Esther Morgan Poetry: Beat the Blank Page: March 04: An Object Lesson

The blank page never ceases to intimidate - it seems presumptuous to intrude on its perfect whiteness. As our pens hover uncertainly, it asks us who do you think you are? Easier not to begin, to go and do something less risky instead (like the washing-up) - after all, if we don't write anything, then the possibility of creating something brilliant and beautiful remains; we haven't marred that hope with the messy, no-guarantees process of writing.

If this is how you feel too, then I hope this regular exercise page will help. What follows is meant as a starting point, a way of allowing you to make that initial mark on the page, and ease you into the creative flow. These are exercises which I've found useful myself and which I've tried with different classes of students. It may seem artificial to be given a starting point, rather than letting inspiration strike, but I've always found that inspiration needs encouragement and the right conditions in which to flourish. Exercises don't always result in a finished piece of work (although they can do) but at the very least, they get you going, and fire up the brain. If you come out with even one image or word you might use later on, then the process will have been worth it.

For an excellent series of exercises, do take a look at the online Poetry Workshop run by the Guardian - I did a slot in February 2006 and every month you get a different poet suggesting an exercise and then commenting on the results.

Instructions

In a previous exercise (February 2003) I suggested writing about a real room, one that you remember well from your own past. Fascinated as I am by interiors, I thought it would be interesting to suggest writing about a room that doesn't exist, a place you might have imagined as either a dream room or a nightmare room. What lies behind this are memories of secret rooms that a house shouldn't have - the priest holes of Tudor manors, the attic of Thornfield Hall in Jane Eyre, and that extra room you sometimes dream of in your own home that isn't there when you wake up.

The exercise is very simple. First of all think about your ideal room, the space you've always promised yourself but have never had the time or money to create. Describe this room in detail:
- What colour are the walls, floor and ceiling?
- Where are the windows and what can you see out of them?
- What time of day is it as you walk into this room?
- What noises can you hear?
- What can you smell?
- There's one picture on the wall - describe what it is
- Describe in detail at least three objects/pieces of furniture in the room
- Imagine you're looking in on the room from the outside - describe this experience
- Following on from this, you can see yourself in the room - what are you doing? How old are you? What are you wearing?

For the second part of the exercise, do the same thing but this time imagine your worst or nightmare room.

Purpose

This exercise is about engaging with our desires and fears, but in a very concrete and hopefully vivid way. Interiors - the word is signficant - are as much about who we are on the inside as they are practical living spaces. They are psychological dimensions and this exercise pushes this idea by asking you to project your desires and fears onto an imaginary space.

Example Poem

Here are a couple of examples, the first by one of my favourite poets, the Serbian/American, Charles Simic. His poetry is a lovely combination of Eastern European influences and New York sassiness. He often uses the surreal and elements of gothic fairy tale to explore the madnesses of political oppression and the crazy wheel of fortune that is history. The second poem comes from my collection The Silence Living in Houses and is definitely at the more nightmarish end of the spectrum!

Night in the House of Cards

A lot of dust has settled today,
The Evening News said.
The walls still shook from time to time
As if the night was a truck
Loaded with gravel rumbling by.

Then it was quiet.
The builder of the house of cards
Had rushed off
Holding her masked children by the hand.
I didn't dare light another match
And look at the walls.
There were pictures everywhere of bearded men
And their bearded wives.
The match flame made them dance
So that afterwards
I lay sleepless in the dark.

In the night, the wind
That chills the stars to a squint
Blew a card off the roof
Up one of its dark sleeves.
The dawn sky was like a torn red dress
The girl on the back of the card wore.

by Charles Simic

Mistress

There's always been someone to hide
inside hollow walls and sliding oak panels:
a divine of the heretic religion,
the family simpleton with their mooning face.

I used to frighten myself at midnight feasts
telling tales of nuns sealed up in cells
for devotion's sake, or some unspeakable sin.
When I slept, my eyes closed over their bones.

Every house contains a room that doesn't exist
where we find ourselves almost at home
behind this skim of horsehair plaster,
the roses breathing into your ear.

by Esther Morgan

Send Me Your Work !

If you have enjoyed this exercise, send me your poems - I will put up the best pieces I receive inspired by each exercise.

Other poems selected from those submitted by readers can be found on the Submitted Poems page.

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