Hopperville / Poem In The Manner of The Late Kevin Higgins

In 2003 my partner Kevin and I were living in a grotty upstairs flat in Salthill. Wood panelling prevailed. A coin-op electricity metre ticked off our minutes of space-heating, television, light. We could watch the undulations of Galway Bay from our front window – if we stood on the couch and squinted.

That was the year we started the Over the Edge readings. The decade since has been busy for us; we got married, published four books each, and moved to our current (wood panel-less) house. We also struggled, first to make a living and more recently to cope with Kevin’s mother’s death. Now we pause to take a breath; assemble an anthology (forthcoming from Salmon) of Over the Edge alumni; and think over what it’s all meant.

For OTE, the years saw slow, steady growth. We’ve kept the project focussed by remembering its purpose; to provide a showcase for writers who’ve not yet published a book. Fifteen minutes for each of three readers (poetry or prose), followed by an open mic where absolutely anyone can get in on the act. The only change we’ve seen has been the increased ability of OTE to attract well-known authors. A tweak to the format resulted – we started putting one established writer on the bill with two unpublished. The juxtaposition upped everyone’s game, and boosted the already high attendance as well.

OTE commonly gets audiences of 50-75 people. There’s no trick to this. One of our readers is always local, and is encouraged to bring every workmate and Great Uncle they’ve got. One reader is a name the literati will recognise. Lots of people come to do the open mic. And we publicise like mad – posters, emails, texts. Our shameless advertising and big crowds have raised eyebrows in some quarters. There are still people who think that a literary experience is only any good if it’s dull and poorly attended. Our audiences were recently taken to task in a national newspaper for being gauche enough to clap after every poem. Such unbridled enthusiasm makes some people nervous. These people should feel free to stay at home. OTE is not for them. We’re for people who are new to writing and for those who are new to listening to writing as well. Kevin and I teach writing classes, for community colleges but also for schools, hospitals, rehab centres, retirement groups and people with disabilities. Students from these classes take part in OTE too, both as audience and talent. OTE has greatly encouraged the democratisation of literature by demonstrating the rich stew that results when everyone feels welcome to take part.

Over three hundred writers have read at OTE. About two hundred were unpublished at the time. Over forty of these have published books since, so roughly one in five of our up-and-comers came and conquered. The vast majority of these are poets – proof that it’s easier to publish a poetry collection than a book of short stories or a novel. In the past few years small presses, websites and magazines have begun to redress that imbalance by publishing more fiction. However, for most of the past ten years, OTE has been the only reading series in Ireland to include fiction writers alongside poets. Finally our lead is being followed, and fiction writers are stepping up to the mic in ever increasing numbers.

Half of our emerging writers who went on to be published had studied writing. OTE can be seen as both a cause and an effect of the recent boom in creative writing classes. As teachers, Kevin and I make an effort to bring writing students to OTE – ours and others, including those doing the MA in Writing at the local university. I have a Masters myself, and am never surprised to see past students succeed. Writers who seek out instruction; exposure to different methods; the energy and feedback of a classroom community, are writers who aren’t precious about their product. They seek challenge, not praise. These writers are naturally going to rise to the top of our competitive profession.

OTE has demystified the process of publication. When I started writing, no one knew anything. Local fields were full of writers waiting to be struck by lightning. Through the readings we’ve cleared a sort of path; take classes, do open mics, submit to journals, assemble a manuscript. There’s more sense of a progression. This does not help everyone. Occasionally, ambitious writers mistake the path for a career ladder. They’re crushed not to be Vice President of Haiku in the allotted five years. This is a mistake of ambition. Good writers are ambitious for their work, not for themselves.

Recently, a new poetry magazine called Skylight 47 has emerged in Galway; OTE provides financial and creative support to the publication, which has an independent editorship. Among the elements setting Skylight 47 apart from other journals – it carries reviews, editorials, in-depth interviews with poets. It’s a magazine that talks back, that insists on a dialogue with modern poetry. This idea of literary appreciation as an interactive process is part of the ethos of OTE and, I hope, its most lasting legacy. At its best, Over the Edge expands people’s vision of both literature and themselves. It encourages them to do a little work and gain the world of words.

More or less what we had in mind ten years ago, when we stood on our couch to see the sea.