I am distracted today. I am not reading but instead write endless and useless lines in my notebook. No, not my short story or novel notebook! No, I’ve started another one. A poetry notebook! You may well ask why.
I have no natural gift for writing iambic pentameters, I discover. I cannot even write the simplest sentence following this structure without long deep thought and counting! It does not come naturally. Why do I try? I’ve got a copy of Stephen Fry’s The Ode Less Travelled : Unlocking the Poet Within, in an attempt to mug up on poetry for the creative course (there is one much dreaded compulsory submission in the poetry unit – oh no, oh yes, what will I do?)
The book is funny and definitely a gentle and serious but also amusing introduction to poetry, including the Greek technical terms, which are no more than
Convenient and innocuous nomenclatorial handles
as quoted from Vladimir Nabokov in Notes on Prosody.
I’m only slightly worried that it’s becoming an obsession that will distract me from writing and reading short stories and novels.
No, it won’t! I’m reading Mikhail Bulgakov The Master and Margerita as well as dipping in and out of several collections of short stories. More on these soon. As long as I can escape from obsessive iambic pentameters!