yt sumner, pleased to meet you
I recently resigned from my day job to give this whole writer dream a nice firm crack, so I thought this might be a good place to get serious about my bringing my scattered pieces of word nerdery into some kind of shape and cohesion.
It will probably end up looking more like a slinky, but that’s okay too.
This will be the place where I put up writery thoughts, writers and books that make me drool, a few prose and poetry pieces here and there, and general news about my works being published. That post will usually come with a detailed happy dance so those should be good ones.
I’m also introducing myself today as yt sumner. From now on all my submissions will be by this new mysterious woman. It has a certain snap don’t you think? Don’t get me wrong there’s nothing wrong with my first name, but enough with the whole Turkish flower explanations, already.
I think I might kick start this one off with the tale of my last published piece as Yasemin Sumner and my first attempt at a public reading.
The annual anthology of new writing fourW has been one I’ve always admired and so I was delighted that they chose to include my piece ‘the last bird’ in their 20th issue. When meeting the ridiculously kind and supportive editor, David Gilbey at the launch, I was asked if I would like to read. I think I blushed like he was asking me out. I’ve never been able to kill the frogs and butterflies and other creepy crawlies whenever this topic arises and so I mumbled something about being shy and scuttled up to the back of the theatre.
What I wasn’t aware of, was something called the ‘Wagga Ambush’. Once some fine readings had commenced there was apparently time in case anyone else had suddenly decided that they wanted to share. When David boomed in a friendly voice , Yasemin, how about you? My pride rushed up to wrestle my nerves. See, I’m not shy at all. Just terrified of public speaking. So I got up and did it.
I don’t think it was a reading that will go down in the history books, I’m pretty sure I mumbled and was far too quiet. But I did it. And I intend to keep on doing it.
The book, by the way is wonderful, I was immersed in every single piece of prose, particularly Kate Rotherham’s ‘HM’ which deservedly won the prose prize for this book, Helena Pastor’s ‘Rubbing’ and Daniel King’s ‘Your Pain is My Pain’.
They were stand out stories and there is some pretty amazing poetry in there too. As soon as I find a link where you can get yourself a copy, I recommend that you do. And not just because I’m in it. Okay, maybe partly because I’m in it. But mostly because it’s good.