Category Archives: Writing
Shipping News
Waiting for ships, Brighton.
When one launches a ship, one surrenders responsibility to the waves. Once the vessel has disappeared over the horizon, it’s on its own. You’ve got to get on with life and other ventures until it either returns to port or news comes in that it hasn’t made it (admittedly and thankfully rare these days, but you get the picture).
And this is how I see writing projects I’ve sent off, as ships. Whether they be short-stories sent to competitions/magazines/anthologies, a funding application, chapters of my novel sent to an agent, a script sent to the Beeb, a script sent to a theatre – whatever, they’re all ships into which I’ve put all the skill and talent I’ve got. Once they’ve gone, it’s up to the seas of luck, taste, fashion and need to put them to the test and see whether they sink or come back to port laden with goods (acceptance/publication/a win/a short-listing etc..).
Last year I sent out a total of 61 ships. Some 20 returned to port with bounty, 41 never made it. For various reasons, I’ve been slightly less productive this year, but am doing my best to rectify this situation.
Thus, my stats thus far this year:
Ships sent out: 37
Wins/acceptance/short-listings/publications/performances:11
Ships sunk without trace: 17
Awaiting any news on 9 ships launched.
The year is not over and I intend to launch quite a few more ships before 2012 draws the curtain. It’s what keeps me going…
Bon Voyages!
All Hail Snails
Candles in Budapest
Snails. I have a thing for snails. It’s odd, I know, but we’ve all got something… Snails feature in my writing a lot. My award winning play was called ‘shellakybooky’ – a child’s word for ‘snail’ in Ireland. My Molly Keane Winning story featured a sock stuffed with snails and my latest stageplay has snails’ trails predicting the future in their particular weird, silvery fashion.
I love the oddness of snails’ appearance, their independence (carrying their homes on their back) and the fact that they leave a magical trail behind them. I envy their slowness, their lack of need to rush (and wish I had that confidence of approach). And even the word ‘snail’ has private significance for me. So when snails appear, I feel the muse is at hand.
Today, I arrived in from the garden and a housemate noted a baby snail was crawling across my head. I admit not everyone would be delighted to find a snail in their hair, however, this occured just after I’d been told a story about Buddha’s alleged debt to snails. I’m not a Buddhist but the story appeals:
“During a severe summer, a group of snails crept onto Buddha’s head and shielded him from sunstroke, their horns drawing enlightenment for the Master. And these snails gave up their lives in the process. In gratitude, the Master bore their shells on his head for the rest of his life.”
So, having a snail on my head puts me in pretty serious enlightened company.
There are writers feel story and character ideas are fed to them from “somewhere else”. Clearly, that “somewhere else” is a very vague concept and means different things to different scribes. Nonetheless, writers who hold such beliefs say it is very important to allow your mind to be open to receiving these ideas – wherever they come from.
I find it a comfort to think that ideas come to me from some external source – and if that slow and steady, methodical snail is the one inspiring me or bringing me enlightenment – then I’m cool with the magic.
I won!
Flying high
If you’ll indulge me… a quick boast post…
This week, my story ‘Grapefruit’ placed first in the Meridian Autumn Competition, and another ‘Two Trees’ was shortlisted for the Wells Literary Festival Prize. And…. another radio drama I co-wrote, ‘Berlin to Balaton’, has been shortlisted by the BBC… so all in all, it’s been a pretty full on, flying high week. They don’t come around that often, so I’m sure as hell going to enjoy this floaty feeling while I can… : )
‘Agnes and Walter’ And the Shed…
I’ve blogged before about the writer finding inspiration via other art forms, be it visual art, poetry or even comedy.
Recently, I’ve gained a lot of inspiration from the dance world. And one of the shows that started this interest, ‘Agnes and Walter’ has just launched a UK tour.
‘Agnes and Walter’ is compelling dance theatre. A love story tinkling with magic and fun, the piece is accessible to a broad audience.
However, for me, the most significant aspect of ‘Agnes and Walter’ is the exploration of human playfulness, creativity and imagination (i.e. art) which provide pockets of escape along life’s mundane path. And importantly, the show does not shy from investigating the close proximity of fantasy and insanity. It also encourages reflection on relationships, gender roles, and the passing and impact of time.
‘Agnes and Walter’ is punctuated by an eclectic musical score which includes live chansons, rock music and a specifically composed piano accompaniment. This music supplies moments of reflection and forms the bridges and borders between the quotidian world, the fantasy and beyond.
The relationship between reality and fantasy is perfectly symbolized in the show’s focal prop, a weathered garden shed that plays host to dreams, dance and love-making.
A blend of moving and comic theatre, ‘Agnes and Walter’ succeeds because it is quietly clever and thought provoking, yet remains all the while entertaining.
‘Agnes and Walter’ is devised by dance maker Neil Paris of SMITH Dance Theatre and is a must see if you’re in or near any of the following UK cities:
Norwich, Cambridge, Corby, Bridport, Lancaster, Nottingham, Luton, Bornemouth, Frome, Halifax, Stockton, Newcastle, Edinburgh and North Hykeham.
http://link.event.ly/v/262/2ef2a15113a476798cf9bf5e4f4c6e0cce60331af77e512c
Basic Instinct
Budapest chain bridge lion and moon
My gut has never lied to me. I might ignore my instinct (often do). But I know I shouldn’t, and time and time again, it shows me it knows what it is talking about. I’m in Budapest this weekend, in a farce – which I should have known better than to get myself entangled – my instinct had me well warned. But that’s what you get for not listening to your gut. Nevermind, at least I get to see my Budapest people, the greatest friends that ever walked the earth.
Instinct. Writers tap into something akin to instinct when we write. We usually do so via a freewriting exercise. Freewriting is what you write when there’s no one looking. Freewriting is instinct in control, sending words all the way down to the tips of your fingers. Freewriting is where you’ll find the most brilliant story ideas, if you look hard enough.
To freewrite, just write. Write the first word that comes to mind and then follow it with another. Set an alarm if you can. Don’t worry about grammar, structure, character development – just write. And when you’re done, stand back and take a look. Is there anything in there you can use. I’ll say there is!
Here’s an example:
‘Right now I’m sitting at my computer and the coffee cup is on the edge of my desk. It looks a little like an iceberg, as it is white and chipped and cold because the coffee has been in it since the morning as I didn’t do the washing up last night and the sink is full of plates and saucers. All those plates look surreal sitting unwashed in the sink like that. All at different angles like a Picasso painting with ketchup instead of paint dribbled over the plates. I wonder if Picasso got his ideas from waking up one morning and seeing his jumble of washing up in the sink I wonder if all the museums in the world actually have pictures of Picasso’s washing up and not his mistresses and Guernica and does that mean the joke is on us?’
The above freewrite might seem silly but it’s also an example of how freewriting could, potentially, inspire a proper piece of writing. This daft thought about Picasso’s washing up could easily be worked into a comedy radio play where a hung-over Pablo Picasso and Henri Matisse wake up after a night out on the town and dare each other to paint a picture of the mess of washing up in the sink. Thus, the modern art movement is accidentally launched. Another possibility you could take from this freewrite is the concept that something generally considered ugly and in need of repair or attention (washing up) can lead to tremendous artistic inspiration – and this idea could form the kernel of a short story or a poem.
Here, chose one of the prompts below and let it lead you into a three minute freewrite.
I wish I had said….
It was no use pretending….
A long time ago…
For the first time ever….
It was the day the pumpkin appeared on the chair…
Streets Ahead
The Oldest Street in England, Wells, Somerset.
I received a phonecall during the week to tell me that I’d been short-listed for the Wells Literary Festival Short Story Award. I was shortlisted for the same last year, and though I didn’t win, I had a very groovy time down in Wells. Definitely worth a detour if you ever get the chance.
I’m often asked what ‘kind’ of writer I am. The truth is, I don’t see myself as a ‘novelist’ or a ‘short story writer’, ‘playwright’ or a ‘poet’. I see myself as a writer and believe that a writer should be able to (at least) try all written forms.
I write and enter short story competitions for the following reasons and it is good for me to have this list at hand – in case I ever question myself.
a) Being shortlisted encourages and motivates – when such stuff is difficult to come by in the writer’s life.
b) I can get published in literary magazines.
c) Money, if I win.
d) It keeps me on my toes and hones and polishes my craft.
e) By writing stories I build up a portfolio – ready to go in case I’m ever offered a collection.
f) It gives me an edge when applying for bursaries, residencies, funding etc..
g) It might bring the attention of publishers.
h) Short stories are something I can work on when time is limited.
i) An agent once told me that it is important to build up your writing ‘credits’.
j) Agents are human and sometimes don’t trust their own judgement, so wins and commendations give you that ‘seal of approval’/credibility.
k) Short story writing is a better displacement activity than making a cup of tea.
M) Having good writing credits help when applying for writing jobs.
p) Writing short stories reminds me that I’m a writer.
Wild Things
Fun fungus
I’ve been on a bit of a foraging binge lately. I came across a recipe book for wild food – ie berries, mushrooms etc… and have spent the past while subjecting my housemates to experiments in nettle soup, nettle lasagne, dandelion bhajis, elderberry syrup and blackberry crumble, fool and ice cream…
I live in an eccentric house share in an old mansion which has four acres of wilderness attached (there are even deer in them thar woods) – so there are plenty of the aforementioned weeds. Most of my housemates are adventurous, creative types, so are willing to try new culinary experiences and thankfully these have not yet been death by poison…
I’ve been having fun. And while I was out foraging today, it struck me how scanning the hedgerows for fruit, was rather like trying to find a story idea in the tangle of my mind.
I’ll often start writing by putting anything down on the page – “hggahgoidihgogha” will do, just get something down, break that white, crack that ice. Enjoy the sensation of the pen flowing over your paper or the tap of your finger tips on the keyboard and don’t think too hard about what you’re writing. Let it flow. Try just writing the “The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dogs…” a few times. Then continue on with the story. Where does the fox go next? Why is the dog feeling lazy? Where are they? What does the air smell like? What sounds can you/they hear? Is it hot or cold? Wet or dry? How does the dog feel when the fox jumps over him? Does he plan revenge? Once you’ve done a paragraph or two, you’ll probably find that the creative juices are flowing and there be some berries to collect in what you’ve written.
Happy foraging!
Sent to Coventry
Yes, I know this is not Coventry… but it is a signpost, and all I had. 🙂 Taken on Newport Beach, Orange County, California, 2010
Autumn has blown in, kids are back at school and my own schedule has gone into overdrive. A harvest of work opportunities (from workshops to drama productions) have cropped up in the past fortnight and I’m facing a season of travel for the same. I’m just back from five days in the motherland (Dublin and Kildare) and will soon be off to Coventry, Budapest, London, Ireland, Paris – and that’s only over the next eight weeks! It’s good to see things taking off and the interest (and funding) finally breaking through -and a clearer picture emerging of the road forward. It feels as though all the pieces of the jigsaw have fallen into place whilst I wasn’t looking – a case of life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans!
So as I’m gearing up to hit the road, I’m also doing my best to recover from a recent operation, which took more out of me than I thought it ought. Rather naively, I suspected a general anaesthetic would have no more impact on me than a local… but it sort of knocked me sideways and I ended up taking two days off work spaced out and lying in bed,. Thankfully, I had an angel of a Portuguese housemate to look after me, and a landlord who was on hand to cook and provide hot water bottles and tea and sympathy and the like. Times like that you realise who your friends are, and I’ve got some good ones. Thanks to the many here who dropped in to wish me well – you don’t know how much your messages meant – and it is reassuring to think that people read these posts. I rather write them thinking that I’m talking to myself – so it is good to know some people take the time.
Finally, apologies to the good people of Coventry for the clichéd title to this piece… I’m sure you get so sick of it. I can’t wait to get to know your town, and come up with something more fitting.
All Cut Up
Hole cut in Liverpool building. Now you see it…
I’m going under the knife today. Nothing too serious, a day procedure, though it does involve a general anaesthetic. To be honest, the most stressful part is trying to figure a to-fro from the hospital, being alone and carless in this country as I am. And I’ve got a lot of work to do when (and however) I get back from the op – with a re-write due on a play, a funding application pending deadline and a rake of bills and repairs due on my Budapest flats as well as organising for a dinner party tomorrow (yes, I know it’s dumb timing but it’s the first time in my four years in Norwich that I’ll have my aunt and uncle in town for the night so don’t want to miss the opportunity of having family around).
Coincidentally, it was this same aunt who once told me that if you put a red circle round a date on a calendar it attracts other happenings like flies. And these stressful moments often make me think about the career I’ve chosen. And the sacrifices I’ve made for it (see alone and carless mentioned above).
I have made a lot of sacrifices, that of a family for instance, and the chance of financial security (considering I have no independent wealth or spousal support, nor do I stand to inherit anything at any stage in my life). So, yeah, at moments like this, especially when facing a surgeon’s knife, one does start to ask one’s self why one does what one does…
I do it for rather selfish reasons, rather than the altruism of contributing to society. I do it because writing gets me happy and, to some extent, keeps me sane. And my writing is the only thing that never lets me down. People will disappoint, I’ll let myself down sometimes, but my art is there and constant and always offers solace, comfort and a new trip with every project. And not having family, my stories and plays are my kids, they’re me passing it on to you. Such reasoning will probably not make sense to most, but it will to fellow artists. We do it because that is what we do and who we are, and we want to do it well and because in the end, our art is always worth it.
Now you don’t…
...and this is me.
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suehealy 