Writing Backwards Numbers

This was the result of a weirdly disorientating exercise we did in Writing and the Practice of Literature the other day. We had to count, out loud, from a hundred down to zero as we wrote, trying to go with the flow. Trying to break through that distraction, that obstacle, and just see what words came to us; let the writing form and let the words flow through all the barriers that we had tried to erect in their path. So yup. Was interesting. And weird. And what I came out with was, as seems usual with me, but which I blame entirely upon the effect of numbers being counted down, slightly depressing. So apologies. Anyway, here it is:

This is the way we finish our lives, in an explosion of sound and colour and sight, gasping out our last breath and seeing everything. We find that everything becomes entirely clear to us in that one moment. It's the end and we are free. We are unencumbered by our worries and concerns, counting down to oblivion. Numbers. Nothing.

Sarah Cuming : 23 Oct 2011 16:58 |  Tags: Creative Writing Wpl 2011-12 |  Comments (0) |  Close comments |  Report a problem

WPL Free Writing exercise

So, second year of the part-time Masters, and, not wanting to be cooped up on my own doing nothing but my Long Project for a whole twelve months, and because the course looked awesome and lots of fun, I decided to audit Writing and the Practice of Literature. Due to some abysmally slow traffic coming out of Kenilworth on Friday, I was late to the seminar and walked in half-way through a Free Writing exercise, where you had to just write, write anything, go with whatever came into your head first, with George calling out random words to include and telling us to write faster and faster. I have no idea what came before, but at the moment I entered the room, the class was instructed to start writing a paragraph with the phrase "I realised while I was dreaming that..." The words that we were instructed to include, if I've remembered and picked out the right ones, were "temples," "logic," and "violet." Here's what I came up with:

I realised when I was dreaming that I could not feel the earth, all its temples and cemeteries were denied to me and I floated above all logic and thought, apart from any sense of material being. I lived in a violet band between colours of a faded rainbow, the spectrum cradling me in an unreal place. I sighed.

Sarah Cuming : 23 Oct 2011 16:48 |  Tags: Creative Writing Free Writing Wpl2011-12 Writing And The Practice Of Literature 2011-12 |  Comments (0) |  Close comments |  Report a problem

So, blogs…

At the beginning of this academic year the IT Services decided to give postgraduates different sign-in and email accounts than we as undergraduates, meaning that my authorial access to this blog was cut off. I started a new blog to carry on posting my work, but shortly after the start of term all the students were switched back to their old accounts for some unknown reason. As a result, my access to the new blog was cut off and access to the old blog restored. Thought, therefore, that it might be a good idea to archive a link to that blog so that people can see what's on it if they wish, including some of my artwork and also some newer writing that hasn't been seen much (even some poems that, for once, are actually half decent and I'm quite proud of!).

So yes, here's the link: http://blogs.warwick.ac.uk/cumingsarah/

Sarah Cuming : 08 Jun 2011 11:35 |  Tags: Blog |  Comments (0) |  Close comments |  Report a problem

A moment of a woodland life.

I sat at the riverside, the wind floating strands of my hair in the honey evening light, and breathed in. My legs were crossed, elbows resting lightly on my knees, and I raised my head to meet the breeze and watch the juvenile clouds race each other across the gap in the treetops. This was home. The sound of the river leaping over stones was the voice of the land, the shushing of the trees its gentle accompaniment. I breathed in, and felt alive. A sudden gust of wind, tumbling itself to whip roughly at my shirt, brought my attention forward to the land across the river: a regimented, dark and curious place, scented with the sweet tang of pine. I laughed as the wind turned around on itself and pushed me towards it, urging me through the river so the water smoothed my calves until it washed me up on the further shore. I felt the muscles bunch in my legs, that glorious tension sing through my body and thrill my heart. The burn of future movement. I ran.

Sarah Cuming : 04 Mar 2011 17:43 |  Tags: Creative Writing Fiction Forest |  Comments (0) |  Close comments |  Report a problem

The reason behind "No Entry.

Writing about web page http://www.38degrees.org.uk/page/s/save-our-forests#petition http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/science-environment-12314781

Comment on my previous entry:

I realise that the piece of fiction in my previous post simplifies the matter hugely, it is, after all, fiction – to a certain extent. See it more as the immediate emotional reaction when considering concepts such as these, and the kind of deep-down resentment that such things bring. I have no love of the ideas that the government is putting forward regarding our forests, but luckily for me, if the government keep their word then my area of Forest is safe, as it’s Heritage. But that’s the thing: governments keeping their promises. They went back on the tuition fees pledge, and that is the kind that many more people will actively react to, because it involves their money in a very immediate sense.

Not so many will protest to this, I fear, because the value of this forest areas are not perhaps so clear to people who do not live on or near them, to whom they are merely something that their taxes help to maintain and which exist on the boundaries of their perception of their own lives. This is of course something of a sweeping statement, there doubtless are people who live away from the forests who are still very much able to appreciate their importance, but I make it in an effort to illustrate a point.

The government say that although they intend to sell areas of local woodland and commercial woodland, they will retain Heritage Forests (essentially forests containing areas of rare ancient woodland, such as the New Forest and the Forest of Dean) within public ownership. I am fearful that this will not be the case, however. On top of the generally poor track record when it comes to politicians keeping their promises, the fact that the National Trust has expressed an intention of owning the New Forest throws things into doubt (see "The National Trust says it is looking at various options, including buying the most sensitive areas, such as the New Forest, itself" in article http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/science-environment-12314781). Why would the National Trust even bother entertaining the notion of owning this Forest if there was no possibility of it happening? It would be nonsensical.

Although I do not technically live within the boundaries of the New Forest, rather just outside, on the edge of it, it has played a massive part in my life. I have grown up with it, fallen in love with it, and when I tell people where I live the Forest is the environment I describe. It colours my life and my thought processes massively, and although people may say that this skews my judgement, I do not see this as an issue. The New Forest has just recently been granted the status of National Park, and this is how it should remain: National. And why should people who live near smaller local woodlands, which do not have the prestige of the larger forests, lose their natural environments simply because the government is greedy? It is not an policy that I could ever agree to, and I urge you all to consider the issue seriously.

Sarah Cuming : 02 Feb 2011 17:19 |  Tags: Comment Commentary Forest Freedom Government Politicians Politics Protest Public Society Voice |  Comments (0) |  Close comments |  Report a problem

No Entry

Writing about web page http://www.38degrees.org.uk/page/s/save-our-forests#petition

Sarah dug the stick hard down into the earth, dragging up rich topsoil and scraping through to the acidic sand below, the pungent aroma of decomposing leaf matter swamping her nostrils. This was the smell she knew, the thing that reminded her of home and brought that surging pang of emotion rising viciously to the surface.

           She loved this place.

           She loved this place, and they were selling it off.

           This forest, her forest, would soon be in the hands of fat-cat companies, and it would no longer be hers. She dreaded the arrival of the workmen, and the big red No Entry signs that she knew would accompany them.

           She felt the tears run hot salt-trails down her cheeks, her skin growing tight and dry in their wake. The susurration of raindrops on canopy raised her head, and she watched it fall.

           Two hours later, soaked to the skin and starting to shiver in the gentle summer breeze that grew when the rain faded, she finally felt cleansed of her rage, although a righteous anger still simmered gently down under her skin. She got up and started walking home.

           Reaching the cattle-grid, Sarah looked back out across the scrubby grass to the trees beyond, and cursed the politicians who deemed her forest as not important enough.

Sarah Cuming : 02 Feb 2011 16:51 |  Tags: Autobiography Fiction Forest Government Home Love Non-Fiction Protest Treasure |  Comments (1) |  Close comments |  Report a problem

A Room

the wallpaper, the walls of paper, wallpaper of
saffron and celluloid eyes

wallpaper looking, wallpaper seeking,
blank paper screaming the creature inside

Sarah Cuming : 02 May 2010 14:35 |  Comments (0) |  Close comments |  Report a problem

A Building – Poem entered for the 2006 Tower Poetry Competition

Wrote this in Year 11, entered it into the Tower Poetry Competition for that year. Not particularly good, but came across it when rummaging through old notes and brought back fond memories, so have posted it merely for nostalgic reasons.

a_building_entry_for_2006_tower_poetry_competition.wmv

Sarah Cuming : 24 Apr 2010 13:14 |  Tags: Audio Recording Building Competition Creative Writing Poetry Tower Poetry Competition Video |  Comments (1) |  Close comments |  Report a problem

The Peacock's Court

Sarah Cuming : 05 Apr 2010 20:43 |  Tags: Peacock Photographs Photography Poetry |  Comments (0) |  Close comments |  Report a problem

Leaf Writing

Sarah Cuming : 05 Apr 2010 19:29 |  Tags: City Country Countryside Creative Writing Green Image Leaf Poetical Prose Poetry Prose Shape |  Comments (0) |  Close comments |  Report a problem