Critical friends and green-eyed monsters

Charlie Jordan and I continue to bat her draft poems to and fro. This is a great way to make myself feel clever – she does all the work, then I swan in and make smart-arse suggestions. But I can see real progress and I hope I have had some hand in it.

Lest I give myself airs and graces, I have just been invited to expose my own work in a similar way, in a new e-mail group. I don’t know anyone in it, except Ann Atkinson; though I know some of them by reputation, like the admirable Carole Bromley. I send off my poem – not one of my best anyway – with some trepidation. But I know how much my own work benefits when a fresh pair of eyes is cast over it, and I hope Charlie feels the same way.

Nine times out of ten, when your critical friend says ‘well, I think the second verse sticks out like a sore thumb/ I’m not sure you need the aardvark in line 5/ you need therapy’, you can swallow your pride and say ‘okay, yes, you’re right’. On the tenth occasion you’ll say ‘sod it, that aardvark is the whole point of the poem!’ and retain the line. After all, it’s your bloody poem and you can do what you like with it – otherwise we would all be turning out bland workshop-perfect pieces with no soul.

Meanwhile, I am seething with jealousy. YOU lot (mentees) are off to work with a fantastic director, the one who helped Innua Ellams with his recent dynamic performance at Lit Up. A professional director is a gift to be leapt upon (not literally, unless he likes it) and should help even the most experienced performer to do better.

I’ve done only a couple of professionally-directed shows, both directed by Kevin Dyer of Action Transport Theatre. Just like critiquing, his comments and ideas improved our work immeasurably. And in the same way, he was right 90% of the time in suggesting new approaches – but 10% of the time we told him to bugger off. We went with him when he asked us to act like earthworms at a snake-charming; we went with him when he asked us to learn little songs or juggle poems between us: but when he said ‘and now, Jo, I’d like you to act like a herd of caribou swarming,’ I drew a line. Even I have some dignity, and besides I’m not sure that caribou do swarm.

I hope you’ll really enjoy your time with Thierry. My advice from our own experience is – whatever he suggests, try it. Give it a fair chance; trust his experience; reject it only if you are quite sure it isn’t for you. And enjoy the rare opportunity to perform alongside other poets in a proper ensemble show; it will be fantastic and I can’t wait to see you all.