Susan Richardson is living, writing and going
blind in Hollywood. She was diagnosed with Retinitis Pigmentosa in 2002 and
much of her work focuses on her relationship to the world as a partially-sighted woman. In addition to poetry, she writes a blog called STORIES FROM THE EDGE OF BLINDNESS. Her work has been published in Stepping Stones
Magazine, Wildflower Muse, The Furious Gazelle, The Hungry Chimera,
Sheila-Na-Gig, Chantarelle’s Notebook, Foxglove Journal, Literary Juice and
Sick Lit Magazine, with pieces forthcoming in Amaryllis and The Anapest
Journal. She was also awarded the
Sheila-Na-Gig Winter Poetry Prize.
Literary Juice: After
learning of your condition, Reitinitis Pigmentosa, and reading your blog, "Stories
from the Edge of Blindness", one can see you possess a deep perception of
life around you. You notice beauty, or magic, in places most people tend to overlook.
Has this always been a part of you? In what ways has RP influenced your
insight?
Susan Richardson:
Wow! This is the loveliest thing anyone
has ever written about me and asked me. Your questions are so thoughtful and I
hope my answers will do them justice. I
have always been drawn to the beauty of things that are overlooked or perceived
as unusual, and having RP has definitely played a part in enhancing my
perception of the world. When I was told that I was going blind, I spent a long
time thinking about loss and how losing my vision would change what the meaning
of loss looked like. I had experienced loss in the death of loved ones and in
difficult rites of passage, but going blind, slowly as most of us with RP do,
thrust me into the minutiae of loss; losing my vision wasn’t something I could
tuck away and come back to later when I was ready or feeling stronger, it was
happening in every moment of every day. I began to look at the world with more care, patience and
compassion. I started writing "Stories
from the Edge of Blindness", which is, in essence, about what I see on my
journey into blindness; the irony of which is not lost on me. Having RP has
helped me write, live and look at the world more honestly than I ever have; I
look beneath the layers more fearlessly and with new understanding. I love that you use the word magic; I
believe it applies to so much in life, and that it is what you get when you
look beyond the surface of things, when you choose to stop and truly see rather
than step over what might make you feel uncomfortable or afraid.
LJ: Are there days
where RP challenges you as a writer? What strategies do you employ to overcome
those obstacles?
SR: Living with RP
presents me with an array of challenges every day, and some of them are
definitely connected to my writing life. One of my most severe RP symptoms is light sensitivity; this includes
sunlight, bright indoor lighting and the glare from computer and tablet
screens. My writing environments have to be lit in very specific ways, or my
eyes begin to ache and sting within minutes; if it’s too bright, I can’t see,
and if it’s too dark, I can’t see. I am fortunate to be able to work from home
where I have created a good working space for myself. As for the computer, luckily, there are accessibility
options on devices that allow me to invert the colors on the screen; looking at
a black screen with yellow text is much less painful and enables me to write
for longer periods of time. However, I still need to make sure to take frequent
breaks; over- use of my eyes, even in less harsh lighting, can result in a day
of extreme pain and the inability to use my eyes for anything. I also have trouble focusing and have to
increase the font sizes on all of my documents and emails; this can be time
consuming when revising or submitting work, but it isn’t difficult. I can
remember the days when I wrote all of my poems long hand, but my inconsistent
focus makes that impossible. I can no
longer read bound books, newspapers or magazines comfortably, but in the RP
world, I am lucky; with the help of technology, I can still read and write
without the use of a screen reader because, for now, I have relatively good and
usable central vision.
LJ: Tell us about how
you develop each poem. Are they inspired from within? From the world around
you? What does your writing process look like?
SR: I know it sounds
cliché, but I really try and allow my writing process to be as organic as
possible. My poetry happens in a variety
of ways. Some of my poems begin with the
language; a word or a line will come into my head, and from there I look within
to find the emotional origin for the words. Some of my poems are sparked from memory and some from visceral
responses to the world around me. I
have also recently gotten into Ekphrastic challenges; I love the idea of art
inspiring art, and I have been incredibly surprised by what an image can bring
out in me and in my writing. Perhaps, because I am going blind, the act of
seeing takes on new meaning and I translate that into my poems that are
inspired by paintings or photographs. I
have always felt that subjectivity is a big part of what makes art
exciting. When people ask me what (or
who) a specific poem is about, my tendency is to leave them wondering; I am
much more interested in what my writing brings up for the reader, what it makes
them feel. There is one constant in my
writing; I have always lived my life from an emotional place and because of
that, everything I write is, in some way, a reflection of my emotional
responses to being alive.
LJ: What do you think
is the most difficult part about writing poetry? Do you think there is such a
thing as writer’s block? Why or why not?
SR: A couple of years
ago, I finally developed a true writing practice; I write every day. The
writing isn’t always good and I don’t always feel inspired, but I do it
anyway. I realized that being a writer
is in the act of writing, not just in the love of language or in moments of
inspiration. If you had asked me this
question 2 years ago, I would have had a different answer, but now I don’t buy
into writer’s block. I used to use it as
an excuse for not writing, but I believe there is always something deeper that
keeps us from our creative selves. Writing can be scary and isolating; we sit down with our demons and let
them unfurl themselves onto the page. In my experience, poetry, more than other
forms or genres of writing, is a dissection of the self, and that can be
terrifying. The art of poetry is
exacting but also requires fluidity; I find this incredibly challenging, but
ultimately exciting and fulfilling.
LJ: What do you want to
be remembered most for? What will be your legacy?
SR: I always wanted to
be remembered for being a writer whose work inspired people to see beyond the
surface of things, to look at themselves and others more fearlessly and with
more honesty. I still feel this way, but
RP has changed the way I look at the world and now I also want to be able to
leave people with my honest account of what it is like to go blind. I think that the fear of vulnerability is a
human condition, and that is why blindness is so terrifying to so many people;
I want to give blindness a face and a heart. My legacy will be one of words;
words that I hope will make a difference in the way people see.
