Shannon Interview, Part 2
Q: Shannon, tell me how you construct poetry such as that, especially lines like "There are flowers here but no light to sing them open." Beautiful imagery, by the way.
Thanks. Again, I try not to think too much. However, to rely on my unconscious thoughts, I must have SOMETHING to go off of, right? Nothing is ever "original." Everything has been said before. I was reading this article in this month's issue of The Sun magazine. It was an interview with a British botanist by the name of Rupert Sheldrake. Now, this guy is highly educated and yet his theories are not accepted very kindly by the scientific community. He expands on the likes of Bertrand Russell and even Proust when it comes to memory. Somewhat like Carl Jung's idea of the collective unconscious, Sheldrake came up with such a thing called the morphogenic field, or morphogenesis. That memory is not created by our brains, but that our brains tap into a collective memory. This is a long complicated way of saying I think I have to read and educate myself on what others have done in the past and are doing now in the creative community. And not just read literature, but all kinds of topics. I can't tap into thoughts that I have never been exposed to. Well, I suppose some would argue otherwise, like Carl Jung and poet Jack Spicer. Transmission of ghost-voices, and the like. And perhaps I believe this, too, to a certain and rare extent. But overall, I believe that we must gather the fish before we can fish, if that makes any sense. It's funny I mentioned a botanist above, because the line you quoted, now that I think about it, may have been born from my past preoccupation with botany (I took a biology of plants class during my MFA program at Sarah Lawrence College) and old mystical spiritual writiers' writing who used imagery like this to explain the decent of the Holy Spirit. If no light is there to sing the flowers open, there is no life-giving force, no inspiration, no breath of life. But these ideas are all old and reused. We all build upon each others thoughts.
Q: Do you feel your MFA prepared you well for pursing a career as a poet?
First of all, I do not like using the words "career" and "poet" together. I think that poetry should, first and foremost, be a love, a "calling." As westerners, when we hear the word "career" we tend to think money and success. And if we think of money and success in regards to our lives as artists, as poets, then something goes amiss. And so many times I see people pursue MFA's in order to somehow find a way to make poetry a career, then get disappointed when teaching, what is often pushed in MFA programs, turns out to actually take away from their writing time or their creative life. Teaching can become a venue that feeds their creative spirit, and if that's the case, wonderful! But it's not always the case. So, I think people should pursue MFA's without the idea of a career in mind. They should, first and foremost, pursue an MFA because they want to be around like-minded people and commune with mentors and fellow students in an environment that will nurture them. Also, be willing to go into debt for an MFA. And if you are NOT willing to go into debt, find a program that offers assistance, financially. As for me, I went into debt, but I expected to. And now I have a job and am paying off my loans and it was completely worth it. Some people leave an MFA program feeling bitter or resentful or questioning whether or not it was worth it when it comes time to start paying back their loans. That's why I caution people to think about this beforehand. Also, for me, the MFA was wonderful because it forced me to grow as a poet. If I had just graduated with my Bachelors in English, the path to where I am now may not be the same, or may look different, or may have taken longer. The most important thing was that it gave me TIME TO WRITE and TIME TO GROW among people more talented than me and more mature in their path as a writer. It also gave me access to writers in different genres, which I think is always important--to expose yourself to other types of writing. Yes, at the end of the day, I did learn a lot about the writing market, the publishing world, etc. And I am grateful. But that was most certainly not the most important thing I gained from my MFA experience. But the people and mentors are met were worth every loan!
Q: What else can you tell me about poetry? How can I improve as a poet? What do I need to know or feel or learn?
That's a huge topic to cover. What can I tell you about poetry. I'd say that at the end of the day, you have to write because you have to write. One of my mentors said in class one time, and this really stuck with me, is that unless you feel like you can't NOT write, then don't write. How can one improve as a poet? Well, first of all, READ. Read. Read. Read. Yes, read other poets, keep up to date on contemporary poetry, read the classics. But also read EVERYTHING ELSE. Read short stories, fiction, non-fiction, science, geography, history. Broaden your horizons. Never stop learning. Also, I'd suggest picking up another creative outlet, especially for the times you are in a time of creative writing block. Photography is one of my other outlets, and I feel as though it informs my writing "eye", if that makes any sense. Carl Jung, later in his life, went into the forest, built a room out of rocks and sticks, played, made statues, and lived in that room in the forest. He said to return to the creativity of a child is a mark of genius. He wrote some of his most important work after that period, which he fell into because he was blocked. Also, the biggest trap I fell into early on in my (hate to say it) "career" as a poet, was thinking that that was ALL I needed to do: write. And anything else that took away from it was to be blocked out, or was bad for me and my art. I pushed away relationships, people and experiences because, as my friend once said, I tried to "live life through books." And, that's just not A) healthy and B) good for the writer. The writer must live life. Now, I don't mean the dramatic other side of what is often glorified in poets--the drinking, sex-capades and such, but rather just simply opening yourself up to experiences, to relationships. I have found that even normal, every day life at the office, at home with my cat and fiance, has informed my poetry and given it a depth and less self-centeredness than it had before. The key is awareness and making the time to make it a discipline. I think that's the best advice I can give. One more thing: maintaining a community of writers, and finding your one or two readers you trust to read drafts. Your readers should be people who get your voice, but also challenge you and are not afraid to criticize.
Thanks. Again, I try not to think too much. However, to rely on my unconscious thoughts, I must have SOMETHING to go off of, right? Nothing is ever "original." Everything has been said before. I was reading this article in this month's issue of The Sun magazine. It was an interview with a British botanist by the name of Rupert Sheldrake. Now, this guy is highly educated and yet his theories are not accepted very kindly by the scientific community. He expands on the likes of Bertrand Russell and even Proust when it comes to memory. Somewhat like Carl Jung's idea of the collective unconscious, Sheldrake came up with such a thing called the morphogenic field, or morphogenesis. That memory is not created by our brains, but that our brains tap into a collective memory. This is a long complicated way of saying I think I have to read and educate myself on what others have done in the past and are doing now in the creative community. And not just read literature, but all kinds of topics. I can't tap into thoughts that I have never been exposed to. Well, I suppose some would argue otherwise, like Carl Jung and poet Jack Spicer. Transmission of ghost-voices, and the like. And perhaps I believe this, too, to a certain and rare extent. But overall, I believe that we must gather the fish before we can fish, if that makes any sense. It's funny I mentioned a botanist above, because the line you quoted, now that I think about it, may have been born from my past preoccupation with botany (I took a biology of plants class during my MFA program at Sarah Lawrence College) and old mystical spiritual writiers' writing who used imagery like this to explain the decent of the Holy Spirit. If no light is there to sing the flowers open, there is no life-giving force, no inspiration, no breath of life. But these ideas are all old and reused. We all build upon each others thoughts.
Q: Do you feel your MFA prepared you well for pursing a career as a poet?
First of all, I do not like using the words "career" and "poet" together. I think that poetry should, first and foremost, be a love, a "calling." As westerners, when we hear the word "career" we tend to think money and success. And if we think of money and success in regards to our lives as artists, as poets, then something goes amiss. And so many times I see people pursue MFA's in order to somehow find a way to make poetry a career, then get disappointed when teaching, what is often pushed in MFA programs, turns out to actually take away from their writing time or their creative life. Teaching can become a venue that feeds their creative spirit, and if that's the case, wonderful! But it's not always the case. So, I think people should pursue MFA's without the idea of a career in mind. They should, first and foremost, pursue an MFA because they want to be around like-minded people and commune with mentors and fellow students in an environment that will nurture them. Also, be willing to go into debt for an MFA. And if you are NOT willing to go into debt, find a program that offers assistance, financially. As for me, I went into debt, but I expected to. And now I have a job and am paying off my loans and it was completely worth it. Some people leave an MFA program feeling bitter or resentful or questioning whether or not it was worth it when it comes time to start paying back their loans. That's why I caution people to think about this beforehand. Also, for me, the MFA was wonderful because it forced me to grow as a poet. If I had just graduated with my Bachelors in English, the path to where I am now may not be the same, or may look different, or may have taken longer. The most important thing was that it gave me TIME TO WRITE and TIME TO GROW among people more talented than me and more mature in their path as a writer. It also gave me access to writers in different genres, which I think is always important--to expose yourself to other types of writing. Yes, at the end of the day, I did learn a lot about the writing market, the publishing world, etc. And I am grateful. But that was most certainly not the most important thing I gained from my MFA experience. But the people and mentors are met were worth every loan!
Q: What else can you tell me about poetry? How can I improve as a poet? What do I need to know or feel or learn?
That's a huge topic to cover. What can I tell you about poetry. I'd say that at the end of the day, you have to write because you have to write. One of my mentors said in class one time, and this really stuck with me, is that unless you feel like you can't NOT write, then don't write. How can one improve as a poet? Well, first of all, READ. Read. Read. Read. Yes, read other poets, keep up to date on contemporary poetry, read the classics. But also read EVERYTHING ELSE. Read short stories, fiction, non-fiction, science, geography, history. Broaden your horizons. Never stop learning. Also, I'd suggest picking up another creative outlet, especially for the times you are in a time of creative writing block. Photography is one of my other outlets, and I feel as though it informs my writing "eye", if that makes any sense. Carl Jung, later in his life, went into the forest, built a room out of rocks and sticks, played, made statues, and lived in that room in the forest. He said to return to the creativity of a child is a mark of genius. He wrote some of his most important work after that period, which he fell into because he was blocked. Also, the biggest trap I fell into early on in my (hate to say it) "career" as a poet, was thinking that that was ALL I needed to do: write. And anything else that took away from it was to be blocked out, or was bad for me and my art. I pushed away relationships, people and experiences because, as my friend once said, I tried to "live life through books." And, that's just not A) healthy and B) good for the writer. The writer must live life. Now, I don't mean the dramatic other side of what is often glorified in poets--the drinking, sex-capades and such, but rather just simply opening yourself up to experiences, to relationships. I have found that even normal, every day life at the office, at home with my cat and fiance, has informed my poetry and given it a depth and less self-centeredness than it had before. The key is awareness and making the time to make it a discipline. I think that's the best advice I can give. One more thing: maintaining a community of writers, and finding your one or two readers you trust to read drafts. Your readers should be people who get your voice, but also challenge you and are not afraid to criticize.
Shannon Elizabeth Hardwick graduated with her Masters in Fine Arts from Sarah Lawrence College in 2010. She recently completed her first full-length manuscript of essays and poetry and has a chapbook in print. Her work has been featured or is upcoming in 3:AM Magazine, Night Train, Versal, Sugar House Review, among others. She writes in the deserts of West Texas.
Wherein I, Chila, Ask Shannon a Few Questions About Her Poetry
(see video below of Shannon reading these 2 poems, or you can follow this YouTube link)
Q: Shannon, I recently saw this poem on your Facebook page and was blown away. What were you thinking when you wrote this? By what process did you tie the words together?
- I am light sweet spinning into the arms of trees, I am nothing bottled with peaches, taken to die in a field of fireflies by children just born to wonder. I live in breath just waiting--Love's dress worn down by praise.
First of all, thank you for reading these "status-poems", as I like to call them. It doesn't happen often, but sometimes I find that writing a status-poem is very freeing. When you sit down to a word document, or a blank sheet of paper, to specifically write a poem, it can be daunting, overwhelming, like looking out into the ocean and saying "OK, today I'm going to swim to that island way over there!" Usually, when these status-poems happen, it's because I feel something tug, very deeply and strongly, inside my chest. A fleeting feeling. Something immediate. So immediate, in fact, that I make myself write something quickly while that emotion-current passes. Isn't it the case that most of the time, we let thoughts, inspiration, or emotions pass by without taking advantage of it? Again, I can think of another ocean analogy: a wave is approaching and you either choose to chance it or not. You may fall flat and tumble, or you may ride smoothly to shore in beautiful form. But I think most people are scared to take hold of that fleeting thing--they want more control--so they stay safe and let it pass. That's a long way of saying that the status-poems like the one above are born from taking advantage of a strong wave and riding it. The above poem was an attempt to sum up the feeling of ecstatic experience and at once, a worn down-ness of the ecstatic experience. "Love's dress worn down by praise." I also just let my mind wander and give it permission to pick up anything--any idea--at will. Like wandering through a field and creating whatever it is I want to create, or SEE. Peaches? Why not? I allow myself to be random. Also, sound plays an important role. When something is so compact and "random", sound acts as a holding thread, I think.
Q: Here's another one:
- I am tunneling through under-feelings which in their depth desire everydark of my body, mind. There are flowers here but no light to sing them open. I will stay here until I feel either human or total gone with the world in my pocket, true death like this is a prayer taken seriously.
This was the same process as noted above, except this one was born from a darker feeling. I remember my fiance reading this and feeling alarmed. He said, "This is rather dark, isn't it?" But our emotions are more complicated than that. Just because something is dark doesn't mean it has to be alarming. If we really sat and thought about it, what is good about "dark"? Dark gives us rest, a place to be renewed. This poem was brought about by the idea that, in life, something very dark follows us around in our day-to-day life, a good dark that desires our attention. Think about it. Do we meditate in a room with all the lights on? No. Maybe we focus on a point of light, but we are cloaked in darkness. "I will stay here until I feel either human or total gone with the world in my pocket." This line reminds me of what it is we do when we meditate, or pray, or create. We stay there until something happens, or nothing happens, but that something or nothing makes us feel more TRUE, or ALIVE, when the rest of the day is mechanical, getting things done, surviving. Does this make sense? "True death like this is a prayer taken seriously." We must die to be born again, correct? An addict must die to his old self to be recovered. A baby must die to the womb-world to take part on the earth. A poet must die to each poem-space to move on to the next.
Next time: Part 2 of Shannon Speaks
An Interview with “The King’s Will”, Poetic Incantation, and Why Poetry is What We All Do Every Day
Often people ask me, “So, why aren’t you a poet full time?” Usually, this is over a drink at a party pertaining to work, the corporate world swarming around us as we chat over cheese. As I write this article, I am fresh from one of these parties, or mixers, as they are so often called. I try to explain that I simply can’t, at this point in my “writing career”, support myself on words alone. One doesn’t make money from poetry, usually, and even if they could, would it make the relationship to the art different? But I digress.
Mixers and corporate parties aside, I often ask myself the same question. What would I do if I could just leave the day-to-day job aside and find a way to make poetry my breadwinner? Not very many people are lucky enough to do just that. And, sadly, this seems to be a large part of what holds people back from pursuing poetry or art in the “real world.”
I remember back when I was fresh out of my undergraduate degree. I got a job, like my parents wanted me to. I had an apartment to myself and, for the first time, freedom. I remember even telling my then boss, Don’t worry, I won’t leave in a year or two to pursue a graduate degree. I want a steady job.
But something deeper kept calling.
Around that time, I was lucky enough to find and befriend Musa Okwanga. He’s one of the long list of people that helped inspire me to pursue my poetic-calling. He proved to me that it is quite possible to take a risk, to take poetry by the horns and find a way to guide it into your pastured life. He found a way to make poetry his day-job. And even though I haven’t made it to that level yet, he very much still reminds me that no matter what, there’s always room for poetry and art. As you read on to the interview, you’ll see exactly why and how he accomplished this.
Let me preface this introduction and interview by saying poetry doesn’t have to enter our lives in the traditional sense. Poetry, in its purest form, is an incantation, a song—a song that sings directly to our soul. Some find poetry in places they would never even recognize—the sound of a basketball swooshing through the net as they coach a team of high school athletes, the cheers of the crowed and the chants of the cheerleaders, in the musical-theatres they attend or direct, in their children’s nursery rhymes. It doesn’t have to be at a desk, in the New Yorker or in a distinguished classroom. Often times it’s at church, or in Sunday Mass, in our heads and our iPods as we walk the city streets. That specific song we love to listen to when we’re feeling down. Once, I had a poet-friend tell me that, in fact, the dub-step club she attended late-nights in New York City was her spiritual experience. At the root of it, at the beat and mess of the swirling bodies around her, she felt lifted, carried in the poetry of the moment. Tonight, as someone asked me why I didn’t make poetry my living, in the mixer of cocktail dresses and ties, I drifted off to the sound of the murmuring masses and thought, It’s all around me. No matter what.
That was a long introduction to an interview that I hope will not only inspire you, but prove that no matter what our passion, it’s always possible to take the leap and dig in deeper, to keep finding ways to make that dream a larger part of your life, your day-to-day life. And like those incantations, I hope you take the time to listen to how this one man took the poetry in his head and heart and shared it with the masses in his Spoken Word.
[If the link below doesn't work, you can go directly to YouTube here.]
Shannon: Hi Musa. Can you explain a little bit about your background. Where you went to school, college, and what you chose to study.
Musa: My parents are Ugandan, and they came to the UK in the 1970s to escape Idi Amin. I was born in West London, and went to boarding school at Eton College, then went to study law at Oxford University.
S: How did you got interested in poetry, who influenced you?
M: I have always been interested in poetry - I don't know who first influenced me, but I have been writing verse since I was about ten years old. The first poetry I ever owned was Arrested Development's debut album, "3 Years, 5 Months and 2 Days in the Life of Arrested Development". It was just so melodic, its message timeless and universal. In terms of poets who have moved me, I would say Dante and Pope. I actually take plenty of my influences from prose stylists, like Peter Carey, Ernest Hemingway, and Salman Rushdie. Looking back at that now I realise that this is an exclusively male list - I have often wondered why that is.
S: I know you followed a law path for a while. Explain that a little bit and when you finally decided to take the risk of leaving it all behind to pursue the arts. What was that decision like and can you describe some sort of pivotal moment in time that you faced the thrill and fear of jumping in head first. I know it must have been risky and a little frightening.
M: I qualified as a solicitor at the City law firm Hogan Lovells (or Lovells, as it then was) because, although I always wanted to be a writer, I thought it would make sense to get a professional qualification underneath my belt first, as a fall-back. I was earning good money there but it was never really me. The pivotal moment came one weekend in spring 2005 when I took some work home from the office one weekend and just found it impossible to do - my brain just wouldn't accept it. I wanted to write poetry so badly, it was all that I could think or care about, and so I drafted my resignation letter that Sunday and lay on my bed in fear at the thought of what I was about to do. But I emailed it off all the same, gave my notice, and off I went.
S: Practically speaking, did you get any opposition from others? I'm sure you did. I sure there were many peoples' voices in your heads saying, You're mad!
M: The biggest voice of doubt was my own. I handed my notice in and didn't tell many of my friends since I knew they would think I was crazy. One of the most moving things, though, was an email from a friend of mine who rarely gives compliments - he's a lovely guy but he is just very reserved. As soon as he heard about my decision he replied by email: "impressive stuff. Good luck".
S: What’s your life now, what you're currently doing? How you get inspiration?
M: I get inspiration from anything really - but from meeting new people, reading and music above all. I am a huge fan of so many different types of music. I have phases; a few months ago it was drum and bass, with artists like Logistics and Atlantic Connection, before that it was dubstep, with Burial and Distance, then it was (briefly) piano (Ryuichi Sakamoto), and funk (The Budos Band, in particular). And also a bit of Afrobeat. Music makes me feel emotion in ways that few other things do.
S: How did your path in every day life inspire you in your present work? And what do you hope to contribute, through your writing and performing, to society? I know a lot of your work is informed by social injustice and maybe you can even link that
to your work in law. I think this is interesting and can inspire people.
M: I am travelling a pretty unusual path through life, so I am a lot less judgmental now than when I first embarked upon it. Perhaps as a result of that, I try to make music which takes a different perspective on social issues, which looks at our uncertainty in the world that we face each day. I have never really been a fan of music that is didactic in its approach, because then you're only preaching to the converted, and I don't see the fun in that. Giles (with whom I work on my newest music project, The King's Will) and I both care deeply about social issues, and we want to make music that is accessible as possible about these. Funnily enough, I feel more able to that now than I did as a lawyer, since I feel that I can speak more freely now. Maybe I should have done human rights instead of the corporate stuff: ah well, too late now.
S: Tell us some inspiring wisdom you can share for others who want to find ways to incorporate art and poetry into their daily lives
M: I don't think that what I have to say is wise or inspiring, but here is what works for me. If you have a choice of two routes to reach a destination, and you have a little spare time, take the longer, more scenic route. When I was at university, I would walk the long way home from lectures as that meant I would walk past Magdalen College, which had this beautiful sandstone that would glow when it caught the afternoon and evening sun. I think it is important to take pleasure in everyday beauty. Also, if you're a writer and you're struggling for inspiration, always carry a notebook with you and jot down your thoughts, however mundane. Read it back after a couple of days or weeks, and you'll see that persistent themes emerge: I would advise you to write about those. The issues that matter most to you will produce your best writing (at least, that's been the case in my experience) and they stand the greatest chance of connecting with other people.
S: What about your work now? Can you share with the readers what you’re doing, where they can find / listen to your music/poetry?
M: I'm currently working on a new project, The King's Will, which is a musical adventure. The adventure follows me, as The Fool (on vocals) and Giles Hayter, as The Vassal (on beats), who are both servants of a once-kind but now ageing and despotic King. The King's Will is the story of our struggle to rescue his kingdom from ruin. We released our first album, "As The Power Fails" in May 2011; our other album, "The Swords Are Coming", came out this past May. Each of our tracks has an animated video at www.thekingswill.com, and you can also see our live performances on our YouTube channel at http://www.youtube.com/user/thekingswilltv.
Musa: My parents are Ugandan, and they came to the UK in the 1970s to escape Idi Amin. I was born in West London, and went to boarding school at Eton College, then went to study law at Oxford University.
S: How did you got interested in poetry, who influenced you?
M: I have always been interested in poetry - I don't know who first influenced me, but I have been writing verse since I was about ten years old. The first poetry I ever owned was Arrested Development's debut album, "3 Years, 5 Months and 2 Days in the Life of Arrested Development". It was just so melodic, its message timeless and universal. In terms of poets who have moved me, I would say Dante and Pope. I actually take plenty of my influences from prose stylists, like Peter Carey, Ernest Hemingway, and Salman Rushdie. Looking back at that now I realise that this is an exclusively male list - I have often wondered why that is.
S: I know you followed a law path for a while. Explain that a little bit and when you finally decided to take the risk of leaving it all behind to pursue the arts. What was that decision like and can you describe some sort of pivotal moment in time that you faced the thrill and fear of jumping in head first. I know it must have been risky and a little frightening.
M: I qualified as a solicitor at the City law firm Hogan Lovells (or Lovells, as it then was) because, although I always wanted to be a writer, I thought it would make sense to get a professional qualification underneath my belt first, as a fall-back. I was earning good money there but it was never really me. The pivotal moment came one weekend in spring 2005 when I took some work home from the office one weekend and just found it impossible to do - my brain just wouldn't accept it. I wanted to write poetry so badly, it was all that I could think or care about, and so I drafted my resignation letter that Sunday and lay on my bed in fear at the thought of what I was about to do. But I emailed it off all the same, gave my notice, and off I went.
S: Practically speaking, did you get any opposition from others? I'm sure you did. I sure there were many peoples' voices in your heads saying, You're mad!
M: The biggest voice of doubt was my own. I handed my notice in and didn't tell many of my friends since I knew they would think I was crazy. One of the most moving things, though, was an email from a friend of mine who rarely gives compliments - he's a lovely guy but he is just very reserved. As soon as he heard about my decision he replied by email: "impressive stuff. Good luck".
S: What’s your life now, what you're currently doing? How you get inspiration?
M: I get inspiration from anything really - but from meeting new people, reading and music above all. I am a huge fan of so many different types of music. I have phases; a few months ago it was drum and bass, with artists like Logistics and Atlantic Connection, before that it was dubstep, with Burial and Distance, then it was (briefly) piano (Ryuichi Sakamoto), and funk (The Budos Band, in particular). And also a bit of Afrobeat. Music makes me feel emotion in ways that few other things do.
S: How did your path in every day life inspire you in your present work? And what do you hope to contribute, through your writing and performing, to society? I know a lot of your work is informed by social injustice and maybe you can even link that
to your work in law. I think this is interesting and can inspire people.
M: I am travelling a pretty unusual path through life, so I am a lot less judgmental now than when I first embarked upon it. Perhaps as a result of that, I try to make music which takes a different perspective on social issues, which looks at our uncertainty in the world that we face each day. I have never really been a fan of music that is didactic in its approach, because then you're only preaching to the converted, and I don't see the fun in that. Giles (with whom I work on my newest music project, The King's Will) and I both care deeply about social issues, and we want to make music that is accessible as possible about these. Funnily enough, I feel more able to that now than I did as a lawyer, since I feel that I can speak more freely now. Maybe I should have done human rights instead of the corporate stuff: ah well, too late now.
S: Tell us some inspiring wisdom you can share for others who want to find ways to incorporate art and poetry into their daily lives
M: I don't think that what I have to say is wise or inspiring, but here is what works for me. If you have a choice of two routes to reach a destination, and you have a little spare time, take the longer, more scenic route. When I was at university, I would walk the long way home from lectures as that meant I would walk past Magdalen College, which had this beautiful sandstone that would glow when it caught the afternoon and evening sun. I think it is important to take pleasure in everyday beauty. Also, if you're a writer and you're struggling for inspiration, always carry a notebook with you and jot down your thoughts, however mundane. Read it back after a couple of days or weeks, and you'll see that persistent themes emerge: I would advise you to write about those. The issues that matter most to you will produce your best writing (at least, that's been the case in my experience) and they stand the greatest chance of connecting with other people.
S: What about your work now? Can you share with the readers what you’re doing, where they can find / listen to your music/poetry?
M: I'm currently working on a new project, The King's Will, which is a musical adventure. The adventure follows me, as The Fool (on vocals) and Giles Hayter, as The Vassal (on beats), who are both servants of a once-kind but now ageing and despotic King. The King's Will is the story of our struggle to rescue his kingdom from ruin. We released our first album, "As The Power Fails" in May 2011; our other album, "The Swords Are Coming", came out this past May. Each of our tracks has an animated video at www.thekingswill.com, and you can also see our live performances on our YouTube channel at http://www.youtube.com/user/thekingswilltv.
