Melissa Ashley—in conversation with Kate Middleton

KATE MIDDLETON

You were saying before that you’ve written work that has been quite experimental in the past where you feel you might have pushed that too far – what do you see as too far? What does it become?

MELISSA ASHLEY

I felt that I went too far in the sense that I stopped communicating with anyone but myself. At university a couple of years ago, I studied Monique Wittig’s The Lesbian Body, and while I absolutely adore the book, I also kind of resent it, because it affected my writing in a such detrimental way, down to its very roots and bones. I began producing strange block-style hybrid prose poems about Greek goddesses and the anatomy of the female body. I knew what I was talking about, however I don’t know if anyone else did – or cared – and that’s a problem. Wittig is also a philosopher, and via The Lesbian Body was attempting to push out the boundaries of poetic language, trying to rupture the dichotomous structures of Western thought (such an unambitious project!). So when I picked up on this, probably on a more sensual (and by that I mean poetic rather than philosophical), than intellectual level – only half-aware of what I was doing – my writing became very convoluted.

What I know now is that Wittig’s project was a moment in time, the world has since changed – thank god we don’t live in the seventies – we’ve gone beyond the literary fashion of goddess-archetypes; however for a while I was seduced. So as a result of descending into this poetic Gehenna (hell), (and subsequently clawing my way back) I’ve become very sensitive about experimental writing. I feel that some people are partial to it – you’ve got generations of American language poets, and Australian too – but it leaves others cold.

[part of an interview published in ‘Famous Reporter 25’, June 2002]

Jordie Albiston—in conversation with Kate Middleton [Dec 2001]

KATE MIDDLETON

Joan Didion once said of her novels that her first sentence has to be perfect, because everything grows from that, and once you’ve got your first paragraph written, there’s no going back.

JORDIE ALBISTON

I agree with her! And of course it’s more compressed with poetry — you’d be talking about your first word as important, your first phrase, and after your first sentence there being no going back… And it’s a question of respect as well, of honouring the poem. What is trying to come out on the page? You think in your head “I want to write a poem in Italian quatrains” or whatever, and you’ve a vague idea it’ll be about a page and a half long, and you want to cover this sort of ground, and that’s about all you start with — and then this completely different animal comes out of the computer, which has barely anything to do with your original idea, and you think “Where did that come from?”… It comes down to respecting and honouring the poem itself. It’s the Michelangelo thing: chipping, tapping away, seeing what’s inside there, trying to help get it out.

(from ‘An interview with Jordie Albiston‘, ‘Famous Reporter #24’, 1st Dec 2001)