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…and to all the illustrators who have won prizes in the prestigious international BIB award in this special, 50th-anniversary year.

I have been enthusing recently about Laura Carlin’s book The Promise, written by … Continue reading ... →

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Which do you prefer: writing longhand with a pen (or pencil) on paper or typing on a keyboard/electronic device? This is the question I posed to our TeachingAuthors for the series of posts I'm kicking off today. As I considered my own answer, I found some interesting information on how our writing tools may affect our creativity.

I was about twelve or thirteen when I first started writing for myself (as opposed to for school assignments). Back then, the only alternative I had to writing longhand was a manual typewriter on which I could eek out maybe 10-15 words per minute. So longhand it was. I wrote poetry, journaled, and did all my school assignments in longhand. When necessary, I then transcribed my written words to the printed page via my beautiful blue Smith Corona.

cropped version of photo by mpclemens, per CC rights

By the time I started working as a freelance writer (MANY years later), personal computers had arrived on the scene. And I'd learned to type MUCH faster. So, for the sake of efficiency, I adapted my writing process to compose directly at the keyboard (as I'm doing with this blog post), but only for the nonfiction pieces I wrote for newspapers and magazines. For my "creative" writing--journals, poetry, short stories and my first novel--I stuck with longhand.

Then came graduate school, with its requirement of forty typed pages of writing per month. Once again, I adapted. I sat pounding out fiction--first short stories, then novel chapters--directly at the keyboard. For the most part, that worked fine. But every so often, I'd get stuck. I couldn't find the right words, or the words didn't have the right rhythm, or I couldn't get the feelings to come across on the page. I'd sit staring at the blinking cursor, my fingers frozen on the keys.

That's when I'd go make another cup of tea. Or stretch. Or take a walk. Sometimes that helped. But not always.

One day, while working on Rosa, Sola, I got the idea to take up a pen and write out a question for Rosa, my main character. I asked her what she was feeling in the particular scene I was working on. Then I closed my eyes and tried to imagine I was in Rosa's shoes at that moment. I opened my eyes and wrote the answer to the question, longhand, from Rosa's point of view. I was amazed at the words that flowed from my pen. They not only gave me insight into Rosa and her feelings, but also ideas for what would happen next in the story.


From then on, whenever I got stuck, no matter what I was writing, I turned to paper and pen. And almost every time, the writing was better than what I'd struggled to generate via the keyboard.

I decided to research why for this blog post. Chris Gayomali's Mentalfloss article "4 Benefits of Writing by Hand," like most of the other articles I found, says writing longhand makes you a better writer mainly because it slows you down. I think there's more to it than that. Otherwise, I could get the same benefits if I just typed slowly. But that doesn't help me at all.

I suspected that the difference really has something to do with how the physical act of putting pen to paper affects the creative side of our brain, our "right brain." Typing, on the other hand, seems to involve more of our logical left-brain.

Researching further, I found a Paris Review interview with poet and author Ted Hughes in which he said:

In handwriting the brain is mediated by the drawing hand, in typewriting by the fingers hitting the keyboard, in dictation by the idea of a vocal style, in word processing by touching the keyboard and by the screen’s feedback. The fact seems to be that each of these methods produces a different syntactic result from the same brain. Maybe the crucial element in handwriting is that the hand is simultaneously drawing. I know I’m very conscious of hidden imagery in handwriting—a subtext of a rudimentary picture language. Perhaps that tends to enforce more cooperation from the other side of the brain. And perhaps that extra load of right brain suggestions prompts a different succession of words and ideas.

This explanation rings truer for me than the "slower is better" theory. What do you think? I'd love if you'd let us know in the comments.

But first, you may want to also read Kelly Barson's fascinating article "Writing from Both Sides of the Brain" in the Hunger Mountain journal. Just make sure to come back here when you're done!

Okay, so if you read Barson's article, you know it includes several references to Julia Cameron, author of The Artist's Way (Tarcher). Cameron also recommends writing longhand, at least for "Morning Pages." As it happens, I'm currently preparing to teach a new 12-week workshop on The Artist's Way at the College of DuPage that will begin at the end of the month. This Wednesday, August 13, I'll be presenting a free Lunch Break Lecture giving potential students a "taste of" the workshop. If you're in the area, I hope you'll join us. Check my website for details.

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I wish Janet Malcolm would have to add an appendix to Silent Woman for every new installment of Hughes and Plath biography mess.* This latest bit reminded me that it is LESS THAN TEN YEARS until the trunk gets opened in Ted Hughes’ archive at Emory, the one that he packed himself that’s locked off until 2023, and how much I sincerely hope that I’m not struck down before that happens because I have SO MANY THEORIES about what is in there.** After that you can put me on an ice floe and send me off. (Also think one of the two lost Plath journal notebooks is going to show up some time in the next decade—either in that trunk or from some Assia Wevill relative or if the house in Devon is ever fully unpacked. And then everyone’s going to have to REWRITE everything.)

Related: Was thinking last night about biography and how brutal it can be in its assessments. Someone was described this way in the one I’m reading: “Often dressed in yellow, her favorite color, Rose was soon known as a passable if gloomy poet and indifferent author of short stories…” Her husband: “George, a conventional and reasonably prolific author, was known as a drunk.” It really makes you lie in bed and stare at the ceiling for a while.

* Anne Stevenson in her study, tapping out a long consoling email to Jonathan Bate.
** If it turns out to just be some elaborate astrological charts and Leonard Baskin doodles and Shakespeare genealogies, how disappointing—and funny.

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Yorkshireman - Ted Hughes   An Otter by Ted Hughes Underwater eyes, an eel's Oil of water body, neither fish nor beast is the otter: Four-legged yet water-gifted, to outfish fish; With webbed feet and long ruddering tail And a round head like an old tomcat. Brings the legend of himself From before wars or burials, in spite of hounds and vermin-poles; Does not take root like the

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By Philip Carter

Today, 11 February 2013, marks the 50th anniversary of the death of the poet Sylvia Plath (1932-1963). It is an event that has significantly shaped biographies and critical studies of her work — particularly following the publication of Ariel (1965), her posthumous collection edited and prepared by Ted Hughes. Then, as now, many reviewers regarded these poems as foretelling the circumstances of her death. Plath’s biography in the Oxford DNB offers an alternative perspective. As its authors Sally Brown and Clare Taylor write:

‘Such criticism helped to perpetuate the idea that [Plath’s] death was the most famous thing about her, and encouraged further critics to read the poems as solely charting her increasing mental agitation. But even a cursory reading of the poems reveals the many voices of her work—the amused, hopeful, triumphant, as well as the enraged and vitriolic—and Plath herself, when talking about her work, was amusing and charming, her voice controlled, guttural, and powerful. … A writer and a mother, Plath provided a model for a new generation of poets of the consciousness-raising movement, and she remains enormously popular especially with young female readers. Her lasting triumph will be the power and precision of her poetic voice, and her vision of new possibilities for women writers.’

In addition to Plath’s life in the Oxford DNB, an edited audio version of her biography is also available.

[See post to listen to audio]

Or download the podcast directly.

Philip Carter is Publication Editor of the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. Read more about Sylvia Plath on the Oxford DNB website. The Oxford DNB online is freely available via public libraries across the UK. Libraries offer ‘remote access’ allowing members to log-on to the complete dictionary, for free, from home (or any other computer) twenty-four hours a day. In addition to 58,500 life stories, the ODNB offers a free, twice monthly biography podcast with over 175 life stories now available. You can also sign up for Life of the Day, a topical biography delivered to your inbox, or follow @odnb on Twitter for people in the news.

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Image credit: By Jprw [Creative Commons] via Wikimedia Commons 

The post On this day: the 50th anniversary of Sylvia Plath’s death appeared first on OUPblog.

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I’m still gathering my thoughts from the wonderful experience that was the IBBY Congress in London Thursday to Sunday 23-26 August.  Four days of inspirational speakers and meeting kindred spirits from all over the world.  I’ve now added a selection of photographs to our Flickr – you can see them here.  I haven’t quite finished tagging and describing yet, but I’m getting there… and here is a smaller selection for you to enjoy on the blog – again, I’ve numbered them so that I can come back and label them!

 

A London children’s theatre company Theatre Peckham helped the Opening Ceremony go with a swing with their delightful performance of an extract from the theatre adaptation of Kate DiCamillo’s The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane.  Then fuelled with a piece of Wally’s delicious 25th birthday cake (but where was he?  Answer: everywhere, in the guise of the very game Imperial College staff!), we headed back to the auditorium for our first plenary session – and what a line up!  Three UK Children’s Laureates – the current reigning Julia Donaldson and two of her predeceesors, Michael Morpurgo and Anthony Browne.

Each spoke about what particular passions they had brought to their role as laureate: Michael  described how he and poet Ted Hughes had first come up with the idea, and how Hughes had been instrumental in making it all happen; Anthony played the ‘shape game’ and showed how it appears everywhere in his work and outside it; and Julia talked of the three areas close to her heart: enhancing children’s experience of reading through drama; keeping libraries open (a big issue in the UK); and promoting stories for and about deaf children.

Julia and her husband Malcolm, on guitar, then showcased some examples of what theatre can do to enhance literacy, from the chorus of a very fast Italian pasta song written while on holiday in Siena, Italy, to a virtuoso performance of The Gruffalo in French, German and (its most recent language) Scots.  In between, we were treated to the song that inspired Julia’s book A Squash and a Squeeze with audience participation… and I say treated, well, it was a real treat for me as I got to be the hen!  Thanks to Australian author Susanne Gervay (yes, that was one of my top thrills of IBBY, meeting Susanne in person…), you will shortly be able to see it on Flickr too – don’t laugh too much!!

Well, that was just the first few hours of the Congress – I will certainly be writing more about it over the coming weeks.  In the meantime, hello to all those PaperTigers friends I got to meet for the first time in real life – Shirin Adl, Candy Gourlay, Dashdondog Jamba; and to old friends and new.  I’ll now be dreaming of IBBY Mexico 2014…  In the meantime, head on over to Flickr and enjoy my photos – and much better ones on the official IBBY Congress 2012′s photostream.

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Ted Hughes once wrote a letter to his sister about Sylvia Plath’s “good fortune” in selling “a long rather bad poem to The Atlantic Monthly, which is one of the Mags in America.”

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A newly released poem written by Ted Hughes directly addresses the writer’s reaction to the suicide of his first wife, Sylvia Plath.

After securing permission from Hughes’ widow Carol, The New Statesman published the piece entitled Last Letter. British actor Jonathan Pryce reads from the poem in the BBC video embedded above.

Normally, Hughes’ process to “complete” the writing of a poem was to type the finalized version. Several draft versions of Last Letter were found in Hughes’ handwritten notebooks. The earliest draft of the poem is contained in a blue exercise book now owned by the British Library’s Ted Hughes archive.
continued…

New Career Opportunities Daily: The best jobs in media.

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I love dogs and I LOVE David Catrow, so my first selection this week just had me at hello! Doggone Dogs!, written by Karen Beaumont and illustrated by David Catrow is an adorable, laugh-out-loud silly book about ten dogs and their rather rambunctious activities.

Also including counting from one to ten and back again, not to mention some great dog names and absolutely amazing illustrations, Doggone Dogs is one great read aloud for story time and the book your children will be pulling off your shelves to read, over and over again. I especially love the old man squinting between the dogs at the obedience school...SO funny!

Doggone Dogs
Karen Beaumont
40 pages
Picture Book
Dial
9780803731578
October 2008

Gone with the Wand, written by Margie Palatini and illustrated by Brian Ajhar, is a perfect title for that little princess in your life! A hilarious storyline with adorable illustrations, it's sure to please all those little girls that love Disney Princesses, dressing up, glitter, and girly fun.

When the best fairy godmother in the land has a slight wand mishap...well, a big wand mishap, things are starting to look verrrry bad for her, until the tooth fairy takes her under her wing and offers up friendship, kindness, and some pretty silly antics!

The entire book is one big girl-fest. Not my first choice for a boy's read aloud, but it's silly enough that they may just enjoy it too!

Gone with the Wand
Margie Palatini
40 pages
Picture Books
Orchard Books
9780439727686
April 2009

My Brother Bert, written by Ted Hughes, with illustrations by Tracey Campbell Pearson, is a perfect storytime book that will have the kiddos giggling all over the floor!

Presented with cute, rhyming text, we learn from his little sister that Bert has a rather unusual. He has been so secretive and mysterious, that she simply can't take it anymore and opens his door, letting loose almost an entire zoo of silly, zany animals!

Complimented by bright illustrations with a storyline that's a whole lot of fun, this one is great for read alouds and for both library and home shelves. A great toddler gift book!

My Brother Bert
Ted Hughes
40 pages
Picture Book
Farrar, Straus, and Giroux
9780374399825
March 2009

What Really Happened to Humpty? is written by Joe Dumpty (as told to Jeanie Franz Ransom) and is illustrated by Stephen Axelsen and presents the ultimate crime case for little kids to solve.

Joe Dumpty, Humpty's younger brother,is definitely not the popular brother. Mother Goose much preferred Humpty, and thus built all the stories around him. When Humpty takes his infamous fall, the rumor on the street is that he was pushed! Joe just happens to be an investigator and sets out to solve the crime of who pushed Humpty off the wall!

A very cute concept, your kids will love that their beloved nursery rhyme might just have a little backstory going on. The characters are a lot of fun, with appearances by Little Miss Muffet, Little Red Riding Hood, Goldilocks, and others, this one is a lot of fun for a read aloud with the family.

What Really Happened to Humpty?
Jeanie Franz Ransom
32 pages
Picture Book
Charlesbridge
9781580891097
February 2009

To learn more about any of these titles, or to purchase, click on the book covers above to link to Amazon.

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"Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned
Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned."
~ from The Mourning Bride (1697) by William Congreve

    

If you're one of those perfect people who is always on time, this post might not be for you.

But if you find yourself occasionally, or (gasp), habitually late, here are two poems to consider. In "Compulsively Allergic to the Truth," Jeffrey McDaniel takes the "dog ate my homework" alibi and gives it a darkly comedic poetry slam dunk treatment. His engaging, conversational style is street-wise myth served up with a twist:

I'm sorry I was late.
I was pulled over by a cop
for driving blindfolded
with a raspberry-scented candle
flickering in my mouth.
I'm sorry I was late.
I was on my way
when I felt a plot
thickening in my arm.
I have a fear of heights.
Luckily the Earth
is on the second floor
of the universe.
(Rest here.)

~ from The Endarkenment by Jeffrey McDaniel (University of Pittsburgh Press, 2008)

The poem ends with a reference to the minotaur, a creature that was part man and part bull, who lived at the center of the labyrinth of Greek myth. This led me to Ted Hughes' verse letter poem, "The Minotaur," which describes one of Sylvia Plath's rages. It seems he, too, was late. But he doesn't make any excuses. In an exceedingly powerful poem that reveals Hughes' role in unearthing Plath's feelings for her father (the minotaur), and which ultimately inspires her best poetry, we are witness to the destruction not only of physical objects, but of Plath's sanity:

Deep in the cave of your ear
The goblin snapped his fingers.
So what had I given him?

The bloody end of the skein
That unraveled your marriage,
Left your children echoing
Like tunnels in a labyrinth.

Left your mother a dead-end,
Brought you to the horned, bellowing
Grave of your risen father
And your own corpse in it.
(Complete poem here.)

~ from Birthday Letters by Ted Hughes (Faber, Faber, 2002)

   
 Minotaur bust, National Archaeological Museum of Athens

Al Alvarez, ex-poetry editor of the Observer and a friend of this volatile couple, says in his autobiography, Where Did It All Go Right? (William and Morrow, 2000):

I had always believed that genuine art was a risky business and artists experiment with new forms not in order to cause a sensation but because the old forms are no longer adequate for what they want to express. In other words, making it new in the way Sylvia did had almost nothing to do with technical experiment and almost everything to do with exploring her inner world -- with going down into the cellars and confronting her demons. The bravery and curious artistic detachment with which she went about her task were astonishing -- heartbreaking, too, when you remember how lonely she was. But when it was all over, I no longer believed that any poems, however good, were worth the price she paid. 

I found it interesting to compare McDaniel's contemporary rap with Hughes' searing diatribe. The labyrinth of human relationships, as well as the labyrinth of the human psyche, inevitably involve navigating dark corridors to arrive at truth. Most of the time, it isn't about being late.

 Today's Poetry Friday Roundup is at The Well Read Child.

 

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I understand that you all may be tired of me going on and on and on about Ted Hughes' Collected Poems for Children. But it's just come out in the U.S. and I've reviewed it this month for The Edge of the Forest. Now I am going to quote one final selection and then, sadly, leave him be for at least six months. (But, really, you should all buy this book.)

Today's poem comes from the last book included in Collected Poems for Children--a book intended for older children and teens (Season Songs):

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I just can't stay away from my absolute favorite book of poetry for children, Ted Hughes' Collected Poems for Children (illustrated by Raymond Briggs).

This volume was published in the U.K. in 2005. Today's choice is "Pig."

Pig

I am the Pig.

I saw in my sleep
A dreadful egg.

What a thing to have seen!
And what can it mean

That the Sun's red eye
Which seems to fry
In the dawn sky
So frightens me?

Why should that be?
The meaning is deep.

Upward at these
Hard mysteries

A humble hog
I gape agog.

I think Hughes underestimates the noble pig, who is rumored to be quite intelligent. Still it's a sadly subversive poem.

Susan at Chicken Spaghetti is on the round up this week. Thanks, Susan!

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