Ashley teaches Media and English in Victoria, Australia. His
first collection of poetry pollen and the storm was published with
the assistance of Small Change Press in 2008, and his second collection Stepping
Over Seasons was released by Interactive Press in 2009. A haiku chapbook Orion
Tips the Saucepan was released by Picaro Press in 2010.
When did you first
start writing poetry? What do you enjoy most about it?
During high school, I think I was about fourteen. They were
a mixture of awful teenage poems and hopeless recreations of The Beats, and I
think I was relying on the natural world a lot too. Probably the best thing
about them was the simple fact that they could be finished in a reasonable amount
of time. Not like a novel, and I liked that.
Tell me about the
first poem you had published.
The first poem published was by the dubious folk known as,
variously, ‘The International Library of Poetry’ the ‘International Society of
Poets’ and the ‘International Poetry Hall of Fame.’ It was exciting for a kid,
but after being given an ‘offer’ to pay a lot of money to travel overseas for
their award ceremony, the shine was of course tarnished. It was about animals
in a forest or a jungle (it seems to change a lot when I look at it now) and
was heavy on imagery. And bad.
What is your usual
writing routine? Do you write every day?
I do write every day, but it’s difficult. The time I have to
write varies of course, and what qualifies as ‘writing’ does too. It might be
part of a story, haiku, verse poetry, a lesson plan or something for uni. Like
most of us, with obligations all over the place, that time gets eaten away –
especially in daylight hours. I usually end up writing late into the night.
It’s quieter and my mind seems to work better then, though in the morning I’m
usually not impressed with myself for it.
What advice would you
give a would-be poet?
Read widely, because in some ways that is your preparation –
but just as importantly, don’t forget to actually write. Don’t think or talk
about it, don’t plan to do it, just write.
That one sounds obvious but sometimes it isn’t I guess, sometimes (in all
fields) we can become obsessed with preparing.
I’d also suggest one of the best pieces of advice I’ve ever
been given – that is to switch mediums. If you hit a wall with writing, paint
for a while. Or turn to music, or something else artistic – or even something
not artistic at all. Just get some distance, recharge with that other art form
then come back to poetry and you should have some more ammunition.
What’s your opinion
of self-publishing? Would you recommend it?
I am a fan of self-publishing if you have two things: a good
instinct (or editor-friend) for quality control and a base in a metropolitan area. Make that three things, if you’re personable. If not, I think it’d be
hard to sell your books. When you self publish you’re afforded control of your
work, from layout to cover art to content, which is awesome. It’s tough
however, when you get to things like distribution – which is why I mentioned
that second point. If you live in or near a city at least, you’ll have easy
(and cheap) access to events and markets and you should thus be better able to
sell your work.
Do you perform your
poetry? What are the differences between writing for the page and writing for
the stage?
I do, though not as much as I’d like. The difference for me
is in the audience – because, of course, it’s live. It’s immediate. I imagine
it’s a bit like acting or standup vs a film. In a film, the reaction to what
you’re doing or have done, it delayed (or absent). On stage, you hear the
audience, see the audience, and get an immediate sense of what your material is
like. It’s very nice – it can certainly be daunting, but it’s something you get
at no other time as a writer.
Have you been
inspired or influenced by a particular poet’s work? How did it affect your own
work?
In the beginning it was the Beats, and rock and folk
lyricists, but perhaps the most important influence would be from haiku poets.
I think whatever imagistic elements are present in my work are due to influence
of the haiku masters like Basho and Issa. What they did, I believe, is
demonstrate beyond a doubt (among other things), that narration can be achieved
indirectly, through images created by just a few words. I’ve since then
continued to struggle to achieve that ‘economy of words,’ and to prune back my
natural tendency to overwrite!
If you had to choose
a favourite contemporary poet who would it be and what makes them your favourite?
Graham Nunn. For his ability to floor you as a reader –
whether it’s through his imagery, his tenderness or his insight, but for his
commitment to the art form and to those around him too. (I thought I should
mention that I added that last bit to my answer not to detract from his poetry,
or as an attempt to bolster it, but rather as a very serious and equally
important aspect to Graham as a poet. I don’t feel the worth of poet should be
just the measure of their (published) output, and so I’d like to suggest that
Graham’s skill as an editor, promoter, organiser, motivator and supporter is
just as powerful and valuable to the community as his written work.)
What about the
masters? Who would you choose and why?
Here I can combine a few things together – this one is a
haiku that Graham reminded me of when I interviewed him last year.
on Starvation Ridge
little sticks
are trying to grow
and it’s by Jack Kerouac, so there’s an Australian poet,
haiku and The Beats all in one answer! What I enjoy about this most is probably
the verb ‘trying’ or perhaps the simple, effective contrast between
‘Starvation’ and ‘grow.’ It’s also a great demonstration of why the 5-7-5
syllable count isn’t needed in English language haiku. This doesn’t adhere to
those limits but it is undeniably a haiku, and it evokes a story through the
image.
Please include a favourite poem of your own
to be published with your interview.
other objects
my wedding ring is a
plain silver
barrel band. same as
dad’s, very modest
and very hard to keep
smooth,
with scratches I can’t
keep track of and
don’t want to hide.
it’s no good pretending
the marriage is
perfect, no use
hanging all our
memories and every
step of the future on
just one symbol. other
objects speak of love,
too. the weeping
maple we’ve shifted to
every house, the
cup we fill with knives
and forks
or the handwritten
address you gave me
the night we met,
walking the city
and flinging orange
peel into hedges, things
that endure, things
that have lines
and marks to prove
them.
Why is it your favourite?
Other Objects is
probably my favourite because it’s hopeful without being treacly, and I usually
find those poems really difficult to write. I think it paints a realistic
picture of marriage, and it was through this poem that I was able to recognise
a habit I’ve picked up, of writing about objects and the store of emotion we
seem to place within them.
Where was it first published?
July 2009, in Island
– a journal I’m very happy to have appeared in, it’s always beautifully presented
and has such great material, cover to cover.
What was the inspiration for, or story behind, the piece?
I suppose it addresses my belief and concern, perhaps, that
my marriage not become snagged on a single symbol, and that the wear and tear
of the marriage is ultimately just as important as any other aspect. It runs
through a few other objects that have memories attached to them, triggering for
me, the night I met my wonderful wife.
Find out more about Ashley here.
