Late Summer - A Sensory Experience - The Touch of Summer
Two writing prompts, a journalling exercise, plus what to expect in September
Hello Readers,
Welcome to the third post in my August writing challenge: Late Summer, A Sensory Experience. This morning I set out with the old dog down the lane now overhung with trees heavy with seeds. There are now sloes in the hedges and crab apples, and small hard plums (bullaces?) appearing. As we turned onto the old bridal path and began to cross the grass I felt the dew on my skin of my feet, through my sandals; not unpleasant, it was refreshing, seeping under my soles, and up to my ankles, cool and silky. The horse chestnuts are already beginning to turn, already beginning to brown at the edges, the conkers already fat and spiked. There’s a scent to the air that is difficult to place: something loamy, earthy. We are nearing autumn.
This week I received some exciting news about a new poetry collection I’ve been working on. I can’t say anything yet, but it was the sort of news that made me leap about the room yelling. That sort of news doesn’t happen very often. It’s the sort of news that feels like a real step up the ladder. It came at just at the right time as I was feeling a little out of love with poetry and wondering where my work fit into the poetry ‘scene’. I need to take the advice I so often give mentees and just write the poems I enjoy writing, write for myself. It’s hard to write truthfully, to write authentically without feeling the pressure to conform to a certain style or a certain fashion. I don’t want to say too much about the collection until news is made official, but with this collection I took risks and pushed my own boundaries, and was worried that it might not work. Even though I felt it worked and that the poems had worth, another part of me was rubbishing my positivity. I have been working on undoing that internal voice of late, but it’s lovely to feel the validation of someone I respect hugely seeing worth in my work.
I also began work on the first editing stage of my book, The Ghost Lake. I’ve been reading over my wonderful editor’s suggestions and meeting with my agent to discuss how the book moves forward and what the next stage brings. all very exciting, but also quite scary. This is perhaps the biggest project I’ve worked on, and I want to get it right. But I have also been thinking about how I might protect myself from my own sense of perfectionism. How do I set targets and boundaries for myself that are still a source for the drive to succeed, but don’t compromise my own mental health or enjoyment of the process? I’ve begun by setting a series of goals that are mainly about taking the time to enjoy the process. Yesterday I took some time just to let the edits sink in, and to enjoy the idea of moving forward, rather than fretting about finishing the next stage. Easier said than done. My book and I are both works in progress. Yesterday was the day I got a glimpse of the cover design for The Ghost Lake and, oh, so beautiful. I can’t wait to share it with you!
Tomorrow is a day of completing the last pieces of Spelt 09. I’d like to think we’ll be heading to the printers this week. It’s difficult to navigate the magazine around three editors with busy lives and responsibilities, but I’m proud of how well we are doing, and this edition in particular looks stunning. I’ll feel happy when I see the proof copy. Nearly there.
And so to this week’s prompts. This week we’re focussing on the sense of touch. If you could name the touch of summer, what would it be?
I’m finding a greater need to be in physical contact with the season. I almost can’t help myself from reaching out and running my hands over the tops of barley or wheat, or touching the silk heads of overblown roses, or letting a caterpillar walk across my palm, feeling for the tiny tickle of it.
I think the weather too, is a part of the summer sensory experience. I feel more open to being rained on if it’s warm; I can enjoy the sensation of a quick summer shower. But by far my favourite type of summer weather is a gentle breeze, I love the way it feels on bare skin, on legs in shorts, against bare feet.
Here is your downloadable journalling workbook to print out and add to your previous workbooks:
This journaling prompt is all about tuning in to the small physical sensations of touch. For each of the prompts below write a paragraph describing the physical sensation of your skin when it comes into contact with that thing. Tune into it, find the details. Try changing up how your physical self exists and interacts with it. What does a physical sensation feel like, for example, when it is felt in your scalp, through your hair.
1. Reach out and touch something natural in your environment. What do your fingertips feel like, what is the pressure like?
2. Hold something you find – a feather, a stone etc - in the palm of your hand. What does the weight remind you of? How is the sensation of holding something up in your palm different to the sensation of reaching out for something?
3. Take your shoes off (safety first, check for anything sharp before you do!) stand on the grass, the soil, the gravel, the sand – what are the soles of your feet telling you? How is this different to the way your fingers interpret touch?
Take one of these touch sensations paragraphs and expand it, relating the physical sensation to a memory of something else. It might be that you remember touching the crisping edges of the horse chestnut and knowing you were about to start a new term at school, for example. Or that sensation of sand on your soles might take you to your honeymoon in Northumberland. Or the feeling of dew on your bare skin might lead to a memory of freedom, of wildness, of camping perhaps.
Go further, what other sensations can you think of? What about summer clothes, what about the weather, what about holding hands?
Keep writing those short paragraphs exploring your own memories. Start building in some simile, some metaphor, start thinking creatively.
Follow this link to read a beautiful, heartbreaking poem by Ellen Bass:
This is an exploration of touch in a completely different way, but I’m fascinated by the way the olive tree becomes a metaphor for time passing, as well as something ‘bitter and dark’ growing.
The last lines are particularly moving:
Like sage gives its scent when you crush it. Like stone
is hard. They were happy and I could touch it.
Prompt One
Think about the journal notes you made about touch, and about the memories invoked by those physical sensations. Write a poem, or creatively explore in whatever way you want, one of those memories. Use a first person perspective, and narrate the story of this moment to the reader. What metaphor might you use to structure your piece?
Prompt Two
Let me share this poem with you, that is one that I return to often, one by the wonderful Liz Berry:
Every time I read it I am taken to somewhere wild, and physical and sweet and innocent. Liz Berry has a way of bringing a poem alive so that the poem itself feels like a physical presence next to you. I can almost feel the water on my own bare feet.
For this prompt, write about a time when you shared a watery space with someone. It might be bathing your child, it might be sea swimming with friends, it might be getting drenched with your wife running to the shops. Write a poem, or explore through any creative medium you want, the physical sensations of the experience, and how being with someone else made that physical sensation different to if you had experienced it alone.
What’s in Store in September
At the end of August I’ll be switching on my paid option.
Notes from the Margin Paid – Season One
September - October - November
The overarching theme for the autumn season is Acknowledging Change. As well as the free Thursday essays, if you sign up for the paid option you’ll receive a Friday post which will include
Bonus essays and book news.
Posts on managing your publishing journey with topics focussed on kindness to self.
Insider knowledge on the publishing industry.
‘How To’ posts.
Regular writing opportunities posts.
Mindful creative practice posts.
Writing prompts and journaling exercises.
This is all aimed at building community, exploring your creative practice, and sharing my own knowledge of navigating the publishing world. Each month will include one journaling exercise and two writing prompts, looking at a different aspect of the season’s theme.
If you enjoy writing poetry and/or creative non-fiction at whatever level, and for whatever purpose, you’ll find something to enjoy here.
At the end of the season we’ll have a two-hour zoom meet up to celebrate the season and ourselves, including an open mic to showcase some of the writing we’ve been working on.
The theme of Season one – Autumn 2023 - is Acknowledging Change: change in ourselves, change in nature, seasonal change, changing up, changing down, changing values, changing passions. Let’s embrace the shift away from the hard, bright days of summer and embrace the slower pace of autumn, the season of reflection.
Paid members also receive a 15% discount on mentoring and retreats. I hope you’ll join me!
Dawn Chorus
In September the Dawn Chorus returns. Come and join me for a zoom hour of early morning creativity. You can find more details here:
Thanks for reading, until next time
x
Here's something I wrote for the journal prompt. At some point, I may try to turn it into a poem :-) -- "A couple of days ago, I chanced upon a petting zoo - a covered wagon hauled by a John Deere tractor and parked in the open field of the park, facing the harbour, close to the Dairy Bar. It was raining lightly. If it hadn't been for the repeated crows of what I was sure was a rooster, I may not have gone closer and satisfied my curiosity. I never did see the rooster but there was certainly a menagerie of farm animals. What lured me closer were two young Jersey calves, looking like deer with smooth, soft short-haired, brown coats. It had been many years since I had touched a black rubbery muzzle. And I knew there'd be a rough black wet tongue too. As soon as I reached out my hand they both suckled my fingers vigorously, just in case I would be the source of their next meal. A 12 year old girl came over with her dad. She started to move around the wagon to see what animals were within reach. I drew back to give her lots of room, thanked the retired farmer who owned the animals and went on my way. I wish now I'd stayed longer, even if it was raining."
Love this invitation to explore the seasons with the senses, especially also touch. When we live in cities we don’t “touch” the seasons as much as when we live in the countryside where we may harvest vegetables etc.