I Thought I’d Try by Ian Copestick

I’m trying to remember when it first was
That I thought I’d try to be a writer
I vaguely recall, at about 15, under
The spell of Jack Kerouac, I dug out
My mum’s portable typewriter and tried
To write my first novel. As I had no
Experience of life, either on the road
Or off, the book died a sudden and well
Deserved death. The next time I remember
I was 17 (I think) and under the heady
Influence of Henry Miller. I was pretending
To take a typewriting class, that was
Coincidentally taught by my mother
So I could claim £27:50 per week
Youth Training Scheme money.
As I had access to a typewriter again
I churned out some Milleresque nonsense
That is best forgotten, but still the idea
Lingered in my brain.  For about 15
Years I played guitar and wrote songs
Until, nearing 30, I realised I was
No musician. But by that time I’d read
Bukowski, Carver and Larkin and
I’d finally seen what it was I could do.
So, since then I have remained a poet
Who writes a short story, every now and then.
In the future it might change and
I will finish that novel, maybe the
Same one I started when I was 15.

Bio: Ian Lewis Copestick is a 46 year old writer from Stoke on Trent England.
Although he started writing poetry in 2001, he only started sending them out for publication 8 months ago. In this time he has had over 100 poems and 5 short stories published. He is featured in print anthologies by Alien Buddha Press and Horror Sleaze Trash.
His first book Detritus Of The Drunken Night is OUT NOW, published by Cajun Mutt Press.
detrius
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