A poem sequence and an interview with Molly Pearson, the 2016/2017 recipient of the Ink Sweat & Tears Poetry Writing Scholarship at the University of East Anglia.

 

The following three poems are part of a sequence that explores the connection between natural phenomena and bodily affect.

 

specimens

 

#1

i will give a proof of my zeal: one day, on tearing off some old bark, i saw two rare beetles & seized one in each hand; then i saw a third & new kind, which i could not bear to lose, so that i popped the one which i held in my right hand into my mouth. alas it ejected some intensely acrid fluid, which burnt my tongue so that i was forced to spit the beetle out…
— charles dickens

knowing what will happen never stops me

when i took you in my mouth
divine complexity

a six-legged query      poised
on the tip of my tongue

rooting in the damp
soil of each other’s forms       until

your body sprang its sudden leak
those virulent colours       seeping

in the morning        i am swollen
entirely different
opened

my mouth becomes bank

vast atrocious trees       birds breathing

 

 

#2

i fulfil my functions like an unripe fruit
mulchy seed-skinned flotsam of potential
tulip machinery clanking
under the dirt

& yes       i have been fragile

have spoken in concentric circles
photodegredation        the light widening
damp wind torquing untold familiar words
bounce of water       gyre

fragile

knows its own extremity       is generous
jewelled piñata heart treating us all to itself
bruiseful rape-yellow pulp
uncensored streaming

 

 

#3

& as we were settling this final fathom, i saw a wonderful thing. lying on the bottom just beneath us was some type of flatfish. even as I saw him, his two round eyes on top of his head spied us — a monster of steel — invading his silent realm. here, in an instant, was the answer that biologists had asked for the decades. could life exist in the greatest depths of the ocean? it could!
— jacques piccard

a new old thing
slimy & exquisite

breathless       clenched by water
i feel        girl

call it awareness:

the body’s gunky sentience       each cavity
my middle ear       my pink & reaching lungs
gap where a womb should be
noisy air in blood

the outer window cracked        beginning to trickle
all that expectation

i let you into my skin
your flexing bones       your eyes

the dark inside me
tightens

 

********

Seven Questions with an Eighth

1. Where do you write? (do you have a place that you find yourself and your writing?)
Different poems suit the vibes of different places. I’ll write in coffee shops, libraries or at my desk at home beside my trusty angle-poise, whatever the current work calls for.

2. How do you write? (into a notebook or straight onto a computer?)
Computer, always. As a poet it makes experimenting with form and structure so much easier.

3. Roughly how much time do you spend each week on creative writing related activities? (writing, editing, correspondence & submissions)
I tend to write in short, intense bursts — by the time I open my laptop, most of the poem has already been written in my head and it’s just a matter of getting the words down — so the amount of time spent actually writing is small for me. The rest — editing, corresponding and submitting — takes forever! It evens out to a couple of hours a day.

4. What time of day do you usually write?
As soon as I wake up, regardless of when that is. I need fully charged batteries!

5. What does it feel like to write?
My best writing is done when I’m unaware of myself. If at any point I start thinking about who I am, what I’m doing, or (God forbid) why I’m doing it, block sets in. I’m in a very high state of awareness; it’s almost trancelike. I’m aware of the words happening, but not much else.

6. Are there any stimuli that will usually trigger you into writing?
The stimulus that triggers non-writing is definitely routine! Emotional, physical and even geographical shake-ups all get my creative juices flowing, so if I’m struggling, the best thing I can do is to go somewhere I’ve never been and write there. Failing that, a flat white generally does the trick.

7. What are you working on now?
For the past month and a half I’ve been working on HYDRA, a collection of poetry that explores our relationship with water. So much of the planet and so much of our bodies are liquid. Each human spends the first nine months of its life as a marine creature, and until around 400 million years ago all life was aquatic. It’s been fascinating to consider what that represents to us and the role that water plays in our twenty-first century lives.

8. How has the scholarship affected your writing?
It’s given me the opportunity of spending time with some fantastic writers, and I think that affects writing more than most people realise. The poets I’ve studied with for the past year on the MA are really talented, and watching them develop poetically in the same way I’ve been developing has been a privilege. In January I was lucky enough to be invited to read at Café Writers alongside Esther Morgan, whose work I really admire, and it was an amazing experience. Being around poets always makes me want to write poetry.

 

For details of UEA’s Ink Sweat & Tears Poetry Writing Scholarship established by IS&T’s Kate Birch please go here.

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Two poems and an interview with Joanna Hollins, the 2015/2016 recipient of the Ink Sweat & Tears Poetry Writing Scholarship at the University of East Anglia.

 

Iona   i

The losing of faith isn’t easy. So many years
and words – times you’ve sat, half-drunk
on divinity or cider, arguing

the case, cases, offered prayer, wisdom,
verses – it gathers in crooks, fills in
where bits of you are absent. After service

when all the kind bits of yourself,
are at the pub drowning
a week’s shit in ale and chips,

admitting your faith is as clear
as the swirling wood grains
at the bottom of your pint glass.

You’ll know it at your time – it’ll be ordinary.
No thunderbolt realisation, no swirling clouds
or angel ladders irkfully ascending;

only godless silence
which no-one dares to mention.

 

 

Iona II

The finding of faith is harder. So many years
and words – times you’ve sat, half-drunk
on divinity, talking it up – either way

there’s the heady taste of the argument, the dare
of circumspection, the sticky rush
of obstinacy heading into your thighs,

belly, heaving chest (tapping the mic:
‘hello. hello. God is dead.’ Said twice
for laughter)

Admit to this lack of faith: in church
after sex you found yourself thinking
about how you’d ease his shirt off

(eyes averted from the altar Jesus
and his taunt ribcage) – and come
back to the room mid-prayer

and find your mouth moving, the body
faithful, the spirit less than willing

and faithlessly asked for faith many times,
like the radio-lovers who code their data
into waves and broadcast out

into the unknown. Like anyone might hear.
This being the hardest part of faith:
the asking for it. Constant doubt,
yes, but always constant.

 

 

1.Where do you write? (do you have a place that you find yourself and your writing?)

For me, nothing beats working in a library. It has to be a very quiet environment, but I don’t mind having other people around – knowing people can see you is a great way to avoid procrastination! I like to nest – shoes off, in a comfy chair or surrounded by cushions, and with as few visual or auditory distractions as possible. Going out to write can look a little like a camping trip…

2.How do you write? (into a notebook or straight onto a computer?)

I carry a notebook for rough ideas, but mostly I write on my laptop. I prefer to work on Notepad, as it looks very clean, less distracting than Word.

3.Roughly how much time do you spend each week on creative writing related activities? (writing, editing, correspondence & submissions)

It really varies. I’m editing a little more at the moment, which can be time-consuming with long pieces, but as I enjoy it it’s easier to concentrate and get it done. It does vary hugely. My dissertation involved an intense burst of writing, so I’ve been enjoying making more time to read. I’m a reflective learner, so I’ll read something and a few months later I’ll find myself coming back to it in my writing.

4.What time of day do you usually write?

I like the late afternoon, into the early evening. Being a night owl, I don’t feel like I’m properly awake until early afternoon. I’ve found I can work with this – if I have a whole day to work on something, I’ll read and plan in the morning, and move to writing later in the day.

5.What does it feel like to write?

It feels like a gamble. Sometimes I know what I need to say, but not how to get there. And sometimes I think I know what I’m doing and it takes me somewhere else entirely. The best feeling is when you can look at something you’ve written and feel like you know something you didn’t know before you wrote it.

6. Are there any stimuli that will usually trigger you into writing?

Being outside works for me – I’ve always loved the city, but recently I’ve started to discover the countryside, and even gardening. A long walk in silence helps me to think.

7. What are you working on now?

I’m in search of a new project! Most of my writing recently has been stand-alone poems, so I definitely need something new to sink my teeth into. In a few weeks’ time I will be moving to Wales to spend a year with a monastic community, which should be a great place to look for new inspiration; I wrote a collection of devotional poems for my master’s dissertation, and have a particular interest in the way poetry can explore spirituality and faith.

8. How has the scholarship affected your writing?

There were points during the course when my confidence in my writing dipped, and I was very anxious about whether I was good enough to continue. I think this is a pretty normal state for most writers to go through at some point! Knowing I had the support of Ink, Sweat and Tears motivated me to keep going, and to believe in myself.

The scholarship also introduced me to some incredible people – reading alongside Jay Bernard and Jonathan Morley at Café Writers was one of the highlights of the whole year for me. I’m in total awe of the poetry community in Norwich and their skill and dedication. Wherever I go from here, being part of that community will stay with me, and will continue to inspire me to keep writing.

 

For details of UEA’s Ink Sweat & Tears Poetry Writing Scholarship established by IS&T’s Kate Birch please go here.

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A poem and an interview with Bee Sparks, the 2014/2015 recipient of the Ink Sweat & Tears Poetry Writing Scholarship at the University of East Anglia.

 

 

Nola 1.

 

Yasmine and I are sat in the yard

with its gates like painted toothpicks

I flick my broken lighter against the wind

hands shaking from three cigarettes in row

thumb stained blow-torch black,

hoping Wheelchair Guy doesn’t wheel by

Do you want to buy me a Subway?

my freebie matches got drenched in a storm

catching as I wiggle one to break it off

like twisting out a wobbly tooth

uncouth

on my bedroom floor

tasting salt on my fingertips

Our compound I say

our laughter echoes through the space

our place in this city marked when she turns to me

says beggars literally can’t be choosers

her accent is like ice-cubes

mine is frosting on the tip of my tongue

sticking my words behind my teeth

 

 

Seven Questions with an Eighth

In this series Ink Sweat & Tears talks to practicing writers about their process.

 

1. Where do you write? (do you have an office, room, bus journey that you find yourself and your writing?)

I have a slightly strange habit of writing while I’m travelling, mainly because it’s one of the few times I get the space to just think. I’ll often start making ideas while on long journeys and then shape them into poems when I get home. When writing at home I usually write late at night in bed, again because I really like the space you get when everyone else is asleep.

 

2. How do you write? (into a notebook or straight onto a computer?)

I usually begin with ideas written into my notebook that I try to take everywhere or just into Notes on my phone. Then when I get home I type them up.

 

3. Roughly how much time do you spend each week on creative writing related activities?(writing, editing, correspondence & submissions)

I spend a lot of my time being creative, whether that is writing, drawing or work-shopping. I’m always on the look out for ideas and once I actually get into the act of shaping and writing these I usually spend a solid evening or day, usually about once a week. Once I start I’m not great at stopping though!

 

4. What time of day do you usually write?

As I mentioned I’m fairly nocturnal in my writing habits. I tend to stew over things all day and then my ideas always seem to crystallize just when I’m about to go to bed.

 

5. What does it feel like to write?

It’s a really great feeling; there’s a sort of simultaneous release of thought and a containment of that thought which, until writing, was fluctuating and expansive. I really enjoy the crafting of the poem, building a structure can have a really satisfyingly mechanical feel. I always feel a little sad when I decide that a poem is finished, almost like when you finish reading a book, like there’s so much more around the story that you’d love to hear or tell.

 

6. Are there any stimuli that will usually trigger you into writing?

I really love people watching and fairly often see little moments between people that trigger things in some way, some memory or thought about how people treat each other. I am also constantly inspired by what I’m reading and the culture I immerse myself in.

 

7. What are you working on now?

I have just finished MA dissertation, which was attempting to experiment with and deconstruct Millennials’ ways of interpreting our experiences through language and media. My MA gave me a really invaluable space to work on such an expansive project.

 

And as you are recipient of the Ink Sweat & Tears Poetry Writing Scholarship, we thought we’d add an eighth…

8. How has the scholarship affected your writing?

The scholarship has had a hugely positive affect on writing. It allowed me to do the MA full-time rather than part-time, which meant I could immerse myself more fully with every aspect of it. I’ve always been fairly insecure or shy about my own work and being awarded this scholarship gave me a confidence boost which led to me sharing more of my work with my peers and feeling more sure of any creative decisions I make. It also gave me a chance to meet and socialise with some really inspiring people, both other Scholarship holders and my lovely donor.

 

 

For details of UEA’s Ink Sweat & Tears Poetry Writing Scholarship established by IS&T’s Kate Birch please go here.

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A poem and an interview with Katharine Duckney, the 2013/2014 recipient of the Ink Sweat & Tears Poetry Writing Scholarship at the University of East Anglia.

 

 

 

Gamete

 

When you talk about the children you’d rather have

with the future instead of my body –

the mirror, the basin, the walls

go. I feel the black-pink dark

of a shutting rose.

 

Blank knocking of spines in the night, back to back. I told you

I shake in the fridge-pods of alien beds, featureless

sides fusing in thickscum, spawnmist:

what my face asked of you

was lost in it.

 

 

 

Seven Questions

 

In this occasional series Ink Sweat & Tears talks to practicing writers about their process.

 

1.  Where do you write? (do you have an office, room, bus journey that you find yourself and your writing?)

 

I like to be outside and I like to be moving. But when I’m making notes it’s often without a notebook. It’s important for me not to carry pen and paper around with me constantly like a hopeful little talisman, self-consciously thinking ‘poetry, poetry’ whenever I see something beautiful or overhear a peculiar conversation. For me, that’s how things get forced and familiar. I want occurrences to settle with me in life before they cement into a literary idea, and I think I become way too conscious of experience in the context of poetry if I’m making notes as I go about my day. There’s a stagnancy to that. It deadens experience too fast and therefore limits what you can actually write about it because you’ve already established an event as an idea. Kind of like thinking ‘ha, that was great. I can’t wait to tweet about that when I get home’: the presence of the moment is over as soon as your mind tries to freeze it. I think I’m always thinking of poetry dormantly though – perhaps I’m lucky to possess the capacity for storing details that I can then take back to a quiet room and write down after I’ve lived another day, letting things reappear to me naturally as I write rather than seizing on a desperate detail that I have to wedge in.

 

2. How do you write? (into a notebook or straight onto a computer?)

I was advised by Lavinia Greenlaw last year to write your poems by hand in a notebook: ‘it should be difficult, the process should be long’, she told me. And I agree. I think typing straight onto a computer can often make you feel, because the text is perfect (the straight lines, the flawless eligibility) that what you’ve written is also that distinct. In my scrawl every word matters. Nothing is automatic. I think… I did that. I made that shape. Nothing did that for me. Why did I do it? I question less on a screen. I think I trust it more than I trust myself, so I think less deeply.

 

2.   Roughly how much time do you spend each week on creative writing related activities? (writing, editing, correspondence & submissions)

 

At the moment I’m studying for an MA in Poetry at UEA, so a great deal of my time is spent reading and annotating the work of fellow students as well as developing my own writing. It’s a wonderful experience. Each week we receive a batch from a mixture of classmates – always so rich and eclectic – and I never anticipated how invested I’d become in the growth of this writing. I love the workshop process. It’s such a positive environment, and the feedback I’ve received since September has been consistently helpful. Time management is a severe issue for me: I need to see the skeletal finger of a Deadline beckoning before I can wrench myself away from Gilmore Girls, so if there’s ever a lull in workload I’d like to think more about submissions. Certainly.

 

3.   What time of day do you usually write?

 I like the night. I like the night a lot. There have been some rare occasions where I’ve made ragged attempts to fall out of bed onto my yoga mat (developing this new one-move sequence I call ‘unconscious child’s pose’) before pretending to enjoy some acrid green tea as an accompaniment to the cleansing morning flow writing process. It never works. I feel too purposeful.

Writing when I can’t sleep is the best. That’s when things are stopping me from shutting down and I want to know why. I want to explore and resolve these issues with the background of a whole day behind me. Plus I always feel strange, alone, dark, sexy. Burn some candles. Put on some ‘weed track’ I found on ‘the other side of YouTube’.

 

4.   What does it feel like to write? At times it has been vital, cathartic. That was when I was very unhappy, and although I feel like poetry ‘saved’ me, I can’t honestly say that it saved my poetry. It often seemed like there was a black line drawn underneath every piece I wrote, seeming to say ‘this can go no further’. I’d made up my mind that there was nothing that fascinated me more than nothing itself, so my work couldn’t expand beyond that oblivion I wanted so much. I’m not ashamed of the poetry I wrote around that time at all. It was honest and bare and not without subtlety, but I couldn’t push it any deeper. There’s definitely something to be taken from Anne Sexton’s naked poetry, a woman I admire endlessly for her sexual and emotional courage. But now I feel more connected to Louise Gluck or Mary Oliver, softly coming out of it, being able to view a fiercely difficult time with the steadiness of the present. Things make much more sense now.

 

6. Are there any stimuli that will usually trigger you into writing?

I like dreams. I like the furtive, unspoken, secret taboo world beyond expression. I like reaching for things we can’t possibly know and then finding a place for language within what language can’t express. It’s not really possible, and I like seeing the limit, the yearning, the frustration in my work – I think it keeps it active and open. I’m scared of stagnancy and cliché. Shit scared.

Also women. I like women talking unashamedly about being women. Blood and tears and holes (and why not ink and sweat while we’re at it?)

 

7. What are you working on now?

My next MA submission! Don’t remind me!

  

And as you are a recipient of the Ink Sweat & Tears Poetry Writing Scholarship, we thought we’d add an eighth…

 

8. How has the scholarship affected your writing?

 

I feel a tremendous freedom. I really do. I think it’s every writer and academic’s vision of near-perfection to have the space and time to focus on their work without constantly having to panic about how they’re ‘supporting themselves in the meantime’. The feedback I’ve received over the course of this term has mainly been ‘hey, Kate, your writing should not be tamed, don’t let anyone tame it’. I think this has a great deal to do with the fact that I feel so unencumbered, that I have so much time to read badass and highly imaginative female authors I never would have heard of before, like all the women in Arielle Greenberg and Lara Glenum’s Gurlesque anthology, Eileen Myles, Ariana Reines, Anne Carson, Emily Berry, C.D Wright and so many more. I’m so thankful to Kate Birch at Ink, Sweat and Tears for providing me with this opportunity and, without doubt, my favourite ever academic year. What could be better than poetry in the name of fluids?

 

 

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A poem and an interview with Jennifer Grey, the 2012 recipient of the new Ink Sweat & Tears Poetry Writing Scholarship at the University of East Anglia.

 

Seven Conversations with the Undertaker

 

I

You turn the lights on when you come home: tobaccoflame, click, spark.

 

II

You put splinters in your hands at work again, shutting the lids one by one. You close your eyes. I ask about tetanus jabs. You put your green thumbpalm on my blue wristvein, stifle the pulse.

 

III

you touch my hand/my bones fray/your bones touch/my hand is frayed/you fray my touch/my hand bones/hands on bones/you fray me/you fray me

 

IV

We turn our backs in bed. Your fingertips leave cysts, hiving up my breast. I count them one on one on one.

 

V

At the dinner table, you fiddle with your fork. I send you smoke signals. You lick out the ashtray.

 

VI

i dreamed my lungs – grew little trees – within each alveoli – which grew and shed – and split out through me – slid right through my ribs   –   my god just watch me grow a headdress headstone headpiece over this

 

VII

At the twelve week scan, doctors slam out cardiacspeak. You send a text: don’t wait up.

 

 

 

Seven Questions

 

1. Where do you write? (do you have an office, room, bus journey that you find yourself and your writing?)

I mainly write in my bedroom with the curtains closed, sometimes in the absolute dark. This can make it very hard to see what I’m doing. I also have to have black tea, no sugar, preferably by the gallon.

 

2. How do you write? (into a notebook or straight onto a computer?)

I always write onto a computer. I’m a big fan of the delete key. My notebooks are just lots of lines crossed out for the first three pages and then blank, because the mess has upset me so much I’ve been forced to abandon the notebook.

 

3. Roughly how much time do you spend each week on creative writing related activities? (writing, editing, correspondence & submissions)

I’d like to say I try for at least seven hours (an hour a day) but that might be a lie. Sometimes lots more, sometimes lots less. It depends how much tea there is in the house.

 

4. What time of day do you usually write?

Any of the times during which I can wear pyjamas. I’d like to say that means either first thing in the morning or last thing at night, but it’s more likely to actually be halfway through Sunday lunch. I like pyjamas.

 

5. What does it feel like to write?

Like a cross between a massive relief and a massive panic attack. Exactly like falling into a fast flowing river and simultaneously remembering that you’re both an Olympic standard swimmer and hydrophobic.

 

6. Are there any stimuli that will usually trigger you into writing?

If I could pinpoint that, I’d be a much better writer! Or at least a more prolific one. I tend to be in the middle of something completely unrelated and just find myself playing word games in my head. If I find them acceptable, I write them down.


7. What are you working on now?

A poem for the Writers’ Centre Norwich 26 for Norwich project about the writer Amelia Opie. Unfortunately, all of the poems I’ve tried to write about Amelia Opie recently have ended up being about something completely unrelated, such as the Apocalypse, which is a bit daunting.

 

This annual Scholarship is available for students wishing to study for the MA Creative Writing: Poetry degree course and will contribute to the recipient’s full course fees for one year. Established by Kate Birch, a friend of the University, the Scholarship is named after Ink Sweat & Tears – a creative writing webzine run by Kate and edited by Bloodaxe poet Helen Ivory – which celebrates poetry, prose poetry and short fiction and promotes work that combines word and image. The Ink Sweat & Tears Poetry Writing Scholarship will be awarded by the Pro-Vice-Chancellor (Academic) on the recommendation of a Selection Committee from the Faculty of Arts and Humanities.  Find out more about the IS&T Scholarship here.

 

 

 

 

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A poem and an interview with Eleanor Stewart, the 2011 recipient of the new Ink Sweat & Tears Poetry Writing Scholarship at the University of East Anglia.

 

By The Icarian Sea

It was a good orange, firm
but with a spring to it.
Shepherd cast a glance
towards his sheep (all there)
then dug a fingernail in.
It was a good orange.
He proceeded, with care,
to carve out a land for himself,
smiling when the peel came away
in one piece in his hand.
He turned it this way and that
and pondered on what map it could be,
if he knew any geography.

He considered throwing it
at Ploughman, a little to his left,
but thought the better of it
(Ploughman had muscles).
Instead he threw it out to sea
in a high, wide arc,
where the wind caught it
and turned it to a scudding,
orange-bellied gull.

Shepherd watched its flight
leaning from the cliff-edge,
devouring juicy segments.
There was a mass of foaming feathers
amongst the crests and peaks
of waves and more carried by the breeze.
One caught, sticky, in his fingers
and he wondered what strange
bird it came from.

The orange peel fell.

And in his last breath
before the water,
Icarus thought that the
sun had decided
to fall with him.

 

Eight Questions
1. Where do you write? (do you have an office, room, bus journey that you find yourself and your writing?)

If I sit down to write a poem, it’s usually at home in my room (I currently live in a shared student house). If the weather is good then I might attempt to write outside although this doesn’t tend to prove very productive as I get too easily distracted by passing wildlife or overheard conversations.

2. How do you write? (into a notebook or straight onto a computer?)

Preliminary ideas and very rough workings of poems – an odd line or two – go down in a notebook, but I generally write and edit full drafts on my laptop as I find it really helps to be able to move things around easily.

3. Roughly how much time do you spend each week on creative writing related activities? (writing, editing, correspondence & submissions)

At the moment I aim to write at least one poem a week, in order to keep up with the demands of the MA. The amount of time spent writing varies from poem to poem but I like to spend a good few days, preferably weeks, just thinking about a possible poem and perhaps researching it, too. An invaluable part of the MA is the workshop session, which is three hours per week, sometimes followed by a half hour tutorial.

4. What time of day do you usually write?

At any time of day, though most often in the evening.

5. What does it feel like to write?

Writing the first draft of a poem often feels quite instinctive, perhaps because I’ve usually spent a lot of time contemplating a poem beforehand. It can feel exhilarating. After the intuitive first draft, though, I’m beset by doubts and anxieties and the harder work begins.

6. Are there any stimuli that will usually trigger you into writing?

I find myself more and more inspired by art in other mediums; paintings, sculptures or other artifacts. Listening to instrumental music often puts me in a good frame of mind for writing, too. I’m a member of the UEA Choir and often find that Monday evenings after rehearsals are usually quite productive in terms of poetry – there’s something about singing in a group that feels amazingly uplifting and invigorating. Perhaps engaging with different art forms alerts me to a wider range of poetic possibilities.

7. What are you working on now?

At the moment I’m working on a collection of twelve poems to submit for assessment on the MA. I use the term collection loosely, though, as there isn’t a particular unifying force. The course so far has been a wonderful opportunity to experiment with different voices and forms and to follow my own interests, exploring subjects such as classical myth, the natural world and the paintings of Bruegel.

8. How has the scholarship affected your writing?

I feel immensely lucky to have been awarded the scholarship as it has given me a year in which to focus almost solely on writing. Working with such inspiring tutors at UEA is an absolute privilege and it is wonderful to be learning alongside my course mates in what is a brilliantly stimulating and supportive environment. It is proving to be a very enriching experience that is shaping and changing the ways in which I think about poetry and also the poems that I write

This annual Scholarship is available for students wishing to study for the MA Creative Writing: Poetry degree course and will contribute to the recipient’s full course fees for one year. Established by Kate Birch, a friend of the University, the Scholarship is named after Ink Sweat & Tears – a creative writing webzine run by Kate and edited by Bloodaxe poet Helen Ivory – which celebrates poetry, prose poetry and short fiction and promotes work that combines word and image. The Ink Sweat & Tears Poetry Writing Scholarship will be awarded by the Pro-Vice-Chancellor (Academic) on the recommendation of a Selection Committee from the Faculty of Arts and Humanities.  Find out more about the IS&T Scholarship here.

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