Corvids, cobwebs and a peek at my creative process

It's the most wonderful time of the year, according to one member of our household: Friday, I'm in love - Issue 10

1 - We’ve reached peak Halloween. The orange plastic spider in the hallway has been joined by a honeycomb ghost. A bat guards the feather and stone collection in the kitchen. Three gigantic gourds block access to our mailbox. 

An accidental jump scare was dished out mere minutes after the thought crossed my mind that the (real life) horny house spiders¹ invading our home seemed to be contained to one particular week in September. In my haste to yeet the, likely equally terrified, creature from my collarbone, I managed to collide head on with the bathroom door. 

This week I have sold an outgrown bat onesie on Vinted. Picked up Halloween Haribo from the discount store. Added another bag into my basket in Asda. Dust filled boxes containing potion making kits and tissue spectres have been taken down from above the kitchen cupboards and rummaged through, spirits sinking when mildewed makes have emerged. The ghosts of Halloween past. 

Costume choices have been agonised over (my desire to dress as a Gothic crow lady was vetoed), while spooky signage wilts on the windows as we await our guisers. A zombie apocalypse novel, narrated by a crow, has been devoured.

I’m not sure if my energy will survive until Samhain, but my daughter is still going strong. It’s the best time of the year! she exclaims - eyes shiny, breath misting up the windows. Finger tracing cobwebs wherever she goes. 

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2 - A new dopamine hit this week was the discovery of the ‘nonet’, thanks to an Arvon Masterclass on Poetry’s Architecture, led by Emily Berry.

This single stanza, 9 line long poetic form starts with a line of 9 syllables (holy shit, that took me a lot of attempts to spell syllable correctly!) and drops a syllable with each descending line, finishing with a one syllable word. As someone who finds creative constraints strangely freeing, I loved having a play with it. Here’s my first attempt - still a first draft, based on a five minute freewrite so doesn’t make much sense, blah blah blah:

The conscious mind objects, as always.
Neural networks are firing now,
slicing the skin - down, down, down.
Furious at being 
pulled from sleep, a man,
spit flying, points 
his finger, 
calls us 
names.

We also explored powerful examples of palindrome poetry, known as mirrored or reverse poems, including the breathtaking Backwards by Warsan Shire. This line - “I can write the poem and make it disappear.” Ooft.

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3 - An unexpected joy of tidying up. While attempting to clear our landing of doom piles, I decided to collate - a fancy word for chuck - all my handwritten notes from the past couple of years into one big plastic box. While doing this I came across some short pieces of fiction, scribbled during a Sunday morning writing hour which I used to host (and hopefully will again sometime, when life is less curveball-filled) with The Spark Crew.

During this particular session I’d drawn inspiration from images of alchemy, along with stories about defiant Victorian women taking up botany - a curious mix, which led to some interesting starting points for flash. I’d forgotten all about them, until now.

Here’s one (all the usual caveats apply, as above):

There are things that aren't for women's knowing, they said. Unmarried women, they meant. Which made us want it more. We read in secret. Turning pages quietly, wondering at the worlds contained within. Awakened and curious. Sewing seeds of our own. 

Prompt - An article in The Marginalian - Anne Pratt’s Flowers, Ferns, Quiet Ferocity: How a Middle-Aged Victorian Woman Became One of the Great Masters of Scientific Illustration by Maria Popova.

And in particular, this part:

“Published in 1791, Erasmus Darwin’s wildly popular book was deemed too explicit for unmarried women to read. But they did read it. Many took up botany. Some who were artistically gifted brought their gift to the new science.”

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The last novel I read - Private Rites by Julia Armfield. A dystopian tale of three sisters navigating the aftermath of their father’s death, as water consumes the world.

The book I’m currently reading - Milk Teeth by Jessica Andrews. At the moment I’m simultaneously in Scotland and Barcelona thanks to its partly Spanish setting.

What I’m watching - Dark, a brooding sci-fi or supernatural (maybe both?) series set in a small German town. I’m trying to avoid spoilers, so please don’t tell me anything plot-related if you’ve seen it.

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What’s been bringing warmth and wonder to your week?

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And taking us into the weekend is the last song I asked Alexa to play - Love Will Tear Us Apart by English post-punk band, Joy Division. Would love to hear what your last listen was...

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1. Fun fact - in autumn, the male Giant House Spider (Eratigena atrica) is biologically driven to find a mate. After getting it on with the same female for a few weeks (all over your home - you can thank me later for that mental image), he dies. And then, she eats him.