Category Archives: what being a writer is all about

Amazing podcast: Tea with Dave Bonta

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Dave Bonta, poet and blogger extraordinaire, best known for his via negtiva blog, and for the literary journal he runs with Beth Adams, Qarrtsiluni, also audio blogs the interesting conversations he has with the people he bumps into. He calls these recordings his Woodrat Podcast.

Back at the beginning of May, Fiona and I had the pleasure of (deliberately) bumping into Dave when he came to Wales for the launch of The Book of Ystwyth. 


We sat down over a couple of pots of tea in one of my favorite coffee shops in Aberystwyth, the Orange Grove, and recorded a fascinating conversation, covering writing, religion and the river of stones, as well as some personal sharing (and singing!). The result is Woodrat Podcast 42: Tea with Fiona Robyn and Kaspalita. Listen online now.

That was our second attempt at recording a conversation. That day the very kind couple that were hosting Dave had invited us for lunch, and in the hour before that we had our first wonderful conversation. Dave mentioned his time in Japan living with a Pureland Buddhist family, Fiona and I talked about how we found our way to that religion, about writing small stones, and all sorts…

…it was at this point Dave noticed that the pause button was still pressed, and we hadn’t recorded a thing!

We had an amazing lunch, and then went to the opening of the Clive Hicks-Jenkins retrospective, and eventually found or way down to the Orange Grove where we had a similar but completely different conversation. That’s the one you can hear on Dave’s blog.

Fiona and I stayed up late last night to listen to it – it’s amazing to hear yourself describing your own life and work – a completely different perspective to how one hears oneself from inside one’s own head.

Anyway – go listen - I think the bit about our courtship is in the middle somewhere…..

THIS is what being a writer is all about

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“Thaw made me feel as though there are others just as broken as me, maybe many others, and that gave me hope and comfort even as it made me cry.”
Nicole from Books and Bards

I write for many reasons.

I write because my characters turn up in my head and ask me to write their story.

I write because it helps me to pay attention to the world, and there is nothing more important than paying attention.

I write because I love the feel of words in my mouth and the look of words on the page – their glorious music. I like playing with them, as a child would delight in building blocks.

But most of all, I write because I hope that my words will be helpful to someone. Maybe they’ll raise a chuckle, or help them to make sense of something. And maybe, just maybe, they’ll hold a mirror up to someone, as they did to Nicole, and make them feel less alone.

Thank you for your beautifully written review, Nicole, and for giving me the gift of receiving the gift of Ruth’s story.

This poem, from the glorious whiskey river (who deserves many medals) is for the darkest parts of Ruth, and Nicole, and me, and all of you.

*

Try to praise the mutilated world

Try to praise the mutilated world.
Remember June’s long days,
and wild strawberries, drops of wine, the dew.
The nettles that methodically overgrow
the abandoned homesteads of exiles.
You must praise the mutilated world.
You watched the stylish yachts and ships;
one of them had a long trip ahead of it,
while salty oblivion awaited others.
You’ve seen the refugees heading nowhere,
you’ve heard the executioners sing joyfully.
You should praise the mutilated world.
Remember the moments when we were together
in a white room and the curtain fluttered.
Return in thought to the concert where music flared.
You gathered acorns in the park in autumn
and leaves eddied over the earth’s scars.
Praise the mutilated world
and the grey feather a thrush lost,
and the gentle light that strays and vanishesand returns.

Adam Zagajewski
translated by Clare Cavanagh