Oh my goodness, so here it goes... Up until now I haven't featured any creative writing on this blog. Putting work out there for people to read can be pretty daunting, uncomfortable and difficult to get used to. It seems like sometimes these feelings double, triple or quadruple when it comes to creative writing. (That's not to say that non-fiction blogs or articles can't be creative, mind!) There's just something super vulnerable and personal about a story or poem - though there's also something super exciting about sharing them. I'm the type of person who reads a Facebook post five times over (even though most of the time it's only saying 'Happy Birthday') just to make sure that it's right and that I'm not going to embarrass myself. But sometimes I suppose you can overthink yourself into not pressing 'post' at all. This hesitancy and caution, in measure, is very healthy and wise, don't get me wrong. Too much of it, however, could have the potential to stop you from saying what you want to or sharing what you've made. I'm just going to post it. After an adequate amount of checking, reading and re-reading, here is a poem I wrote this week. (It's okay; I know you guys don't bite!) I'm not entirely sure what the title should be yet. Little birds blustering, flying on the breeze. Getting caught up by the gales, swept up and off their trees. Rustling and tumbling, they soar and then they fall, As though they're on a mission, and then hear somebody call. They don't flit or float or faff around, like this it may appear, But if you watch them closely, they follow what they hear. Determination and direction, fill their bodies, though paper-thin, You join with them mid-journey, never see where they begin. Glints of colour against the changing sky, but they stand out just enough, They assume perfect shapes like perfect specks, but close up are torn and rough. Some crinkled, cracked and worn away, others fleshy, waxy, new, All the same jumped up together, when the wind called them and blew. Who knows what their whispers and dances say, who knows where they all go? But they aren't wasting time as they waste away, whirling to and fro. In case you want a bit of background or are wondering what on earth I'm waffling on about, this poem came to me a few days ago in a beautiful barn in the middle of the countryside. I was surrounded by creative people who are part of a worship school. They were teaching/studying a course in songwriting, leadership and loving God. Outside it was a really blustery day and I saw leaves tumbling around in the wind. I guess these surroundings and observations influenced this poem.
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Hello again. It’s been a while. The past couple of weeks have been quite a contrast ‘blog-wise’ to the frequent posts and tweets of the Literature Festival. You’d think that there would have been a bit of calm, after the wonderful storm of talks, events and workshops. And I suppose that in some ways there has been. However, life has still remained very busy, in an un-busy sort of way. I’m finding it very confusing! Anyway, I have been thinking about this little pocket of the tinterweb, and wondering what I would like my blog to become, now that the Chester Literature Festival is over and done with for another year. What should I write about? What would you like to read? What theme? A location? How often? I suppose that the nice thing about this kind of writing is the freedom of not having to answer all these questions upfront, but instead just going for it and seeing what happens. So, I hope you enjoy reading whatever the results of my creative exploring and inquisition may be. This week, I got a sneak peek at the results of the creative exploration, hard work and dreaming of many people for many years. Kitted out in a rather dapper high-vis waistcoat, a Bob the Builder styled hard hat, and huge wellington boots that made me feel like a Mr Man, I had the privilege of looking around Chester’s new Storyhouse building. Due to open in May, you can clearly see how the building is taking shape, being transformed, and yet is firmly holding on to its vintage ancestor, the 1936 Odeon cinema. It will be a library, theatre, cinema, restaurant, cafe and rocket ship. (Okay, so the rocket ship bit isn’t exactly true, but the building seems to be doubling, tripling, quadrupling up as everything else. Besides, who knows where the storytelling room of the library could transport you – Saturn, Mars, the Moon?) The thing that really struck me on the tour was the fact that, even though there are currently loads of wires hanging from the roof, wooden planks underfoot, and a dusty film of building work all over, walking into the theatre part of the building still gave me that twinkling feeling of excitement. It was like when you climb the stairs and see the deep red curtains, find your seats, and not only hear, but feel the buzz of the orchestra tuning up and the audience milling around on an opening night. Standing there in the theatre, in the shell that is being brought to life, I could imagine and anticipate what’s to come. The many plays, the music, the dance and the community it will bring to Chester. I’m looking forward to it. Although, remind me, when I do go to watch something at the Storyhouse theatre for real in May, to wear something a little more glam; high-vis jackets just wash me out! Tickets are now on sale for performances starting in May. Go to https://www.storyhouse.com/ to book and have a look at what will be on.
Swimming through tunnels 600ft underground in search of cave paintings that might point to a lost Arabian city, moving secretly by night when fighting in Oman, plunging into icy waters and needing rescue...No I haven’t been watching Indiana Jones all afternoon; I have been listening to Sir Ranulph Fiennes. His talk was filled to the brim with tales of adventure and danger, and yet he told such an abundance of these stories, it was as though they were as common and normal as nipping to the shops! It made me marvel at the number of amazing things he has seen, done and experienced. Fiennes was talking on the theme of fear (in keeping with his new book - Fear!) He was very matter of fact about an emotion that we can all too easily slip into, until it consumes us so that we can’t think straight. It was fascinating to hear Fiennes say "I have a real, real fear of heights, but only by day." If it’s dark and he can’t see the height, he simply isn’t scared. There is a quote - which I must confess, I know from watching Princess Diaries, and not thanks to anything more profound - that I really like and think is relevant to today's talk. “Courage is not the absence of fear”. There in front of me was a seventy-two year old man who has led countless expeditions since before my parents were born, and continues to do so. He has raised money for charity and broken world records. He’s faced ice, heat, water, mosquitoes, spiders and polar bears. He is the ‘only man to’ and the ‘first man to’ in his field, must have the best CV going, and even chopped off his own fingers. And yet, there he stood to speak for an hour about feeling scared. It seems to me that Sir Ranulph Fiennes has plenty of courage, though still he has had perhaps more than his fair share of feeling absolutely terrified. Fear is not a flaw – it’s natural and human. Now I hope you’ve found this blog informative over the past fortnight, as I have covered events from the Chester Literature Festival line-up. But even now with the festival drawing to a close, I want to ensure I keep the facts flowing ‘til the end, so allow me to finish with a few things I was enlightened about this afternoon. It’s like they say: you learn something new every day.
For me, success is about how high you bounce when you hit the bottom. After six weeks of treacherous and tiring expedition, most people would readjust with a warm shower, a cup of tea and a duvet. Adversity adventurer Alex Staniforth, however, was up and out again to deliver a fantastic presentation, answer questions and sign copies of his book Icefall, as part of the Chester Literature Festival line-up. Just before the event, I was babysitting three sisters who have a wonderful sense of adventure. The oldest, who is six, wanted me to ask Staniforth ‘Was it snowy?’ Yes, yes it certainly was. I think I can safely tell her that even Queen Elsa herself would have looked at the photos and videos of the expeditions and said ‘My goodness, that’s a lot of snow!’ Arendelle doesn’t even come close. Last night, Staniforth told his story with such honesty and humility. He spoke about the overwhelming fear when you’re just 19 and think you’re going to die, as you are alone in the Himalayas and rumbled by the ‘primal roar of an avalanche’. He explained the powerlessness of not being able to control what happens around you, even though you’ve worked so hard to get there. And he didn’t hide the depression, struggles and low points in his life. He said ‘I needed to find a reason to get out of bed everyday’, so of course, as you do, he decided to climb Everest! (My reason to get out of bed in the morning is sometimes the thought having a big bowl of Alpen for breakfast...I suppose there’s a mountain on the box, so it’s pretty much the same thing, right?!) But jokes aside, this truthfulness was inspiring and encouraging. Life isn’t all plain sailing, and often we hide our struggles. Staniforth now works to raise awareness of mental health issues. Having mental health problems is sometimes looked upon as a weakness. Some of the most wonderful people I know have suffered from depression, and I believe being honest about it is a strength. Another thing which I took away from last night was the fact that it’s not always about the summit. What’s vastly more important is the journey – the things you learn, endure, feel and see, the people you meet and the challenges you overcome on the way. In almost every book or film that depicts a journey - be it a pirate crew’s hunt for treasure, an individual’s search for identity, or a valiant knight’s quest for a kingdom - the booty is only found, the goal is only fulfilled, the summit is only reached right at the end, if at all. The thing that fills the chapters and scenes is the adventure - the pages and pages of walking the journey that frequently changes course. Often things happen that mean you start following a different dream, take a different route, find a different view...and the new way can be so much more right than where you were headed before. Some of life’s greatest lessons are learnt from accepting detours. I realise that I have rambled, so will try to conclude now by going back to one of the things Staniforth opened with. He is encouraging people to consider what their own Everests are, and said that his just happened to be the actual mountain itself. I thought a bit about what kind of Everests other people might have - maybe to be a good father or mother, husband or wife, to be a listening friend or an encourager. Maybe to travel to a certain place, get a certain job, publish a book, record an album...who knows? I suppose some of the key things to remember are, whatever mountain you want to scale, keep it in perspective, learn and stay positive along the way, and find a balance – be determined, but don’t have your eyes so fiercely fixed on the end, that you forget to look at the beauty around you on the way. And they all lived happily ever after ...Or did they? On Sunday, I cycled across from church to the town hall in that lovely kind of sunshine that bounces off the rainy ground. I was going to Laura Barnett’s workshop called ‘How to Finish Your Novel’. Endings are so important; they’re pivotal, what you’ve been waiting for and working towards, the things you’re left with to mull over when you close the book and put it back on the shelf. Endings are also controversial (as we found out through differing opinions even between workshop members!) I may think who doesn’t love a good Disney finish, usually rounded off with true-love’s-kiss and a big, happy-clappy dance number? But sure enough, some people don’t take kindly to such a thing. They would prefer a much more gritty or difficult, I hasten to say realistic, even unresolved ending. Through discussion, reading and writing exercises, Barnett helped us by exploring an ending’s role, different types and which genres lend themselves to which kind. Whether you plump for a dramatic twist or something comfortable and predictable, Barnett emphasised the importance of it all making sense. It must be consistent and logical and the reader must be satisfied...perhaps not happy, but satisfied. She was such a lovely, friendly and encouraging person, and I very much look forward to reading her book The Versions of Us. Sometimes the best ideas are simple and come from somewhere profound inside you. Every single writer I’ve ever met has a few books in their drawer that will never get anywhere. So there you have it - a trilogy. Back to the Future, Toy Story, Lord of the Rings and now this. Albeit not quite in the same league, but a trilogy nonetheless.
In a land far, far away Picture this: a thirteen hour boat ride from Aberdeen to Shetland, and then another three hours crossing over the rough waves in a very pokey and very much delayed boat...all to reach a tiny place called Fair Isle. For some of you, this paints a picture of a little piece of Heaven – isolated, hours upon hours of nothingness and miles away from hustle and bustle. For others, due to those exact same reasons, it sounds positively like Hell! Either way, this precise voyage was the adventure Ann Cleeves embarked on when she was about my age. She went to work as an assistant cook in a bird observatory on Fair Isle, a place which I have discovered (thanks to Google Maps) is pretty much in line with Oslo and famous for its knitting patterns. Cleeves confessed that she knew nothing about birds and couldn’t really cook, though said that at the age of 19/20 “anything seems like an adventure!” Ann Cleeves is a lady who has written numerous crime fiction books, thirty to be exact. She has conjured up many criminal plots, solved lots of murders and told tale after tale, some of which have even graced our TV screens. Yesterday, however, Cleeves told us some of her stories. She shared with us a bit about her life, the journey to creating the hit TV series Shetland and Vera, and some of the details that go beyond the covers of her books. One of my favourite stories she told (aside from her sixteen hour sail as mentioned above) was that of how Vera came to be on TV, simply through someone picking up a book in Oxfam as a holiday read. It happened to be just the right person, at just the right time, choosing just the right book! We even got a short reading of a dramatic extract from Cold Earth, which caused a gentle ‘Oooo’ of intrigue, tension and appreciation to sweep across the room. These very British-sounding murmurs from the audience entertained me throughout, and were especially prevalent when Cleeves mentioned having lived on Hilbre Island. An ‘Ahhh’ of excitement at the familiarity bubbled up in the front few rows. In fact, that island is where she started writing her first novel...(a claim to fame for West Kirby!) So it sounds like cold, solitary specks in the sea are the key to adventure and creativity! As a teenager, I love hearing how people older than me have lived life and the journeys they’ve gone on along the way. So never mind backpacking in Bali, who wants to take a leaf from Cleeves’ book and have a gap year of knitting and bird watching near Shetland? It sounds good to me! When I'm travelling, I don't write postcards or take photographs. I write short stories. I don't plot in advance. If I knew how it was going to end, there wouldn't be any point in writing the book. Part three of three of three on its way!
Over the past couple of days, I have been busily to-ing and fro-ing to the town hall and have had the delight of attending three different Literature Festival events. I have decided to post a little series of quick-fire blogs, giving a snapshot of the three sessions, each with a few quotes of writing advice, reassurance and personality from the speakers. Let’s work backwards and start off with Ian McMillan’s writing workshop this evening. Consequently creative Have you ever played the game consequences? You know – boy’s name, girl’s name, he said, she said and all that jazz. Well it turns out that a variation of the game is a really fun creative writing exercise and a great way to warm up your mind when putting pen to paper. This reflects the tone of the whole of today’s workshop really; Ian McMillan led us in dabbling with ideas, musing over memories and starting off putting thoughts into words on a blank sheet of paper, like walking for the first time on a fresh blanket of snow. The session took place at the Town Hall in an amazing room. It was wallpapered with dark wooden panels which were absolutely covered in lists and lists of names belonging to the Lord Mayors of Chester, dating back to the 1200s. What with this intriguingly profound setting and the gentle melodies of the busker outside drifting through the window, we definitely weren’t deprived of inspiration points! McMillan reminded us of the importance of specifics whilst writing. Names, places, little quirks, tiny objects of interest and curiosity. All these things make a poem or story or whatever you write more endearing and real. Great Aunt Beatrice’s fluffy slippers with pink flowers on, her perfume that smells of Parma Violets and the sugary shortbread biscuits she gives you that always taste a bit on the stale side can make all the difference. Yes, they may not be commenting on life, death or world peace, but their power should nevertheless not be underestimated. I suppose life’s simplicities slip by us so easily, but when they’re noticed, written down and put into words, we can realise their true hilarity, true emotion, true beauty. You can make it up! Use a phrase that will kind of hang in the air after we’ve heard it. Sometimes the big subject overwhelms the poem. Event two of three coming soon!
Torstaina menin nähdä tarinankerronta suorituskyky nimeltään Tuli pohjoisessa taivaalla. I really hope that Google Translate has been kind to me...if you happen to speak Finnish and have just been offended, I’m awfully sorry! What I was trying to say was that on Thursday I went to see a storytelling performance called Fire in the North Sky. It certainly was something a bit different, with ancient Finnish poems being sung, stories being told simply but fearsomely and an array of intriguing instruments. It was dynamic, furious, gentle, magical and it really got me thinking... Storytelling is ancient. People have used it throughout history to communicate to each other – Aesop used fables, Jesus told parables, Hans Christian Anderson spoke through tales of princesses, peas and ducklings! There is something about a story which reaches all ages. I wonder what that something is. Is it imagination’s liberty? Escaping to a land of make-believe? Or perhaps the lessons we learn about reality? On Thursday it was magical to listen - to shut up, switch off and just listen. Storytelling still goes on around us left, right and centre in our everyday lives, but it feels a bit like it always involves watching a screen. Though not to diminish facial expressions, body language or dramatic lighting (all of which were incredible last night), what really struck me was the power of sound. Music, noises, singing and spoken words. The instruments were amazing. It was the most alternative drum kit I’ve ever seen, made up of antlers, bells, keys, even teaspoons! (It looked like something from a Finnish Alice in Wonderland.) There were strings, shakers and wooden flutes. I was taken back to my primary school days of playing Jingle Bells and Mary Had a Little Lamb at recorder club, except these wind instruments sounded infinitely more tuneful and less like a strangled cat than I used to! As the room was dark, the lights glowed warmly, and the flute danced up and down melodies effortlessly, I felt as though I was having tea at Mr Tumnus’ house. It wasn’t all soft and gentle; I feel sorry for whoever was sat downstairs, as a full on Finnish storm was breaking out and bears were being released above them. We probably weren’t the quietest neighbours! Some of the sounds created were uncomfortable, threatening and like controlled shrieks. To be honest, I was so impressed that a human could produce such incredibly high pitched noises. I don’t know how they did it; it is so difficult. (Not that I tried it myself when no-one else was in the room or anything...Ahem!) Through sound, tension was created, icy winds blew, waters rushed, people died, fell in love, were hurt, and stories were told. I didn’t need to see anything. I could just listen...something I really should do more. It's an archaeology job...you excavate the play from the novel. Last night I felt as though I had stepped inside a Radio Four show, as I sat listening to Mike Poulton in conversation with Alex Clifton and Bill Hughes. The interview was fascinating, brimming with anecdotes, opinions and knowledge. It was inspiring and encouraging for me to hear Poulton speak from his wealth of experience, as I am a young person and only just starting out in the world of literature and creative arts. (I must admit that I did spend the first twenty minutes trying to figure out who Chekhov was and whether he’s still alive or dead...I can now confirm the truth of the latter. I clearly have a lot to learn!) Helpfully, there is an abundance of ‘tion’ words to assist me in picking out my favourite bits of last night’s conversation... ADAPTATION Poulton is renowned for taking novels and adapting them into plays. I love hearing about behind the scenes jobs in theatre that, when done well, you hardly realise exist; when you’re so absorbed by a play, it’s easy to forget the writing, preparing and goings on outside of the snippet of stage that the audience sees. EXCAVATION One of my favourite moments from the evening was when Poulton explained how his is “an archaeology job...you excavate the play from the novel”. It got me thinking about the process of digging. Though I’m no professional, I imagine that in many ways excavating must be a huge task of brute strength, manual labour and force. And yet, it is also a delicate art form, as you must tenderly ensure that you don’t damage the precious buried treasure. I suppose it’s the same with excavating in novels; you must do it with power and authority to exercise change, while being cautious not to harm the carefully crafted characters and plots that are already embedded in the book. IMAGINATION I really enjoyed the thought, highlighted by Hughes, that when you read a novel or play, you imagine the stage directions and elements of setting just like that. Whereas, when you watch a play in the theatre, suddenly simple things like making it snow become much more problematic to produce. The immediacy, effectiveness, inexpensive nature and ease of imagination must be the envy of theatre directors and designers everywhere. Imagination works even on the lowest budget of all! COLLABORATION Clifton opened the evening with the idea of collaboration. It seems that theatre is very much a collaborative art, in which people work together. Poulton spoke about his love of contrast and how sitting alone in his study writing into the night could become a very solitary existence. “Then suddenly you’re in the theatre, around people, they become like your family and you want to do everything you can to make life easy for them.” The contrast of a lonely study to the busy bustle of the rehearsal room sounds like a perfect combination for creativity! All in all, the interview lifted the curtain on the process of adapting a novel. It really got your mind ticking...which book would you choose to turn into a play? I walked slightly apprehensively into the room, following closely behind another lady who’d just arrived. I wanted to be sure that I wasn’t the first one there. The truth is, I hadn’t really prepared and I wasn’t entirely sure what I’d let myself in for. Yes, I had had a vague daydream and idea about a potential non-fiction book I could one day write...but then again, I’ve had ideas of inventing sweet soup and safety head wear for golfers, neither of which have come to much yet. Anyway, I suppose it would be fair to say that, though I was intrigued and open to give it a go, I felt a bit out of my depth and didn’t quite know how relevant I would find a workshop on Writing Non-Fiction, compared to the other people in the room. Seven pages of notes later, I realised that there was rather a lot I could get out of such a session! Simon Garfield, author, journalist and non-fiction expert, imparted his knowledge and shared with us advice on how to create a great proposal...(and no I don’t mean a picnic-under-the-Eiffel-Tower kind!) Key to getting a book published in this competitive industry is the MI5 of the literary world – the agents. Garfield outlined a brilliant template to use in order to help your book get noticed and to find an agent who will support your work. The nine of us taking part in the workshop formed a fairly mixed bunch; we had refreshingly different interests, ages, plans and walks of life. However we found common ground in our enthusiasm for words and comprehensive note-taking! I also felt encouraged and was reminded that ideas need not be official or confirmed by pen and paper in order to be worth mentioning. My small thought of a possible non-fiction project has now spent some time on a dusty shelf in the back of my brain. But every tree starts with a seed, and seeds don’t grow all that well when they’re left on dusty shelves! Perhaps some of the greatest works of art and literature have never developed to be more than an unappreciated sapling hidden away somewhere. Who knows whether my simple daydream will ever make it in to Waterstones, and for now that doesn’t really matter. What does, however, is to remember to have confidence in yourself and to not belittle your ideas. Speaking of which, sweet soup anybody? |
AuthorMegan Kate Chester Archives
June 2017
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