#NaBloPoMo 24 – See you later

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Today is the last day of NaBloPoMo, that month in the year when someone decides it is a nice idea for the bloggers amongst us to attempt a blog post every day. On paper this did not make a great deal of difference to me, as I had been trying to post something every day since about mid-July. I’m still wondering if it was a good idea. Not because I suddenly hate blogging, or because my stats have plummeted (they have been up and down since about April, and I am jiggered if I know why), but because I am really, really tired. Again, just so I am clear: not tired of blogging, or the sense of connection that it brings (especially not that), but just plain and simple tired. So I wonder if December (and even January?), and the months beyond it might be a little quieter on the blogging front. I think they might have to be. This isn’t a notice to quit, or waving the white flag. But it is a moment. For taking stock, for re-evaluating, and making some changes in order to make this whole thing more manageable. Basically, I need to refuel. I do have it in mind to keep going with The Book series of blog posts, and with Lifesaving Poems. But to do that I need to noodle around for a bit, drift, catch up on some sleep. In short, take a break from my beloved screen(s). As Ken Smith once noted in his list of things to do when his poems would not arrive, the way forward is often to do nothing that looks like writing: ‘…sleeping a lot and dreaming; encountering strangers; recording strange events, consulting oracles, collecting images, getting drunk, staying sober, attempting to cleanse the doors of perception or forget what I know.’ I don’t know what the new pattern will be (maybe once a week; maybe less often than that?), but I think a pattern is required. I’m tired, you see.

I am grateful, more than I can ever say, to you for reading this. I do not take it for granted.

But I am tired.

I’ll see you later.

48 comments

  1. madeleineleech

    And walking. I recommend walking. Walking the cliffs, walking the shores, walking the fields, the woods. Splash through puddles, slosh through mud, squelch across the moor, listen to the silence. Rest and laughter to you. Thanks for your posts this month. I started out ignoring all the NaBoPoMo emails and then found myself reading a couple daily. From the two I’ve followed (sometimes I’ve followed the links to others) the thing that I’ve understood to be their greatest revelation is the honesty of both blogs. Honesty in choice of words. The honesty lesson has helped my writing.

    Liked by 3 people

  2. Lizzie Fincham

    Love what you’ve said here. Tom Crabtree once wrote an article about January and how we shouldn’t fight it, kind of let January be what it is meant to be, hibernation time. Apart from what has to be done. Like finding oranges to make marmalade or drinking whisky sometimes? All around over the last few weeks, after the political turmoils, friends are speaking of feeling low in energy. Perhaps January has arrived earlier for us all this year
    as a reward?

    Liked by 1 person

  3. john foggin

    Somewhere, MacFarlane writes about an etymological link between walking, the making of paths and tracks , and thinking/naming. He writes about Wittgenstein pacing his way to an idea in the confine of a room. Maybe the truth is simpler. You can’t Write what you don’t know, so you have to stop writing to go out there and acquire more knowing. You can wear out what you know as easily as shoes. Take your time. We can wait. Deferred gratification. A civilised pleasure. xx

    Liked by 2 people

    • Anthony Wilson

      Many thanks to you John. The oxygen of your own blog is air I shall be breathing as I recuperate and recharge. With virtual hugs and deep thanks as ever for your support The Blogfather (did I ever tell you my wife made me a T shirt with this on after I told what you called me…?) XA

      Like

  4. Mandy_S

    I’m so impressed at your blogging on a daily basis, I can’t tell you. Then there is the need to respond to comments, a thing you do with great elegance and sincerity. Job done now so take a break. The trees need the winter months to grow their roots and anchor themselves more firmly in the soil. Perhaps we need that, too. Happy noodling! X

    Liked by 2 people

    • Anthony Wilson

      Thanks so much Mandy. Your continued support is one I appreciate massively.I never realised how much the comments thing would be such an integral part of it when I started. And yours are so welcome, always. See you whenever, x A

      Like

  5. Susan

    I saw Simon Russell Beale’s Prospero the other day. Magnificent and moving, it’s about the effort required sometimes to let go, relinquish control, admit limitation, forgive oneself as well as others, allow for new developments, unpredictable as they are. We should not be afraid to use January (as one comment said) and hibernate, recharge. Am so grateful for your posts, and totally understand your need to slow down.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Anthony Wilson

      Our revels now are ended, etc. At least for the time being. What an amazing comment, Susan, thank you, I had not thought of it like that. But letting go (let it fall sometimes, as Rose Cook says) is what’s important right now. Wishing you all the best as ever, and thanks for your understanding, Anthony

      Like

  6. Linda Goulden

    Glad to have followed each one but a little relieved they will not be daily – I mean to have some Facebook free days, maybe even make a new year home retreat. Will still look forward to reading more in whatever new format will be right for you (and the Book).

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Jersheharvey@aol.com

    I am sure you are right, Anthony. My thoughts and prayers go with you in your time ‘away’. I find it difficult to keep up with you! Thanks for the writings you share with us. I particularly find the ones that lead us into a poem – including the Lifesaving poems – or that are about a poet or writer that has influenced you both nourishing and stimulating. For instance your references to Laskey who is still mostly a name to me. One day I would like some tips and guidance about where to find poetry, which shops and so on. The Brendon in Taunton, good as it is, has very little new poetry, and I don’t get to London much. I want to have the new Bloodaxe book on R.S.Thomas’s poems in response to modern art. behind much of your blogging I sense you are waiting for and wanting more poems to emerge. All that of Christmas best and a good 2017, Jeremy

    Liked by 1 person

    • Anthony Wilson

      Thank you so much Jeremy. If you want to find Michael Laskey’s books you could do worse than find the Poetry Business website and buy them from there. They are marvels of the form and he should be a household name. You are bang on about wanting space for poems to emerge, by the way. How perceptive of you. As ever with best wishes, Anthony

      Like

  8. Alwyn

    Actually, I would prefer slightly less frequent blogs. I like to read them, but daily is difficult when I’ve got a lot of work on. I hope you’ll be refreshed by your break from blogging.

    Liked by 1 person

  9. Good Golly Miss Molly

    Anthony, this is a wonderful post. Please know that you have done more than your share, not just this past month, but over the years to bring wonder to the world. Your poetry, your work to introduce us to new poets, your openness about your own life, all of it has made us stronger, more connected, more able to take on whatever comes our way. Take whatever time you need to recharge, restore, reflect and remember — a poetry blog is one piece of it, but you, my friend, are the whole beautiful thing.
    With love from across the pond,
    Molly

    Liked by 3 people

  10. Jerry Cull

    Anthony, I wrote this poem about the hand pump on the beach at our cabin in Algoma District, Northern Ontario and I’m sending it to you as homage.

    Hand Pump

    Let/ it be said/ that by any/ objective measure/ you did your part./ Holding your prime/ for most of a century/ you replenished us/ gushing heaven-sent rain/ into battered tinkling dippers/ and crazed porcelain teapots/ to nurture beloved life,/ splashing water colours/ through sea-green moss and/ across the salt and pepper sand,/ reflecting brimming sun- light bobbing/ in galvanized silver pails,/ equally yoked/ perfectly balanced/ swaying in time,/ quenching us,/ as we drank in/ cold amazement/ along the parched/ and wave- thirsting/ shore.

    Sent from my iPad

    >

    Liked by 2 people

    • Anthony Wilson

      Dear Jerry, I can’t tell you how moved I was to find this in my inbox. Thank you so much for writing it, and for sharing it with me. It means more than I can say, and I will treasure it. With very best wishes, Anthony

      Like

  11. Jerry Cull

    Anthony, my kids tell me that I can’t always be the last one to say goodbye. I just want to acknowledge your kind comment and to say it is YOU I thank. We all have stories to tell and some we can’t, and so we write poems. Merry Christmas from our cabin to yours!

    Sent from my iPad

    >

    Liked by 1 person

  12. evelyneholingue

    First of all, bravo for embarking the NaBloPoMo. I’ve done NaNoWriMo twice and also the A to Z challenge in April twice as well. These are fun events but exhausting too. Could explain your fatigue. Definitely. But. On the other hand, blogging, even less frequently is also a demanding exercise when we work and have families and other things to pursue and just do. Taking breaks are a good way to assess what matters. I like your idea to “downsize” and narrow to two topics. I’ve always been a fan of The Book, so I’m kind of glad to see that you plan to keep up with it.
    In any case, I wish you a restful month of December. Not so easy with the holidays. But still a good time of the year to re-examine our priorities. Peaceful holiday season to you, Anthony, and to your readers as well.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Anthony Wilson

      Thank you Evelyne. I really appreciate your kind words of wisdom. I’m hoping to do more than The Book and Lifesaving Poems in the future, though to start with it might be just those. Who knows? I don’t. I like not knowing, just like when I’m writing a poem. Which reminds me….

      Liked by 1 person

  13. Barbara Deeming

    Stumbled on to your blog looking for poems by Mary Oliver. It has been enlightening. I too am tired. I am 88 years old. So much has changed. Thank you.

    Liked by 1 person

  14. Nicci Tina

    I so enjoy your style, your presence… and with everything else in my inbox alongside my own creative endeavors I couldn’t keep up. May we all find more clarity, more peace… more of whatever we’re looking for, in the New Year. Hoping the rest does you – and me ! – good.

    Liked by 1 person

  15. Viv

    I’m coming to the final pages of Love for Now. It sat in my TBR pile for ages and each time it rose to the top, I looked and thought, not now. Not now, not now, not now. Then suddenly, now. Have enjoyed the whole thing and will review in due course, but wanted to let you know that sometimes it takes yonks to get to do something you intended to do ages back. Hope your rest is going well and you are feeling better for it. I need a long rest, like Bilbo Baggins, perhaps a permanent holiday.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Anthony Wilson

      Thank you so much for saying so, Viv.
      I’m enjoying the rest, and feeling like I might need to be away for a bit longer. I really appreciate your kind words about Love for Now. I look forward to your review. With good wishes, Anthony

      Like

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