Thursday, 21 May 2009


Yesterday I was in conversation with Helen Carter. She is the Northern correspondent for The Guardian and she is based in Manchester. As a seasoned Rippleologist, start the story locally and then watch it spread nationally, my tack is to get Helen all enthused about Bluemoose books and what we're trying to do. Publish brilliant new stories from fantastic new writers. Helen is now reading The art of being dead by Stephen Clayton. She's also doing a story on Carol Anne Duffy and the effect she will have on the North West Region and wanted a quote. I think Carol will be a breath of fresh air and more relevant than previous incumbents. Now I have a problem with some poets, which I've posted here before. Some poets deem themselves the torchbeares of the English Language, which is pants. They remind me of some Jazz musicians who plonk away purely for their own benefit, actions which should be done at home and behind closed doors. If it gives you pleaseure, fantastic, but don't even think of doing it in public. I think I may have also said that Poetry is the curse of the middle classes. In an oral tradition, poetry was extremely important. Now it isn't. I suppose I will now be strung up and asked to recite Ovid backwards in Cibmai Sretematneps. Joy.

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