photo by Kristian Birchall

 As writers, I believe that working within ‘boundaries’, or with subject matter we might not have consciously thought about, can often lead us to surprising discoveries, so the challenge is to write a haibun with a particular theme and criteria.

I’d like you to begin with some ‘directed’ free writing. Try and be as spontaneous as possible, write down everything that comes into your mind; don’t edit or reject. Let your creative mind have time to explore without the interruption of the critical/editorial mind.

1. Imagine a photograph of yourself when you were much younger.
2. See this photo clearly in your mind.
3. Starting with the phrase In this one there is or I am… write down everything you see, e.g. what you’re wearing, who is with you, the weather, anything at all that’s ‘in scene’.
4. Now think about what happened before this photo was taken – just before, or earlier in the day, or even earlier than that, e.g. something specific that happened to you, or someone else, or an event that took place. Begin with Earlier, yesterday, last week etc… and write down all the sensory detail.
5. And finally, beginning with the phrase I don’t know yet… write about something that will happen in the future, something that you have no knowledge of at the time of the photograph.

Once you’ve finished the free writing exercise put it aside for at least a few days (without reading it if you can!) before looking back over it to see if you can shape this material into a haibun. It’s entirely up to you what information you retain or discard but the completed haibun must include:

• 1 or 2 haiku that can be placed as you choose
• the use of the three tenses (the present, past and future)
• and be no longer than 350 words

Deadline: Wednesday April 15th 2009.

So there we have it. I have to say I’m quite inclined to have a go at this – as those of you who read my main blog will know, I’m planning to take part in NaPoWriMo this year, so I’m settling into the “directed writing zone”. And I’ve always found writing exercises to be useful – a classic example of it ain’t what you have, it’s what you do with it.

Who’s going to join me?

Just about to send Kokako 10 off to the printers. It’s quite exciting – my first issue as co-editor! And there’s some really gorgeous work in there (although I would say that, wouldn’t I? – true, none the less).

The cover image, incidentally, is by Gina. (Her website is well worth checking out.)

It’s always interesting to see the new names appear, and watch them develop. I had a certain amount of that particular joy with the Small White Teapot haiku group. (Ah, glory days, glorious days!) And of course it was (and still is) one of the pleasures of editing the NZPS anthologies.

And now for the obligatory plug …

Subscribe!

Kokako is New Zealand’s only haikai publication, so get in behind us! 

Sixty pages of haikai history-in-the-making can be yours for the measly sum of NZ$20 for two issues, or US$20 for two issues sent airmail anywhere in the world. 

Clicking on this link will even open a printable subscription form.

(Now how’s that for pimping?)

Ahem! Ladies and Gentlemen! I now have copies of Four Tellings: A Trans-Tasman Haibun Sequence available for sale. It’s a nice basic little chapbook – 22 pg, saddle stapled, B&W cover.

The book is a sequence of linked haibun, written by Owen Bullock, Beverley George, Jeffrey Harpeng and Joanna Preston. It’s loosely based on a traditional Kasen Renga (and whoever thought I’d be sending people to WikiPedia for an explanation of haikai?!), but scaled back to a mere 20 links.

Copies can be purchased from me directly (say you’d like one in the comments, and I’ll contact you offblog to arrange it) or from the PostPressed website. NZ$6 within New Zealand, or NZ$7.00 with airmail postage internationally.

Actually it was a lot of fun to do. I’d been approached to take part in the first haibun-rengku, which became Quartet: a string of haibun in four voices. Jeffrey I know well, but I’d only met Beverley and Owen for the first time at Haiku Aotearoa 2008. Jeff organised the group, and we did the actual composing online – actually on a WordPress blog, as it happens! (It was a private blog, so no use going looking.) We didn’t try to match the composition speed of Quartet (just over three weeks), and I think it probably helped. I’m actually quite pleased with how it all came together. We all have quite distinct voices, but it actually jelled rather well. One of the criticisms I’d made of Quartet was the lack of differentiation between voices. It will be interesting to hear how well other people think we managed to do so!

The field of linked haibun is still very much in its infancy. But it opens up a lot of possibilities. I suspect that a greater amount of regimentation might actually lead to a greater freedom in some ways. I’m vaguely toying with a couple of ideas for a new sequence … watch this space! (Not to mention Buy this Book!)

I came across a lovely haibun in the latest issue of Contemporary Haibun Online. It’s by Lisa Timpf, and she’s given me permission to reproduce it here.

Farewell to an Old Friend 

I can still remember the moment I knew with certainty that the day was drawing near. 

I was walking the dogs in the shiver of a pre-dawn morning when I saw a meteor slowly, almost lazily, etching a silver trail across the sky. I knew from the meteor and the frost on the fallen leaves, the frost that matched the whiteness spreading across her muzzle and her face, that the time for farewells was approaching. 

Considering I had a year’s warning, I should have been ready. 

But of course I was not. 

*** 

It seems a shabby way to say goodbye to an old and most dear friend, tossing dirt over a sheet-wrapped husk that once was home to a loyal heart, and I wonder where she is now; whether she has crossed that bridge of many colours; whether she will chase the golden sun across the sky as if it were nothing more than a giant tennis ball tossed by the gods for her amusement; whether somewhere, somehow her soul is entering the body of a newborn border collie pup about to take its first gasping breaths. 

*** 

Later, I will take solace in the photos that show how gaunt she had become, how her eyes were misted with pain. But for now, there is only guilt and sadness for the quickness of the passing years, the unappreciated times that have flowed, irretrievably, down that river we can never step in quite the same way again, no matter how we might long to do so. 

Bare branches, grey sky 
And the honking 
Of a solitary goose.

There’s a poem I’ve been going to write for years now, but have never quite managed to get started. About Heidi – our family dog when I was growing up, who grew very old, very rickety. For a variety of reasons, she was the only one of our dogs who made it to old age. Actually I think she’s the only dog I know who made it to old age. So many are injured, or get sick, or die from some other cause before their time. As a species, dogs have done very well by teaming up with humans. But as individuals …

The photo above is of Heidi at age 17. She died not long after this photo was taken. The French have a lovely phrase for twilight – le tempts entre chien et loup; ”the hour between dog and wolf”. And this was very much Heidi’s twilight.

Lots of possibilities.

image by Margan Zajdowicz

The Long Road Home is signing off for 2008. Time to kick back, relax and enjoy some quality time with my family. (Or away from family; it all depends.)

See you next year, and thanks for reading!