Barding it in Brighton
Enjoyable night at a Poetry South event down at the Joogleberry Playhouse. A plentiful and attentive audience and several good poems. Heading the bill was a poet called Stephanie Norgate reading from her new book from Bloodaxe, which - from what I could tell on a first listen - has some really good moments.
There was a short open-mic section and, despite being late, I blagged a spot. I read An Adumbration of the Light Age, for the first time in public, and was pleased with the response it got. Amazed at how nervous I felt beforehand, given that in a former life I have given poetry readings (without exaggeration) about a thousand times.
The poetry was being held above a rather groovy gig in the basement below. This made it a little harder to concentrate for people later on in the bill, especially when the evening was wrapped up by an unaccompanied folk singer, who had to resort to the traditional finger in the ear to keep in key.
Look forward to getting more involved with the group, instead of lurking on the edge like a newbie.
Otherwise fairly cheerful and pressing on with my Skelton Yawngrave book. Aiming for 40 thousand words by the end of the week. The threads of the story are weaving together now and this is making it slightly slower going, like juggling with more skittles than at the start. Still amazingly fluent though.
The door painting has turned onto a nightmare on hinges and makes me want to take an axe to it like Jack Nicholson in The Shining. Am I the first to have Door Rage?
Enjoyable night at a Poetry South event down at the Joogleberry Playhouse. A plentiful and attentive audience and several good poems. Heading the bill was a poet called Stephanie Norgate reading from her new book from Bloodaxe, which - from what I could tell on a first listen - has some really good moments.
There was a short open-mic section and, despite being late, I blagged a spot. I read An Adumbration of the Light Age, for the first time in public, and was pleased with the response it got. Amazed at how nervous I felt beforehand, given that in a former life I have given poetry readings (without exaggeration) about a thousand times.
The poetry was being held above a rather groovy gig in the basement below. This made it a little harder to concentrate for people later on in the bill, especially when the evening was wrapped up by an unaccompanied folk singer, who had to resort to the traditional finger in the ear to keep in key.
Look forward to getting more involved with the group, instead of lurking on the edge like a newbie.
Otherwise fairly cheerful and pressing on with my Skelton Yawngrave book. Aiming for 40 thousand words by the end of the week. The threads of the story are weaving together now and this is making it slightly slower going, like juggling with more skittles than at the start. Still amazingly fluent though.
The door painting has turned onto a nightmare on hinges and makes me want to take an axe to it like Jack Nicholson in The Shining. Am I the first to have Door Rage?
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