Category Archives: Writing

Micro Madness

June 22, 2015 Hēni Irihāpeti Leave a comment

Blue

June 22nd is National Flash Fiction Day NZ.

The piece of flash fiction I submitted for consideration didn’t make the cut, but that’s how it goes with writing. The actual task of working towards something and fine-tuning your work, is an ongoing process, and it’s one that I do enjoy, even though I don’t have high expectations.

And when you do have a story accepted, no matter how small, it’s as exciting as winning a lottery.

This year, as part of the lead-up to National Flash Fiction, there has been a parallel celebration of micro fiction. Writers were asked to submit works of 100 words or less, and one story has been featured each day since June 1st.

Today my micro story, Blue is featured.

Members of my family will recognise that part of the story is drawn from my father’s experience as a child. That’s what I tend to do… write about things that have happened to me, or that I know about from friends or family.

If you are interested in hearing more about Micro Madness, National Radio’s Standing Room Only programme featured the following interview, yesterday at 1.00 pm.

Link to Micro Madness interview.

South Head, Writing

Winter

June 16, 2015 Hēni Irihāpeti 4 Comments

June

The pomegranates we hoped to sample have burst.
Firmly secured to their bare branches,
they are still too high for us to reach.

Corpulent macadamia pods fatten ‘on the vine’.
Smooth brown nuts in moss green shells,
each day I gather them from the ground.

The last feijoas lie scattered, rotting away on the soggy earth.
More than one hundred have passed my lips this year.
They still taste sweet.

Across the road, black and white cows munch away on green grass;
One or two have lain down in the sun.
Beyond, the Kaipara is soft in shades of blue and grey.

Yesterday at dusk I heard the chirping of a cricket,
then a cold wind chased me indoors.
Surely June is too late for a cricket’s cry.

Jane Percival, 2015

Writing

Poetry and Inspiration

May 14, 2015 Hēni Irihāpeti 1 Comment

Reacquainting myself with an old friend

I was enjoying reading I. K. Paterson-Harkness’s recent blog on Haiku and thought I’d post something of my own. My interest in poetry and the actual writing of poetry has been rekindled lately, to the extent that I’ve purchased a couple of books to get me back in the mode (or is it in the mood?).

One was Six Centuries of English Poetry Tennyson to Chaucer: Typical Selections from the Great Poets, (1892) by James Baldwin, and the other, Above the River: The Complete Poems, by (author) Professor James Wright.

I chose the first book to reacquaint myself with some of the works and the styles of the classic poets, some of whom I read decades ago, and others of whom I’m sorely ignorant. And as is often the way for me, I heard one of James Wright’s poems being read last week on National Radio and liked it so much that it spurred me to purchase more of his work.

Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy’s Farm in
Pine Island, Minnesota

Over my head, I see the bronze butterfly,
Asleep on the black trunk,
Blowing like a leaf in green shadow.
Down the ravine behind the empty house,
The cowbells follow one another
Into the distances of the afternoon.
To my right,
In a field of sunlight between two pines,
The droppings of last year’s horses
Blaze up into golden stones.
I lean back, as the evening darkens and comes on.
A chicken hawk floats over, looking for home.
I have wasted my life.

(James Wright)

Poetic Forms

Another book I’ve loved for years is Paul B. Janeczko’s, A Kick in the Head: An Everyday Guide to Poetic Forms (2005). This book lists 29 different poetic forms and provides examples for each. I’d recommend it if you are interested in the challenge of some of the more complex styles. The illustrations are neat, too.

Haiku from a Distant Summer

Here’s my Haiku offering… something I wrote way back in 1995 when I was living in St Leonards, Dunedin.

Dry parched hills
reflected
in the eyes of our cats
amber, gold and brown.

Cicadas
rapid fluting melody
I catch my breath
as they fly

Flax seeds
ripening broom pods
exploding
thistledown
caught on the breeze

Arid creek
quiet noise
sunlight dulled by
brackish pool
eucalyptus

Jane Percival
(March 1995)

Writing

Red Blood Cell Deficiency

April 23, 2015 Hēni Irihāpeti 3 Comments

‘Red Blood Cell Deficiency’, a flash fiction piece I wrote for
Flash Frontier, was accepted for their April edition.

The theme for April is iron.

If you are curious, you can read it here…

For this piece, the word limit was 250.

South Head, Writing

Pantsers versus Planners

November 16, 2014 Hēni Irihāpeti Leave a comment

Driving home at dusk. The waters of the Kaipara eerily luminous in the distance. Rows of maize stretching out to the right. Patches of dark Mānuka fringing the road. The glow of the headlights on dusty gravel… I almost feel I could write something decent.

Water Baby

My daughter Immi approaches writing quite differently from me. Apparently I’m a ‘Pantser‘ and this is quite true. When I start a story I really don’t have much of an idea of where it’s going to end up.

I said I’d post a link when my short story, Water Baby, was published, so here it is…

Fiction on the Web, UK

Inspiration comes in flashes. And is very elusive. I might feel a surge of something when glimpsing a certain scene, but I haven’t worked out how to hold on to it.

Writing

Thoughts on Writing

October 30, 2014 Hēni Irihāpeti Leave a comment

Keeping on track

When you make the decision to take writing seriously, you are faced with the ‘grind’ of trying to write each day, and then not knowing if you are on the right track with your stories.

There is also the matter of personal confidence. Creating anything involves giving up a part of yourself. Whether you are a visual artist, an actor, a singer, a songwriter, or a practitioner of creativity of any kind… once you put a piece of yourself out there, or even express the desire to do so, then you are placing yourself in a position where people can (and will) comment on your offerings.

This is scary. You have to move beyond self-doubt and the fear that whatever you do ‘won’t be good enough’. You have to be able to say to yourself, ‘So what if it isn’t?’, and get on with it.

A mote of dust in a sandstorm

The internet has completely changed things for this hopeful author. Where once I might have slaved alone for years over a book or a collection of short stories, I now have the opportunity to take some time-out. I can respond to the challenges provided by the numerous sites that accept one-off pieces of work – from Drabbles, through Flash Fiction to the more familiar styles of writing. All the while, still scribbling away at my longer projects.

Even so, I do this with the knowledge that there are immeasurable numbers of people out there working at the same thing. It’s a world-wide market and I am just one tiny speck, one individual writer tapping away at the keyboard, trying to draw out my thoughts and weave them into something cohesive that I can express with a degree of eloquence. I suppose the aim is to find my own original voice, amongst all the others.

It’s both exciting and depressing. But the urge to write is strong.

Sharing a piece of yourself

Back in July I wrote a short story, ‘Water Baby’, for a project entitled ‘Strange Little Girls’. Water Baby was unsuccessful for that market so I submitted it to a few other places and heard last week that it’s been accepted for an online publication.

This felt really good. But I also experienced a secondary feeling that I was struggling to identify. I’ve come to the conclusion that it was an infinitesimal feeling of loss.

Until a piece of writing is published, it’s all your own. Then it’s out in that big, wide world, hopefully to be read by someone. (That’s what you do it for, right?)

It will be dissected by some. Dismissed by others. Read and enjoyed by a few? Maybe… I’d like to hope so. But you’ve effectively given it up to the masses. Your baby has grown up and left home.

And because it’s the age of the internet, feedback will be pretty damn quick.

(Water Baby will be published on 16 November and once it’s up, I’ll post a note about it.)

PS. I know the ‘baby leaving home’ bit is corny, but that’s what it feels like. 🙂

Writing

October 3, 2014 Hēni Irihāpeti 2 Comments

Many of you will know that I recently stopped paid employment to focus on writing, along with keeping the garden in order and looking after Ben and the hens. I’ve joined up with SpecFicNZ to help keep me inspired, and use Duotrope to keep track of the pieces I’ve been writing.

I try to write most days of the week, but best laid plans and all that…

One of the first things I wrote, The Tobacco Tin, was awarded second prize in the World War I Centenary Competition run by SpecFicNZ in March of this year.

Since then I’ve been working away, trying to perfect my writing techniques, etc. I’ve always written, just not very constructively.

If anything else gets accepted, I’ll post a link on this site.