JEANNA NÍ RÍORDÁIN

 

 

Writing Rituals

 

I’m always fascinated by how famous writers write,

The quirky stories and well-known anecdotes. Hugo

Used to write in the nip and pace around the room, and

He favoured a room with a view, preferably of the sea

 

Hemingway would have us believe he’d write drunk,

Edit sober, but he was a fiercely disciplined writer –

Rising at dawn and working straight through until noon

 

Many did rely on stimulants, famously writing under the

Influence. Aldous Huxley loved LSD and Kerouac swore

By Benzedrine. Sartre was a fan of mescaline, while

Balzac kicked himself into gear with fifty cups of coffee!

 

For others, inspiration came from rather strange places,   

Schiller’s creative juices were pricked by the smell of

Putrid apples. Edith Sitwell lay in a coffin, while Colette

Picked fleas from her dog before putting pen to paper!

 

Several took drastic measures to outsmart writer’s

Block – Dan Brown would hang upside down, Igor

Stravinsky did handstands. Roald Dahl lay in a

Sleeping bag and Dr. Seuss simply tried on his hats

 

For some, writing was sacred and spiritual. Capote  

Had infinite superstitions – he’d wait for a full moon,

Never write on a Friday, and only write lying down,

While Joyce published Ulysses on his birthday

 

Dickens only slept facing north, others barely slept

At all! But whatever their ritual, quirk, or regimen,

There was clearly a method to all of the madness,

As every last one was a damn good artist!

 

Writer’s Block

 

I force out lines but the words fall flat,

Nothing I write quite hits the mark

 

I’ve forgotten how to craft a poem,

Every story has a gaping plot hole

 

Deadlines are looming, bills are mounting,

This brain fog shows no signs of dispersing

 

My senses are numb, I lack inspiration,

My instincts are off, I’m all out of ideas

 

I’ve lost my edge & shrewd discernment,

My sense of self & my raison d’être.

 

 

College Days Are The Best!

 

How I wish I were back in college,

living the student life

 

Strolling into midday lectures,

Getting drunk at raves & parties

 

Hanging out & drinking coffee,

Discussing Sartre & semiotics

 

Joining clubs & making friends,

Devouring books, pulling all-nighters

 

When my biggest worries were essay

Deadlines, drink money & extra credits

 

When the whole world was at my feet

& all my dreams seemed within reach.

 

JEANNA NÍ RÍORDÁIN

 

JEANNA NÍ RÍORDÁIN is a writer from West Cork, Ireland. Her poetry has appeared in Quarryman Literary Journal, Drawn to the Light Press, Swerve, New Isles Press, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Burrow, and Otherwise Engaged Literature and Arts Journal among others.