustion against the portal through which it slithers away; the portal that opens ever so slightly to let the light in. Sighs of exhaled pressure leave your chest and you swear that you’ll be ready the next time, braced and protected; but that’s all just fuckery thinking, and well you know it, for it will be there when you are not looking, when your guard is down; when you are content – or think that you are. It will come again alright, but you just hope that it won’t be for a long while yet.

The Memory Wandering…

I don’t claim to know that much in regard to all things poetic, and would never describe myself as such, but occasionally, in moments of emotive thought or reflection, I jot down what comes to the page and let it be.

The Memory Wandering was written some time ago and is themed around forgiveness and letting go. Common enough themes for humanity, but often the most difficult to get a handle on and more than often, unresolved.

Director of IN RIBBONS, Marie-Valerie Jeantelot, read the poem and decided to include it at the closing of our film, and in a wonderful gesture, her father, Charles Jeantelot, has translated it into French, that most beautiful language of the romantics.

La Mémoire Divaguant
La mémoire divaguant de la conscience
Et victime de victime demeure
Dans la suffocation
Dans le gris assourdissant
Et quand ils sont partis
Et quand on ne se souvient plus de ce qu’ils furent
Mais de ce qu’ils avaient fait
Cher cœur 
Les larmes s’en vont divaguant a leur tour
 ********
 Not many of us can walk through life without heartache, or the lingering weight of it, so, I’m putting The Memory Wandering out there, as a gift to anyone, whom in any way, might find it helpful. PEACE X

IN RIBBONS https://www.facebook.com/inribbonsmovie.