Confessions Of A Writer

One of my earliest memories of writing was returning to primary school after the summer holidays and writing in our brand new exercise books, which had been issued for the new school year, a story entitled "What I did on my holiday." I took the word holiday to mean going away on holiday and not holiday as in a break away from school for a few weeks. The problem for me was that I hadn't been away on holiday. It was likely that my mother and father couldn't afford it. There was no shame in that during the 50's as I there wasn't a lot of money around in those days and it was likely that most of my class didn't go away on holiday. Day trips on coaches were most people's experience of the seaside. So I made up a holiday.
I remembered a trip to Llandudno, the previous year when we went to the Happy Valley open air theatre and my sister Jean got up on stage and sang with the ventriloquist Peter Brough and his dummy Archie Andrews from the radio show Educating Archie. (Yes a ventriloquist did have his own radio show. There was no danger of anyone seeing his lips move.) Jean's hand had been the first to go up when Archie asked for a volunteer. I would never have had the nerve, and 60 years later my bravery in that department has not improved one iota, whilst my sister continues to enjoy a good warble in her amateur operatic society. Her Llandudno stage debut did not go unrewarded and she was given some sweets. I based my "What I did in my holiday" story on this only in my story it is me that goes on stage and my sister doesn't get a mention. In my story, I was the winner of a talent show and was given the Grand Prize of £100, enough money to buy a decent used car.
I shouldn't have flinched at each of the three question marks my teacher added to her comment in red ink ''Did you really ???" Even at my young tender age her sarcasm was not lost on me.
Today, I like to think that she didn't think badly of me for writing that story. A piece of fiction disguised as non-fiction, but a piece of imagination from someone with very little life experience. I hope she secretly liked it. I know I enjoyed writing it.

More Rambling

I’m sure most of us have experienced social situations, when after superficial greetings, pleasantries and platitudes have been exchanged, there follows deep sighs and uncomfortable silences. It can happen to both new and long acquaintances between loved ones and not so loved ones. A situation when you may simply have nothing new to say, or want to say something but don’t quite know how or even if it is appropriate to say it, plain boredom, or one or the other has said something to cause offence.

A writer may experience similar discomfort when afflicted by writer’s block. Indeed, when I reflect on my ramblings on this blog, I wonder how I have managed to keep this going on what is now my 78^th blog post. But, I am a rambler at heart, which is often how I get my short stories going. I think of a simple premise, and ramble on about it my note book or on my computer until a story develops. When the story becomes boring or dries up then I will make something completely distracting happen.

I have found both in life and in my writing, during such moments, to say or write something distracting often helps. It is often the unexpected that makes what you have to say interesting. After all who wants predictability?

Naturally, when the first draft is completed there will be a lot of pruning to do, but I find my more unstructured approach particularly useful for short stories. For anything longer and my script writing I prefer to storyboard, and have a good plan.

My current project is: a man discovers he has been issued a parking ticket. It’s happened to me, as indeed to most of us. I wanted to examine this situation and turn it something that gets completely out of hand.

My previous project was about a shoplifter. What was his thoughts to drive him to do something completely out of character?

Simple everyday situations which we either experience or hear about. How to make it different.

I am sorry I haven’t published any of these on my blog. If I did I wouldn’t be able to enter them into competitions. Eventually I would like to publish them as an anthology.

Ramble On

Okay, so I here I go. I haven’t got a clue what I am going to write about, but I am long overdue to make another blog post, so I am just going to ramble. What I will give you will be unplanned, uncut and unedited, just a pure unadulterated ramble.

But before I get going I have looked up in my Concise Oxford English Dictionary the definition of the verb ramble:  1. Walk for pleasure in the countryside, 2.  (often ramble on) talk or write at length in a confused or inconsequential way.

 

Let’s take a look at both of those definitions from a writer’s perspective. I don’t walk as often as I used to. I have been a dog owner, but the responsibility of caring for man’s best friend does not fit in with my work schedule. But when I did have dogs I was out walking in the countryside every day. I have also been a member of a local rambling club, and learned that the countryside is there to be enjoyed all of the year round.

 

Getting out and about on hills and dales, forests, riverbanks, lakesides and coastal paths is just the nutrition that converts to creative juice that is enriched with experiences, discovery that will fuel a burning motivation to write, paint, or even compose a symphony. For some the solitude of a remote hillside walk at the crack of dawn, alone with one’s thoughts (or alone with the dog as the case may be) can be liberating for the mind, with no human interference between the walker and what is natural around us. The walker/writer could be in the Lake District thinking and making notes about the next chapter of a novel set on the streets of Liverpool, it doesn’t matter, he will have been taken into the warm embrace of mother nature, for a few moments that is needed to clear the mind in order write. Elgar walking his dog over the top of the Malvern Hills composing the Enigma Variations or The Dream of Gerontius and Agatha Christie articulating her sentences out loud in the remoteness of Dartmoor come to mind.  Whilst I, during the act of writing this, have been interrupted by the phone twice, emails coming in, the washing machine needing attention, to name but a few domestic disturbances.

 

For others, the countryside is a more shared experience, with loved ones, friends or indeed as I did many years ago as a member of the Rambler’s Association, which I found to be educational in sharing knowledge and experience of the countryside, inspirational inasmuch as the diversity of human behaviour that one finds in any bunch of people put together who share a common interest. I suppose the rambling club could take on both definitions of the verb ramble as they do tend to ramble on as they ramble the countryside.

 

Which brings me on to the second definition. Isn’t talking at length in a confused and often inconsequential way what most of us do most of the time? It’s how we communication. Sequential interchange of information where an appropriate response is elicited every time only ever happened when a back story was required to be written in, as an afterthought to complement the more athletic goings-on of a 1980’s porn movie, (so I’m told). To ramble is to converse. What is a conversation but verbal and non-verbal ping pong between two or more individuals who each have their own unique voice. As a writer it is good to capture some of the ramblings of others to make convincing but engaging dialogue.

 

Anyway, that’s enough rambling from me for today. If you want to join in the ramble, please feel free to ramble away in the comments box below. I'm going out for a walk.

The Weekend Has Been Murder

The Swan Hotel Harrogate

The Swan Hotel had been swarming with some of the most ghastly brutal sadistic minds in the world when it comes to thinking up new and interesting ideas to murder someone. But I am happy to report that these ideas remain on paper, and are (hopefully) quite separate to reality.



Denise Mina in conversation with Martyn Waites

The 10th Theakston's Old Peculier (in this case, peculiar is meant to be spelt peculier) Crimewriter's Festival, has been an incredible success. This year organised by Val McDermid, it kicked off for me Thursday evening with the awards ceremony. Denise Mina, was described as the Hilary Mantel of crime after winning the Crime Novel of the Year award for the second year running with her book Gods and Beasts.
Ruth Rendell won the Outstanding Contribution to Crime Fiction Award or lifetime achievement award. She really shone the next day during her interview with Jeanette Winterson.


Val McDermid

Other highlights for me was Val McDermid's musical introduction to Peter James with her rendition of  Bonnie Tyler's Holding Out For A Hero.
 Peter was well deserving of such an introduction, as he was a replacement for Susan Hill, who sadly had to cancel due to illness. When Peter heard about this, he flew straight over from New York, had a six hour drive to do the gig, then straight back to the airport as he had a charity event in New York to attend the very next day.



Brenda Blethyn, John R Cowton, Ann Cleeves

Saturday, for me was a real treat with William McIlvanney in conversation with Ian Rankin, discussing the origin of the 'tartan noire' genre.
 Ann Cleeves, the writer behind the Vera Stanhope series together with some of the ITV Vera team, Elaine Collins executive producer, Paul Rutman  screenwriter, and Vera herself, Brenda Blethyn.
Lee Child was a good match to Sarah Millican's sharp wit during the afternoon. The evening ended for me with Mark Lawson and Kate Atkinson.
The weekend ended on a high note on Sunday, with Charlaine Harris whose tales of Sookie Stackhouse was developed into the True Blood series.


Leigh Russell, John R Cowton

However, the weekend was not all about sitting in events in the ballroom. It was about the energy generated by a gathering of likeminded readers and writers that inspired, enthralled, motivated and captured the hearts of one and all. My own personal thanks go to the organisers, the festival staff and volunteers, the hotel staff, Theakstons for their lovely beer and of course the writers.
Special thanks to author Leigh Russell and her husband  for their companionship, and introducing me to some of her associates, author Ricki Thomas for her continued support and inspiration. There are many more, far too many to mention.
Back to reality, but at least I've returned home pumped with Harrogate energy and Theakston's beer, ready for 12 months of writing before the next festival.

 

Harrogate Crime Festival 2013

Less than a week to go, and I'm looking forward to spending a few days in a place where I know it will be okay to speak to anyone I meet about writing. It charges my batteries, and sends me home with just about the right level of inspiration and motivation. There are still a few tickets left, but unless you have a tent or a caravan,  you may be out of luck for a hotel room.
Having left the car at home and taken the train last year, I have made the train a part of the Festival experience, for comfort and a good opportunity to read.
I will post a full report on my return.

Finally, congratulations to my sister for her comedy debut on BBC Four's 'Some Vicars With Jokes' Part One, which went out last night. If you missed it, I'm sure it's repeated and you can get it on iPlayer. Amazing  performance Jean, and I would be more than happy to write for you, if you wish to develop a second career. I'm looking forward to part two next week.

Eye problems, Mosquitoes and Hives, but apart from that it was a good holiday.

My writing plans have taken a knock back with problems with both my eyes having ulcerated and got infected from day one of my holiday. Fortunately it only slowed me down and not completely stopped me, so I got my first draft of Lifted complete and Ephesus is almost complete. Thank you Kindle for your adjustable font.

 It was a bit like reading Janet and John with my thumb operating the page turner at such a speed, in a way that took me back to my pinball days on the flipper buttons. Thankfully my Kindle didn't 'tilt' and I got through quite a bit of reading. I would have gone out of my mind not being able to read on holiday. I have added my holiday reads on the right hand column. Just scroll down.
Sleep deprivation was also a problem, due to our nightly visits from the local mosquito population. I think they are an essential component of the tourist industry for most countries. The local economy was making an absolute killing on their vast range of mosquito repellent products, all of which I bought and none of which worked. I was kicking myself for not putting my own arsenal together in the UK and bringing it over, but call me paranoid, but I think these were genetically modified designer mozzies resistant to anything short of a nuclear holocaust.
Finally, the flight home. I don't mind long haul flights at all. I think to myself, ten hours of sitting doing nothing at all except sheer indulgence, being wined, dined and in flight entertainment. I had decided in advance that I would shun the in flight movies and make my own entertainment reading a David Baldacci novel. However, I had a sudden attack attack of hives as soon as I got on the plane. My head appeared to be mutating, with large bumps appearing alarmingly fast. Soon my whole body was covered and the cabin crew were concerned whether I would be fit enough to fly. I said I did not feel unwell, but I was very uncomfortable. So much so that I couldn't sit still long enough to read. I gave up on that and tried to watch a movie, gave up on that, and just did lots of getting up and walking. Thankfully I had an aisle seat. No idea what the cause was, but I have had some blood tests since I've returned, and have completely recovered.

Buenos Dias from Mexico

Despite a shaky start to this holiday, including eye problems which needed medical attention, I have got off to a good start with my writing and my short story 'Lifted' is now complete.

It's all systems go to complete 'Ephesus' once and for all, and I'm enjoying the portability of using pen and paper. I carry my notebooks everywhere with me now, and it has become my preferred method of writing, for at least the first draft anyway.
Thank goodness for Kindle, as my reading has not slowed down due to the extra large font I was able to use with my impaired vision.

Thankfully I am on the mend and am now down to normal size reading.
I have a waterproof cover for my Kindle, which is great for reading in the pool.
The locals don't seem too impressed  (see below).