The Next Big Thing - Sea of Ink

I received an invitation a couple of weeks ago from the lovely Lynsey May Lynsey May writes down the night to join a blog promotion called The Next Big Thing.  It gives Scottish writers a few questions to answer about their work and a chance to link with other writers who are doing the same.  After your own post, you nominate other writing bloggers to join in and tell the world about their own 'Big Thing'.  So thanks Lynsey - now I have to think about what I want to say!

Unlike Lynsey, I'm not yet at the full-blown novel stage (although I do hope to get there one day).  I have been writing a number of short stories recently and I thought this would be a great opportunity to promote a new publication which will include two of my stories.

1. What's the title of your latest story?
I'm going to cheat a bit and talk about two stories.  One is called 'The Music of Longing' and the other is 'Incoming'.  They are completely different - to the point where I feel a bit schizophrenic.

2. Where did the idea(s) come from?
'The Music of Longing' is the story of a young woman who makes a sudden decision to take her future into her own hands, having previously been docile and accepting, and quits her job to move to Lisbon.  The idea came to me during the ironing (not my favourite job) so it's not surprising perhaps, that I was drawn to the idea of throwing it all up to re-make yourself in one of Europe's great cities.  Luckily the urge was temporary for me and I went back to enjoying family life after a short fantasy escape.
'Incoming' is a very different story; the true(ish) tale of moving to a small east coast of Scotland fishing village in the 1970's.

3. What genre does your story fall under?
Romance with a touch of humour for TMOL and life-writing for the other.

4. What actors would you choose to play the part of your characters in a movie?
Well, that's a tough one.  'Incoming' is based on my own life so I'd love to think I was like a young Karen Gillan.  Sadly that would not be true.  The leading character in TMOL is called Caroline.  She's rather quiet and non-descript so, with no offence intended, I think Anna Maxwell Martin would do a fabulous job of bringing her to life and finding the spark within.

5. What is the one sentence synopsis of your story?
Bear with me here - breaking the rules again!
TMOL- Quiet girl with no distinguishing features, surprises everyone, including herself, by taking charge of her life.
'Incoming' - My parents ruined my life by moving me from bog-standard Glasgow suburb to beautiful seaside town (I'm nearly over it).

6. Will your story be self-published or represented by an agency?
The stories are in a brand new anthology of creative writing which will be self-produced by a group of Open University students with a range of talents and contacts in the publishing business.  The group is called Ink Pantry Publishing and they hope to produce further works in the future.  'Sea of Ink' will be published on 10th December 2012.

7. How long did it take you to write the first draft?
I find my ideas come quite quickly for initial drafts but the thinking part before I actually start writing can go on for a ridiculously long time.

8. What other stories would you compare it to in your genre?
The life writing, I would love to compare with Janice Galloway, but I think I would be stretching it a bit.  I've certainly enjoyed her recent autobiographies. 

9.  Who or what inspired you to write this story?
A recent birthday reunion made me think about my childhood in Anstruther and that's probably what prompted me to write about how the move there affected my life.  I should say that I still live in the area and love it now.

10.  What else about your story might pique a reader's interest?
In TMOL, Caroline is struck by the sound of Fado music which is everywhere in Lisbon.  It's a fascinating part of Portuguese culture and gives an intriguing insight into the character of the city.

Published on 10th December 2012

I'm trying to persuade some of my fellow authors from the anthology to join in with The Next Big Thing - watch this space ...

Poem in an anthology

One of my poems has been published this month in an anthology created by Fife Bookfest.  The book is called Lunardi but, to be honest, I'm not sure where (if anywhere) it's on sale.  So, this is my poem if you'd like to read it:

Wise Wirds

Nane sae blind as wilnae see

Nane sae dumb as wilnae lee

Nane sae shair as wilnae speir

Bide wi me hen, I ken them a’

Nane will tell the tale sae bonnie

Nane will cry yer name sae weel

Nane will staun sae braw aside ye

Bide wi me hen, I ken them a’

Tak yir cast an wish for siller

Tak yir bairn an teach him richt

Tak yir life, flee laich and langer

Bide wi me hen, I ken it a’

Tak advisement gin ye want it

Tak the pad ye’ve cut yersel

Tak ma haun, I’m feart o naeb’dy

Bide wi me hen, I ken it a’

Ye’ve a heid abuin yir shudders

Ye’ve got een that ken the truth

Ye’ve the will tae mak things happen

Bide wi me, or gang awa’

Back to the Grindstone

After a longish gap for reflection and battery charging, I'm just about ready to get writing again.  I think many years of meaning to write and not quite getting round to it is a hard habit to break and it's one of the reasons why I enjoyed my OU course so much.  There's nothing like a looming deadline to concentrate the mind - especially when you've paid good money to have someone hassle you.  I'm just beginning to see some results though, small but positive nonetheless.  This week I was told that a story I submitted to a flash fiction website months ago is going to be published in an anthology available on Amazon.  It's a teeny wee story and the sales of the anthology will probably be immeasurably small, but it's a publication all the same!

I also heard this week (why everything at once?) that my poem 'Wise Wirds' is going to be included in a poetry anthology published by Fife Book Fest.  Again, a prospect of tiny sales but a publication.

I've signed up for the next level of Creative Writing and just had a look at the volume of work they're expecting to see.  It's quite daunting.  It's also exciting though and takes me in some different directions.  Watch this space for news of how I get on with more short stories, longer poems and a plunge into the world of script-writing.

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Flash-Fiction-World-ebook/dp/B0096QHYA8/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1347021341&sr=1-1

Inspiration for creation

What kind of inspiration do we need to start a new creation?  I've tried beautiful, peaceful locations but tend to find the views a bit distracting.  I've tried a darkened room with minimal external stimulus but the ideas don't flow to order.  It seems that inspiration will still strike at the most inconvenient moments - in crowded public transport.  I was on a tram in Lisbon recently.  Not one of the picturesque, rackety, pre-WW1 trams that wind through the impossibly steep and narrow streets of the Alfama (see above), but a new Siemens, double-length tram full of sweaty commuters on a busy stretch of road in the commercial centre.  I was jammed against the door on one side, a waist high glass partition on  the other, close enough to my fellow passengers to surmise a great deal about what their personal hygiene routine was like and what they enjoyed for breakfast. I had a sudden idea for a story.  Being a conscientious student of creative writing, I now carry a notebook almost everywhere I go.  Unfortunately on this occasion I could not move my arms, let alone reach for a pen.  So, while the tram stuttered along between traffic lights and inexplicable hold-ups, I tried to hold that thought.  Fifteen minutes later, finally emerging from the tram outside the Monasterio de los Jeronimos at Belem, I joined the queue to see inside the wonderful 16th century church and, by the time I wandered back outside, blinking in the sun, my story had dissolved away to nothing and the strongest idea in my mind was how to get back into the city without having to travel on the number 15 tram.

I recently discovered a new way of working on a story.  Much helped by the fact that I was frantically trying to finish for a deadline, I took the laptop with me on a camping trip.  Camping?? I hear you say, how did that work?  Well, it helps if you have a folding camper and electrical hook-up and, I've also found, it helps if you can't access the internet and get fatally distracted.  With the side wall opened out, a glass of wine beside me and the table set up for typing, I sent the boys out to guddle in a stream and just got on with it.  Job done, deadline met, and a smile on my face every time I looked at the view.  Thoroughly recommend it.

My favourite place (well, one of them)

http://www.scottishbooktrust.com/myfavouriteplace/stories/croft-fire-on-tiree

Writing from life

We're on to a new theme on the OU course - Life Writing.  Sounds deceptively simple but the hardest things often do!  I don't feel that I have any shortage of material in my own life but it's a fine balance that makes it interesting to others while keeping it close to the truth.  What is the truth after all?  There's my version of events and then a myriad of other versions from others who were there but seeing things from another perspective.  There's emotional truth which sometimes requires a re-jig of the facts.  There's sensitivity to the other people who share my own stories - especially if they can't answer back.  So, all in all, no pressure.  I'm working on some tales from childhood and may have to change some names to protect the innocent!

poem no. 2 from my assessment

This one is based on a sketch by Leonardo Da Vinci

The Mind’s Eye

Flimsy as the ochre smear

on the page, wrestled from the earth

to give shape to the imagined.

Sturdy as the wooden frame

wrenched from the tree,

to hold the idea for a perfect, tense moment

Light as the inky sketch

of a man, perched like an anxious bird

on an unhinged swing.

Swept along on the canvas sail

of a mind that sees realities,

and dreams through other eyes.  

Poems from my latest assessment

This poem is inspired by a photo of Barbara Hepworth in her studio (no implication that she is any kind of a witch in person!)

The Secrets of Sculpture

‘Come in,’ she said, ‘or go out, all the same to me.’

Gnarled, witchy fingers grasping the frame,

she pursed her lips and smiled.

‘The stone was hewn from such as you,

Join me and live, or die.’

Tiny, like a red-capped finch,

furred as a brown bear,

she was the organic centre of the room.

Gouged from the softest chalk

and weathering all too soon.

I hovered, uncertain at the threshold,

eyes drawn to the door with no handle.

‘Where do we go from here?’ I asked.

Her wrinkled eyes darted to the stone,

‘Back where we came from.’  

Why am I so good at procrastination?

I shouldn't even be sitting here asking that question.  I should be doing some ironing, completing an accountancy problem that's been hanging over me for some time, finishing knitting a scarf I started at Christmas (it's not even very long!), writing something for my OU course.  Basically I SHOULD BE DOING ANYTHING BUT THIS!  Honestly, if I had sat down this morning intending to write a little blog post, I would be upstairs right now wrestling with the ironing board.
I've always been inclined to put things off but I occasionally get a burst of energy that sends me off to complete the task.  Unfortunately I just as often get an impulse to read about what I should be doing, rather than doing it, or to write about what I should be doing ... well, you get the picture.  So, does anyone know how to stop procrastinating and start getting on with things?  Of course not, you wouldn't be browsing the blogosphere would you?

Badentarbet, Wester Ross

Beware of the cat

I used to have a cat with a large personality and mildly homicidal tendencies.  This one's for Spike.

Beware of the cat
First, purge yourself of free will.
There is no rule book
but, seeing one, he would ignore it.
Don't attempt to take control, 
he will stare you down.

His hiss dictates
when meals are served.
when sleep can happen,
when doors will open.

And then, 
When you have lost all pride,
all sense of yourself,
and you are wholly subjugated,
he will crouch on the stairs,
in the fetid darkness,
and, stretching suddenly,
will catch your feet.

Grab the bannister
If you still hope to survive.

A poem about fireworks

I was working on this poem for my OU module but decided not to use it in the end.  It's inspired by a display on Lake Como.

The Trace of Fireworks

The sharp, percussive bark,

then the fading pitter-patter

retorts from the mountainside.

Lights spray the night

in coloured fountains,

shooting through the darkness.

In your worn, lacklustre face

I see the child at her first bonfire;

Shivering with expectation,

jaw hanging, eyes alight.

The flares reveal the path

as I take your hand and lead the way.  

Looking for inspiration

I think poetry is starting to get the better of me.  I've been reading lots and thinking in images but struggling to find the right kind of inspiration.  The next assignment for OU is a forty line poem on a theme of our choice.  I have been racking my brains for the right theme... sometimes it helps if they are a bit more prescriptive.  A free choice can trigger a lack of inspiration and a lot of thinking in circles.  The best thought I have so far is based on fireworks and frankly it's not looking too promising.  The picture is from our holiday last year on Lake Como.  We had a lovely apartment in Varenna and the night we arrived there was a festival of fireworks on the lake exactly opposite our balcony.   Just for background, every other holiday we have ever been on, we have been told by the locals, 'Oh you should have been here last week/next week for the festival/wine tasting/free food.'  or 'What a pity you're leaving just before the festival, etc.' (you get the picture).  On this occasion we not only arrived at the climax of the celebrations, but the fireworks were accompanied by a food festival at the lakeside where we jostled with the locals for freshly cooked food prepared by the women of the village.  A great night all round.  To be honest the photo doesn't even come close to doing the fireworks justice but it shows the barge from which they were launched.  It was anchored about 100 yards from shore.  We sat there for nearly half an hour with our jaws literally hanging open as we watched the display. It might not make the best poem but it truly was a beautiful night.

Strange day

This was one of my strangest days for a while. I received a really good mark for my short story assessment with some excellent suggestions for improvement which I am going to consider at length. I received a polite rejection for a novel idea. It's ok - on reflection, it needs a lot more work! I received a job offer which ticks most of the right boxes (details to be negotiated). All in all, more ups than downs but you really don't expect to get them all at once!

Poetry Generator

I've been having fun with this on-line gizmo William Carlos Williams poetry generator .  Just fill in the missing words for some surprising results.

This is just to say
I have walked
the beaches
that were on
the way

and which
you were probably saving
for others

Forgive me
they were empty
so wide
and so bleak

Creative Writing course

I'm now nearly three months into a Level 2 course with the Open University which is stretching me in all sorts of ways.  It's not the first time I've studied - someone asked me at an interview recently if I was 'collecting qualifications'.  I didn't think I was but I can see how it might look that way.  Anyhow, the Creative Writing course is the first one I've done in a long time for no better reason than I wanted to do it.  It's not for a job (although I would love to earn some money from it).  It's not Continuous Professional Development (a phrase to make your heart shrink). It's not anyone else's suggestion, just my own personal interest.  I have to say that I find the OU materials, tutorial support and peer support absolutely brilliant.  I quite often find myself engaged in exercises which I would never have dreamt of doing on my own and I know that I am definitely learning from the experience.  I have been writing on and off all my life but I have never felt comfortable sharing what I have written.  Now I'm hoping to break the mould and, for the first time since the school magazine, have the confidence to show people what I want to write.

A stab at poetry

I'm experimenting with poetry at the moment for the Creative Writing course.  Not really my comfort zone so I've decided just to be brave and make a start.

Elemental

Fire

In stinging smoke the laughter drifts

and voices, lowered, take on riffs,

of evenings passed and shared,

by some.

Of friendships forged in heat of passion,

while lovers spurned,with faces ashen,

stumble sparkless through a life,

uncomfortably numb.

Air

Bass notes thrum beneath the surface,

beating rhythm rich with purpose.

The medium for music,

and drum.

Wings and whispers beat together,

stretching delicately feathered,

away from grounding

to the sun.

Earth

Grains composed of life decayed,

slip through gentle fingers splayed.

To sift for meaning and intent,

a crumb.

What anchors you to shifting sands?

The dampness, cold beneath your hands,

betrays the fear

to come.

Water

Waves susurrate through tumbled stones,

in waters filled with such unknowns

and tides will turn, their regularity

unsung.

Darkness slashes silken silver,

breaking free perhaps for ever.

The fish exploring new horizons,
is undone.

A little flash fiction - follow the link below

Clearing