Where and when were you born?
Plymouth - on 28th May 1960.
Could you tell us something about your background? Were either of your parents or grandparents (or any other relatives) writers? If not, were any of your relatives actively interested in literature, and are any of your siblings writers or involved in a creative profession?
My father worked as an electrician before
retirement: my mother left her job as a typist to raise a family. My mother
read some poetry when younger but I came to poetry independently; neither of my
two brothers are interested in the creative arts. I attended state schools in
Plympton, a suburb of Plymouth between 1965 and 1978, rarely travelling outside
Devon and Cornwall during my childhood.
What was the first poem (or who was the first poet) that turned you on to poetry? What age were you when you first began writing poetry, and did you receive any encouragement?
It was a gradual process. Rock music
lyrics, perhaps those of David Bowie above all, stimulated an interest and this
was reinforced when I started reading poets whose work was easily available to
me in 1975-76. I began to write poetry towards the end of 1975 and received
some encouragement, whilst studying English at A level, from my teacher Barbara
Bush who (as it happened) was a niece of DH Lawrence.
When you started writing poetry did you have dreams about becoming a "professional" poet? If so, did anyone advise you against this course of action?
I never saw this as a realistic course of
action but I felt it important, from an early stage, not to become enmeshed in
a career whose demands would hamper my writing - in terms of working hours
and/or pressure of work. I also believed then, and still believe, that an
affluent society should be able to fund occasional creative sabbaticals by way
of the benefit system - which is why I still support the Green Party's Citizen's
Income scheme, and oppose the more punitive regime that has come into being
over the past twenty years or so.
Did you go to university, and if so, which
subject(s) did you study?
I attended St. David's University College,
Lampeter from 1978 to 1982, where I obtained an honours degree in Philosophy: I
had intended to study English but, after having studied English, Philosophy and
Greek and Roman Civilisation in Year One, elected to study Philosophy instead.
I have to admit that the prospect of obtaining an extra year's grant, for a
four-year programme, was a factor in this decision - it bought me another year
in which to write, and think, and decide what to do next.
When did you first start submitting to poetry magazines? And can you tell us how many rejections you received before having something accepted for publication?
There was a thriving literary scene at
Lampeter and I was able to publish a number of poems there, plus a couple of
chapbooks; I was also the secretary of a literary society, and organised a
number of readings through the National Poetry Secretariat. However, with the
exception of one or two desultory forays, I only began to circulate my work
nationally towards the end of 1988; I was published almost immediately
thereafter.
What was your first published poem? Which poetry magazine published it and in what year was it published?
In terms of national circulation, it was a
piece called Humus which was published in Stride magazine in early 1989.
Round about the time that you started seriously writing poetry, who were your literary heroes? And would you say that they had an influence on your writing style?
I don't like the idea of 'heroes', even if
(see above) this happens to be a title of one of Bowie's Seventies releases!
When I began to take a serious interest in poetry, I read as widely as I could
and new names flooded in very rapidly, particularly between 1976 and 1980 when
I was frenetically attempting to 'map', not only what had been going on in
English literature but (almost exclusively via translation) in other
literatures over the previous century and in some cases beforehand. I had
'favourite' writers at particular times and many of them are still 'favourite'
writers now. All I would emphasise is that I was at least as interested in what
I encountered via translation from other languages as in my own, and that this
has determined my development as a writer of poetry to a very great extent - in
particular, to reflect what has been said about Richard Burns (a Critical
Companion to whose work I'm currently editing for Salt, as noted above), I've
always had a strong sense of European identity and see myself, accordingly,
more as a 'European writer writing in English' than a predominantly 'English'
or 'British' writer. However, beyond that I'm a global citizen with global
connections and responsibilities, just like everyone else.
Have you ever attended a creative writing course or been involved in a writers' group? If so, did you find it useful?
I've been involved with writers' groups
twice - at Lampeter and in Plymouth, where I've been involved with a highly
dynamic group that, over the fifteen years or so since I first became acquainted
with it, has gone under the successive names of the Swarthmore Poets: the
Plymouth Poetry Exchange: and the Language Club. I've never been particularly
interested, however, in creative writing courses - if I don't have the impetus
to write under my own steam, I'd rather fall silent and wait.
When did you put together your first collection of poetry? How long did it take to get it accepted for publication and how long did you have to wait between acceptance and final publication?
Aside from the two chapbooks I put out
during my university days in Lampeter, there were a trio of chapbooks that came
out in rapid succession covering my Eighties' work, the first two of which fell
well short of contemporary standards of printing and design (and are therefore
suppressed!): Spoil (Spectrum, 1989), Tors (Phlebas, 1990) and In The Absence
of a Summit (Phlebas, 1992). The first was published by Chris Bendon, a former
colleague of mine at Lampeter and, of course, a highly accomplished writer of
poetry. The second and third were published by a friend and long-time supporter
of my work, Roderick Muncey. They were followed by some other chapbooks and
pamphlets, for example Time Over (1995) which was published by John Mingay.
Then, in 1993, Rupert Loydell accepted a full-length collection, For The
Wedding-Guest, for publication by Stride; this appeared in late 1996, with an
excellent cover by a certain Dee Rimbaud. This, along with Terra Fabulosa
(Phlebas; 1999) released all the work written before my 35th birthday, that I'd
wanted to publish, into what might be described (somewhat hyperbolically!) as
the 'public' domain. Since, for various reasons, I've been stacking up work -
although nearly a hundred pieces written since have appeared in magazines and
anthologies and on websites, in the UK and abroad - fortunately, the process of
assembling this into collections is at last underway and (as already mentioned)
the first, The Book of Bells and Candles, is due out from Waterloo Press
shortly.
What sort of critical response did you
receive?
It's been generally positive, with a small
number (no more than three that I can think of, over the years) of very
negative responses - I accept that the form and content of my work may alienate
some people, but this has been consistently outweighed by the encouragement and
active support I've received from a myriad of sources, including many writers
whose own work is widely respected. The response to my one proper 'book' to
date, For The Wedding-Guest, was unequivocally positive.
How many copies of the books sold and are they still in print? Would you say that your publishers actively promoted the books and did you do readings and signings at bookshops to help promote them? Which of your poetry books has been the most successful in terms of sales, and how many copies has it sold to date?
All are now out of print - the print run
for For The Wedding-Guest was 300, whereas the figure varied (below that
figure) for the chapbooks and pamphlets. I've always been happy to collaborate
with publishers to promote my work, and have taken part in readings wherever
possible - however, most sales have been by way of existing interest and what
reputation I possess. Figures are, of course, minimal - the largest circulation
I've ever obtained for an individual poem was in early 1997, when a piece
called The Pox In Roseland, from For The Wedding-Guest, was featured as The
Independent's poem of the day, but even this only bought in a few additional
orders for the Stride book. Editing a literary magazine, Memes, between 1989
and 1994 probably helped me to sell books, at the time, as much as anything
else.
At the beginning of your writing career did you enter any poetry competitions? Did you enter a lot or just a few? Did you have any success? And, with hindsight, what are your thoughts about the relative merits or demerits of poetry competitions?
I've never entered poetry competitions and
have no intention of ever doing so, although I've sought awards for bodies of
work (unsuccessfully) on a couple of occasions. I don't like the way in which
they encourage adherence to a standardized template, that of the so-called
'prize poem' - I'm also at least as interested in the oeuvre as I am in the
individual poem, and poetry competitions work in the opposite direction.
Have you won any awards for your
poetry?
I can't recall whether Rupert entered For
The Wedding-Guest for any awards but I didn't obtain one - it would be very
unusual for a so-called 'small-press' collection to gain a national award,
although not impossible. I'm fairly neutral either way about awards but, as
they can help sales without encouraging the prize-poem syndrome, then why
not?
Do you make a living out of poetry? If not, do you make an adequate living through poetry related activities such as teaching creative writing workshops? Or do you have to supplement your income through unrelated activities?
I derive no income from poetry and have
worked, since graduation, in a series of administrative positions - since March
2002, I've worked as an administrator at what will shortly become University
College Plymouth St Mark & St John. As my role requires competence in
written communication, for example with regard to the production of committee
minutes and institutional documents, it's compatible with my 'other career' as
a writer - also, I work at an institution with a strong arts/humanities
presence, which is great in terms of my day-to-day contacts.
Beyond that, the weighting of your
question raises an interesting issue, which is the development of what might be
termed a 'creative writing industry' in which, increasingly, writers of poetry
are able to make a related living - this has taken place, largely, over the past
two decades or so and I therefore graduated, and began work, before it had
become a particularly viable option. I don't miss not being involved in this
industry, except that - as with the visual arts - it may be in the process of
becoming harder for anyone not involved in it to gain and retain credibility
for their work. There are people close to me, in my age group, who decided to
commit themselves to the visual arts after they had chosen to study other
subjects at university, and they've had major problems gaining the recognition
they deserve as a result. Poetry has always been a more open field than that,
but I'm worried that it's beginning to close up - not so much for my
generation, but certainly for younger writers who may find themselves 'shut
out' if they don't take a Creative Writing course at university. I worry about
this, as I see no reason why it shouldn't be possible to hold down a full-time
job in another area and still produce top-quality work - on this matter, too, I
have history on my side.
If you could turn the clock back, would
you do anything different?
I should have sought magazine publication
immediately after graduation, rather than waiting for a few more years; to some
extent, I was deterred by that notorious Motion-Morrison anthology the Penguin
Book of Contemporary British Poetry which, appearing in 1982 just after I'd
graduated, suggested that what I was doing was out of place in terms of
contemporary trends. However, there would have been a place for it and putting
out my work would have hastened its development - for example, much of my work
in the late Eighties and early Nineties is infected by an excessive degree of
iambic stress (a 'dominant meme' in fact!) which, I suspect, would have been
ironed out earlier if I hadn't been in Kaspar Hauser mode throughout much of
the Eighties. Also, I was in too much of a rush to put out work in chapbooks,
when I started belatedly to publicise my work, and wish I'd been more patient
and discerning - even allowing for the development in print technology since,
some of those chapbooks are an embarrassment to me now. Finally, I should have
been more assiduous in chasing a collection a few years ago, although various
factors - such as moving to Budapest for a while - affected matters here.
If a young would-be poet approached you, which poets would you recommend as vital reading and which poetry magazines would you recommend him or her to subscribe to? Assuming that this would-be poet showed some promise, moreover, would you advise him or her to pursue a "career" in poetry and, if so, what further advice would you give him or her?
The first thing I would stress is that
poetry, for me, is an activity rather than the expression of a role... I don't
see myself, personally, as 'a poet', but someone who writes on a regular basis
and specialises in poetry. I prefer 'writer', as it doesn't stir the same
hornet's nest of preconceptions, but even that's limiting in so far as, like
everyone else, I can't be too closely defined by the activities I engage in
without being diminished (like Sartre's waiter). Subject to that proviso, I
would encourage anyone who wanted to write poetry, even if they showed no
immediate promise as, the more we develop our linguistic potential, the more
evolved and aware we become.
Specifically, in that context, I would
offer the following advice:
·
Read as widely as you can, not just in your own
language/s but in others, through the fallible yet invaluable medium of
translation; and not just in the present, but also in the past. Seek out 'maps'
of literature that might be helpful - in my case, back in the late Seventies, I
owed a massive debt to Martin Seymour-Smith's Guide to Modern World Literature
- there's no way to gain a complete picture, but it's all but impossible to
evolve as a writer without reading widely. Moreover, 'originality' is usually
to do with the blending of influence. Subscribe to a few contemporary magazines
but don't let this overwhelm your reading - otherwise you'll only recycle
what's already there before you. Also, collections give you an idea of what a
writer is trying to do in a way that scattered individual poems can't.
·
Read in an open-minded way - above all, resist the
temptation to dismiss anything with which you can't come to terms immediately.
There's a line of pseudo-reasoning which goes something like: 'I'm an
intelligent and perceptive reader: I can't understand/relate/come to terms with
this: therefore it can't be any good'. It infects the work of some reviewers,
who should be - but evidently aren't - too old and wise to succumb to this
temptation, but reviewers have been known to panic and you don't need to. If
you find something hard to deal with, put it to one side and return, later, if
you feel motivated to do so - you may be pleasantly surprised.
·
Network with other writers and readers of poetry, but
begin in listening mode - it's easy to compensate for one's nerves by seeking
to impose oneself on a new 'audience'. Nationally, the community engaged in the
active production and reception of poetry is probably the size of a small town
- all being well, you'll gain other contacts abroad in due course, but this is
unlikely in the first instance - the whole thing runs on networking, whether in
person or through other means and, as with any community, including one as
dispersed and disparate as this, there are customs and protocols to be learnt.
It's all too easy to approach this community in the wrong way, only to become
disillusioned and alienated from it. You won't necessarily stay friends with
everyone (no matter how hard you try!), but being aware of its existence is a
start.
·
Think carefully (see above) as to whether you want to
engage with the creative writing industry, initially by taking a course in
Higher Education, or whether you want to take the risk of developing another
career and writing in your free time. The latter approach is liberating, in
that you can do whatever pleases you without having to worry about your living;
on the other hand, the current development of a 'guild' system, similar to that
within the visual arts, may make it harder for you to gain credibility for your
work. Worse, it might become a matter of attending, not just a creative writing
programme, but the 'right' one. At the moment, it's still possible to 'enter
the profession' by means of a Masters' rather than a first degree, so there's
still a little more flexibility than applies in the visual arts.
·
Be sure that you enjoy writing poetry for its own
sake, and in order to share your thoughts with others, and not only for another
motive - whether to be remembered after you're dead (technically possible, even
in today's ravaged ecology, but a long shot), to gain fame and fortune (again,
a long shot and more dependent upon sheer chance and good luck than anyone
involved is prepared to admit) or even to gain favour with members of the
opposite and/or the same sex (it can work, but the process tends to be
serendipitous and trying too hard, as ever, is a turn-off). I wouldn't bother
to write if I couldn't share my work, and I seek to do so widely, but I'm
increasingly fatalistic about what happens in that context. The important thing
is to express my humanity, by handling language in the intelligent, flexible,
and self-aware way that literature, particularly the concentrated form of
literature known as poetry, demands - and I try to do so, perhaps more than
when I was younger, in the knowledge that I am not immortal: that books rot,
statues crumble and languages mutate: and that we are not always as kind to
each other, on a personal level, as we should be in the face of a common
adversary (not least because fear of that adversary tends to divide us).
Poetry, and the wider activity of writing it is a part of, is more of a sharing
of breath, a conspiracy against death, oblivion, brute stupidity and ignorance,
then it can ever be a quest for individual glory, although that in no way means
that we are condemned to write only for immediate reception - ambition, set
against time and death, remains a vital part of the game for me. I've never
regretted my decision to take part in the game, and can't imagine ever doing
so.
Read Norman
Jope's poetry sequence: Aphinar
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