Feb '12 23
One of our writing exercises in uni last semester (thank you Amy) was to create a collage poem. This was based on exercises from chapter four, 'Writing as Recycling', from The Writing Experiment, Strategies for innovative creative writing by Hazel Smith.

We had to copy a slab of text from a random page from two books into a Word document and print it out. Then we had to cut out each word using a scissors, mix up the words, select words from the jumble and assemble a new piece of text as a poem.

I modified the process to make it more efficient: I found a nice online word scrambler here and avoided the messy, fiddly cutting and sorting part of the process.

I was intrigued by the result. I prefer to call the resulting poem a 'rescued' poem instead of a 'found' poem or a collage. It's more dramatic, isn't it? I feel that the poem is hiding and that it's my job to look for it using this special recovery mechanism.

Some poems are so thrilled to be rescued that they jump out and do a little jig; others are hesitant or shy and need plenty of encouragement and time. (You see, we can make a story out of anything!)

My rescued poems are different from the poems I usually write. They are dense and jagged; I like to think that they are a bit unstable and could freak out at any moment.

To honour my rescued darlings (rather than killing them) I intend to start a 'Rescue Tuesdays' post on this site.

Every Tuesday I will post one of my rescued poems, so bookmark this site and remember to visit each week. Better still, subscribe to the newsfeed to be notified when I update the site.

Tune in on Tuesday 28 February for the first rescued poem.

Posted by Jennifer Liston

Nov '11 18
I will be reading a few as yet unpublished poems and chatting with Cath Kenneally on the Writers' Radio program (digital radio, online and 101.5fm) at 1.30pm tomorrow (Sat 19 Nov). The program will be repeated at 3.30pm on Monday (21 Nov).

The program will then be available as a podcast to download for your listening pleasure here.

Posted by Jennifer Liston

Nov '11 14
Great news for all Kindle owners and poetry lovers!

My second book, 17 poems: one for every year of innocence is now available on Amazon for download to your Kindle.

Get it here.

Posted by Jennifer Liston

Nov '11 11
Yesterday (11/11/11) I won the Sydney Writers' Centre
11-word story competition, which I entered at the, umm, 11th hour (sorry!).

My 11-word winner was this:

She took 11 minutes to regain consciousness. She forgave him again.

You can read all the great entries here.

Thank you Sydney Writer's Centre. I'm looking forward to receiving my prize (a selection of books).

What fun!

Posted by Jennifer Liston

Nov '11 2
Here's a little nugget of wisdom from Robert Frost, from an interview with him in The Paris Review:

All thought is a feat of association: having what’s in front of you bring up something in your mind that you almost didn’t know you knew. Putting this and that together. That click.

I hope you have a clickety-click day.

Posted by Jennifer Liston

Jul '11 31
I've been wrestling with fear around my writing for quite some time now.

Since my first poetry book Exposure was published in 2003, I've struggled to believe my writing is good enough (for whom or what I'm not exactly sure). I've tussled with doubts about my worth as a poet. I've been tormented with thoughts about how others might view my writing or wonder how on earth I managed to get published.

This is in spite of many people buying my books; in spite of tons of feedback about how my poems have affected readers in many wonderful ways; in spite of some delightful moments of optimism and self-belief.

It's like the act of putting my work out there for all to see has made me self-conscious, like the child who suddenly comes to understand what it is to be naked, discovers what it is to be embarrassed and therefore must hide.

Three published poetry books later and my belief in my own writing ability continues to dive. It seems I have created a negative feedback loop that I now desperately need to break.

Knowing that this is a common issue among writers, artists, musicians and other creative types has done little to alleviate my non-stop internal chatter. More worrying to me is that these feelings of inadequacy and fear of criticism have definitely affected my capacity to draw organically from my creative source, to write for myself, to write what I know.

That's why the following sentence from a book called Art and Fear1 jumped out and smashed me right between the eyes today:

...fears about yourself prevent you from doing your best work, while fears about your reception by others prevent you from doing your own work.

This elegant statement encapsulates beautifully how two spears of fear are paralysing my ability to generate my own, best work.

Now I just need to find ways to:

#1. stop thinking I'm not good enough
#2. stop thinking the world agrees with #1.

If you have any ideas, hints, tips or tricks, I'd love to hear them!



1 thanks to Amy Matthews for the chapter


Posted by Jennifer Liston

Jun '11 21
Last week I wrote my first Villanelle ever.

And today I wrote my first Sestina.

Challenging, fun...

...and revealing.

Posted by Jennifer Liston

May '11 30
Remember, if you buy my latest poetry collection, Lead Skeletons, you are also supporting Ovarian Cancer Australia, who receives 10% of the sale price of each copy.

There are still a few numbered copies of Lead Skeletons left, so don't miss out.

Support this worthy charity now... you can purchase from the drop-down menu on the left-hand side of this screen, or you can go to White Wave Press and buy from there.

Thanks in advance!

Posted by Jennifer Liston

Apr '11 22
I am
intangible grace
granting wishes
fairy flakes
dusting your dreams,
I am
even when you think I’m not
I am
even when you lose sight of me
I am
even when you deny my power,
I am
ancient rituals
fantastical notions
hallucinations,
jar-bound genies
talismans
words of yearning.

I was in the future.

I will be in the past.

I am
present
on your journey
at your side
in your heart.


Posted by Jennifer Liston

Apr '11 21
Metaphor expresses truths we neither recognised nor had words for in literal language.

Gabriele Rico

Posted by Jennifer Liston

Apr '11 6
I thought you could beat, pummel, and thrash an idea into existence. Under such treatment of course any decent idea folds up its paws, fixes its eyes on eternity, and dies.

Ray Bradbury


Posted by Jennifer Liston

Mar '11 17
So, many years later, I'm trying on the mantle of student again!

I've started a Master of Arts in Creative Writing at the University of Adelaide. I'm going to see how well we fit together.

My two lecturers/tutors this semester are Amy Matthews and Jill Jones.

And the classes are an interesting mix of people, which should make it a rich and rewarding experience. (Cliché, anyone?)

I'm glad to report there's plenty of reading being read and writing being written.

I will post more snippets of poetry here soon.

Posted by Jennifer Liston

Jan '11 27
I was inspired to write this post after reading about Graham Nunn's favourite bookshops. One of those was Shakespeare and Company, and it reminded me of my visit there almost nine years ago.

When Sylvia Beach opened a bookshop called Shakespeare and Company in Paris in 1919, it soon became a haunt for well-known writers of that generation including Ernest Hemingway, Ezra Pound, Scott Fitzgerald and James Joyce. When no publisher wanted to publish James Joyce's Ulysses, Sylvia Beach published it in 1922 under her shop imprint.

Following the Nazi occupation, Beach closed her shop and was sent to an internment camp. Although she returned to Paris in 1944, her bookstore never reopened.

With its motto 'Be not inhospitable to strangers lest they be angels in disguise', George Whitman's bookshop - which used to be a monastery in 1600 - has hosted many well-known writers since he opened it in 1951. It used to be called The Mistral, but he renamed it Shakespeare and Company in 1964 in honour of the late Sylvia Beach.

Inside The Little Rag and Bone Shop of the Heart aka Shakespeare and Company, Paris.


The shop is full of cubbyholes with low ceilings and mini stairways, and is a delight to explore. Like its predecessor, Shakespeare and Company on Paris's 'Rive Gauche' became a sanctuary of sorts for writers and thinkers. They could always bank on finding a bunk to lie on and a book to read.

I look on as George Whitman signs my copy of Shakespeare and Company, written by Sylvia Beach.


Thank you for reminding me of a wonderful place, Graham.

Posted by Jennifer Liston

Sep '10 25
I'm working my way (slowly) through Gabriele Rico's book Writing the Natural Way.

I'm quite enjoying the discipline of doing each writing exercise. The book claims to 'help unlock natural styles and storytelling abilities'. Maybe that translates to 'using the discipline of writing with the old left brain editor switched off so that creativity has a freer run'.

The author presents a technique called 'clustering' to release creative inhibition and to create links between apparently dissimilar thoughts. It's actually a version of mind-mapping, which I've used quite often, but not for writing poetry.

I'm only up to chapter five (of 14 chapters) so I'll be a while yet! What I really like is that the book is peppered with great quotes about writing, creativity and psychology from all kinds of interesting people.

Here's one:

My question is "When did other people give up the idea of being a poet?" You know, when we are kids we make up things, we write, and for me the puzzle is not that some people are still writing, the real question is why did the other people stop?

William Stafford, Writing the Australian Crawl

I might share a few of the exercises from the book with you soon.

Then again, I might not.

You'll have to be very nice to me. ;-)

Posted by Jennifer Liston

Aug '10 18
I posted an excerpt from a poem here. It's a love poem of sorts.

Here's the full text of the poem, which is included in my book Lead Skeletons.

Let me know what you think.


Note to him/self

You've seeped through every living cell.
You've made my bones your home.
Your presence shades my past uncertainties,
colours my tomorrows.
Your stillness punctures the racket of sleepless thoughts.
Your gentleness swabs wounded memories,
your faith congeals in the bullet-holes in my self-belief.
Your anger reminds me that you need healing too.


© Jennifer Liston 2010

Posted by Jennifer Liston

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