Reasons Why I Write

I write most days, it's not always creative writing, some of my writing is posting comments on Facebook or tweets on Twitter, nothing more literary than that. I try to give a piece of myself with my comments though.

Other kinds of writing I do are these:
Poetry, short stories, novel drafts, blogging, journal writing.

I often write a poem when something major has come into my life. I wrote poetry while I was pregnant with my son, 18 years ago. It helped me to think about the approaching new life and the changes to my own life.

I wrote a little about my depression that followed my pregnancy - being a mother was wonderful, but some of the things I was going through were terrible. I suffered post natal depression, undiagnosed and feeling like I was the worst mother ever.

It was a good time, thinking about it now. I was the best mother I could be, and our son has turned into a good person, which shows I was doing at the very least a 'good enough' job. So that was my first major topic to write about, the combined motherhood and depression theme.

Since then, I've explored being a novelist, but have only got as far as several beginnings to novels, and one first draft of a novel. I still think about those unfinished pieces of work occasionally. Poetry has taken on a larger part of my interest though. I love the way a poem can go from first draft to seventh draft and finshed/published all in the space of a week! Novels can take seven years to get to the published stage!

I've also written articles and published them online on sites such as Associated Content, Triond, and others. The one I still use is Twitter, you can find my work here http://www.triond.com/users/Carolyn+Cordon
This is a way to make tiny bits of money - I rarely get much, but I have fun being a part of the Triond community.

Making money isn't my main reason for writing though, making connections is my main reason. I love the fact that I'm part of the poetry community, both in real life and online. I live in a small town in rural South Australia, but I still get to poetry things when I can. I am involved in Gawler Poetry at the Pub, which happens in Gawler at the Prince Albert Hotel on the last Sunday of the month, except for December.

My next writing thing will be about my most recent major life challenge. In February last year I became ill, and was diagnosed with the chronic and uncurable disease Multiple Sclerosis (MS). I wrote about this in articles, thought and poetry, and I continue to be involved in the MS community, both online, and in real life. I'm a member of the MS Society SA & NT, and I'm in a peer group of others diagnosed with MS who live near Gawler. It's a chance to connect with people who understand my health issues, and I enjoy meeting with the others regularly.

So the writing part of my MS journey will be the writing of a memoir. I feel strongly about doing this, but I'm also conscious of my abilities, my health and my body. We have summer happening in my part of the world now, and heat affects me badly, as it does for most people with MS. So I'm going to take it easy through summer, and then get stuck into this memoir idea. I hope to be able to write something worthy of publication, but I'm aware I have a long way to go.

Writing is my therapy, and creative writing, as well as connecting with people, helps me stay sane and positive. Another project I want to explore next year is running creative writing workshops. I have gained a qualification in Community Services Work, and combined with my writing and my life skills, I hope to help others find themselves ways to live a positive life. Giving to others gives back so much, and I am keen to give more!

Feel free to contact me if you'd like to know more!

What makes me happy

It doesn't take much to make me happy. Basically if the day is pleasant, not too hot and not too cold, or if the day is too hot but I can stay home inside, where it's nice and cool, then I'm happy.

Most days fit the criteria - if I have to go out on a hot day, well that impacts on how I feel. If I'm going out somewhere good, then I'll still be happy, because the car I'm likely to be driving will have good air conditioning.  So, as you can see, I probably have happy days most of the time.

I also get extra happy if I write a new poem, or work on an existing poem. I am a poet, writing or editing poetry is one of the defining things I do. A day with no poetry in it at all can make me a little bit sad, but days like that are rare. I'm in a writing group and we meet once a week and share our writing. So this morning I edited the new poem I wrote yesterday to read tonight. It was a sad subject in some ways, but it made me happy to be writing/editing a new poem.

I spend lots of time on the internet, and checking my emails. Some of that social media stuff involves my friends, and lots of my friends are also poets. So you should be able to see that it isn't that difficult for me to be happy. Things I like to write about make me happy too.

One of my writing themes is Nature. Looking at Nature makes me happy. I live in country South Australia, with Nature all around where I live. I love sitting on the front or back veranda, looking at the plants, birds, creatures and weather. I've written poems about these things, making me happy.

Does my life bore me? Oh no, I love my life. I have family, friends, Nature, my pets and my plants. I live a fantastically happy life!

Do you live a life that makes you happy?

Aiming at something like William Carlos Williams

Yesterday I wrote another poem about my car crash from last week. The previous poem is quite different in style to this more recent poem.

I was aiming at capturing just one important thing, and was thinking as I wrote and edited it, about the spare and clever work of the much loved American poet William Carlos Williams.

If you don't know his work, and you like or love poetry, or even if you hate poetry, I recommend you click on his name and learn about him. I love his work.

So here is my little poem:

away from me

my clearest image

from the accident

is what I saw

as my car

hit the safety fence

the first time –

ten or more cars

on the other side

of the road

rushing northward

away from me 

as fast as they could go

Did I capture the feel I was aiming at? I think so. I have no idea if this poem works for anyone else, but when I read it, I can see those cars again. The cars that would have crashed into me and possibly killed me if the safety fence wasn't there.

Please, please, please leave a comment here, I have a strong need to know how this poem touches or fails to touch others.

Creative Writing is my Personal Healing

I had a car accident last week, on Monday. Something went wrong, I lost the steering in my car and I crashed. The car was the first car I've ever owned myself, all the other cars have been in my husband, Graham's, name.

When my car came to a halt, I realised I was pretty well completely unhurt. I thought about what to do, but a wonderful lady arrived to help me. She took charge of it all, and invited me to sit in her car while I waited for various emergency people and my husband to arrive.

I looked at my car and was sad. It looked far sicker than I was. It seemed strange that my car could be that damaged, but I was fine. I thank the people who make things safer for us all. If it weren't for the safety fence, my seatbelt and safety features in the car, the result would have been tragic rather that merely sad.

Anyway, I thought about all of this, and I dealt with the sadness in my usual way, I wrote a poem about it. Creative writing is my way of getting my head around things. Writing the words down, editing them, playing with them and then sharing them helps me to understand my life, myself and the world.

I truly believe that creative writing has healed me, getting me over my grief at losing my car (it was written off by my insurance company). Creative writing has also helped me to deal with the various issues I have had in my life.

I feel that creative writing is a fine tool for a person to have to help them get through the challenges they have in life. It is a thing I wish to assist people with. That is what I wish to spend the rest of my life doing - assisting people to write their way to a better life.

Anyway, here is the poem I wrote about my car accident. I hope you find something in my words.

It could have been traumatic

Control lost, spin around, crash and spin some more.

Safety found, deep breath and look around.

Help approaches, mobile in hand, she calls for uniformed

help. She saw it all, soothes me, comforts me, a quiet heroine

‘It’s wasn’t your fault’ she says, ‘not your fault at all’

Two more people arrive, soothing, helping, bits of my car

taken off the road. She tells the cop the same

when he flashes up, and starts asking questions,

‘Not her fault,’ she repeats. Mission accomplished,

the helpers all leave, taking with them a new story to tell.

I sit in the cop’s car and he tests me, questions me,

soothes me too, we chat while we wait. ’Not your fault,’

he says. Graham arrives, tow truck arrives,

cop leaves, we leave, returning home,

where life is in control, no spin at all.

I feel soothed not traumatised.

Carolyn Cordon 2011

If this poem says anything to you, please feel free to leave a comment here, thank you.

Final Farewell to Dad

I've written two blogs about the poem I'm going to post here. The poem was written about a ceremony my younger brother, our mother and I performed on Sunday morning just gone.

The time had come to scatter my father's ashes. Murray West was my father's name. He was a horse trainer before he died, a well known and much liked one before he became ill. He died a year ago, and Sunday was just after his birthday and the one year anniversary of his death. I met with my mum on the day and we caught up with me brother Greg at the back track at Globe Derby Park, the main harness racing track in South Australia.

The plan was to scatter Dad's ashes at the finish line on the main track. My older brother Jeff, who died nearly 18 years ago has his memorial stone at the finish line in the rose garden just across from the finish line. Jeff had been my father's horse driver, driving many horses to victory.

So we gathered together and did the deed. I knew I was going to write a poem in honour of this occasion, and I was thinking about the theme of my weekly writing group. The theme was 'Recovery'.

I was busy for the rest of the day, but my subconscious kept turning over what we'd done, and the writing theme. I began writing the poem on Tuesday, I had a first draft. I wasn't ready to let anyone else see the poem at that stage.

Then I decided I would work on it some more on Thursday, after I had written a totally different poem with the theme of 'Recovery'. That poem came to me yesterday morning as I was lying in bed and enjoying the feeling of  being safe there. So I got up, fixed breakfast and wrote my 'Recovery' poem. I read my 'Recovery' poem last night, and everyone liked it. I liked it too, and was satisfied I had hit the theme well. The group shared some deep and meaningful words last night, a handful of fine poems indeed.

Then I opened up my poem I'd written for Dad, and worked on a second draft, tinkering with lines and words. I was happy with that poem, it felt good to me, and I knew I had to share it with my mother, who I go and visit most Fridays. This morning I polished up the  poem, and I was finally happy that it said the things I needed to say. I went and saw Mum and gave her the poem to read and to keep.

I watched Mum as she read, seeing her face as she reacted to the words. She finished reading, and I asked if she was OK with me putting the poem 'out there' for other people to read. I felt I had to ask her permission first, it wouldn't have been fair to her otherwise. She said she was OK with that.

So that's the story behind this poem. It's a story of poetry, grief, harness racing, family and caring for loved ones. It's a story I give to the world. So here is that poem.

The final race

Crow’s mournful cry heralds the beginning

of my journey. The road I travel is a slaughterhouse

in grey - avian corpses sad prey to car’s

supremacy. These thoughts travel with me

to Dad’s memorial destination. Contact made,

we three, his spouse and his offspring, approach

the place, ashes in hand, plan decided –

finish line a suitable place. The youngest

does the deed, releasing the final remains

of our father, my mother’s spouse. Breeze aids

the scattering, and I remember other times, times

when the finish line brought us joy, and I finally

feel a kind of joyful serenity. Remaining ash

is spread near our dead brother’s place, their

oldest son, and we can all imagine Jeff and Dad,

communing and celebrating former times –

horses, races and glorious wins. We shared

these things as a family, now we can remember

it again and embrace a final peace.