GUEST POST: THE CIRCUS DIARIES

We all know that special interest subjects need the support of their communities to survive, so here is a guest post from Katharine Kavanagh, a fellow writer who publishes the only English language website dedicated to circus critique, TheCircusDiaries.com.

‘I started writing The Circus Diaries as a solo blog in 2013 because I was fed up of never being able to find any information on the subjects I was interested in - contemporary circus. I was amazed by how many other people obviously felt the same frustration, as my viewing numbers went up very quickly and now, four years on, are at around 4500 views a month. Not bad for such a niche subject!

What started as a hobby has gradually taken over my life and, when people ask me what I do now, I tell them I’m a circus writer. The difficulty is, how to make such a career pay? 

It’s really important to me to keep the site ad-free to avoid any perceived conflict of interests if I had to review a company or performer who also paid to advertise (I like to think I’d be fair, of course, but people might not see it that way and it could affect my reputation). I don’t want to put up a paywall for the service, as it was a desire for open access information that inspired me to get started in the first place.

So, what to do…

I figured that, if this was a service that people get benefit from - and the hit rates, comments and thank-you emails confirm they do - then perhaps these people might be willing to pay for the service, like you would a traditional magazine subscription? The solution was Patreon. Regular readers can contribute towards the costs of producing the content that they enjoy, whilst the one-off web wanderer can still find the articles and reviews for free.

Patreon is crowd-funding with a difference - there’s not a one-off goal to achieve, but an ongoing relationship based upon production of relevant and interesting content.

Of course, I’m always looking for more Patrons, and the minimum pledge is only $1 (about 80p to those of us in the UK!). You can cancel at any time if you don’t think you’re getting value for your money - or, on the other hand, you can increase your subscription accordingly!

If you’ve not heard of this platform before, why not sign up and check it out? If creatives can’t help each other out, how can we expect anyone else to?’

To see how it all works, sign up for circus updates direct to your inbox at https://www.patreon.com/thecircusdiaries

TWO UNBLINKING MAGPIES

I've had a busy, poetry focused week. Thanks to The Secret Poets and to Paul Mortimer for their support and constructive feedback. Without quality constructive feedback we are less than is possible.
I wanted to call this first poem: The Devil to Pay and No Pitch Hot. I think I am too attached to this rather obscure phrase. It is an old navel term meaning an unpleasant outcome from an action, which fits the poem but may be too abstract.

Two unblinking magpies stand off a gull.

In the age of great waste

every resource is contested.

Out of the spilled bin rises

a mountain of half eaten food.

We throw away so much.

The gull screeches, feints,

The magpies motionless, wait.

They play a long game.

I have stopped to gawk.

A third magpie lands.

Outgunned, the gull departs.

Stock still, peripheral,

a crow bides time.

This is not nearly over.

The idea came to me after I had watched two magpies stand off a gull. I literally sat down and wrote the poem. Many heads have spent much time editing it. Thanks to all.
Here is a revised poem. It has been made tighter by the judicious removal of three the's, the addition of a line break and the compression we are into we're.
You can read the original version here.

1974

I spend more time on the green buses

travelling there, or coming back

than I do where I am going.

There is the occasional milky coffee,

chipped cups in bus station cafés,

windows misted, cigarette smoke and coughing old men.

The park is empty.

Sun slopes through trees,

reddens the lake and municipal ducks.

Winter comes calling.

My patch pocket, button front, black loons

are no match for this lazy wind.

I don't know where

or what we eat,

but we're either at The Grand, or the Beer Keller,

or in a doorway kissing.

Once in a while your house is empty.

I say I love you.

I have no idea what those words mean.

I have been listening to Elvis Costello's Spike album. Here is what surely must be one of the best songs he ever wrote.

Until next time.

SUN TIPPED SPEARS

As usual no correlation between images and words. I think this is the house style of this blog.
I was talking to my mother in law the other day and she happened to mention that her daffodils had been tightly closed first thing that morning and over the day they had opened without her seeing them do so. This set me off thinking.

First Daffodils

sun tipped spears

hold a miser's delight

and over a day

in slow motion

they cash in their gold

to shower the room

with the promise of summer

This draft was reduced from this

First Daffodils

sun tipped spears

hold a miser's delight

and over a day's slow motion

-less when you look

they open

cash in their gold

to shower the room

with the promise of summer to come

As you can see I have removed the last 2 words. I believe the poem reads the same whether they are present or not. So out they went. I also removed the play on words around slow motion/less. I liked it but I felt it confused the flow of the poem. Most of the time less is more.

I leave you with Anna Terheim live last month.

Until the next time.

HID BENEATH THE SUN

A revised poem this post. You can read the original draft here.
Thanks go to Paul Mortimer for assistance with the revision. 
I think the poem is has a clarity that it lacked previously.

He carried a torch for me

far longer than was healthy.

I knew this by the cards,

and the telephone's pleading cry in the night

eventually I did not answer.

Forty years would pass before I watched

his father cross Bold Street,

and I saw the man he had grown into.

Seated in the anonymous window

of a nameless tea-house,

I hid beneath the sun

that sucked the light from his hand

I did not rush outside,

nor did I think of him again.

It has no basis in reality. The ideas had been swimming about in my head for some time and they came together on the page.
I have been listening to Tracey Thorne's first solo lp a lot recently. Here's EBTG.

Here's Plain Sailing.

Until next time.

1974

I spent the other weekend with the Secret Poets on a writing retreat. It was both great fun and very productive. Here's a poem that came from one of the writing workshops. We had to focus on a specific year and try to put ourselves back there in the moment. 
It was surprisingly easy to do once I got going. We were asked to write down a sentence in response to a series of questions. The poem had to be 20 lines long.
This is my take.

1974

I spend more time on the green buses

travelling there, or coming back

than I do where I am going.

There is the occasional milky coffee,

chipped cups in bus station cafés,

windows misted, cigarette smoke and coughing old men.

The park is empty.

The sun slopes through the trees,

reddens the lake and the municipal ducks.

Winter comes calling.

My patch pocket, button front, black loons

are no match for this lazy wind.

I don't know where or what we eat,

but we are either at The Grand, or the Beer Keller,

or in a doorway kissing.

Once in a while your house is empty.

I say I love you.

I have no idea what those words mean.

The set of answers left me with a series of images from 1974 that I wove into the above poem. I think it may be near completion.
Sadly I have not been able to find any photographs from the time on my hard drive. You are presented with some photographs of the New Bridge instead.

I've been listening to Ryley Walker recently. His third album had some good write ups, though I could do without the hyperbole. Why is it we have to compare new musicians to older artists? Is it to make the job of selling them easier?
Here he is playing Roundabout.

And here he is live.  

He's touring in May. Should be worth seeing.
Until next time.