Skeleton Architecture

Hi all, more good news this week in amongst the Brexit mess. My Poem for my red dress has been accepted for the fab Irish online poetry magazine Dodging the Rain, check it out here . Also, the lovely people at Speculative Books have let me know that this year's Speculative Book (including my poem He follows his own course ) will be coming out in April. Speculative Books are doing a subscription scheme which allows you to pay monthly and get a poetry book every single month while supporting a nice wee organisation. I've got a discount code for your first month if you fancy subscribing: MCKEE.

I've been doing lots of research lately on Scottish history, which is showing me just how much we never move on even if we think we're dead modern. I've also been writing poetry, I've been super inspired by Jacqueline Saphra's amazing poem Cimex Lectularius (see my post here for more on that), and have been writing a poem a week because of that, and informed by all my Scottish history research, and also the ongoing slow-motion car crash which is Brexit (as I write Westminster have rejected no-deal but not actually got rid of it, and they've asked for an extension but not actually got it *sigh*). Anyway, I've had a couple of bits of good news. Firstly, I'm going to have another poem in the May edition of the wonderful online poetry magazine Picaroon Poetry  - such a good magazine, I'm chuffed to bits to be in again. Secondly, my poem about a grumpy old man who was genuinely in a swimming pool with me is going to be in this year's Speculative Bo...

I want to draw your attention to the amazing poem by Jacqueline Saphra - Cimex Lectularius, which you'll find here  if you scroll down. I love how Jacqueline purposefully meanders through ideas, starting with the bed bug of the title and wandering to seemingly unlikely destinations, before turning back and bringing it together. I particularly love the callousness of the last line which applies to everything and so much more besides. That poem is a stroke of genius. I'm not a genius, so I figured I'd use a technique borrowed from Kamsin Kaneko , using some of the words from the original poem to craft one of my own. I did it a few weeks ago in this post , creating a library themed version of Mary Oliver's Wild Geese. The words I chose to pinch from Cimex Lectularius are as follows: I have learned this week that... and that... which reminds me of... which causes me to wonder... like that... which leads me back... Perhaps... As you can see, they're the directiona...

Hi! Another day of good news! My poem, 'The times that don't happen' is in First Literary Review East today! You'll find it here  but keep scrolling - it's the penultimate one. And that's it. No more news. I have no other plans. Well, I do, but they're secret, and possibly nefarious, stay tuned!

Hi all Just to let you know that the May edition of Peeking Cat magazine is now available (with one of my tankas in it). It's not yet on their website ( here ), although you will find details there for submissions to their 2018 anthology (poetry, flash fiction, and artwork/photography). You've got ages to put a submission together as the window closes on 31st August. You can buy a hard copy of May's Peeking Cat magazine for just £2.99 from here , OR you can download it for free from here . It's got a gorgeous wee cat on the cover too.

Yay! Sun! I always have the notion when the sun appears that perhaps it's time to put the gloves and hats away, but Scotland has had me in training and so they are all still out... They'll go away for a bit come June. May Sun in Scotland Then came the sun and, desperate for light we threw our bodies in its path, heedless of the wind; relentless giver of goosebumps on our bare flesh. We went outside and talked with our neighbours, swapping the pent up stories for what seemed to be the first time in months. Stories come out in the sun. All that was held in through the long dreary months: of grey, khaki, and brown; of the world rubbed out by gathering cloud; of the tears that fall in rain. But the wind still chilled and killed the new blooms and it would not fucking stop. And then this: It did. We had sun and warmth and bare skin and barbecues for at least two days. Three perhaps, if you  count the day the rain came back. But it did come back...

Hello all, thought I'd share my good news with you this morning.  First up... I've managed to get a poem into the prestigious online poetry magazine, Ink, Sweat & Tears. It's called Before the Weighing, and it's inspired by Jane Hirshfield's poem, The Weighing, which is all about the idea of weighing your soul against a feather to see if you're fit to enter heaven. I totally had the scene in American Gods (here's the clip, watch out for fruity language at the end) where that happens in my head when I was writing it, even though that was missing the lioness, can't imagine why. Anyway, the poem is there TODAY, so grab it while it's hot,  HERE . Another place I've been trying and trying to get a poem into is the fabulous Picaroon Poetry  and on what was going to be my last attempt I got in! Not only did I get in but it's with a poem which I wrote at a mini poetry retreat with my late friend Rose, who gave me so much inspiration to b...

I am coming to the end of a period of what I was inspired by Henry Rollins to call 'breathing out' - when I put my work out into the world. Soon I will start the 'breathing in' where I focus in on the creativity, writing and rewriting for me, to let things flourish and grow. I will keep the tanka project going until I reach 44, which is my age, twice as many as I'm at now, and also a number I love because I love repeating numbers. At that point I don't think it will die, just maybe breathe in. When I am busy sending my work out into the world I sometimes start to believe that a rejection means it's not good. It sometimes gets to you, especially when someone keeps hold of it for months on end only to reject it. All that time when you could have nurtured the thing and instead it was held by someone who didn't even love it. I can't judge myself or my work by other's standards (apart from the standards of my boss at the library where I now work...

This week's Prompt at Mum Turned Mom (link below) is perfection .  I start my Rose book (which I'm going to do an overhaul on, because I think I'm working out why no one wants to publish it) with a consideration of perfection, which is of course, unattainable, although a near miss is pretty good. We will keep aiming for it though, and beating ourselves up for not achieving it. It's a word that seems to get talked about a lot, particularly when considering beauty, and makeup. I am a big fan of makeup. I love black eyeliner, especially teamed with a smokey eye and minimalistic lipstick. I have been known to paint trees on the side of my face, and that's all good. I love watching people do makeup. I follow Illamasqua and Jonysios on Instagram, and they are both awesome feeds, with totally unnatural, brilliant looks. I love it when it's unnatural. I mean, if you're going to put colours on your face why not go wild and have fun? The thing that creeps me out...

I don't seem to be achieving much at the moment. I'm trying to write a synopsis for the Rose book, and in doing that I'm losing confidence in the story (which is me, not the story). My youngest stressed me out by tumbling all the way down the stairs and hitting her head (she seems fine if sore), and my middlest child is out of sorts, which is constantly worrying me. I am finishing up with very little useful brain.  Anyway, I saw that Sara at Mum Turned Mom  had suggested the prompt 'High' this week, and it reminded me of the song of the same name by New Model Army , which considers how irrelevant all our concerns are when seen from the top of a hill. There are lots of other songs with a similar feel, but I like New Model Army, so I headed to the top of my local hill to see and hear what I could see, singing to myself another one of my favourites by them - I Love the World .  I've ended up with a poem inspired by I Love the World (for the structure), and...

Hello there! Today (21st March) is World Poetry Day. To be honest, I didn't know this until Vic Welton shared a poem on her blog earlier today ( here ). She got some glorious goodies from Viking, which I'm jealous of, but I too can write about the joy of poeming, even without fancy stuff (although Viking , if you're watching, I'd love some freebies 😉), so here is my poem about why I write poetry, and underneath that are some links to awesome poets you might like to check out. Why do I write poetry? For poetry makes words into silly-putty to bounce ideas around and mould to our meanings. For poetry is a way to speak my truth to beauty and in that, reflect your own. For poems are small, and sometimes tiny and can be crafted and smoothed, embellished and made just so, and they might even find a new home. For I read and listen to poetry and find I must join in: take your words and swallow them to set my own words free. Ⓒ Cara L McKee 21/3/17 As promised here are some...

Hello! I'm down in the dumps at the moment. It's February and the rain is falling. Everything is cold and dull and wet, and staying in has ceased to be all hygge and lovely and become incredibly tedious. Not that we're staying in all the time, but I long for days of warm sun and lunch outside, of not constantly cleaning up muddy kitten prints (although they're doing great outside and having fun, which is good). My Mum is moving house today, which is brilliant for her, as her old house was too big and needed too much work. It's fine for me as well, but I'm rolling about in memories today, of all the things that happened in that house, all my memories, all the memories shared with others who aren't in my life now. It's weird to think that I won't ring that pull-bell again. It's weird to think that I won't need the memory of which steps creak. I'm busy doing lots of writing at the moment. Bitty stuff of poems to go with a photograph...

Way back in 2013 I wrote a blog post about how all the time I lived in Moffat I never managed to get up Grey Mare's Tail (very long waterfall) to the loch at the top of the very big hill. I tried, I really did, but the path was very steep, and the way down was very far, and I have a huge problem with heights. The time I got up the farthest my husband called our mission off because I was holding on to the ground, and passing people was becoming a huge problem. Since I went to Ilkley Literature Festival this year I've been inspired to try out different poetic forms, like list poems , and pantoums. I know that formal poetry and rhyming are not currently fashionable, but I love to work with those restrictions. Occasionally something will burst out and become free verse, but I love the interesting things that can come out of pattern. So, today I'm sharing a pantoum. This is one of my current favourite things, and involves repetition, although I'm not quite repea...

The prompt over at Mum Turned Mom this week is Lonely, and it got me to thinking about poetry, Wordsworth wandering lonely as a cloud  strikes me as odd, it is rare one seens a single cloud in the lake district, surely if there was one by itself, it would be relishing that moment of freedom? I also thought of Henri's mash up of Wordsworth's poem , and of how things can be taken out of the familiar context to give new meaning, both to the word and to the context. The other thing in my head when I think about 'lonely', is poor Tallulah, who is perhaps the loneliest person at Bugsy Malones when she sings the song about not having to be lonely. But that's what we do. We put our best foot forward, paint on a face and go on with the show. Anyway, I wrote a poem which doesn't want to be very long, about that little cloud. There are lots of clouds in the sky as I write, but I can't see her. I think sometimes we can feel most lonely when we're surroun...

So the other day I had a poem accepted, but I couldn't yet say where, and now I can! It's in the new magazine 404 Ink, which has now named me along with a host of other "brilliant new writers ". It's so exciting being in at the beginning with an interesting project like this, I'm feeling rather lucky and can't wait to see it in November. You can pre-order, find out more about 404 Ink, and get links to their Patreon page (and also top tips for using Patreon if you're interested), here . I've also been lucky enough to have a poem accepted for a forthcoming edition of Allegro Magazine, which I'll let you know about when it comes out, and I've got two poems coming out in Forward Poetry anthologies, and one in a local writer's group anthology later this year. I'm hoping to add to these little fledgelings flying the nest with more poems getting accepted in more places, so I'm submitting them all over the place. Keep your finger...

I'm in between books at the moment. My Rose book is going out to potential agents (and I know I should expect rejection, but it's nice when they get back to you and you can turn it around and get it out somewhere else, and what if no-one likes it because it's rubbish? I know I've read plenty of rubbish books in my time, so some-one will surely take it anyway? What if it's not rubbish, but no-one wants it anyway?)... BREATHE! And I'm refusing to start rewriting Chaptershill until November, because I have already invested too much effort, time, and LOVE into it to start over (and it needs a start over) without quite deciding what to do. Is the reason why I can't think of another book like the one I'm thinking of writing because it's a terrible idea? Should I attempt to write it as a TV series? Who would want that anyway? If only I could draw I could render it as a series of graphic novels, which would be wonderful. Anyway... In between that I a...

I've been away for such a long time! My last post was about a month ago, and was written when I thought that Katsuma was going to die. I was so incredibly worried about him, and I'm happy to report that he has pulled through that crisis, although he is still a very sick cat. He is now on lots of medication for his heart disease, and he is no longer capable of living the life he previously lived. But I think he's still content. He gets ever so much love, and I know he wishes he could still go out and kill things, but lying in any possible patch of sun comes a close second. He's never going to be fully better, and at some point another crisis will come, and that is when we will stop, because he's done amazingly well, he's walking again and everything, but I wouldn't want to see him go through such a terrible time again. Anyway, what have I been doing to keep myself away for so long? Lots of poems. I have been writing away, with so many ideas that I'm ...

I've been poetically absent for a while. I've been reeling in the wake of Brexit, which I did not see coming, and which has left me grieving for the Britain I thought I knew. I know that the leavers reckon we remainers should get over it and move on, but that blase attitude is what allowed them to vote leave in the first place. For me, being part of Europe is an important part of my identity and how I want to live my life. I'd much rather be part of Europe than Britain. Especially this Britain, this one that has shown itself to be racist and nasty and to have no compassion for the rest of humanity. For a while there I was anticipating a second anarchy, and I'm impressed that Theresa May was willing to pick up the poisoned chalice of leadership at this time. So far she's doing it with aplomb (apart from the whole keeping nuclear bombs thing, but that insanity is not only her doing). Still. I would rather leave Britain than leave Europe, and I haven't been able...