Poet Angela Cleland describes an addiction to writing that began in her childhood

Angela Cleland
Angela Cleland is a Scottish poet living in London. Her pamphlet Waiting to Burn was one of three winners in the Templar Poetry Pamphlet and Collection Competition and resulted in her first full-length collection, And in Here, the Menagerie being published in 2007. She tells us about her love of “poems that feel like they just fell out of the sky like chunks of truth fallen off”, and her dislike of waiting for replies to submissions.
What inspired you to become a writer?
I have always written - I have hilarious and surreal evidence that I was writing even before I could spell in the form of a jotter titled “Boc, Gryn Miss Mosy, biy Angela” - so it is hard to say what inspired me to begin with. However, I can say that a few key people in my life have influenced me to take writing more seriously. Firstly my sister, who is a year older than me.
Sandie was always writing great long stories when we were kids - she had her own world called Krondlin (sorry if I’ve spelt it wrong S). I remember being jealous that she had this place all her own to go to and I didn’t. This pushed me to write a world for myself.
Later in life my Higher and CSYS English teacher, Miss Leghorn, was also a big influence. Not only did she introduce me to a range of poets from Shakespeare and Donne right up to MacCaig, Heaney and even John Hegley, my CSYS class was the first place I shared a poem.
OK, there were only three of us plus Miss Leghorn, but the positive reaction it got and the feeling this gave me are the same things I go after when I submit poems for publication and when I read my poems live.
What was your first poem about?
First poem? Yikes! The first poem I remember was called “Far Away is the Land of Caraway” - it was recorded on a birthday tape we recorded for my Great Grampa Waters when I was in Primary School (not a video, you understand, a cassette, yes I’m showing my age).
God knows what it was about. It involved someone sitting on a park bench, then getting hit in the eye with a stone, a river… other stuff. I remember having a very clear idea in my head what I wanted to achieve, but something was lost in the writing.
My first “official” poem was a love poem, which won the Scotsman School Magazine Prize for Poetry. I was awarded £50, a dozen red roses and a lovely plaque which one of our dogs later defaced. I still have some of the roses.
Did you face much rejection initially?
I sent out my first submission when I was about 23. I spent six long weeks biting my fingernails only to have all seven brown envelopes come back to me with “insufficient postage” stamped on them - ergh, the idiocy.
After that I felt so stupid about the whole thing that the rejections didn’t bother me too much. Actually, I was lucky enough to have a poem accepted out of that first lot when I re-sent them, so I had an encouraging start.
I’ve always found that the waiting is the worst bit. When something comes back through your letterbox, even if it’s a rejection, you can do something with it - send the poems out elsewhere, look at them again if they need it - but when you are waiting for replies, it’s all out of your hands. Twitch, twitch.
How did you come to put out your poetry pamphlet, Waiting to Burn?
I found a leaflet for the Templar Poetry Pamphlet and Collection Competition in one of the magazines I subscribe to and thought it looked like a good idea. I had entered the Poetry Business Book and Pamphlet Competition without any luck and thought Templar looked like a good bet because it was new on the scene - it’s incredible how much it’s grown since then.
I was delighted when I heard I was one of the first three winners - it was a fantastic leap forward for me.
How did this result in And in Here, the Menagerie being published by Templar Poetry?
Part of the prize for the Templar competition was to submit a full-length collection for consideration by Templar. I leapt at this opportunity and worked pretty hard to get together a full collection in time to submit the following year.
To my delight Templar agreed to publish And in Here, the Menagerie and it was launched at the first Derwent Poetry Festival in 2007.
How do you feel your writing developed between completing Waiting to Burn and And in Here, the Menagerie?
If I’m honest, not enough as there wasn’t much time between the two. However, what I did find was that I was working harder at producing more work and making the problem poems work - I had committed myself to filling a whole book, so I didn’t have much choice!
I think this had a positive effect on the way I work. A few of the poems in the collection are also influenced by my time performing at the various poetry nights in London (open mic and otherwise).
What do you find the most challenging aspects of writing poetry?
For me the most challenging aspects of writing are the discipline and overcoming the feeling that “I’ll never be able to write anything that good ever again”. By the discipline I mean a number of things - the discipline to redraft when you’d rather not, the discipline of going out to classes and meeting with other poets, of attended readings and events, the discipline of putting pen to paper regularly and actually writing.
This has been less of an issue for me this year as I have started working a four-day week so that I can dedicate a full day a week to writing - hurrah! On the second point, I’ve heard a few poets say they experience the same thing, thinking that X or Y or Z was the pinnacle of their talent and they’ll never top it - it’s a weird mixture of vanity and self-doubt, I suppose.
What do you enjoy most about it?
I won’t lie: the two things I enjoy best are an acceptance letter through the post and a round of applause from an audience who have enjoyed a reading. It gives me a real buzz. In my heart of hearts I am a show-off and I crave attention. Although to be fair, if someone says of a poem “I know what you mean” or “your poem reminded me of how I felt”, when a poems really touches a nerve with someone, that is a great reward.
Thinking back on it, I remember as a kid being really upset at finishing a book and not being able to spend any more time with the characters - being separated from them. I thought it must be amazing to be able to make people feel that way - to make people sad that something was over.
I think I once articulated this as “I want to write things that make people cry”, but I’m not sure that was the best way of putting it. So far as I know I haven’t made anyone cry yet.
How does writing poetry compare to performing it?
Though the physical writing of a poem can be a very solitary experience and performing is more directly public, both have the same end - to communicate with your audience. I’m conscious when I’m writing that on the page you don’t have gesture, attitude, facial expression, pace, stance to work with; conversely, when I read I am aware that the audience is missing out on the shape of the poem and of the words, clear lineation, the opportunity to reread.
In a sense, performance is a part of my creative process because I always read my poems aloud when I am writing them and often redraft after a reading - some things wait to jump out at you until you are standing up in front of people.
I love performing my poems because it allows me to tap back into the emotions I felt when I was writing it and it lets me see people’s reactions at the instant they experience the poem. You can’t sit and watch someone read your book - apparently it’s creepy…
Whose writing do you admire?
There are so many poets whose writing I admire, not all published or well known, that it feels almost random to name people. Poets I keep coming back to include Wislawa Symborska, Charles Simic, Moniza Alvi. I like poets who make it sound easy and whose poems have a straightforward first impact, poems that feel like they just fell out of the sky like chunks of truth fallen off.
I also very much admire Simon Armitage and very much enjoyed his translation of Gawain and the Green Knight. I like that sort of thing - I loved Heaney’s Beowulf too - it takes me back to being a kid. Oh, and John Hegley - I finally saw him live for the first time at Glastonbury this year. He was great and he got my husband to sing in front of the whole audience, which was hilarious.
What inspires you?
Sometimes images, either remembered or imagined, sometimes thinking about things and focusing on the details. I like odd stuff in odd places, and I enjoy trying to capture moments when things seem different, turned around or sharpened for some reason.
I also get inspiration from the process of writing. I have countless notebooks full of pages that start off with inane gibber like “my, what a lovely pen, what will I write with my lovely new pen”, and “OK. Poetry. What shall I write about?” Many of them end up in the beginnings of poems.
Once I forget that I’m writing, that’s when the ideas start to flow. If I’m too busy thinking: “I’m writing something now. I hope it’s not shit. Where do I go next,’ I get bogged down.
Where do you carry out the majority of your writing?
At the moment, most of my poetry gets written in various places round the house. When it comes to redrafting, though, this almost exclusively takes place at my desk.
I love my desk - it’s this enormous old bureau I bought on ebay a year after moving to London. It’s solid oak and has a carving of a lion’s head in the middle of the fold down panel. All the drawer handles are the top lips of carved green men faces. My husband thinks it is a monstrosity. I think it’s one of the best things ever.
What advice would you offer an aspiring writer?
Read. I don’t pretend to be saying anything new by that - it’s what everyone says, but they say it for a reason. It keeps you in touch with what your contemporaries are up to and it’s also the best inspiration. The more I read the more I write.
Also, find people who will tell it to you straight. If your friends and family aren’t confident in their ability to criticise your work or don’t want to offend you - and let’s be honest we can ask a lot of them - there are plenty of writers groups out there.
What are you working on at the moment?
At the moment I am working towards getting that “difficult second collection” together. Do they even say that about poetry books, or is it just albums?
I’m writing quite a few poems about Peru, as I was fortunate enough to spend some time there earlier in the year and it really captured my imagination. I’m also writing quite a few disturbingly middle-aged poems among the usual hotchpotch of random concerns - possibly because my husband and I are in the process of moving to the suburbs.
Working a four day week has also meant I’ve been able to devote some time to writing a bit more prose, so we’ll see what comes of that!
For more on Angela, please visit www.angelacleland.co.uk
Waiting to Burn and And in Here, the Menagerie are both available from Amazon
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