Cuts and cats
I knew the book was too long. As a gardener (of sorts) I think it is better to prune than to make garish last-minute additions (though we have all done that in our time). Chris, our plumber, said my garden was “floriferous”, but I don’t think anyone has ever accused it of being over-designed. So I am grateful for Carcanet’s decisive secateur work on my MS (otherwise known as editing).
What is going? The horse-trampled spaniel, the laminitic pony (she recovered, thank goodness. In fact, they both did. I should set up in animal witchcraft.) Then, rather a lot of cats.
I am slightly regretful about the cats. They may be a specialist taste. They do tend to take over, in a way non-cat people observe sternly. I let Shadow, my young tabby, into a blog about the new book (Singing in the Dark). Now I see that some publicity pamphlets proclaim that the book is called… Shadow. Perhaps temporary exorcism is called for.
But the cat poems continue to haunt me. I think I should Do Something With Them (another nagging literary ghost). I did put Shadow and some cat poems on a MySpace page.
www.myspace.com/shadowthepoetrycat
Two clever and capable people have since told me that my cat poems make them cry. Let’s hope they were therapeutic tears. Would the world be improved by a Book of Sad Cats?
For now, the rejected cat poems will join others, in folders and bags in my wardrobe, finished, some published in magazines, but unanchored in the safe bay of a book. There are dozens, maybe hundreds. I do keep them. When I am old, I must find them a safe home. But I am not old yet.
So, back to re-shuffling. Type carefully. Dear Judith, Page 32 is now Page 99… The sun is shining. Shadow has her nose to a bumblebee.
What is going? The horse-trampled spaniel, the laminitic pony (she recovered, thank goodness. In fact, they both did. I should set up in animal witchcraft.) Then, rather a lot of cats.
I am slightly regretful about the cats. They may be a specialist taste. They do tend to take over, in a way non-cat people observe sternly. I let Shadow, my young tabby, into a blog about the new book (Singing in the Dark). Now I see that some publicity pamphlets proclaim that the book is called… Shadow. Perhaps temporary exorcism is called for.
But the cat poems continue to haunt me. I think I should Do Something With Them (another nagging literary ghost). I did put Shadow and some cat poems on a MySpace page.
www.myspace.com/shadowthepoetrycat
Two clever and capable people have since told me that my cat poems make them cry. Let’s hope they were therapeutic tears. Would the world be improved by a Book of Sad Cats?
For now, the rejected cat poems will join others, in folders and bags in my wardrobe, finished, some published in magazines, but unanchored in the safe bay of a book. There are dozens, maybe hundreds. I do keep them. When I am old, I must find them a safe home. But I am not old yet.
So, back to re-shuffling. Type carefully. Dear Judith, Page 32 is now Page 99… The sun is shining. Shadow has her nose to a bumblebee.
posted by Alison at
5:14 PM
1 Comments:
Cats are a relevant modern metaphor. My daughter learned her alphabet through reading Angela Carters wonderful Comic and Curious Cats. Cats are the Shakespearean familiars that dog (?)our steps, trip our too proud feet and echo our wanton female sexuality. That's why guys are scared of Cat women! I say More cats in every twisted form of moon jawed savagery.
Post a Comment
<< Home