WRITING PROMPTS TO BENEFIT CHILDREN IN GAZA
UNICEF reports that in Gaza, “hundreds of thousands of children and families are caught in a catastrophic situation” and that, ongoing as of November 14th 2023, over 4200 children have been killed and more than 7000 have been injured “due to unrelenting attacks”, while over 1300 others are missing. According to the World Health Organization, one child is killed in Gaza every 10 minutes. Outlining the charity’s Appeal for Children in Gaza, UNICEF spokesman James Elder explains: “Gaza has become a graveyard for thousands of children. It’s a living hell for everyone else.” Elder has also called for “children held hostage in Gaza [to] be immediately reunited with their families and loved ones”. Recent updates state that “hundreds of thousands of children … remain trapped in a war zone with little or no access to food, water, electricity, medicine or medical care”.
For the duration of NaNoWriMo, we will be posting a writing prompt every day and in doing so, we are hoping to encourage our community to donate to charities providing medical aid to children in desperate need in this unprecedented crisis.
These prompts have been created by writers from Wales or with a connection to Wales and its magazines and presses. The prompts are on all kinds of subjects, but many are related to anti-violence and the work of empathy, and they are offered with the simple hope that they might encourage people to donate in support of medical aid in Gaza. We include a list of suggested charities to donate to below, highlighting the Appeal to Children in Gaza.
UNICEF “continues to call for an immediate ceasefire as 1.1 million people — nearly half of them children — in northern Gaza have been warned to move out of the way of a widescale military assault, but with nowhere safe for them to go”. Elder concludes: “The humanitarian situation has reached lethal lows, and yet all reports point to further attacks. Compassion – and international law – must prevail.”
DAY 21: KRISTIAN EVANS
The Daimon
Writing a poem usually begins for me with a feeling or an image. Something comes
to mind and won’t be brushed away. It might be something as mundane as an
interest in the kingfisher, or as complex as a shift in the atmosphere in a roomful of
people. I suppose it’s a bit like being haunted. It haunts me until I write about it.
Writing a poem is a way to release the ghost.
So, I get scribbling. Writing proceeds as a series of offerings of words and ideas. I
rummage around in my psyche’s bric-a-brac, my internal bag of tricks, offering this
and that, trying to get it right. I feel my way forward, by signs and hints and clues. It
can feel like a process of negotiation: “yes, that’s good, that’s the right direction, keep
going…” or, “no, turn around, you’re going the wrong way“. I often feel as if I’m in
communication with a more poetic version of myself, someone much cleverer, more
imaginative, a teacher, even, someone who knows better than I do.
The ancient Greeks understood this sense of an “other” self within, and they called it
the Daimon. Socrates, for example, was exceptional in that he seemed to be in
constant easy dialogue with his Daimon. Yeats called it, “that affable familiar spirit.”
Blake experienced it as “the poetic genius.” Emily Dickinson seems to have heard its
promptings very clearly.
Every Daimon is different and unique. Consider, what does your Daimon want? What
does it want you to write, what does it want you to say? What is the deepest reason
behind your picking up the pen? What do you find yourself returning to again and
again? It’s easy to ignore the Daimon; our whole society will help us do that. But to include it, to listen to it, to sing to it, to wake up and recognise it, that’s not so easy. The best writers, the best artists, are those in contact with their Daimon.
So, reach out to it. Write to it as often as you can, write to it with honesty and
integrity, as though it were your closest friend. Ask it to show itself. Ask it to reveal
itself in dreams, in your work, in your life. Ask it to guide you. Be alert for its subtle
messages, signs and patterns. Maybe you’ve been haunted by something for a while
now, and you haven’t given it the attention it deserves. That’s the Daimon, reaching
out to you.
Finally, keep in mind what Coleridge said, surely writing about a glimpse of his own
Daimon:
Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.
Sometimes, given the choice, we might want to choose a quiet life, a garden, a
routine, peace. Your Daimon might have other plans for you.
Please consider donating to a charity providing medical aid in Gaza. We recommend UNICEF’s Appeal for Children in Gaza, but other charities include:
Palestine Children’s Relief Fund
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