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ISSUE 1 Sept 2009

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Feature
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– Lyle Weir
by Abbie Packwood

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Poetry
by Lyle Weir

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Short Story
by Pippa Collett

Book Review
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– J K Rowling
by Emilie Lauren Jones

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Eureka Moments
by Emilie Lauren Jones

Writer’s Block
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by Harriet Kendrick

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blockfeaturepoetryshortstorybookrevieweurekawritersblockfeatu
Coventry Words
Coventry University
Priory Street
Coventry
CV1 5FB

www.coventry.ac.uk
Coventry Words Coventry Words

welcome from the editors savvy student

gets promising publication
contents editors: contributing writers:
Feature – Lyle Weir 2
Here it is the first edition
of our Coventry Words
After enjoying my English
Language A level, I
First Year Coventry University English student Lyle Weir will have
Savvy student gets promising publication magazine. The next few decided to study English his poem ‘Nebula Horizon’ published in a United Press anthology
pages are an outlet for all at Coventry University.
the creative vibes flying I struggled to decide called ‘Golden Days’ this summer.
Poetry 3 around this university. In which path I wanted to
every issue you’ll find short take after sixth form, and Weir, 23, originally Nebula Horizon was Weir’s first conscious effort Time spent at the University has allowed Weir
stories, poems and prose English seemed like a discovered a to write rhyming poetry. Although this poem was to explore other creative outlets; he performed
Short Story by Pippa Collett 5 from creative writers who want to show off their natural choice. I have never thought of myself passion for inspired by footage of Space, Weir states that his favourite piece ‘333’ at Coventry University’s
work. Along with these there will be reviews on as a creative student, so I was delighted and creative writing most of his work has political and philosophical One World Week, and his future plans include
Rabbit in the headlights
the latest books and bios on authors, puzzles, somewhat surprised to see several of my in his early teens undertones. His long term ambition is to use taking part in more performance poetry.
quizzes and our tips on how to turn the creative poems appear in the Student Union’s Source when he started poetry and music to change the attitudes of
After finishing his BA in English, Weir plans to
Book Review – J K Rowling 7 chaos in your mind into a masterpiece. Thanks Magazine and another in a Coventry Words writing song our community.
travel, gathering experiences and inspiration
for picking up the first issue and enjoy! leaflet. Originally from Leicester, I love the lyrics. Years
‘The Tales of Beedle the Bard’ by JK Rowling “I don’t understand today’s society,” argues from around the globe in order to fulfil his
countryside - it is the thing I miss the most later, he enrolled at Coventry
Alexander Lauder-Bliss Weir. “War is pointless, glorified murder. I potential as a writer and performer. He is
since moving to Coventry. I spend most of my University on a Joint Honours course intending
E-mail: blissa@coventry.ac.uk want to help change the way people treat currently writing a Graphic novel with a friend. If
to study English and Journalism. After realising
Articles: spare time listening to music, which has crafted each other.” this becomes a success it may widen the career
aspirations to work within the media sector of a preference to focus solely on studying English,
path as a writer.
Eureka Moments 8 the music industry after finishing my degree. Weir decided to re-enrol in September 2008 Weir is currently editing an anti-war poem
A warm welcome to and has now nearly finished the first year of named ‘333’; some publications have been Although writing is important to Weir, he is
Eureka moments and where to find them! everyone. This is the first Harriet Kendrick the course. unwilling to use this piece as it contains a adamant that above all it should always be at
issue of our new Coventry E-mail: kendrich@coventry.ac.uk profanity. Weir hopes to submit this poem to least an enjoyable hobby. The likeable student
Words newsletter Between the ages of 14 and 23 Weir estimates
more publishing companies soon. expresses distaste for arrogance, and clearly
Writer’s Block 9 designed by students writing over 200 music lyrics and poetry, yet it
states that he does not seek fame, only change.
for students. The idea I am currently studying is only recently he has found the confidence Considering his recent achievement, Weir is
Writer’s block: don’t let it get to your head to show his work to others. With the support remarkably humble. Despite the fact that the Golden Days will be published over the Summer,
behind the publication is English at Coventry and
to inspire you to be more creative by compiling have always loved reading of Coventry University creative writing tutor young author hopes to motivate a change in including Nebula Horizon. An assortment of
Alyson Morris, Weir has developed his talent society in the future, he is clear his writing is Weir’s previous work can be found on the
Advertisements 10 the best student work from each term and and writing. I won The
showcasing it for everyone to see. We hope that Guardian’s short story and challenged his skills, leading to a decision primarily a private way to express his Coventry University creative writing website
it will inspire you to discover your own literary competition in 2006 and to approach publishers. After submitting dozens personal voice. and in its accompanying poetry pamphlet,
genius. Don’t forget to check out our Coventry had it published in an of poems to several publications, Weir heard Coventry Words, plus the Student Union’s
Since embarking on the English course,
Words website, the link is on the CU Portal anthology ‘The Perfect Lie’, nothing for two months. However, United Press ‘Source’ newspaper.
the talented student has found a source of
editors: (Life@CU) and Google. Thank you to everyone I also self published a poetry book ‘One Look’ recently got in touch to confirm they would be
confidence in tutor Alyson Morris, who in turn His early success is a credit to himself and his
who has been involved so far. to raise money for Action on Addiction and publishing Nebula Horizon.
Alexander Lauder Bliss: believes Weir has “a natural gift for rhythm University, and an inspiration to other young
am currently editor of Leamington Chatterbox and verse”. However, having barely studied aspiring writers.
blissa@coventry.ac.uk Tom Dodd
Magazine. I really love life at Cov Uni both conventional poetry guidelines before, Weir
E-mail: doddt@coventry.ac.uk by Abbie Packwood
Tom Dodd: lessons and social and because I live at home I admits he has hit some obstacles, like learning
doddt@coventry.ac.uk can still go to every football match! to edit his work.
sub-editor:
sub-editor: Emilie Lauren Jones
E-mail: jonese7@coventry.ac.uk
Alyson Morris:
a.morris@coventry.ac.uk Alyson teaches creative
writing on the BA English
house writers: course. She is well
Harriet Kendrick: travelled, and has written,
kendrich@coventry.ac.uk edited and published
materials for education and
Emilie Lauren Jones:
marketing. Alyson is also
jonese7@coventry.ac.uk
involved with a local theatre and has recently
English and Languages Department: acted on stage.
BA English, George Eliot Building, GE519
Alyson Morris
E-mail: a.morris@coventry.ac.uk
Tel: 024 7688 8013

Contents / Welcome Promising publication

1 2
Coventry Words
poetry by Lyle Weir
333
Survey this land around you all drenched in blood,
your hands like mine bare the guilt and the shame
Yet together we feel no loss.
Green pastures turned crimson and it’s not enough,
it is never enough.
What you have I will take, what you covet I will destroy.
When you know love I will corrupt with my dogma.
Now when you stand at my side I seek opportunity,
while your eyes and mouth wander, my betrayal cuts deep.
Pragmatist, you self riotous murderer;
in the end we are both still the same.
There is no place for compassion and regret in our bloodbath,
but tickets are on sale for any journalist lacking taste.
So spin these words in print...
‘Go stuff yourself world we no longer care’
You can’t see through our veils, those books are burning
behind us you know...Every single one of them.
And yet we remain brothers you and I,
and we eat the same flesh.
If you trace our beginnings
you’ll see identical functioning appendages.
Don’t ever tell me we lost our way,
lest our empires come crashing down.
You’ll never forget, and I still remember...
Underneath an innocent dreamer’s clear blue sky
two children run for miles without losing breath.
They finish at a familiar house and exchange smiles,
outside my mother and my father are throwing grenades
at children from the neighbouring town.
They give vague reasoning and rant, and rant, and rant...
Poetry
3 4
Coventry Words
Nebula Horizon
I owe the most wonderful sight
to nebula whose beauty reaches vast,
on nights when nothing but tiny lights can be seen
The Soul hovering far and out of reach.
Though I am immortal
Colours melt into each others arms,
I am defined by my prison, creating patterns of other worldly origin.
its limitations, weaknesses. The remnants of violent and chaotic storms
My birth is denied by life now adorn the universe like buttons.
whose strength keeps me dormant.
I observe the earth through organic glass, And in the space that occupies nothing,
my desire fulfilled by meat and bone, you can be sure that thousands more
defiant meat and bone.
rest waiting to be discovered.
Only the wise die young I wonder,
they bartered their blood soaked
So from a raft made of silver and wood
walls for ascension.
I travel far in search of a new home.
Past a thousand suns and their children planets,
towards light years, secrets and undiscovered races.
And tonight when my head hits the pillow,
I’ll think of the many more who dream this with me.
53 So that when I awake perhaps I’ll find,
you’ve joined me here in utopia personified.
Sometimes my hand will glide across paper
like a painter possessed who has no idea
what he is creating. The words are my imagination,
possibly in true form, or as fictional creations.
Every word is written in invisible blood, my blood.
If you ever need an example of the soul I can provide
it with pen and paper, like a passion shared between
two lovers. On white canvas my voice can be heard as
a soft compliment to the universe, or a violent roar
against injustice.
I was born with nostalgic eyes,
they capture the world and hold onto a billion images,
I’ll see beauty in the sunlight as it burns through the shade
of tree branches, or find humour in the way water
reflects a human image and is as transparent as the meaning
Of life itself. I love the way the rain makes everything real,
everyone becomes aware of nature when it rains.
When I write for my guitar we bring ideas to life,
When I perform my poetry I pierce my heart so
That every word you hear is true.
I am a writer, I am an artist and I am free.
Poetry
Coventry Words
rabbit in the headlights
The upstanding members of society avoided
downtown New York. Those unfortunate
enough to live in this dystopia jailed themselves
in their homes when thugs began prowling the
streets with their oversized weapons. A heavy
cloud hung above the city tattooing the streets
a dense grey. The only traces of colours were
those left by gangs marking their territory. Law
and order were foreign words. Like the cloud,
there was only one omniscient ruler of this
concrete jungle. Disappearances and brutalities
multiplied in his presence. He was elusive like
an eel, slipping between the fingers of the law
when the net got closer.
Holding the net in this urban hell was Rainie. A
23 year old who could rough and tumble with
the boys and knew how to defend herself with
the knife, stashed in her boot. Rainie put her
life on hold whilst she combed the streets for
the most wanted man in New York - Dicipriani.
Today was her pay day. She could taste it in
the air. Winter was a cleansing ritual to Rainie
and here she was, watching the biggest rat
about to get flushed out. Rainie adjusted herself
on the bench where she had been put for her
‘protection’. ‘Protection’ she thought, ‘pah! I’ll
give you protection’ she grumbled to herself.
Not content with the world, she snuggled into
her hand me down parka thumbing the knife in
her boot. She had grown a callous on her ankle
from it, this was her comforter. It was a limpet
on her skin, refusing to leave. Rainie felt lost
without it, parallel to the absence of a watch or
phone. The wooden handle was stained from
age and the silver etches were smooth like a
pebble worn away from the sea.
The silence was ruptured by glass shattering.
The dull drone of the taxis and boom-boxes
failed to mask the echoes of women hysterically
shrieking and gruff voices roaring. A smile
played on Rainie’s lips. The crumbling skin
snagged on a tooth and tore. Her tongue licked
up the blood that melted from her lips. In awe of
something that was an unquestionable success,
Rainie levered herself off the cool damp bench
and began pacing her way home happily blind
in pride.
Short story
5 6
The sun was sinking by the time Rainie made
it to her street. The steam from the sewers
looked majestic in the flickering street lamp
- the one that kept Rainie awake whilst she
persistently asked for the bulb to be replaced.
She scowled at it. The tattered carpet in the
hall was suspiciously stained. Rainie had seen
it all before. The ongoing battle with apartment
door commenced. Rainie’s hands were sore
from jabbing and twisting her keys aggressively.
Fumbling, she staggered into her haven. The
light fell through the netted curtains casting
jigsaw pieces on the carpet. A familiar smell
invaded her nose. She felt safe and at ease.
Buttons began religiously weaving through her
legs meowing for food. The lights came on.
Pivoting on her back foot her heart drummed
faster as she inhaled second hand smoke.
Behind the door was a stocky man – a classic
so to speak. His black mane was gelled
perfectly into place. His steel blue eyes were
framed by Mediterranean eyelashes. The 1940s
style white pinstripe suit was perfected with a
red carnation. There was a sense of familiarity
about him. The faded photos at the office Buttons was cowering in the corner. A burlap
were out dated but she instantly knew it sack was strewn across the chair. Dicipriani
was Dicipriani.
‘Rainie, Rainie, Rainie…’
His voice was coarse. Slowly lifting his face into
the light, his wrinkles deepened. His sallow skin
was too old for his youthful eyes. She felt his
bones grind in his neck from looking at her. The
silence reminded her of a lover’s tiff.
‘If I’m honest, I feel a little let down.’
Rainie squeaked. Her throat swelled as she
failed to stutter a response. The sweat from
her brow carved its way down into her eyes,
stinging them. The vulture circled the carcass.
He moved his face closer to hers. His breath
was stale from decayed cigarettes.
‘So do you want to know how? Family ties
and all that. Blood is thicker than water.’
A dry laugh thundered around the apartment.
Dicipriani cracked his wizened fingers and his
henches appeared from behind her tattered
furniture casting angular shadows on the floor.
Time hung in the balance as the room span.
Rainie’s antelope like eyes widened and tears
washed away her vision. Bile stung her throat.
A heavy weight smashed into her temple.
Falling to the floor like a doll, she could taste
the familiar irony tang of blood filling her mouth.
A man towered over her holding a thick rope.
Rainie’s eyes flitted around the room. The light
distorted their faces into crude crooked angles.
‘No’, Rainie thought. Stabbing her teeth into his
ankle, she made him shriek;
‘Stupid bitch!’
He stretched like a cat, holding something.
Everything went black.
Straining her eyes into focus, Rainie’s breath
misted the floor. Her hands and feet were
knotted together and a strip of linen gagged
her. The thumping of the henches feet made
her head ache as it lolled from the vibrations.
sauntered across the room sparking up. He
stood at the window and deflated himself.
Smoke masked his face. Fingers were clicked.
Rainie was shoved into the bag like clothes into
a laundry machine. The woven fibres scratched
her face to what felt like ribbons. ‘Someone
must see me in the hallway.’ Nothing. She
heard the air become clearer. Cold metal
sounds echoed as doors were slithered shut.
The vehicle spluttered into life. They were
laughing and joking. The violent acceleration
caused Rainie to topple over smashing her
nose. The blood congealed and set into a joints and muscles ached and her vision was
crust when they reached their destination. drunken and distorted. Rainie clawed at the
All was quiet.
The doors were painfully wretched open. Rust
grating on rust. Rainie was slung over a padded
shoulder. Her carrier was raking the air in with
short story by Pippa Collett
difficulty and the floor shuddered underneath.
Her thoughts were heavy and docile but there
was a comforting smell from the carrier. She
could hear snippets of cursing, it was a gruff
voice. A seagull’s cry broke the silence. She
tasted the unmistakable sour air and it hit her.
She was at the pier.
Catching and ripping her hair the carrier dutifully
unwound the bag. Rainie’s head hung as if
disconnected from her body. Her eyes bored
out from underneath her skull and she saw a
familiar twinkle in his eye. His face was damp
from sweat and the spray from the water.
It was The Boss.
‘Sorry kid, it’s just that he’s my step-brother
… ’ Rainie’s eyes burned into him with hatred.
‘Look, I’m sorry.’
He bit his bottom lip and kissed the top of her
head. Her long hair was matted from blood and
sweat. He seemed to revile at the taste of her.
‘I’m sorry that it’s come to this, you’re a
good cop, but you’re too close.’
He lingered a moment, studying her face with
a sense of pity. He pulled the bag over her
head and tightened the cord. The heat from her
breath warmed her face as she began shaking
uncontrollably. ‘Oh no, oh no, no, no.’ Her
screams were muffled. The Boss grabbed the
top of the sack and dragged the body. Rainie
rhythmically jolted from the slats in the pier.
He halted. It was the end. The boss pushed
her gently, like pushing a child on a swing. Her
weight double crossed her and she plunged into
the abyss. The silence numbed her thoughts
and for a moment, she felt briefly happy. The
water stung her skin like needles. Her body
keeled like an unborn child’s. Panic took over as
she peeled open her eyes. The salt impaired her
vision and the pressure was crushing her bones.
Her mind screamed for a way out. There was
the comforting rub on her ankle.
‘The knife!’
Coventry Words
Doubling over, she pulled the knife out with her The way was led by her hot breath and her
teeth. The knife nicked her ankle as it shook arms slapped the smooth surface of the water
from the mismatched grip. Slowly moving to sending shudders of pain down her long body.
an upright position, the knife jumped out of Her hair began to freeze in clumps and her
her mouth. ‘Fuck.’ She was grateful for being face was white and drawn. The stillness of the
stuffed in a bag, it’d saved her. Fumbling within water was stolen by a faint rumble. Fog lights
utero she managed to find the knife. She was showered her. Rainie squinted and a sinking
sinking further into the void. Gripping it between feeling washed over her. ‘Dicipriani, no not
her teeth she began viciously hacking her bound after this.’ It was a life boat. The bellows from
hands to freedom. Harder and harder, faster the hearty crew filled the stagnant air. Crying
and faster. The ropes dissolved apart. Repeating with relief, she heaved her way to the orange
herself, she began pulling apart the ropes from boat. The burly crew wrapped her up and
her ankles, Rainie started to shred the bag with attempted to mother her. Rainie growled at
the knife, cutting a hole to swim out of. The bag them. Curled up on the deck, she thumbed her
clung to her like wet clothes. knife. One name on was on her list – Dicipriani.
Instinct woke and she began to furiously kick.
The murky water dragged her down, as if it was
working for Dicipriani. Her veins and lungs were
tightening and her legs started rebelling against
her command to swim. She could hear her late
mother bellow; ‘Don’t give up, don’t give in!’
The pressure began to loosen its muscular grip.
The water bit her body. Her long hair and elf
like features were distorted, making her like a
mermaid. Looking up, the grey surface became
transparent. The lights from the pier made the
putrid water dance invitingly.
Her head ruptured the calm surface sending
cascades of water around her. She gasped for
air - snatching it into her body. Panting heavily
with disbelief she began to cry with relief. Her
lips were navy blue from the bitter cold and
her eyes etched red from the salty water. Her
bones rattled within their cage. Hair stuck to
her face making her look like a drowned rat.
Her senses were heightened like a newborn
as she listened for Dicipriani’s men. There was
nothing, only the groan of a buoy. Rainie’s
muddy embankment trying to scrape her way
out of the water. It stuck to her fingers like
dough as she failed to clamber to freedom.
Searching frantically she saw a faint neon
glow of civilisation. The moon was interrupted
by sky scrapers, in this light the culture was
nauseating. Shutting down her mind she began
to kick.
Short story
Coventry Words
biography - J K Rowling
book reviews
‘The Tales of Beedle the Bard’
by JK Rowling
Book Review by Emilie Lauren Jones
Harry Potter fans - both Wizards and
Muggles! You can still get your fix of the
Wizarding World with J.K Rowling’s latest
book ‘The Tales of Beedle the Bard.’ This
charming book, illustrated by the great JK
herself, tells the stories of the fairy tales
referred to in ‘Harry Potter and the sums it up well by advising writers to “consider all your
Deathly Hallows’.
These original tales (as translated by
the one and only Hermione Granger
with notes from Albus Dumbledor) bring
together the intriguing, the comic and the
brilliant to captivate and teach their reader.
Whereas with original Muggle fairytales
magic is seen as a bad thing, here magic
is represented as something awesome
and life changing, which can be used
for good or evil, however, the book also
touches the soul on a more basic level as
we journey with the characters and watch
them learn important lessons; follow three
brave witches and Sir Luckless on a quest
to find true happiness or fall into the dark
and profound world of the Three Brothers
and their encounters with Death. Overall,
even if it is just a bit of fun, this new edition
to the Harry Potter collection is a both
welcome and thoroughly enjoyable one.
Just to add to the book’s appeal; Rowling
is using the money raised from sales
to give to the children’s charity ‘The
Children’s High Level Group.’ And another
brilliant thing is that no one is too old to
enjoy these classic fairy stories with
a twist!
By the way, if you are fortunate enough to
be one of fifteen people lucky enough to
have an original, hand-made version of the
book, one apparently sold on Amazon last
year for a staggering £1.95 million!!!
Biography / Book reviews
7 8
by Alexander Lauder-Bliss
Totally Wizard
J.K Rowling is one of the most pivotal authors of this century. Perhaps the most famous of her
work is the extremely popular Harry Potter series that has spawned games, movies and now even
a new area of Universal Studios with rides dedicated to the wonderful world of wizards and all Adrian Magson from ‘Writing Magazine’ explains that
things Rowling.
Rowling was born in Bristol and spent a few years in Winterbourne on the outskirts of Bristol with
her sister, and her parents. Close to where she lived was the Potters and Rowling always liked the
surname but that’s pretty much where the influence stopped for Harry Potter. She was never a fan
of her own surname saying herself in her autobiography; “I wasn’t very fond of my own; ‘Rowling’
(the first syllable of which is pronounced ‘row’ as in boat, rather than ‘row’ as in argument)
lent itself to woeful jokes such as ‘Rowling stone’, ‘Rowling pin’ and so on.”
At nine, Rowling moved for a third time to a village, Chepstow, in Wales. Her mother was diagnosed
with MS while Rowling was a teenager but soon after she went to Exeter University to study
French. After graduating at Exeter she moved to London and worked with Amnesty International
to campaign for human rights. Soon after, along with her boyfriend, she decided to move to
Manchester and after flat-hunting she had the idea for Harry Potter on the train back to London.
When she first started having ideas for Harry Potter she couldn’t write them down because she
didn’t have a working pen. She always thought that helped because perhaps having to slow down
her thoughts to write them down might have stifled them. The first time she sent it off to an agent
it came back straight away but her second try had more fruition. After a year Bloomsbury made an
offer to have Harry Potter published and J K Rowling has proceeded to become a household name.
For more information on JK Rowling go to her website: www.jkrowling.com
Coventry Words
eureka moments
and where to find them!
One of the main problems faced
by writers, whether beginners or
Some of the best pieces of writing have been inspired by
actual events which have been recorded in the media, for
example, Robert Frost’s poem ‘Out, Out’ was inspired by a
otherwise, is finding a good idea. story he read in the newspaper. Of course, many interesting
factual pieces are written this way too, for example,
“ideas rarely hang around unless you write them down articles, blogs, etc…
as soon as they occur,” this is brilliant advice. Personally, As briefly discussed already, a good place to start is writing
I have lost count of the amount of times that I’m lying in about your own hobbies and interests, whether this is an
bed, nearly asleep when a wonderful idea enters my head interesting guide to healthy eating or a short story based on
but instead of proclaiming “Eureka!” I go to sleep and
a Frisbee tournament. Liz Gregory from Writing Magazine
am left with just a vague memory that I once had a world
changing, ground breaking idea. areas of expertise: hobbies, interests, work experience
However, if you’re struggling to find any inspiration in the – anything you feel knowledgeable enough to write
first place then the best place to start is by looking and about.” However, that doesn’t mean that you can’t write
actually seeing. Writer Adele Ramet, in her book ‘Creative about things you feel you don’t know about – as long as
Writing’ says; “the next time you go to the supermarket, you do your research!
for example, observe the behaviour of the other So whether it’s a picture on a postcard or a controversial
customers. Take a few seconds to chat to the checkout government policy, everyone can feel that ‘Eureka’
girl or the assistant who packs your shopping. Listen moment, just write about what appeals to you.
not only to the words they say but to how they say
them.” This theory can apply to any situation – in a Article by Emilie Lauren Jones
lecture, at a sports match, church, nightclub or even as
you pass people on the street. Watch what they do, how
they speak, their mannerisms and let the ideas flow – are
they happy? Married? Do they have pets or children or do
they live alone? Are they a victim or a master criminal? The
possibilities are infinite!
One of the best ways to feel inspired is from your own
thoughts, beliefs and experiences. By injecting this passion
into your work you can come up with some great pieces
which can touch the lives of others as well as relieve you
of your own troubles. www.poem-and-poet.com is ‘a
free poetry site where every poem is accompanied with
an insight into its origin.’ The site includes categories such
as ‘real life,’ ‘dreams’ and ‘sport.’ So if your team has just
been knocked out of the FA cup by Chelsea, for instance,
then this could be the best place to express your feelings.
Eureka
Coventry Words Coventry Words

writer’s block: don’t let it get to your head

by Harriet Kendrick

Ever get the feeling that you’ve hit a brick wall? It’s one thing that all writers and
students have in common; but what exactly is ‘writer’s block’, and how can you
Key tips for beating writer’s block:
CUES (Coventry University English Society)
1.) You need to be in the right mood
overcome it? to work, so make sure you’re
feeling positive and are in the right
A society for students doing either single or double honours with English, or
atmosphere before you begin
who just have an interest in the topic!
Amongst other dictionary definitions, writer’s block is Creativity has its time and place, so if you’re not in the to write. Clear yourself a space,
described as a period of time when a writer finds it almost mood then come back to that piece of work later when you and concentrate on the work at Guest speakers, plays and socials all to help you with your course and to meet
impossible to start or continue with a piece of work- such feel more relaxed or more energised; depending on what hand. Also make sure that you more people.
have a good night’s sleep before
as a novel, poetry, or a play. However, it doesn’t just suits you best. Try following some of the top tips to beating
attempting to work. If the brain is Currently recruiting the new committee for the academic year 09-10,
affect those involved in literature. It can creep up on any writer’s block, and don’t let it get to your head. exhausted then any piece of work have you got what it takes?
one person at any point in time; many of you may have could take twice as long and be of
experienced writer’s block in your exams, or when you a lesser quality. Find us on Facebook by searching for: ‘Coventry University English Society’
realise that you have three hours left until your coursework Email us at cusuengsoc@hotmail.co.uk
2.) Positivity is key when attempting
is due in (even I’m experiencing it whilst writing this to write; don’t try and foresee the
article!). Writer’s block has also been described as a ‘brief end of the work before you’ve
psychological incapability to write’; in which case it has even begun - just take it one step
been closely related to anxiety and even depression. at a time.
3.) If you’re also finding the work
One of the most common times when writer’s block occurs
challenging, then hand writing
is when a piece of work has to be done - as opposed to a plan can usually trigger some
writing something for pleasure. Forcing yourself to write can inspiration, and can make
trigger feelings of boredom, fatigue, a willingness to give the piece seem much more
up, and can make you more vulnerable to distractions (yes, achievable.
I’m appealing to all you Facebook lovers out there). Just 4.) Try not to get distracted from
like forcing a child to eat their vegetables, forcing yourself work - especially if you’re at the
to write something can sometimes end up being a waste peak of your writing. Make sure
there are no distractions, as it may
of time.
become almost impossible to get
Getting bored or distracted can easily take you away from back into the ‘zone’.
that particular piece of work, and it ends up unfinished, 5.) Don’t obsess on one piece of
waiting for you to put yourself back in the mood to attempt work too much, as long as you
to tackle it once again. If you find the work challenging, meet the deadlines. Of course you
then this can also trigger anxiety - which then leaves you only want to produce the work
to your best ability, but being a
with writer’s block. Feeling stressed or worried about a
perfectionist isn’t necessarily a
particular piece of work can delay the writing process -
good thing.
overwhelming the mind with thoughts of failure rather than
concentrating on the work at hand. Some people can start
obsessing on a particular piece of work, drafting and re-
drafting as nothing seems good enough. This ‘perfectionist’
attitude is another ‘no-go’ area - there is a limit on how
much you can obsess on one piece of work, and it may
also begin to trigger anxieties (all leading to writer’s block).

Writer’s block Writer’s block

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