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| Fresh Voices |
| Gwyneth Box  |
| This poem was first published in Freelance Market News December 2000. |
| There's a new stall at the market, it's really quite exciting, they've got everything that's needed for every type of writing: there's prose in all the colours, not just the standard purple, and poets' squares and triangles as well as writers' circles. Their sonnets and their villanelles are wrapped up in black lace, the epics are kept out the back - there's simply not the space. They told me that their shanties are brought daily from the coast, they've got commas, dashes, colons - choose the ones that you like most - they're laid out with the platitudes on cunning ice-lined trays, with nonce-words and ephemera and esoteric plays. When you buy two triplets, you get the third one free, and they'll do a deal exchanging metaphors for similes. They sell rhythm by the foot there, and scansion by the metre, as for presentation guidelines, you'll never have seen neater. There's clichés by the dozen, they've got bucketfuls of screamers, the doggerel's in couplets and the consciousness on streamers. If you're bored with your perspective and you think you ought to change it, have a word with the consultant: I'm sure he can arrange it. They show you all the products (they never simply tell) - the gothic horror section is like a trip to hell! They've got some local colour and some novel twisting tales and advice about deep breathing for when inspiration fails. They sell the thread for plot-lines in various metric weights as well as yarns and anecdotes at reasonable rates. If you ask for something that they haven't got in stock they'll hack some new ideas from off the writers' block. I went there just the other day, I needed a fresh voice, and now I don't know what to do: I'm simply spoiled for choice! |
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