Novel – Draft by Draft

1st Draft (17/11/20):

  • This poem originated from a seminar exercise in which we had to write from the voice of an object from one of our existing poems. I decided to write from the perspective of the novel mentioned in Longing for Outside.
  • I received feedback suggesting that I remove the line ‘clinging to the last fibre… ‘ since the same idea is mentioned in the line before and it felt a bit out of place. I also wanted to extend the idea of adventure more and maybe connect it a little more with the theme of woods and outside, so in the second draft I introduced an allusion to Cormac McCarthy’s The Road, and got rid of the more clichéd lines about lovers along with the fifth stanza.

2nd Draft (25/11/20):

Novel – 2nd Draft -25/11/20

I lay open, 

Discarded on a shelf,

Ribbon just falling off the page,

I want to tell you my story,

I want you to listen. 

I want to show you

Gleaming boats that glide, 

Past waving crowds on river banks,

Sending metal-clad heroes to twenty-year wars.

I want you to embark. 

Listen!

To the silent forest they trek through,

The leaves that whisper under bare feet, 

The creaking metal wheel of a Tesco trolley 

The terrified screech of ‘Here we are’.

I want you to smile because she knows how you feel,

And not understand how she can. 

When they made me wet with their tears,

And told me what they couldn’t tell anyone else. 

Come back to me and listen. 

Look at me,

and not just the cover. 

Inside, get to know me well,

And I can know you too.

I want you to love me,

But you want to tell your own story.

  • For the final draft I just cut a few lines that I didn’t feel added to the poem particularly. Overall I didn’t need to change much after this as I was happy with the poem.

Final Draft (05/12/20):

(2) Novel

I lay open, 

Discarded on a shelf,

Ribbon just falling off the page.

I want to tell you my story,

I want you to listen. 

I want to show you

Gleaming boats that glide 

Past waving crowds on riverbanks,

Sending metal-clad heroes to twenty-year wars.

I want you to embark. 

Listen!

To the silent forest they trek through,

The leaves that whisper under bare feet, 

The creaking wheel of a Tesco trolley 

The terrified screech of ‘Here we are’.

When they made me wet with their tears,

And told me what they couldn’t tell anyone else. 

Come back to me and listen. 

Look at me,

and not just the cover. 

I want you to love me,

But you want to tell your own story.

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