Breaking the Haiku Mould, or Breeding to a Bloodline
© Janice M. Bostok
In the latter half of the 60s I was newly married and had begun to have my family. I was isolated, living in the north-eastern corner of Gippsland, in Victoria. I had always been interested in writing, so decided that now would be a good time to begin by writing readers stories for the Australian Womens Weekly.
I was quite successful and because I contributed a number of stories on a regular basis I actually developed some fans who wrote to me each time I was published.
One of my fans thought she was doing me a favour by placing my name in an American pen friend magazine. Well, you can imagine! In one week I received over five hundred letters. I sorted them out by choosing those who said they were also trying to become writers. That left about twenty women whom I began to write to regularly.
After a time one woman said she thought I should be able to write haiku, because of the way I described my home in the bush. By this time my husband and I had moved to the northern rivers area of New South Wales (where I was born and where I felt more at home). I had to sheepishly write and ask the women what haiku was. As way of explanation she sent me the small Peter Pauper book of classic translations in English. I fell in love with haiku. I had never read poetry quite like it.
There was no posturing, no pretence, no ego waving! This was real life. This I could relate to. For example Basho’s
midday nap
placing my feet against the wall
how cool it is
But no one I knew had heard of haiku. Not even the local school teacher at the one teacher school where my children attended. So I began to read and study by buying books from America, where they seemed to know something about it. A couple of the women I wrote to had actually had haiku published. I was sure I could do that, too! The first haiku I wrote was accepted for publication in the USA by a small magazine.
In 1971 I was being published overseas. Still no one that I knew had heard of haiku. I remember attending a mothers club meeting at the local school. To break the ice we were asked what our hobbies were. When it came my turn I thought that there was no point in saying haiku, so I said poetry instead. Simple enough, I thought. There was dead silence. Then a voice from up the back of the room said: That’s breeding chooks, isnt it?
I was quite successful and because I contributed a number of stories on a regular basis I actually developed some fans who wrote to me each time I was published.
One of my fans thought she was doing me a favour by placing my name in an American pen friend magazine. Well, you can imagine! In one week I received over five hundred letters. I sorted them out by choosing those who said they were also trying to become writers. That left about twenty women whom I began to write to regularly.
After a time one woman said she thought I should be able to write haiku, because of the way I described my home in the bush. By this time my husband and I had moved to the northern rivers area of New South Wales (where I was born and where I felt more at home). I had to sheepishly write and ask the women what haiku was. As way of explanation she sent me the small Peter Pauper book of classic translations in English. I fell in love with haiku. I had never read poetry quite like it.
There was no posturing, no pretence, no ego waving! This was real life. This I could relate to. For example Basho’s
midday nap
placing my feet against the wall
how cool it is
But no one I knew had heard of haiku. Not even the local school teacher at the one teacher school where my children attended. So I began to read and study by buying books from America, where they seemed to know something about it. A couple of the women I wrote to had actually had haiku published. I was sure I could do that, too! The first haiku I wrote was accepted for publication in the USA by a small magazine.
In 1971 I was being published overseas. Still no one that I knew had heard of haiku. I remember attending a mothers club meeting at the local school. To break the ice we were asked what our hobbies were. When it came my turn I thought that there was no point in saying haiku, so I said poetry instead. Simple enough, I thought. There was dead silence. Then a voice from up the back of the room said: That’s breeding chooks, isnt it?
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