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When the Ordinary Becomes Mythic
When the Ordinary Becomes Mythic
This was first posted on . The message is still applicable to our writing.
Poet Barrett Warner spoke to a meeting of the Eastern Shore Writers Association last week. He talked about the ordinary events in our lives that resonate with our readers, sometimes becoming mythic in the process.
It made me think about the themes in the screenplays and the stage play Laura and I have written over the…
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Barrett Warner Answers The Questionnaire!
Barrett Warner Answers The Questionnaire!
What is your beverage of choice? No more sugar I guess, although sometimes late at night I reach my hand into a jar of spearmint leaves and eat one and although I soon wish I hadn’t eaten it because regret is like Spanish fly for me. I’m also thankful that someone thought to put the jar inside the cabinet where I also keep croutons and roasted sunflower kernels and marijuana. The stuff I drink is…
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Want. Like. Love. Yearn. Ache. Desire. These are some of the words that transform Barber’s characters, and all of them are centered on the emotional side of the Head / Heart freeway. The point at which her characters stop being nouns and begin to be persons is the point at which they accept their own desire. They cease to be ashamed of the wanting, wanting, wanting. Action, doing and feeling are the only remedies against the stasis of context.
from “Portraits in Flash,” Barrett Warner’s review of ALL THE PEOPLE
When the Ordinary Becomes Mythic
When the Ordinary Becomes Mythic
Poet Barrett Warner spoke to a meeting of the Eastern Shore Writers Association last week. He talked about the ordinary events in our lives that resonate with our readers, sometimes becoming mythic in the process.
It made me think about the themes in the screenplays and the stage play Laura and I have written over the last five years.We have a body of work of six screen plays and one stage play.
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I could eat someone else’s leg while he ate mine if it meant escape. How does that work exactly? I’d close my eyes. Would you?
Barrett Warner in FUCK ART, LET’S DANCE ISSUE #010
http://www.nostroviatowriting.com/issue-010.html
"My Friend Timmy Reed" by Barrett Warner
from the chapbook My Friend Ken Harvey, winner of the second annual Chris Toll Prize
Order here $7
My eyes veer off the road and I hop the shoulder and the crash rolls back my skin, rolls back the old post and rail fence rolls back the silky song of marrow spun from a jag of bones. A hawk raises off the ground and I hear sleigh bells in June. This is when I forget her name and what she looked like and how she kissed my neck. Memory tears away from my head until the only thing I know is singing nöels in a garbled, tuneless voice. "We Three Kings" and "Silent Night," pine boughs over the mantle, bourbon in the pewter, the ribbons in her hair like small Christmas haikus. "How much do you love me?" she was saying. "'Til I'm blue, blue in the face" was I.
'Til I'm Blue in the Face
by Barrett Warner
