What I learned from the snow

Depending on when you read this, your news feeds will be full of the aftermath of Storm Goretti. For some this has been a terrifying event, with windows blown in, evacuations and significant damage. For me not so much. I love snow, even in the old days of waiting for a bus that may or may not appear, even when my fingers are red and numb and my feet feel they belong to the frozen earth. Snow conjures happy times – igloo building, neighbours shovelling snow from the road, the strange silence that comes when the world turns white. I spent yesterday checking weather apps, checking supplies, and testing torches all in the hope that the “biggest snow event in 20 years” would indeed come to my little house. And it did – branches gained white shadows, walls gained extra height, the sky turned white against the night. I went to bed excited.

Morning came. The trees had shed their shadows, I could see glimpses of roof tiles, patches of ground, All my lovely snow near gone. I felt so sad and annoyed that I’d let the opportunity pass. I sulked and sulked a bit more, scrolling through pictures of gargantuan snow drifts and deep footsteps. Suddenly frustrated with that I was letting the lens of social media spoil what I actually had, I put my snow boots on and ventured into the yard. Then out of the gate. Then up the lane. With each step I got a little happier; the creak of snow under my feet, the feeling of “ooh that’s deep”, the need for fairy steps on slippy patches.I even built a tiny snowman. With the risk of sounding like a methodist lay preacher, I feel like I achieved something important – physically and mentally getting over disappointment and the peculiar envy that social media create. It’s a small thing but I know that this time last year my day would be done, the door to the ever-present sadness propped open. Medication is a wonderful thing. *

What has this got to do with writing poetry?

In 2018 I was selected to be part of Dynamo mentoring scheme. As part of this I had to set goals for the next six months, one year’s time and five years’ time. In all honesty I had no idea what they should be. it had never occurred to me to submit my writing for publication and never occurred to me that I ever would ever have work published. Goals were expected though and I obediently wrote down I thought I should want to achieve.

Have a poem published in a magazine (I’ve published around 40 so far)

Write a poetry pamphlet (I’ve written and published two, with another out for query with publishers.

I also had a secret one that I thought was way beyond reach, which was to be published in both Mslexia magazine and Under the Radar. Both of these have a huge readership and huge prestige – you can understand why I kept my hopes a secret. Publication with Mslexia happened astonishingly quickly ,Publication in Under the Radar eluded me until the end of last year.

I find myself in a position where I have met my goals. The logical next step is to work in a full collection, and this is where I’ve stumbled. For a while I’ve noticed a nag at the back of my brain that maybe I don’t love poetry enough anymore. I’ve struggled to feel motivated to take the leap into joining a poetry group, I‘ve noticed I’m reading fewer poetry books and whilst I have a lot of ideas for poetry projects, I’m reluctant to begin any of them. Planning my hopes for the year, I began to write the usual poetry related goals and noticed a flicker of that Sunday night/ Monday morning feeling. Something had shifted and 2026 feels like a time to swerve away from poetry – for a while at least.

Some poetry related things will remain. I’ve started a Facebook group for poetry prompts and feedback, a gentle space with no pressure and no competition – just love of playing with words, and I have a Poetry School course that begins next week as well as ongoing commissions for bespoke wedding poetry. Poetry will shift back to being a creative outlet rather than something that drives me and creates the feeling of desperately trying to be as good as all the poets that have numerous magnificent collections out in the world. I’m moving back towards long form writing, winnowing out ideas for short fiction and dare I, dare I say it taking tentative steps to explore ideas for a novel.

Am I just giving up on poetry? No. What I’m doing is allowing myself to be proud of what I’ve achieved and to allow myself to tread a different path and, in a world, where everything is becoming more terrible and terrifying each day, this feels like freedom.

Until next time

Kathryn

xx

*Eighteen months I began the long road to diagnosis with Bipolar II. You can read more about this here