Writeresque Vol 8 by Writeresque

WRITERESQUE

Asthisissuecomesouttoday,February14th,thereareacoupleofthingsthatIthoughtI’dshare First,todayisaveryimportantdayformeandmyhusband,butnotbecauseofwhatyoumight initiallythink Ineverreallycelebratedthisdaybefore;Valentine’sDayformeisoneofthose commercialholidaysthatgetspeopletobuychocolate,flowersandwine(thatisalittlebitmore thantheyusuallydo)inthenameoflove,butthatmakesnosensetome.Celebratingloveis somethingweshouldn’tdojustonceayear.Loveisalwaysthere,alwaysworthcelebrating. Also,Igrewupina countrywithlotsofSlavictraditionsandcelebrationsofitsown.Onthisday, forexample,someSlavscelebratesomethingcalledZaryazvane(bitofamouthful,Iknow),or TrifonZarezan,when,originally,peoplewouldstartpreparingtheirvineyardsbycuttingsmall partsandtwigsoffoftheplanttonourishitsgrowth.Thegrapesthevinesbirthwouldeventually beusedforwine,which,understandably,iswhyandhowthemainassociationpeoplemakeabout thisholidaywhereIgrewupisdrinkingwine(again,alittlebitmorethantheyusuallydo).Since Pagan holidays were given Christian names, there’s also a story about a saint called Trifon Zarezan,butIamnotmuchintothatkindofliteraryfiction,soIwon’tshareit.

Peopleallovertheworldhavetheirimportantmomentsanddatestheycelebrate Forus,February 14thisthemostimportant,wonderfuldayoftheyear. Itisthedayinwhichourdaughterwasborn.

Idedicatethisissuetoher.

TeyaZ.Dancer Editor-in-Chief

LinesComposedaFewMilesaboveTinternAbbey

Inthisissue...

"[...]

Anartistorapoetcannotforcequalityintotheirwork. It’sagreatmysteryinawayandagreatadventureaswell. [...]"

AlexanderBaytoshev,WriteresqueVol8

Theme:‘TheWorldinMe’

Thisissuegetsitsthemenameafterthecollectiveworkitfeatures. BoththepoetryandartinVolume8areinfluencedbytheir authors’innerandouterworld:fromtheworldtheywerebrought upin,thelivestheysharewithothers,totheworldtheynowhave oraspiretoachieveoneday.Alltheseworlds,orperceptionsofthe samebutalsovastlydifferentworldsweallundoubtedlivein,have cometocreateaworldthatexistswithinthem.Weallhavethese innerworlds,somecallthem‘self’–somethingthatmakesupour beliefsystem–andweallexperiencethemdifferently,yetoften thesame,muchlikewedotheouterworld Andwhatareartand creativityifnotawindowintoone’ssoul?Thisvolumecelebrates ourinnerworlds,theworldsthatmakeusfeelandbefelt.

AspecialthankyoutoartistandpoetAlexanderBaytoshevwholet meborrowanimagefromhislatestcollection,calledAnima Ihad alovelychatwithhimabouthiswork,featuredinaninterview articleinthenextfewpages Makesureyouhavearead

Readonformorewonderful,internationalpoetryandtwo additionalinterviewswithSamuelHurleyandNicholasBell.

FROMPASTTOFUTURE:

“Natureneverdidbetraytheheartthatlovedher”

WilliamWordsworth(bornApril7,1770 diedApril23,1850)was anEnglishpoetwhoseLyricalBallads(1798),writtenwithSamuel TaylorColeridge,helpedlaunchtheEnglishRomanticmovement

HewasthecentralfigureintheEnglishRomanticrevolutionin poetry.Hiscontributiontoitwasthreefold.First,heformulatedinhis poemsandhisessaysanewattitudetowardnature.Second, Wordsworthprobeddeeplyintohisownsensibilityashetraced,inhis finestpoem,ThePrelude,the“growthofapoet’smind.”Third, Wordsworthplacedpoetryatthecentreofhumanexperience;in impassionedrhetorichepronouncedpoetrytobenothinglessthan “thefirstandlastofallknowledge itisasimmortalastheheartof man, ”andhethenwentontocreatesomeofthegreatestEnglish poetryofhiscentury.

Source:https://wwwbritannicacom

[...] Andnow,withgleamsof half-extinguishedthought, Withmanyrecognitionsdimandfaint, Andsomewhatofasadperplexity, Thepictureofthemindrevivesagain: WhilehereIstand,notonlywiththesense Ofpresentpleasure,butwithpleasingthoughts Thatinthismomentthereislifeandfood Forfutureyears.AndsoIdaretohope, Thoughchanged,nodoubt, fromwhatIwaswhenfirst Icameamongthesehills;whenlikearoe Iboundedo'erthemountains,bythesides Ofthedeeprivers,andthelonelystreams, Wherevernatureled:morelikeaman Flyingfromsomethingthathedreads,thanone Whosoughtthethingheloved.Fornaturethen (Thecoarserpleasuresofmyboyishdays Andtheirgladanimalmovementsallgoneby) Tomewasallinall Icannotpaint WhatthenIwas Thesoundingcataract Hauntedmelikeapassion:thetallrock, Themountain,andthedeepandgloomywood, Theircoloursandtheirforms,werethentome Anappetite;afeelingandalove, Thathadnoneedofaremotercharm, Bythoughtsupplied,noranyinterest Unborrowedfromtheeye. Thattimeispast, Andallitsachingjoysarenownomore, Andallitsdizzyraptures.Notforthis FaintI,normournnormurmur;othergifts Havefollowed;forsuchloss,Iwouldbelieve, Abundantrecompense ForIhavelearned Tolookonnature,notasinthehour Ofthoughtlessyouth;buthearingoftentimes Thestillsadmusicofhumanity, Norharshnorgrating,thoughofamplepower Tochastenandsubdue AndIhavefelt Apresencethatdisturbsmewiththejoy Ofelevatedthoughts;asensesublime Ofsomethingfarmoredeeplyinterfused, Whosedwellingisthelightofsettingsuns, Andtheroundoceanandthelivingair, Andthebluesky,andinthemindofman: Amotionandaspirit,thatimpels Allthinkingthings,allobjectsofallthought, Androllsthroughallthings.ThereforeamIstill Aloverofthemeadowsandthewoods Andmountains;andofallthatwebehold Fromthisgreenearth;ofallthemightyworld Ofeye,andear, bothwhattheyhalfcreate, Andwhatperceive;wellpleasedtorecognise Innatureandthelanguageofthesense Theanchorofmypurestthoughts,thenurse, Theguide,theguardianofmyheart,andsoul Ofallmymoralbeing.[...]

INTERVIEW WITH

A L E X A N D E R B A Y T O S H E V

AlexanderBaytoshevisaBulgarianpoetandartist.In2006,togetherwithotherpoets andartists,heco-foundedtheartlaboratory"NikolayRaynov" Hehasheldfoursolo exhibitions and participated in numerous national and international exhibitions. БaytoshevhasillustratedbooksforpoetsTomaMarkov,IvanHristov,GyorgyPetri, OttoTolnai,andothers.Hiscollectionofpoetryincludes:DustandScratches(2012), Dogs(2014),Scarecrow(2018),TheSacredForest(2020),andAnima(2024).

DOESWHEREYOUGREWUP AFFECTYOURWORK?

Yes, where I grew up has definitely influencedmywork Theenvironment, theculture,andthepeoplearoundmeall played a significant role in shaping my perspective and, consequently, my art. Growing up in a particular place often coloursthewayIseetheworld–whether it’s the natural landscape, the urban environment, or the social dynamics It has shaped the themes I explore, the materials I use, and the stories I tell throughmyart Butthereisalsoanother takeonthis,becausesometimesIfeellike avictimofthesurroundingsinwhichI live.

For example, when I was living in the United Kingdom, I often visited homelesspeoplelivingunderabridge.I wascarryingmyoldZenithcameraandI made a lot of photographs of mostly urban landscapes and of half-destroyed shelters Later I used these photos to makecollagesandsculpturescombining paper,metalandstones

Havinglivedmostofmylifeinapostcommunistcountryalsoleavesatracein my art. Sofia is a very strange city sometimeswithquitehellishlandscapes. Youcanalmostfeelthepainofthesocial outcasts in the air I learned from this feeling,andItrytoconveyitinmylatest work

Also the rhythm of urban life might comethroughinmypieces,intheforms IchooseorthecontrastsIhighlight

WHATINSPIRESYOURWORK?

Life,basically.Ialsoreadalot,listento musicandwatchEuropeancinema.

Tragedy and the absurdity of existence inspiresmeinasense

The connection and personal relationships to other people, but I think that the most inspiring thing for me is Beauty. Not the conventional concept,butratherthewaysin whichitrevealsitselftomein everydaylife.

Personal pain, failure and chaosalsoinspireme.Oneof myclosestfriendspassedaway in a tragic accident, and that toochangedthewayIseethe world and the whole concept ofcreativeinspiration.Hewas onlythirty-sevenyearsold.

The work of artists such as EdvardMunch,EgonSchiele, Gustav Klimt and, recently, thepaintingsofDavidLynch.

Oneofthethingsthatchanged my whole perspective on art and inspiration was reading TheIdiotbyDostoevsky

WHENISYOUR FAVOURITETIMEOF THEDAYTOCREATE?

I am a night person and a melancholic, so I prefer to worklateatnight

HOWAREARTAND CREATIVEWRITING ALIKE?HOWARETHEY DIFFERENT?

Formetheyarebothacatalyst formyinnerdemons

in a stage of delight, wonder and contemplation, its easier then,butthefinalworkofart is not always of the same quality.

Both visual art and writing want your soul, blood, bones andstamina Thereisadifferenceinmycase sometimeswhenIchoosetobe

An artist or a poet cannot forcequalityintheirwork.It’s agreatmysteryinawayanda greatadventureaswell.

When I write I go very deep. But as a visual artist I must makemyselfshallowinaway.

WHATCANYOUTELLUS ABOUTTHEARTONTHE COVER?

Thenameoftheofthework,‘Anima’is connected to the concept of anima mundi or world soul. This soul is the livingfleshofexistence.Inthiscaseitis representedasanakedbodyofawoman lyingonthefloor.Itisthearchetypeof thefeminine.

ISTHEREASPECIFIC ENVIRONMENTOR MATERIALTHATIS INTEGRALTOYOUR WORK?

Allmaterialsareequallygood for me. My environment is veryimportant.

I work in total silence, and I unplug myself from all electronic technology around me:nointernet,nophones,no computer.ThisishowImake allmyinitialprojects,bothin writingandvisualart.

WHATHAVECRITICS

ANDCOLLECTORSSAID ABOUTYOURWORK?

My work has been critically acclaimed in my country and abroad. I have received many honoraryawardsformywork bothinBulgariaandEurope,I alsohaveaPhDinvisualarts.

SHOULDCRITICS’ REVIEWSMATTERTO ANARTIST’SPROCESS ANDWORK?

Inawayitmattersbecauseitis agratitudeforyourefforts.At theendofthedaytheworkof the critics is important, but not as important as the inner criticinsidetheartistorapoet.

A LITTLE BIT MORE...

AftergraduatingfromtheNationalHighSchoolofFineArts"IliaPetrov" in Sofia, Alexander Baytoshev was awarded a one-year scholarship for a courseinArtsandDesignatBathCollegeinBath,UK.Baytoshevisalsoa graduateofSt.KlimentsOhridskiUniversity,wherehestudiedSemiotics andPedagogyofVisualArtsin2008,andofNewBulgarianUniversity wherehestudiedGraphicDesignin2011.HehasaPhDinMethodology ofVisualArtsfromSofiaUniversity"St.KlimentOhridski".

His work has been published in journals like Plamăk, Stranitsa, More, Suvremennik, Drunken Boat, Literary Newspaper, LiterNet, Public Republic, Krustopŭt, and more. His poems have been translated into English,GermanandItalian.

Awards:SpecialPoetryAwardfromtheLiteraryNewspaperin2012,the Liber Academy Award in 2015, and the National Award for New BulgarianPoetry"NikolayKanchev"forhisbookTheSacredForest,2020.

THEBLACKDOG

Alexander Baytoshev

Translation by T. Z. Dancer

Theblackdogrunswithitsheadlikeahook, Ithangsitselftothedarkpuddleanddrinks, Itdartsthroughthewarpedlampposts,andjumpsonmyback, Itraspsmyhead,Iseeitseyesaredice, Itlooksupattheroof Andhowlsatthebullet-piercedstars, eofourtongues, embersusall, allic, nt-soulsandcable-hands, Idon’tknowwhenIwilldiscover Thefirstdogamongus, Blackdog,come.

HYPNOTICCIRCLE

Alexander Baytoshev

Translation by T. Z. Dancer

Thelampisthestreet’seye. Thekneesoscillate, That’sastride,youareablackspiral, Drawnontoapapercircle, Youmoveinanotherdirection,Ifollowyou. Theblackandwhitelinestwistupwards, Theskydoesn’tthink,theskyisdelirious,Iamnotmyself. Youtakeanotherstep. Holdme.

JUSTLIKETHAT

Peter J. Dellolio

Justlikethat time heswitchedthe old mustardfora clunky tuskwarning not onlythepeaceful vases butthevociferous ones toosoweall agreed thatraisingCain was agreeablyribald.

ALREADYFARATSEA

Peter J. Dellolio

Alreadyfaratsea there was something askew acloginthemake-up ofthevalormandate allsands moron flecksoftimecame towardsthescepterin itscage.

SOLARBIRDSEED

Peter J. Dellolio

ErolFlynknewhowto pamper his mustache. Solar birdseedpuncturessosilently (bugadrift), leapt, soweearnedthe righttoargue againstCartesian calculations.

BOTTIGLIADILACRIME

David Philip Ireland wedeepdelved inthiscityoffallingtears peeredthroughdustywindows intoLeonardorooms whereolive-woodshelvesofancientsea-greenglass gaveushope wewouldyetbottleourgrief withsacredtears inthisaridworld shouldwee’erdiscover thekeepsafesoflacrime wetravelledtotheislands andfoundourselves closertoDiagalev nearertoPound andStravinsky butsilkpumps, scrapsofpoetry andlastrites wereallwediscovered theAdriaticwindsslylymovedthroughthetemples scatteringthefragmentsacrossthetombs oftheIsolaDiSanMichele therewasanoldbicycle leaningagainstamarblemausoleumwall whereascatteringofaromaticlilies weredyingintheafternoonsun

onthefreshlycutgrass andsoweburiedthem

buttheperfumelingered andthreadeditsway throughtheheadstones andoutacrossthelagoon

asthesundippedintothebay thedealersaccumulatedinthebarsandbodegas fortheirpiccolosandaperitifs acrosstheRialtobridge andtheydreamtoflinguini wewillsearchagainonthemorrow neartheCrea,theGhetto inthiscityofthesolitarybicycle andso wewillshednotears thisnight

SALVATIONAVENUE

David Philip Ireland

TheseIciclefingersarehitbythesuddencold

AndI’mstuckinDesolationville,whereonlyafoolseeksgold Thewindowsturntosugar,scorchedbyarattlesnake’sbreath SoI’mhopingforafreelunchinthisyear’sValleyofDeath

TherearePeacockBivouacsbehindeveryisinglassdoor Whilemeandthedogsarerippinguptheconcretefloor Therearegulliesfulloftoxinandnobody’spayingthefine AndtheCatcherintheKitchenissolvingMacbeth’spenultimatecrime

Butit’snotthecrownI’mborrowing It’snottheprideI’mswallowing It’snotthefaithI’mfollowingthrough OnSalvationAvenue

Noonereallycaresifhemlinesriseorfall

We’reweavingandwinding,unravellingthefabricofitall Ploughingthefields,waitingfortherainstostop Scatteringseeds,foronemoremysterycrop Andsomethingintheetherismakingthosepoorsoulsbop AsSatangetsreadyforonelastTopofthePops

It’snotthebluesI’mborrowing it’snottheconstantquarrelling It’snottherulesI’dbreakforyou It’snottheroleI’mplaying It’snottheprayersI’mpraying It’snotthewallsI’mtunnellingthrough OnSalvationAvenue…

WhenJoanofArcrulesCentralPark

She’llberollingstogiesafterdark

HerRoseTattoowillleaveitsmark

WhenSalvationcalls

OnSalvationAvenue

INTERVIEW

It’s 1135 in the morning, Monday I have just sat downonthevintageleathertwo-seaternearthefront windowof,bod,acaféshoponDaleRoad,oneof Matlock’s main roads. It’s cold out, and, as I soon realisewhenItakeoffmyjacketandscarf,it’scold insidetoo Buttheplacehasplentyoflightcoming through the windows, and a warming, melancholic vibe from the past – this building used to be a dispensingchemistsomeonehundredyearsago.

Theabundanceofdaylightmakesmefeelcosy,and thebuilding’shistorygetsmethinking(day-dreaming comeseasytome,especiallywhenthinkingaboutthe past):couldwhoeverworkedhereahundredyearsago everhadimaginedthatsomeone,onehundredyears fromthen,wouldbesippingEnglishBreakfastteaon aleathersofainthisverybuilding,waitingtomeetup withsomeone–apoet–totalkabouttheirworkin ordertothenhavetheirstorypublishedinanarticle foraliterarymagazine?No,Idon’tthinktheycould have.Idon’tseehow.Oriftheydid,itwouldhave beenonlythroughtheeyeofsomeonewhosawthe future And this then makes me wonder, what and whowillbehereonehundredyearsfromnow…But sinceIdon’thaveTheSightorthetimetopounder onwhatIcouldneverknow,Iopenmylaptopand try to be productive instead before the person I’m expectingtomeetheretodayhasarrived

WHEREISYOUFAVOURITEPLACETOWRITE?

I am joined by Samuel Hurley – a poet, writer and performer from Lancashire, whose romanticism-centred workexploresthemeslikechildhood,loss,romanceand existential contemplation. For those unfamiliar with Hurley’swork,hisspokenwordisbroughttolifeinthe formofshortvideoswhereherecitesfromhisbooksina voicethatreligiouslymakesthelistenerfeelverycloseto him, and therefore experience his work and the strong feelingsitbearsinaveryauthenticway.

Hurley started writing when he was six years old, followingthedeathofhispetbunny.‘Iwrotemyfirst poemthen,’Hurleyexplains,‘orthefirstoneIcanrecall infull.Itwasawaytodealwiththepowerfulemotions, the grief of losing my pet… my friend.’ Then he continues, ‘I am lucky to have grown up in an environment where creativity and writing were encouraged TherewasalwaystimetowritewhenIwas growingup’

But as any adult who has ever tried to balance writing with their day-to-day tasks knows, it can be quite challengingtofindtherightbalancebetweenthetwo ‘I amafull-timewriternow,’Hurleyexplains,‘havebeen for a while, which makes things a little easier’ Still, a fatheroftwo,heagreesittakesdisciplineanddedication: ‘It’snotalwayseasy,butit’ssomethingIamquiteusedto doingnow AndsomethingIjusthavetodo Writing,for me,isaneed’

‘Ilikebeingoutandabout,andtheoutdoorsismyfav write,’Hurleysays,‘butalotoftheinitialwritingisform anditcanhappenatanytime,anywhere:whileI’mwalk bus buttheeditingpartthatfollowsusuallyhappensind mycomputer It’slikeStephenKingsays,“Writewithth rewritewiththedooropen”’

DOYOUSHOWYOURWORKINPROGRESSTOSOMEO

‘ItdependsonwhetherI’mwritingpoetryorworkingon sharemypoemsuntiltheyarecompleted.WhenI’mwork piece,Isometimessharepartsofitwithafriendofmine forfeedback.’

Intodays’worldwherethenumberof one ’ s social media followers and likes determinewhethertheyarepopularor not,goodorbad,brilliantorjustplain old ‘meh’, Samuel Hurley has definitely claimed significant accreditation, with 796K current followersonlyonInstagram

‘Writinganythingbutwhat’sgoingon inyourheadorthewayyoufeeland perceive things just doesn’t work in poetry,’SamuelrepliesafterIaskwhat ....

For example, one of my most successful poems on InstagramwasoneIneverexpected AndIalsodon’t tendtoreadreviewsofmybooks,’hecontinues,‘it’s none of my business what people think and I can’t control what people like My job is to produce the material allIcandoiswrite’

All of Hurley’s current books and poetry collections wereself-published.

WHATADVICECANYOUGIVEPEOPLEWHO WANTTOWRITE?

‘It’sreallydifficulttogetpublishedthetraditional way when you write poetry,’ he explains, ‘but that doesn’tmeanyoushouldn’ttryorgetdiscouragedif yougetrejected.Youshouldkeeptrying,butalsodon’t keepyourbooklockedinadrawerforever.Ifyouface rejections too often, remember why you wrote your poemsinthefirstplace.’

‘Readalot,andreadpoetryorprosethatgetsyouout ofyourcomfortzone.Ifyouwanttowriteromantic poems,readahorrorstory;gotoapunkrockconcertor readthelyricsofaheavymetalband.Ifyouwantto writeacrimeorahorrornovel,readlovepoems,Emily BrontëorJaneAusten…Don’tbeafraidgooutofyour realmandexplore.’

Samuel’s favourite poems are ‘Stolen Child’ by WB Yeats,and‘TheTyger’byWilliamBlake.

‘WhenIwasachild,’Hurleytellsme,‘myteachergave methisbookthathadthepoem‘TheTyger’init.Iloved itbecauseIwantedtobeaveterinarian,anditcombined thethingsIwasmostinterestedin–poetryandnature.I didn’tunderstandthemeaningofthepoemthenasIdo now,butIreallylikedit.It’sbecauseofthatmemoryit’s stillmyfavouritepoem byoneofmyfavouritepoets’

While Samuel Hurley’s ‘cinematic storytelling’ may no longerbeuniqueastherearenowmanypoetswhoshare theirspokenwordinasimilarway,heisdefinitelyoneof the few that captivates continuous attention which is marked by a significant number of new and existent followersonhissocialmediachannels.Itistrue–for. hethoughtwasmoreimportant:tobeoriginal,orto writewhatthereaderswant.‘Iwouldalsonotknow whatmyreaderswouldlikeandwhattheywouldn’t

goodorforbad–thatithasbecomeathingoftodayfor poetsandsocialmediatogohand-in-hand.However,Ifind that it is not this type of performance, beautiful and heartfeltasitundoubtedlyis,whatmakesapoet’swork special or unique. It is their poetry itself. And I believe SamuelHurley’sisonesuchthing:itmakesthereaderthink itmakesthemfeel:itmakesthemsad itmakesthem happy itmakesthemgrateful itshakesthem(awake)

Andshouldthemodernworldcollapseonitselftomorrow, andallthesatellitesintheskyblowuptobits–shouldthe internetand,withit,allsocialmedia,theYouTubesandthe TikToksalike,ceasetoexist,Iammorethancertainthat Samuel Hursley’s poetry and writing would still be as captivatingandsoughtafterinplainwrittenform,asits cinematicstorytellingistoday

RECENTANDUPCOMINGPROJECTS

SamuelHurley’scurrentpublicationswillsoonbeavailable in the form of audiobooks through his website. A new collection of poems, called Hymn to Human Beauty, is expectedtocomeoutinthenextcoupleofmonths.Hurley sharedheisalsoworkingonfinalisinghisfirstnovelwhich isexpectedtobepublishedattheendofthisyear.

"ForIhavelearnedto lookon nature,notasinthehourofthoughtlessyouth; buthearingoftentimesthe still,sadmusic of humanity . "

William Wordsworth, Lines Composed a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey

ASPORT

Harry Wilding

uptheneurotransmitters anotherthen systemcrash countingdownfromten, nine, eight, seven,six five,four,three two,one

thousands scream withdelight flashoflight, redmittenretreatfrom bouncingbrain,coupandcountercoup intheskullas

(moreNewtonsthanittakesto bre@kabrick) rage,impulsivity,depression,confusion,memoryloss,dementia

HEREINOURCARS

Harry Wilding

afterGaryNuman

Itistheonlywaytolive,herein

MycarlikeGary:modern,I’manew

Humanincontrol,pastinmyrearview

Mirror.Ifeelthesafestwithmykin

Incars,forwardface;thisprogressasin?

Thisspeed,convenience,andfreedom,too?

Gopreachwithcomradesatabusstopqueue.

Itistheonlywaytolive,livein

cars butitistheretheimagebreaksdown, thereinyourcar:inyourrearview,finite fuelfillsthepastwithitswhitesmokycrown, insideyourlockedfive-doorthereisnofight.

EvenElDorado’spromisedwhiteoil willbuildyourheatedthroneuponitscoil

spring

I N T E R V I E W

W I T H

N I C H O L A S

B E L L

NicholasBellisanAmericanwriter andpoetbasedoutofOmaha, Nebraska,USA.Hiswordsexplore thedepthsofempathywhileexposing afamiliarinnerdialoguethatiswidely relatable Nickaspirestopublish workthatmovesanaudiencetotheir core. Heconsidershisgreatestprivilegein lifethegiftofbeingafatheranda husband

“Writebecauseyouloveit. Notbecauseyou’rehoping otherswill”

WHENDIDYOUFIRSTSTARTWRITING?WHAT INSPIREDIT?

Istartedwritingattheageofseventeen Isignedupfor acreativewritingcourselookingtofillinmysenior schedule-Ineverwasoneforacademiaorclassrooms butmoreoftheoneskippingout.Iwasdisconnected withschoolreally.Withinafewweeksofwriting,I wascompletelyenamoured.Ihadawonderfulteacher Mrs. Carol. She told me you can create whatever realityyouwantwithjustapenandpaper.

IneededwritingmorethanIknew.Teenageyearsare such a pivotal time. There’s confusion and transcendingandangerandhappiness Atornadoof emotion Itookitalloutonewordatatime,writing

HOWDOYOUMANAGETOFITWRITINGWITH YOUROTHERDAILYTASKS?

Ihaveworkedinconstructionmuchofmyadultlife, soI’mquitephysicallybeatendownandexhaustedby theendofeachday.I’malsoahusbandandafather,so asyoucouldimagine,Ispendanytimeintheevening cherishingitwiththem.

MywritingprocessisabitunorthodoxreallyI’ll have thoughts or ideas throughout the day I’ll quicklyjotdownwhentheycome Whenmydaughter isasleeplateatnightiswhenI’llformthosethoughts orideasintoapoemorstory So,sometimesit’savery tightfit

WHEREISYOURFAVOURITEPLACETOWRITE?

AtnightI’llsitatourislandinthekitchen.I’lllighta candleandhaveallthelightsturnedout-incomplete silence. My mind is weird in that sense- I cannot multitask with any music or very much noise. It’s nowheremagnificentorglamourousbutitisenough forme.ItishomeandIloveit.

DOYOUEVERSHOWYOURWORKINPROGRESS TOSOMEONE?

IfIdoit’smywife BUT–shedoesn’tsugarcoat

anything.Weareoppositesonmanythingsandwhenshe doesn’tlikesomething,orshelovessomething–shewill explainexactlywhy TherehavebeenmanythingsI’ve writtenthatdonotresonatewithher,butsheassuresme itwillwithothers Almosttosay,“Ihateit,butyoulove it,andthat’swhatmatters”LoloneofmanyreasonsI loveher She’stoohonest Thebesthonest

WRITINGHASEVOLVEDQUITEALOTSINCETHE FIRMESTABLISHMENTANDEVERYDAYUSEOF SOCIALMEDIAPLATFORMSSUCHASINSTAGRAM ANDYOUTUBE HOWDOESTHEMODERNWORLD ENHANCE/IMPAIRWRITING?

Thisissuchagreatquestion.Ithinkthereachofmodernday technology is both a blessing and a curse. It has enhancedwritingbyconnectingeveryone.Ican’ttellyou thenumberoftimesI’vefoundanewfavouritepoetor poemjustbyscrollingthroughwhatanalgorithmhasfed me.But,withthatyouhaveunoriginalityandplagiarism. There’salwaysgoingtoberegurgitationofsomesort(in writing),andifitsblatantyouknowrightoff.

And with trends and likes and followers there is comparison They’regettingthismanyviews,howcanI? Unfortunately, comparison is human nature – we just mustgroundourselvestowhowetrulyare Itrymybest todojustthat

LIKEOTHERPOETSINRECENTTIMEDO,YOU PERFORMANDRECORDYOURSPOKENWORD. CANYOUTELLMEHOWITSTARTEDFORYOU?

ImovedtoLosAngeleswhenIwasnineteenandspent my early years pursuing a career in television I had successandmanyfailures I’vealwaysfeltthisyearningto makepeoplefeel,reallyfeel,aportrayal Withmyown writing–notonlydoIenjoyspeakingitaloudbutthere arenotmanypeopledoingit Butalso,there’sanartto speakingaloudsomethingyouwroteyourself It'soriginal (untilAIcopiesthataswelllol)

WHATISTHEMOSTUNETHICALPRACTICEINTHE PUBLISHINGINDUSTRYINYOURVIEW?

Iamverygreentothepublishingside.I’mself-publishing myfirstpoetrycollectionthisspringbutneverthoughtto

reachouttoapublishingcompanyinthefirstplace

Ithinkeverythingissubjective,right?Howisanyone goingtobelieveinmemorethanIbelieveinme?Also, whyshouldanyoneelsebeabletocommissionmore thanI’mmakingmyselffrommyownart?Andwith bookdeals–doesn’tthatforcecreativityifanything? Foodforthought.

WHATADVICECANYOUGIVETOSOMEONE WHOWANTSTOWRITEANDPUBLISH?

Agreatfriendandmentorofmineoncetoldme,“You aren’twritingforthem,you’rewritingforyou People won’tunderstanditandpeoplewon’tlikeit–but some will And when they do – great You were writingforyourselftobeginwith”

Thisalwaysstuckwithme.I’dsaywritebecauseyou loveit,notbecauseyou’rehopingotherswill.

WHOISYOURFAVOURITEPOETORWRITER?

IfirstfellinlovewithRaymondCarver’swritingin mylateteens.It’sshortandsimplebutrelaysanentire story in a few pages that always will emit emotion. Andheoftenwroteaboutsuchtrivialminutia–from day-to-dayroutinetoconversation Hewroteitina waythatmadeyouwonderifitwasfromyourown brain Myfavouritequoteofhisis,“Itoughttomake usfeelashamedwhenwetalklikeweknowwhatwe’re talkingaboutwhenwetalkaboutlove”Asiftosay–loveissounpredictableandhowcouldanyonedefine itprecisely.

IloveNeruda,Heaney,Plath,Alexie,andofcourseBukowski.

SamuelHurleyisagift–it’sasifhe’stranscended timewithhispoemsandspeakswordsstraightfrom theearthsmouth.It’swonderful.

Anotherpoetoftoday’sageIloveisMikeFord, he’soutofNewYork.Hehassatirethat’sunbeatable andawitthat’scontagious.

TELLMEABOUTANUPCOMINGPROJECTYOUARE WORKINGON?

Myfirstpoetry/shortstorycollectioniscompleteandI’m startingthepublishingstagesnow Itwillbemydebut, calledHeartsDissonance.It’sacollectionofmanyeventsand feelingsthroughoutafourteen-yearspan(whenIbegan writing).

There’sabitofeverythinginit.Fromloveandlossto frustrationandaddiction.Somestoriestrue,somefictional. I’mveryproudofit.It’slikepiecingtogetherdifferent versionsofmyselfI’velivedthrough.It’sbeenarevelationof sorts.SeeingwhereIhavebeentowhatIhavebecome(a father,husband).

Ihavealsostartedmyfirsteverfictionnovel It’s apremiseIcameupwithtenyearsagobutnever hadthecouragetopullthetriggeron Poetryand shortstorieshavealwaysbeensuchacomfortable venture for me – I can create something a few linesorafewpagesandbecontentwithitsfinal draft Whereasalong-formattednovelhasbeena fear of mine The process of it, at least The commitment But–Ithinkdoingthingsweare afraidtodoisagreatwaytogrowandgetover fear.

The novel follows a small group of friends transitioningintoadulthood Figuringoutwho theyareandwhattheywanttodofortheirlives (and not having a clue) The group meets an unexpected stranger that changes the course of their lives drastically in such a short period of time,forthebetter

A LITTLE BIT MORE...

Istoppedwritingconsistentlyforaboutaspanof five years but picked it back up last march aroundmythirtiethbirthday.IfeelasifIhada divine intervention. Like, the universe smacked meacrossthefacetellingmetowakeup.Iwas working a job I hated, barely making enough moneytopaybills,andIwassayinggoodbyeto my twenties. A shitstorm trio lol. I had a hard long conversation with myself, ending with a questionandan answer IaskedmyselfwhatI

loved to do and why I’m not doing it- it all brought me back to writing. Since I picked it backup,Ihavegrowntremendouslyinareasof my life I did not know I was lacking. It is remarkablewhatcanchangewhenyouaredoing somethingyouarepassionateabout.

It may be painting, writing, singing, anything meaningfultoanyone.Ithinkaslongaswekeep ourpassionalive,wearetrulyliving

IWOULD’VETOLDME

Nicholas Bell

Wearealljustsacksofbloodpumping,swishingaround,balancing,stumble-prone. Wearen’tunbreakablebutquitefragile.

Ego,theconceptisafunideal–howwethinkourselves;maybesuperhumanorinferior.

Theegoisafictionalcharacterinyourfavoritebookthatdiesintheend Atfirstitwrecksyou,then,realizationsetsin–egosdeathwasallapartofthe greatestcharacterarch.

Onceyourealizeyou’rejustveinsandabrainlikeeveryonearoundyou, you’llmakeway.

You’llstilluglycryinyourcarsometimes.

You’llstillgetdopaminehitsfromcompliments,butyourfeetstayplanted. You’llstillfail.

You’llquit.You’llgiveup. You’llstartagain.

You’llspillanddripbutsmileaboutit, incomfortknowingourbloodalllooksthesame.

ISLE11

Nicholas Bell

Themanandwomanembraced. Theyheldahugfor whathadtohavebeenaminute. Theytalkedwhileholdingthathug–wordsweren’tgoingtoseparatethemyet. Whentheydidinchapart, thewomansaid,“itwassogoodtoseeyou” IfI’veevertoldaboldtruthasaguess, itisthatshemeantit.

Shewalkedaway andtheman wentback tostockingketchup, smilingandlaughingtohimself. Now,Ididn’tknowthecircumstances, Ididn’thavecontext, Iwassearchingforacertainhotsauce andhonestly–Iwasinthewrongisle. Ijusthadafeeling. Anurgetoimposemyselfinthisman’slife likeanactofGod

Iwantedtograbtheman’sface andshouthim, “youknowwhatyouneedtodo.”

BecauseIcan’timagine ifwewereleftwith,“it’sgoodtoseeyous”, Ithinktheworldwouldhavesurelystopped.

Ididn’tsayanythingtohim.

WhenIleftthegrocerystore,

Ikeptlookingbehindmyshoulder, waitingforthatmantomaybe runoutafterher

Ihopehesmashedthoseketchupbottles, Ihopehethrewhisaprontotheground, Ihopehestoppedtheworldsearchingforher–makingsuretoneversay

“it’ssogoodtoseeyou”aftertimehaspassed–buttosayiteveryday toeachother.

AROUNDAWORD

Rick K. Reut

(TIME)

…astimefliesfast–unlessGODcutsitswings. Butthentimeseemstosimplystarttorun outofspace Timesometimesonlybrings slow-motionsighingfromthesettingsun Yes,timecanheal;buttimecanalsokill likeawindblowingoutcandles.Whenarainstormstarts,youfeelallyoucanfeeluntil youcometofindoutifitisinvain…

…astimefliesfast–unlessGODcutsitswings.Butthentimeseemsto simplystarttorunoutofspace.Timesometimesonlybringsslow-motion sighingfromthesettingsun.Yes,timecanheal;buttimecanalsokilllikea windblowingoutcandles.Whenarainstormstarts,youfeelallyoucanfeel untilyoucometofindoutifitisinvain…

January2004

AROUNDAWORD

Rick K. Reut

(BEHINDEVERYDOOR)

…theWholeWorldandall thereis,includingyoursoul. Shadowsstretchfromthesun, seekingtheendoftheday, whichisabouttorun outoflightontheway totomorrow.Feweyes seeandfewearshear thetruth.Plentyoflies swarmaroundinfear.

Inthenight,fearwaits deepinthedarkbehind everydoor.Itinflates likeaballoononyourmind. Feartearsthroughtheair justlikeapoisoneddart. It’salmosteverywhere, eveninabstractart galleries.It’sonwalls likecobweb.Fearhides inemergencycalls. Itisfeltonbothsides ofanydead-endstreet, stalkingyoutoyourplace. Itfeelslikeitwillslit yourthroatifyouseeitsface inasharppieceofglass, spillingsomeboiledblood

fromyourheart.Trytoguess WHOhasnofear.GOD iscertainlynotafraid ofanything:HEmade…

theWholeWorldandallthereis,includingyoursoul Shadowsstretch fromthesun,seekingtheendoftheday,whichisabouttorunoutoflight onthewaytotomorrow.Feweyesseeandfewearshearthetruth.Plentyof liesswarmaroundinfear.Inthenight,fearwaitsdeepinthedarkbehind everydoor.Itinflateslikeaballoononyourmind.Feartearsthroughtheair justlikeapoisoneddart.It’salmosteverywhere,eveninabstractartgalleries. It’sonwallslikecobweb.Fearhidesinemergencycalls.Itisfeltonbothsides ofanydead-endstreet,stalkingyoutoyourplace.Itfeelslikeitwillslityour throatifyouseeitsfaceinasharppieceofglass,spillingsomeboiledblood fromyourheart.TrytoguessWHOhasnofear.GODiscertainlynotafraid ofanything:HEmade…

May2011

AROUNDAWORD

Rick K. Reut

(AROUNDAWORD)

…intheBeginningwhen therewasn’tasingleman. GODcreatedtheWorld. So,everysingleword thatmaybefoundin Itcanalsobeseen asawordthathasgot tobecomingfromGOD. Wheneverawordisfound, itisboundtobearound awordand,ofcourse, theWordthatwas…

…intheBeginningwhentherewasn’tasingleman.GODcreatedtheWorld. So,everysinglewordthatmaybefoundinItcanalsobeseenasawordthat hasgottobecomingfromGOD.Wheneverawordisfound,itisboundto bearoundawordand,ofcourse,theWordthatwas…

February2021

AUTHOR’SANNOTATIONS

Thethreepoemsaboveareexcerptsfromtheauthor’smanuscriptAroundaWord,whichisa collectionofcyclicversethatpresupposesapoemhavingnobeginningorendandworkinginboth rhymeandprose.

DOLLSHOUSE

Bethanie Knapper

Asachild,Iusedtorearrangemydollshouseandthinkaboutthedifferentlivesthat theylived.TheprideItookineachimaginedlife,theirownprivateworld–thecareI putintoeachdetail,theplatesonthekitchentable,thecardboardcerealboxonthe kitchencounter,thetinybootsonthedoorstepandtheteddiesinthechildren’stoybox. NoharmcouldcometothemasIlovinglysmootheddowntheirhairandclothesto keepthemneat.

Thestoriesstartedsimpleenough,andgotgraduallymorecomplexwithsnapshots lifted off TV shows my parents watched late at night – their kind and caring world descendedintoviolentchaos,affairswiththemumdolls’bestfriend,dramatichospital scenes.Likeacartoon,characterswouldbekilledoffandresetinthenextepisodeasif nothinghadhappened.Playingwiththesedollswouldmakemethinkaboutmylifein thefuture,theworldthatIwouldinhabitandhowitwouldbe.Woulditbethekind, straightforward micromanaged world of my younger years or a gradual descent into chaos?

Ithinkwecanassumewhichwaytheworldtendstogo.

Evenlongafterthedollshousehadbeenputintotheattic,Iwouldoccasionallygoup thereandcheckinonthesadlittlecharacters.Itwasliketheyhadthelifedrainedoutof them.IthoughtofallthetimeIspentcomingupwiththestoriesandhowthey’djust vanished–theywerestatic,justsatstillwaitingforthenextstorytobegin.Andthat’s howIfeltforsuchalongtime,asifIwerejustwaitinginthewingsformynextstoryto startandforwhicheverridiculouspuppetmasterincontrolofthesituationtodecideon theirnextwhim.Istartedtothinkthatevenifsomethinghorrendoushappened,the awfuldramaIconjuredup,wouldbebetterthannothing.BythatpointI’dgivenupon theideaofakindlife,ofdomesticbliss.Iwasn’tthecornflakes-on-the-tableandteddiesin-the-toybox kind of person. I even thought of the idea of one day my dolls house wouldbepassedontosomevaguelyimagined,blurryfacedlittlegirlofmyownwith plaitsorpigtails,buttheideajustseemedlaughable

TherewasoneparticulardollthatIlovedthatIcalledKatie–shewasperfect,witha littlepinaforedressandlongbrunettehair.Mymumsaidthatshe’dlooklikeme,ifmy hairdidn’tgetsomessy.Shewasoftensparedthedramaofthedifferentstorylines,kept safe

safelyinherroomawayfromitall.WhileItookprideinmydolls,makingsurethey nevergotbrokenordirty,Katiewastheonewhogottoleavethedollshouseinmycoat pocket.Oneday,Itookherout,inmymindthinkingthatshe’dwanttoseethesights, anddroppedherontheground,herperfectdressnowcoveredinmud.Ifeltincredibly sad,butitwasstrangethatmyloyaltyhadshifted.Itwaslikeshehadbeenruined,that somethingIhadlovedhadbeendestroyedbymyowncarelessnessandthatIdidn’twant tobearoundheranymore Itriedtocleanherupandwashher,dunkingherinthesink andwatchingherhairstreambehindher,butitdidn’tgetthemudoffofher.Soonshe wastakenoutofrotation,confinedtoawoodendrawerinmybedroomnevertobeseen again.Idon’tknowwhythisperfectionisttraitwasinmeatsuchayoungage,butitwas liketheminuteshetouchedthegroundthatwasit–Ididn’tneedher.

IthoughtaboutKatietheotherday,suddenlyfeltaninstincttoapologisetoher,to makeupforlosttime.IspenttoomuchtimetryingtofigureoutifIwantedtohavenot droppedherinthefirstplace,ortohavelovedhereventhoughIdid Ifeltaweirdsense ofnostalgiaformydollshouse,mylittleworld,andthestoriesthatIusedtoimaginefor usandformyself.WemovedhousesomanytimesthatIwouldn’tevenknowwhereshe wouldbe–Ididn’treallycareifshewasleftbehind,orifIneversawheragain

IthoughtaboutKatielateatnightwhenIfeltastrangeurgetowalktothebeach, takingveryslowandcarefulstepssoIdidn’tlosemyfooting,ararethoughtfulnessand caretomyactions.Iimaginedthedollsinthehouse,whereveritwas,lyingthereand waiting for someone to do something, to animate them with their ideas and their imagination, howIwaswaitingforthesametohappentome

Theskywasinkyblackandtheworldseemedsostill,onlyafewbirdsawake.Igot closerandclosertothesea,thewavesreachingmyankles.Iwalkedforward,feelingthe chillrisethroughmybodyfrommytoestomyfingertipstomakingthehairsonthe backofmyneckstandonend,andmyclothesweigheddownasIgotdeeperintothe water.Iletitsubmergeme,letmyselfsinkdown,andIthoughtaboutthedollinthe sink,gettingthedirtandmistakesoffher,asmychesttightenedandIfeltburninginmy lungs.

THEAUTHORS

PeterJ.Delloliowasbornin1956NewYorkCity.WenttoNazarethHighSchoolandNew YorkUniversityGraduated1978:BACinemaStudies;BFAFilmProduction Poetry,prose-poems,fiction,shortplays,artwork,andcriticalessayspublishedinover80 literarymagazines,journals,andanthologies.Poetrycollections:ABoxOfCrazyToys, published2018byXenosBooks/ChelseaEditions;BloodstreamIsAnIllusionOfRubies CountingFireplaces,publishedFebruary2023,andRollerCoastersMadeOfDreamSpace, publishedNovember2023byCyberwit/RochakPublishing.Chaptersfromhiscriticalstudy ofAlfredHitchcock(Hitchcock’sCinematicWorld:ShocksofPerceptionandtheCollapseofthe Rational)publishedinTheMidwestQuarterlyLiterature/FilmQuarterly,Kinema,Flickhead, andNorthDakotaQuarterlysince2006DramatikaPresspublishedavolumeofhisone-act playsin1983Fromthiscollection,TheSeekerappearedinanissueofCollages&Bricolages, andStoppingOnOne’sWaywasrecentlypublishedinSynchronizedChaosJournal ContributingeditorforNYArtsMagazine,writingartandfilmreviews;alsowrote monographsonseveralnewartists.Co-Publisher/Editor-in-ChiefofArtscape2000,a prestigious,award-winning,arte-zineTaughtpoetryandartforLEAPDellolioisanartist himself:https://wwwsaatchiartcom/peterdelloliocomHispaintingsand3Dworksoffer abstractimagesoffamouspeopleinallwalksoflifewhohavediedtragicallyatayoungage.He livesinBrooklyn

DavidPhilipIrelandisawriter,poet,musician,artistandexperimentalist RattlesnakeJar,David’snewestbookandalbum,isavailablenowonAmazon. DavidPhilipIrelandhasworkedinmanyaspectsofthearts,includingmusic,theatreand photography,publishinganumberofsoloandcollaborativemusicprojects,twonovels, SlowPoisonandBloodstones,plustwoanthologiesofpoetry.

TodiscoverDavid’sbackcatalogue,visit:linktree/davidirelandmusic

RickK Reutwasbornin1984,intheUSSRHestudiedphilosophyatEHUinMinsk, Belarus,andliteratureatSaintPetersburgStateUniversity,RussiaFormostofhislifeafter graduation,hehasworkedasatranslatorandatutorofEnglishasaforeignlanguage.

HarryWildingwritesinNottingham,wherehefantasisesaboutplanningelaborateheists thatstealfromtherichtogivetothepoorHehashadpoemspublishedbythelikesofShooter Magazine,PaddlerPress,andStreetcakeHeiscurrentlyworkingonacollection

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