Mark Cleaver worked shifts with no obvious life-design in place, until he panicked, aged 40, and went to university to study for his 'History' degrees.
Working nights in cargo warehouses, hourly paid and ritually underpaid, he then met his wife researching for his Master's Degree.
Degree and subsequent wedding sorted, Mark's plan was to retire, write, and settle into a calm afterlife dry stone-walling.
Only the stone-walling remains as there is no agricultural high land in West London, situated under the flight-path to London Heathrow Airport.
Mark writes poetry as a catharsis, prose to escape the terror of a half-life wasted, and has an amazing two-part Doctor Who episode under wraps.
Unfortunately, Mark has neither an agent, a publisher, or a way into the closed shop that is 'Writing for Doctor Who'.
There is always the possibility of 'Vanity Publishing', but that's all it is - pure vanity.
Mark's theories manifest themselves in his mottoes, one for every year on the planet [so, 57 and counting...], by which he lives his life.
Whilst many consider this detailed form of life a constraint, Mark finds the power of words liberating and more damaging to the corrupt powers of authority than any gun could ever be.
In this special episode of the Start Anywhere podcast, we take it all the way back to 2010/11.
A twenty-two-year-old Jim stumbles into a monthly open mic poetry night at Derby QUAD. Spends two years showing up, tuning in, and trying to figure out how to share words in a room willing to hold them.
I owe so much to that space. The people within it. One such person, in particular, is Mark Cleaver: dear friend, co-conspirator, and astonishing writer.
This, then, is a conversation in which we give nostalgia a chance.
On writing, reading, art, and connection. On beginnings. On getting started and keeping going. On the page being a place to live for a while when everything else around you is falling apart. On sprawling walks home in which we talked it all through, leant into each other’s frailties and fears, all the different kinds of love.
Mostly, this is how Mark and I pay homage to the value of a space outside of your own head in which to share your work, and equally offer an encouraging nudge to anyone right now considering how to find their home, their place: be that to share your work, or simply exist.
To seek it out. To trust it is there, no matter how far away it may feel.
An on-loop shout-out to The Derby QUAD Poets (that went on to become the Derby DEDA Poets), to Les, our compere, and to every single poet who turned up prepared for something beautiful to happen.
After Long Silence
Jane Hirshfield
Politeness fades,
a small anchovy gleam
leaving the upturned pot in the dish rack
after the moon has wandered out the window.
One of the late freedoms, there is the dark.
The leftover soup put away as well.
Distinctions matter.
Whether a goat's quiet face
should be called noble or indifferent.
The difference between a right rigor and pride.
The untranslatable thought must be the most precise.
Yet words are not the end of thought, they are where it begins.
With forever gratitude to my brother, Tom Hall, for providing the opening/closing soundtrack.
What did this episode bring up for you?
However small, brief, or transformational.
Share, comment, react.
Thank you for listening!
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