Tuesday 8 October 2013

A Gem of Small Wonders

The downs above Charleston



It is a testament to the rich diversity of its programming, the top quality of its speakers and the gloriously inspirational location that the Small Wonder Festival at Charleston has grown into such a success. For the organisers, ten years must have flown by and it must be heartening to see such a throng of people eagerly swimming their way round the site every Autumn.  I have only been once before, when I was lucky enough to win an Asham Award, and I had such a wonderful time I was eager to come back. I managed to cram three events in one day this time and found them all stimulating, inspirational and thought-provoking.


A short story festival is indeed a wonder and attracts readers and writers alike – very often they are also one and the same. Short stories constantly receive such a mixed press. We are told there's no market for them by publishers and booksellers, that nobody reads them, or that they are now enjoying a resurgence! It's sometimes difficult to pick your way towards the truth here, though I suspect that a bit of everything is probably the most accurate reflection. Surely a medium perfect for bite-sized podcasts is ideal for our technological age and those journeys to work? There's such a range of material too covering everything you can think of … and more … from all over the globe. Try a classic Chekhov, Woolf or Dickens. How about something by Flannery O'Connor, Alice Munro or Raymond Carver. There's Helen Simpson, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie,Vanessa Gebbie, Yiyun Li, Adam Marek, Haruki Murakami …. Some you will know, some not but look them up and you're in for a treat … anything from separations, reunions, unrequited love, lost children … zombie restaurants. Zombie restaurants? Oh yes!


I have loved reading short stories since I was at school and an inspirational English teacher introduced me to the work of Katherine Mansfield – a revelation. I still marvel at her skill, her humanity, her insight into human nature and her glorious way with words. There's a lovely piece about one of her stories by Cath Humphris on the Thresholds' site here: http://blogs.chi.ac.uk/shortstoryforum/beyond-words/

The Man Booker longlistee Alison MacLeod gave a wonderfully vibrant talk about her and eloquently echoed so many of the things I have always felt about her work. It is always heartening to find people who feel the same way as yourself about certain things, even more so when they are people you admire. There was also a lovely reading of 'The Garden Party' – one of her most well known stories – by a young actress, which really set the mood for the evening and placed the audience right at the heart of her writing. A perfect way to end my visit to this year's Small Wonder.

My treasured old school copy

Charleston is such a unique place, with the slant of the downs curving round its perimeter and, of course, the wonderful farmhouse with its glorious interior imbued with the work and lives of the Bloomsbury Group. I have visited the house a few times before, marveling at the unique exuberance of the decoration on walls, tables, fireplaces, doors, and the other art works by Vanessa Bell, Duncan Grant, Picasso, Renoir, Sickert, Derain … it is an emotive place and the studio, the last room you pass through before leaving, has a charge all of its own – extraordinary.

If you fancy a visit check it out here: http://www.charleston.org.uk/  


The garden at Charleston






Thursday 29 August 2013

Notebooks, screens and random scribblings







It’s a curious thing, when someone told me that they only ever write straight onto their computer I couldn’t imagine myself doing the same thing. For a long time I was a longhand girl and had to get a story down on paper, A4 lined and margined, scribbling away with a gel pen. Then I decided to ring the changes just a wee bit by using a cartridge pen, oh fun to be had there by choosing different coloured ink: green, turquoise ...  but purple became my ‘stylo du jour’. Great! I loved the way the nib glided over the surface of the paper and the ink flowed – there was something about the physicality of it all, the immediacy that I really enjoyed. When the first draft was done, I’d go back and alter bits, but after several interventions all those lines through the text made a right mess and it wasn’t always easy to see what I was on about! So after a few pages of the next attempt I would type up what I had handwritten, just those first pages and carry on from there, repeating the process every few pages. Then I got a laptop and everything changed. There was no seminal moment, no Damascene conversion I just started to type straight onto it.

It’s a strange process, this mind to fingers routine that taps out the paths of our imagination, but it works for me. Somehow the world I immerse myself in when I’m creating something, wherever it is set, comes fresh onto the screen. I re-draft some bits as I go along too, always looking for the rhythm in the piece, the sea that will carry the raft of characters and their stories. As I come back to something, when I’ve had to leave it for a day or two, seeking out that rhythm helps me re-connect, get the flow coursing again and seeing the words up on the screen in front of me spurs me on. I do print everything out and re-draft, in pencil, usually somewhere comfy with a hot cuppa, (absolutely mandatory), but somehow there’s a crispness to the screen, probably because it doesn’t have my pencil scribblings all over it! It sort of entices you to carry on, to fill that space below the last paragraph.

A fancy schmancy one!



However, research is an entirely different matter. Don’t ask me why, there’s no rhyme or reason, but this is all taken down in longhand, notebook and pen at the ready. Yes I look up things on the net, as well as pore over all those fabulous books out there on literally everything, (and I do print out articles and longer items), but though I am there in front of a screen I have to write it down. My hand and brain have chosen this division of labour and it feels just right, there’s a balance to it for me. Oh, and I do love a good notebook and pen and there are so many fabulous ones to choose from. It’s a treat to seek out a new one, or break open the cellophane round the one you got for Christmas, (I know, I mentioned the ‘c’ word in August, but it’s only a tiny passing reference, promise.) I have a store from all the thoughtful gifts friends and family have given me and it’s always a joy to receive one – you really never can have too many. I always carry one with me. Sometimes I’ll write pages at one sitting, particularly if I’m out somewhere researching, sometimes it’ll be just a sentence or a couple of words but I know I’ll find a use for my jottings. I’m probably preaching to the converted but if your mind ever enters a chasm of blankness and you can’t think what to write about, just go back and look at your notebook they’ll be something you’ve squirreled away in there. A random sentence, a snatch of conversation that could just spark off something brilliant. Oh and if you haven’t got a notebook you’ve a treat in store; go seek one out ... and don’t forget the pen! 

My favourite – a trusty Moleskine.






Sunday 21 July 2013

Books to Inspire – No. 1

There will be a whole variety of these, as my blogs progress, but I want to kick everything off here with one of my favourite 'dipping into' tomes. If my creative juices get dammed up or my brain just needs some time out, I love picking a page at random in here:



'How I Write: The Secret Lives of Authors' edited by Dan Crowe with Philip Oltermann  publ. Rizzoli (New York)

This book is filled with all sorts of fabulous stuff that works, as it says itself: '…. like an old curiosity shop, full of letters, photographs, drawings, illustrations, and other scattered mementoes.' With over sixty essays, of varying lengths, from some of the worlds' most established authors we find out how A.L. Kennedy's only writing prop is her notebook, (one for each book), why Ian Rankin treasures a photograph of Edinburgh's Oxford Bar in his office, what Lionel Shriver's antidote to character names is and see Will Self's wall of post-it notes (it's huge!). There are a whole variety of props and talismans that writers find useful to aid the process: Siri Hustvedt keeps her late father's collection of 'unknown keys' by her when she writes, they help her to unlock rooms to unfamiliar spaces that lead to new stories.

As writers are we not fascinated by human nature, by what people do? That delving into the psyche is part and parcel of creating characters, themes, narrative … the whole shebang.  In their introduction Dan Crowe and Philip Oltermann cite how they wanted to '..tear down the invisible wall between us readers and them writers and see what's really going on behind the page. What keeps writers gong? If not money, what is their fix? What gets them high? What gets them low?…' This fascinates me as a reader, it's interesting I want to know more, but as a writer it connects on a whole other level. It's the human story that grabs me. Yes it's appealing to discover what well known writers use to break through blocks, or energise a flagging mind etc. and sometimes helpful, but that germ of intrigue is like finding a sherbet lemon in a bag of toffees, it's the human story that grabs me and fires up my imagination. It's like Siri Hustvedt's keys.  

Every time I go to this book I discover something new which delights and intrigues me, as well as coming across favourite entries that chime with my mood at the time. Like Siri Hustvedt I might get ideas for a story, discover a new character or just put isolation to one side as I realise someone I admire goes about things the same way I do – that's a comfort and an inspiration. Breaking out of solitary to share for a moment or two is heartening, a gift and it reminds me that I'm not alone, that there's a whole nation of writers /artists out there. It reminds me of writing friends, colleagues and all those amazing people I meet on the net.

The entries are so diverse, so rich, it's a wonderful collection of writerly lucky dips and beautifully presented to boot. Just flicking through its pages is as much a visual feast as anything else and there really is so much pleasure in a visit. Lovers of Letterpress will swoon. But the very best thing about it for me is that it was a gift, my first Christmas present from my lovely son-in-law, he searched it out – oh how well he knows me! Thank you Martin!!

I will leave you with just one entry, from Melissa Bank who says of her talisman – a photo from The New York Times:

'It captures the emotion for me – the ungainly struggle, the possibility of rescue, the blind faith writing requires. It also reminds me that the alternative is drowning in a flooded cage in the zoo.'



Friday 28 June 2013

Tiny spaces can be portals too

Okay, I suppose the ultimate tiny space we all have is inside our own heads but, as conundrums go, it is probably also the largest at the same time. Intriguing and quite amazing when you think about it – we can take ourselves anywhere, at anytime, with anyone in there. I have always been intrigued by the fact that our minds/imaginations can be so limitless, so tangible in the multitude of paths they follow and yet none of us have ever seen one. How can something we use everyday be invisible? Formless, (at least in the corporeal sense)? It is an extraordinary thing.

The road in the header photo resonates with this for me, a path to follow – yes, I know it's a bit obvious, cliche even – but I've always loved exploring those places, going just that bit further to see what lies round the corner or over the hill. I enjoy escaping into pictures, photos, paintings, whatever, just wondering what there is that you can't see, what lies beyond. Visuals can be a great stimulus for words, just look at where it got Tracey Chevalier for one; fabulous.

This is the sort of stuff I'll be blogging about, though a few other areas of interest may pop up from time to time as the mood takes me. Like landscapes, not necessarily pictures of, (though that's a possibility too), but different types of countryside, seaside etc. that inspire or just make me go 'wow' in a breathtaking moment. The photo header at the top of this page marks one of those. I took the shot on a walk in Cornwall, one of my favourite places, there was a bend in the road then this tree all wind-blasted and leaning, with great puffs of cloud behind it. Very dramatic and rather beautiful I thought so I took a snap. It has a sort of plucky air about it, clinging to the bank like that and reminded me of the trees in Shetland. The wind is so fierce up there, the land so exposed that vegetation above ground level has quite a fight on its hands, but don't let that put you off, it's a beautiful place with wonderful bays and a landscape all its own … plus an abundance of birdlife, any twitchers amongst you would love it!

In this blog. I'll be featuring writers, a visual artist or two, musicians, people working in a whole range of mediums, basically anyone who provides me with a 'wow' moment – I hope they will provide you with some 'wow' moments too.  To whet your appetite, here's one I took earlier (very 'Blue Peter'), Cornwall again. Can you see a lioness' head in those clouds or is it just me?







Friday 21 June 2013

Welcome to the tiny space

To begin ... an explanation. The tiny space in question is where I do my writing, though I do have a roving pen and notebook on the go, most of the time, that travel about a bit.

Over the years the tiny space has changed location. It began life on a 1940s' dining table in, where else, a dining room which naturally it had to share – both table and room! This was one of those 'now you see it, now you don't' places and not a success. It had a few intermittent residencies on my lap in various armchairs and on beds, but this was on an emergency basis only. This space, however, is still called upon from time to time and invaluable.

There was a brief spell on a lovely Arts and Crafts table, a bargain bought from a secondhand furniture shop installed in a corner of my bedroom, but when we connected to the superhighway it had to move again for the phone connection (all very pre. wifi). My tiny space became a very small, windowless corner of the hallway, a cramped major artery of the house and caught in an arctic wind tunnel between front and back doors. This required thick jumper, fingerless gloves, hot water bottle, blanket and copious amounts of tea/coffee to be thawed enough for flexible movement in both fingers and brain. I wrote most of my MA work there, thousands of words of it; my advice – avoid hallways.

A bit of the spare room was a step forward, but it can be quite tricky keeping the circulation going in your legs when one of them is wedged against a computer trolley and the other fighting for space with a large chest of drawers and everything everyone else doesn't want in their bedroom. But I'm not churlish, the spare room was the proverbial light. Immoveable trolley has now been removed, lovely table from bedroom installed, room redecorated (that was a job and a half), bookshelves erected and the tiny space is a comfortable L-shape by a window; oh the joy of natural light! It is still shared with bits of clutter and is a guest room, with bed of course, but I have my books around me, lovely arty things that friends and family have given me, my table and laptop, notebooks and pens ... what more could I wish for? I love my tiny space and it is just mine. Not quite Virginia's room of one's own, but a tiny space of my own. Fab!