THE IDENTITY OF AN OUTSIDER

“‘Who do you think you are?’” as Riley (2000, p.1) stated so poignantly, is an awfully accurate way to describe how I feel about being a writer, including the abject horror. The amazing thing about it is by changing the intonation of the statement’s pronunciation; it can be made into either an insult or a heartfelt question. However, I would like to propose this statement to be a springboard into considering introspection and passionate self-expression that challenges both self-imposed and societally enforced conformity. In this essay I would like to explore the bending of convention and the coalescence of writing and reading in its many manifestations, alongside it’s influence on my development as a multi-form writer. So yes, I agree with Denise Riley when they argue for a “defence of having nothing to say for oneself.” As while there is comfortability in being transmuted into labels, you are then bound by the labels associations as perceived by those other than yourself. That in of itself, is a travesty on the uniqueness of the proverbial ‘I’ in both personal and detached iterations.    

Despite that not all labels can have adverse effects; this year I feel like I have lent in and explored what it feels to be a poet. Before I began writing poems, I was dismissive of their nature, but after understanding their complexities and opportunity to layer meaning through abstract, their rhythms became more natural. Especially going into second year, after going through the rocky first year of stumbling about with poetry its this year that I think I’ve started to find my voice and explore what themes I’d like to portray through the subtlety of poetry. I found myself inexplicably drawn to the Villanelle, perhaps due to its name but more likely for its cyclical nature. It’s described as a “form that refuses to tell a story.” (Strand and Boland, ed. 2001 p.8) As the structure itself focuses on the repetition of the first and third line of the first stanza, creating an auditory echo chamber for words. It’s dynamic in the fact it refuses to progress yet reiterates the same point in various perspectives. I enjoy how it restricts the poet to consider the same thought in a multitude of ways, it’s a powerful tool, for the abstract trait humanity possess, to dwell and linger on phrases of power. It emulates repeated mantras and the way they can twist with overuse or reframe depending on their surroundings. I believe this form while it appears with tight rules on form, its generative constraints lead to poets becoming juvenile and inciting themes of internal conflict. Sometimes to break conformity, it doesn’t mean breaking the rules, but so thoroughly understanding them that by using them you rewrite their meaning through use. An act writers do while mastering their craft, and what I plan on doing as I develop further, using not just writing but other forms of inspiration, just as the villanelle has lyrical roots, other forms of art continue to inspire my path.

Since the villanelle stems from ballad form, exploring rhythm became of interest to me and that music would be a prolific avenue to deepen my comprehension of flow. In fact, I began learning an instrument and it has helped me explore the melody of poems in a way that breaks through their structures. In my poem Turning Dark (Gill, 2025), while I follow the Villanelle structure I make small lexical changes to the repeating lines, it still emulates the cyclical nature but shows a delinquent progression of obsession that grows and morphs within the modified repetition. The same type of build and narrative change you would have in a song. While the structure informed and inspired me, my creativity was not bound to the rules of refrain. I think this encapsulates more of what being a writer is to me, breaking those conforming rules in way that reminisces their purpose but innovates them into a form fit for the message.

An inspiration for the juvenile structure rectification came from ‘Do not go gentle into that good night’ by Dylan Thomas (1982, p.131), while he follows the structure, thematically he is raging or even protesting structure in a passionate dialogue with the reader. If that isn’t punk, I don’t know what is. He battles with a stigmatised view of aging and fights against the conformist mindset people have about growing old, “Rage, rage against the dying of the light.” (Thomas, 1982, p.131). The quote here is one of the repeating refrains, and it captures both the obsession and passionate rage that comes with confronting cemented ideas. To use a poetry form that indicates a trapped cyclical nature to speak about a stagnant view or idea, the emotion feels like it seeps through the seams of the lines, yet unable to progress or change. The clever osmosis of the two parts; narrative enhanced by the theme, makes for a technically superb and engaging poem.

The technique of weaving in challenging subtext is something I have begun to emulate in my own poetry writing. In Turning Dark (Gill, 2025), I do this by challenging the conventional view of romance by subverting it into a yin nature, as opposed to yang, and showcase the darker thought processes that can come from wanting to connect. Not only is the theme of my poem controversial but it was an exploration for me into a voice I hadn’t connected to before. I see this as breaking through my own conformities of what I believed I could do as a writer, embracing the title of poet into my identity and experimenting within this new technique. Which, in turn, has excelled my writing practice into a lyrical and carefully considered craft.

Elements of poetry rewriting has seeped into my prose and non-fiction writing such as deliberate word choice and intricate sentence structure both have become prevalent skills in my editing process. This development is also heavily attributed to the in-class workshops held every week as they helped me carefully question what the message of the poem (or piece) was and tease out the clarity of an unfamiliar voice, with peers who had experiences that could illuminate the confused message. The feedback was integral into providing confidence and constructive feedback to the new style of poetry and voice I was experimenting with.

Challenges have been a theme this year, I focused on reading and writing things that have previously made me uncomfortable or that I didn’t think I could write about effectively. An example of this is a rewrite I did of a piece called Cotton Candy Nightmare Fern (2024), in which I aimed to write in a way that made the reader experience the feeling of being manipulated by a narcissist. In no way is it meant to be a pleasant or easy read. It was written not to be enjoyed but to confront ignorant mindsets, to confuse and to instil an emotion instead of simply describing it. The piece is an exploration into inner conflict as I believe internal conflict to be an undulating eternal presence that lurks under every decision and choice, every conversation and activity. I found that most often it doesn’t involve the person itself, but the rhetoric that person has left with you, that battles against your sense of self, daily. Something I think Nineteen Eighty-Four by George Orwell (2008) encapsulates well and was a surprising inspiration to my work.

Like many others found before me, there is much to say about George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four, however for the sake of specificity, I’m going to focus on Winston’s perception of himself as someone ‘alone’ in a world of conformity due to his critical thought of the society he lives in. Yet more than that, was his craving to be individual. “Anything that hinted at corruption always filled him with wild hope.” (Orwell, 2008 p.131) Here is an example of his juvenile thinking, that hope came from seeing the cracks in a perfect machine or in something that could signify imperfection. A lot of what made me think deeper in this book was a rhetoric centred around the moments were Winston would ruminate on what they were missing as humans, of how the things that bring peace, or fulfilment had been governed over and stamped out. I often talk about wanting to enlighten people to experiences they haven’t felt before in my writing, to make them self-aware of their reality. “Until they become conscious they will never rebel, and until after they have rebelled they cannot become conscious.” (Orwell, 2008 p.74) It’s a paradox, to do one inherently does the other and vice versa, this is the kind of writer I want to embody, a rebellion against the increasing cookie cutter AI generated writing.

Regarding technology there are a few lines in Orwell’s novel that struck me as especially prevalent today, one being “Privacy, he said was a very valuable thing.” (Orwell, 2008 p.144) This statement made me think deeply about my current generation of internet addicted consumers. We were brought up without privacy, and a strange righteousness that being nosy is a right, and not a privilege. To know what someone else is doing all the time, to invade another’s life simply by looking at their social media. If you aren’t in the crowd, you’re an outcast, if you aren’t broadcasting your life, then you are a stranger. This thought process came from my psychology research however I think it is prevalent in my writing craft as well. My writing improves the less I am distracted by what everyone else is doing, when I’m not comparing my progress to writers who are published younger than me.  I find that while I use the internet it does not aid my creativity in fact it inhibits my self-esteem when thinking of ‘original’ ideas. Are you original if you just copy something off the internet? I’ve been thinking it more recently, but ignorance is indeed bliss, at least in some iterations. I think in a bizarre way writing has become a universally collaborative project, with ostracization by companies and leading authors, of the unique ideas of the individual. The fear of the unknown raises its head, that readers want to know what’s in the story before they even read it, with endless teasers and marketing on social media.  A quote in Nineteen Eighty-Four captures this change quite nicely: “with the development of television, and the technical advance which made it possible to receive and transmit simultaneously on the same instrument, private life came to an end” (Orwell, 2008 p.214) If you consider phones, then this is even more of a prevalent statement.

In fact, I did some research into privacy because of this thought process, utilising the psychology part of my combined course and I found a study by Pedersen, D. (1997) that discussed the importance of privacy and how integral it is to form a sense of self.  Processes like contemplation (to think about who they are, what they want to be), autonomy (giving individuals without the fear of social condemnation, to experiment with new behaviours), and rejuvenation (to heal from social hurt, recovery and plans for their future). These are just some of the findings from that study however I think it highlights, the similarity between Nineteen Eighty-Four (Orwell, 2008) and the modern day in an increasingly similar fashion. But more than that it’s inspiring to see humanities problems continue to perpetuate through time, and the only way we know this is through writing, and oral stories. Ironic considering in Nineteen Eighty-Four (Orwell, 2008) they manipulate history, but the book itself is a form of history that aids the revelation of the future.

That’s the legacy of a writer I aim to emulate. To rebel in an era of excessive sharing, is to withhold, to add mystique, to intrigue, and in my opinion the arts is a bastion of this mindset. To be misunderstood, to revel in confusion and mystery, to bewitch and befuddle the mind with an outrageous masterpiece of insane self-expression. That would certainly break, not just yourself, but others out of an inherent boredom of monotony. In this way human error could reject anthropocentrism, it forces us to work with elements beside our own power like the natural seasons, or our relationship with the environment around us.

So, if in Nineteen Eighty-Four (Orwell, 2008) uniqueness of the self was considered insane in a larger context of society and wanting to reconnect with the nature in a post-human kind of a way. Then in Kafka’s Metamorphosis (2007), a more intimate and personal fear was explored in the smaller context of family. An overnight transformation is not massively uncommon, to become something different, and perceived as monstrous is debilitating, and a shock to one’s self-esteem. However, what I think Metamorphosis highlights beautifully, is even though the change is a shock to the family, he too is struggling to resettle his role in the dynamic. Those fears and insecurities of no longer being able to fulfil his duties to support his family, even if it was toxic, weighs on Gregor’s mind until he makes his ultimate decision to perish.

As you read there is a gentle increase of horror and dread as he loses more and more faith in his family’s perception of him. At first silence, “as though perhaps expecting that silence would restore the natural order of things” (Kafka, 2007 p.80) Here is a natural response to change, especially unexpected or unpleasant ones. The way it’s written is so subtle and natural the reader immediately relates to the situation, perhaps agreeing or protesting his acquiescence to his future treatment. “…for the duration of her presence, he trembled under the sofa.” (Kafka, 2007 p.99) This is an excellent representation of the suggestion that self-definition can make us self-conscious, by this point he has accepted his new form, however he trembles in the presence of his sister, who no longer knows how to treat him or interact with him. An irrevocable change to one’s sense of self would have us all hiding and fearing our loved ones. It is a beautiful commentary on a very modern social issue of identity and estrangement from loved ones, due to uncontrollable changes, preferences or expressions of individuality. Of course, I disagree with how the family in this story treat’s Gregor, but I can understand the psychology behind it.

An interesting point about Metamorphosis (Kafka, 2007) is that out of all the natural world, Kafka chose the cockroach; universally considered a pest, invasive and extremely hard to kill or remove. This choice would not have been haphazard, and I think speaks deeper of both human’s relationship with nature, but more so our aversion to the foul and unappealing aspect of both us and nature. They are unsettling due to their inherent nature so unlike our own and hated by our systematic programming of disliking what they represent. Perhaps its evolutionary but I think it’s a societally enhanced sense of disgust, which makes Kafka’s choice explicitly more poignant. The story would have been very different if Gregor transformed into a cat or a puppy, the evoked feelings would be different and wouldn’t align with that outcast or ostracised mindset.

In modern day I feel like the narrative and morality could line up with experiences of sexuality and gender, the rhetoric an unfortunately common story for many who come forward to their families. Much like Gregor’s experience, they too will go through similar experiences of isolation, and misunderstanding; being treated in various hostile and unsavoury ways. However, despite that, it’s an important topic that needs to be spoken about even if it is through interpretation. Just like humans, nature has its outcasts, and I like how Metamorphosis (Kafka, 2007) blends those binary distinctions and just like it’s title, changes the meaning into something new.

The relational ability of writing is what makes it so powerful, to make readers feel understood, even in their isolation or as a community of readers. Even better if the writing is timeless, and I would argue that strangely all writing is timeless even if it is extremely topical. Which is why I believe that Kafka’s Metamorphosis (2007) is such an elegantly crafted story, that still has prevalent morals and interpretation that hold true even by today’s standards. The same can be said for Nineteen Eighty-Four (Orwell, 2008), in which the narratives exploration into conflict within the self can be mirrored into the current state of the world.

So then, perhaps being punk is just another form of post-humanism, a return to nature, or more precisely a human nature that is rife with mistakes and faults. Imperfection’s that define originality, error that screams differentiation. “’You preferred to be a lunatic, a minority of one.’” (Orwell, 2008 p.261). To that I say yes, if individuality is insanity. Then crazy I shall stay.

References

Fern, S. (2024) ‘Cotton Candy Nightmare’, in Fern, S. Covert Desserts: Volume 1 Angels Delight. Self-Published. Available from: <  https://salisfern.com/2024/11/18/angels-delight/ > [accessed 12 April 2025]

Gill, L. (2025) Turning Dark. Creative Writing. Liverpool Hope University. Unpublished poem.

Heaney, S. and Hughes, T. (eds.) (2005; first publ. 1982) The Rattle Bag: An Anthology of Poetry. London: Faber.

Kafka, F. (2007). Metamorphosis and Other Stories. Translated by M. Hoffman. New York: Penguin Books. 

Orwell, G. (2008) Nineteen Eighty-Four. London: Penguin Classics

Pedersen, D. (1997) PSYCHOLOGICAL FUNCTIONS OF PRIVACY. Journal of Environmental Psychology, 17(2), pp.147-156. Available from < https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0272494497900499 > [accessed 12 April 2025]

Riley, D. (2000) ‘Introduction’, ‘The Words of Selves’: Identification, Solidarity, Irony. Stanford University Press.

Strand, M. ed. and Boland, E. ed. (2001) The Making of a Poem: A Norton Anthology of Poetic Forms. New York: Norton.

Thomas, D. (1982) ‘Do not go gentle into that good night’, in Heaney, S. & Hughes, T. (eds.) The Rattle Bag. London: Faber and Faber.