Poetry, furnished with ordinary people like bus drivers and sad aunts, and written in a language that was playful, witty and brand new, had an energy that was irresistibly exciting; it was the poetic cousin to The Beatles.
Like many young writers, Lizzie Nunnery resisted the idea that literary inspiration needed to be subjected to editing and revision. But then she came to see these as an organic, and essential, part of the writing process.
There's a wayward part of me that resists plotting and wants to just plunge in. But if I yield to that temptation I risk the book being stillborn, so these days I tend to play safe.
I am writing to some extent about a city that no longer exists, a city of the mind, and tangled up in it are objective and subjective elements, but it is my experience.
Enchanted by the seductive music of this poem, its strangeness but also its powerful sense of reality; I didn't know exactly what it meant in the sense of its paraphrasable content, but its potency was unignorable. Imagine if one could write like this!