By Helen Aitchison

I remember being at school and winning a poetry competition. It was first / junior school and I would have been around seven or eight. When I went to middle school and on to high school / secondary school, I became less interested in poetry. Mainly, because it felt as though we were ‘told’ what to like and read, rather than finding our own voices and the words that inspired us as individuals. I know education has changed slightly (this was the early 1990s) but, regardless, it turned me off poetry.

As I became older, I got on with life and my career. Then, after getting back into reading fiction and non-fiction novels, I began thinking about using writing as a form of expression as well as a form of therapy. I’m a listener, always have been, which led me to a successful career in social work. But sometimes the listener needs listened to and, for me, writing became part of this. It was somewhere to document my thoughts feelings, and secrets in a cryptic way, with only my notepad listening, at first!

Poetry became something  I found I could write easily; words landing on the page as though poured directly from my brain, the tap turned on, the water the ink, the page the sink. Sometimes, it didn’t even make sense but, to me, the words resonated with everything my mind felt and needed to say. Dark, pained poetry encompassing loss, death, trauma and the parts of our personality not many ever genuinely ask us about. Paper and pen became my therapists and, as the words cascaded out, I felt solace.

Moreover, I knew I wasn’t alone. That other people feel or have felt like this and the beauty of poetry is that we can all interpret one single poem in so many, varied ways. Each line holds different significance, representation and relatability. As I scribbled, even with dark themes, I felt a release, a relief, a resonance that it was OK to be human and it was OK to like poetry again.

My first published pieces were two poems, both featured in an anthology. The theme was mental health and the editor — in recovery herself from mental ill-health — had used poetry as therapy. She wanted to produce a collection that would raise awareness as well as funds for charities supporting people experiencing mental health challenges. And so it began, in more real terms than in my own notepad: my writing career. I went on to write more poems, have more poems published, short stories published, eventually writing a novel and securing a publishing contract. Now, I’m the author of four full-length published novels (so far), have published a charity poetry book, a range of anthologies through my non-profit business and have a publishing arm to my organisation.

Equally as important, I have been able to use my own entry into the writing world to encourage and empower other people to try writing poetry. This has been particularly useful for those experiencing disability, both physical and psychological, as well as people completely new to writing. The beauty of poetry is that it doesn’t take a great deal of time, as opposed to setting a goal of writing an 80,000-word novel. Poetry allows us to experiment with style and genre. It allows us to see the output of our efforts relatively quickly. And despite a few rules on certain types of poems, it is without guidelines. We can express ourselves autonomously and, when we write from the heart, it’s always going to mean so much.

When I began my business, Write On The Tyne (CIC) in 2022, one of my aims was to make creative writing accessible, inclusive and therapeutic. I wanted to engage marginalised people; those who felt voiceless and that creative writing ‘wasn’t for them’. I wanted to change the narrative while sharing theirs and I aimed to use writing in a way to enhance wellbeing, bring about connection and raise awareness while challenging stigma. After working with disadvantaged people my entire career and being marginalised myself, I wanted to champion diverse voices and help to dissolve the elitist perception that creativity can carry. And what better way than to use poetry?

I delivered a range of creative writing workshops, through a grant, meaning they were free for learners. During the sessions, 90 per cent of the learners felt uncomfortable with poetry. Even those who wrote it felt that they weren’t ‘true’ poets. After all, they didn’t read Sylvia Plath or Edgar Allan Poe! Their favourite poet was the guy at the local open mic night or a local woman who won a competition once. They weren’t keen on T. S. Eliot or Wordsworth and couldn’t name any poems except those they didn’t enjoy at school. I heard them and felt it, as I myself had navigated poetry expectations only to discover I wasn’t drawn to what I was perhaps ‘expected’ to.

And that’s the beauty of poetry: we can like exactly what we like and don’t have to conform. I remember teaching a class in Newcastle with an award-winning poet in attendance. The class was part of a range of groups I was teaching for women who’d experienced mental illness. She had written a poetry book, much of it about the ordinary, some of it about her own struggles. Offering to read one of her poems out, she read something so deeply personal and specific to her (dancing in the kitchen with her late mother), it hit us all in the room, and she brought me (and others) to tears. Our loss for someone was universal and the simplicity of togetherness, of memories, touch and love, was striking. That’s what poetry is.

So, I encouraged, sometimes even put a little pressure on, for people to try poetry. To let the words of their heart, their soul, cascade onto the page. Their own therapy which would, in turn, validate another. And they did. I convinced them and they believed me. People who’d failed at school; people who school had failed. They picked up a pen and wrote, believed and expressed. Each of them received something that perhaps they hadn’t ever received, or not received for a long time: validation, acceptance, understanding, empowerment and a thanks from me and the other learners for sharing something we could all take something from.

That’s what poetry is. The gateway into writing. So, I ask you to try it, even if  just for yourself. Find published poetry or spoken word that you like, poetry that inspires you and resonates. Read it, write it, sing it and let yourself express  –  I guarantee, it will only lead to good things.

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Helen’s poetry and other books are available from bookshops and online. For more information on Helen and Write On The Tyne visit: helenaitchisonwrites.com and writeonthetyne.com  

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You can hear great new ideas, creative work and writing tips on Write On! Audio. Find us on all major podcast platforms, including Apple and Google Podcasts and Spotify. Type Pen to Print into your browser and look for our logo, or find us on Podcasters.Spotify.com.

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