In Celebration of Hallowe'en

I’m unleashing the opening to my most recent novel, ‘The Lives of Ghosts'

There were ghosts at the Loch House long before we arrived, with ours.

Marie told me about them towards the end of the journey. After nine hours behind the wheel and all that silence, her voice didn’t sound right. It was hollow and tinny and seemed to scrape at the air trapped between us. Air that had smelt of melting rubber for the entire four hundred mile drive.

“There have always been stories about the place,” she said. “Sightings of shadowy figures and sudden lights. Strange noises in the night. For a while, we even thought about including them in the brochure. Some people like that kind of thing.”

Looking back on it now that I’m older, I imagine that she was simply talking for the sake of talking, chatting to ward off the panic as the reality of what she was doing finally started to set in. I can clearly remember how her eyes flicked at me in the rear-view mirror, a dark, wet flash and then away, and how her shoulders had risen; she was practically cowering in her seat. Clinging to that wheel. And certainly not thinking straight to say the things she said.

. . .

If you’d like to continue reading, or want to find out more about 'The Lives of Ghosts', please visit my website, where (for a limited period, as they say, whoever they are) you can read the complete first chapter.

Thaw Blogsplash

Fiona Robyn is going to blog her next novel, Thaw, starting on the 1st of March next year. The novel follows 32 year old Ruth’s diary over three months as she decides whether or not to carry on living.

To help spread the word she’s organising a Blogsplash, where blogs will publish the first page of Ruth’s diary simultaneously (and a link to the blog).

She’s aiming to get 1000 blogs involved – if you’d be interested in joining in, email her at fiona@fionarobyn.com or find out more information here.

Competition Ramblings

A few weeks ago, I received a package in the post. Feeling the shape and weight of it and scrutinising the postmark, I was pretty certain it was the package I’d been waiting for. A strange new nerviness descended. The parcel was tightly sealed, bubble-wrapped, and by the time I’d finished juggling scissors and old sellotape and finally broken it open, I was practically popping with excitement, myself.

It contained exactly what I’d hoped.

A pile of brand new, as-yet-unpublished short stories, each neatly printed, each writer anonymous.

I had been asked to judge a local writers’ group annual short story competition. The terrifying responsibility of the task hit me right alongside the enormous privilege. But even before I started reading, I was grinning from ear to ear.

I love competitions.

I’ve had stories short-listed in a few, including the Asham and London Writers. And I’m pretty sure that having How We Were Lost placed second in the Yeovil Prize helped to draw it to the attention of certain publishers. But I also believe competitions are hugely rewarding even without the placings or the prizes. They’re great for the discipline of constraints and regulations, and for their deadlines, and perhaps for pushing writers into attempting something new.

Tonto Books have recently announced the results of their latest short story competition, judged by the marvellous Caroline Smailes. The finalists’ anthology, ‘Even More Tonto Short Stories’ looks like it’s going to be a fantabulous collection and I wanted to add my congratulations to all the winners, but most especially to some highly talented, bloggy friends, Shanta Everington, Nik Jones and Fiona Robyn.
And to those who didn’t quite make it this time (ahem) – Congratulations too for giving it a go (-:

Nik's Blog

The very generous and talented Nik Perring has invited me over to his place for a spot of mild interrogation (it was fun).

Thank you Nik!

After the Circus . . .

We did it!

And I loved it

So I'd like to say some enormous THANK YOUs

Firstly, thank you to awesome, award winning author Nicola Monaghan, who was not only generous enough to share her reading table, but also helped so much beforehand, offering encouragement about my writing, easing my nerves and ensuring that our pieces worked so well together.

Thank you too to LeftLion for organising such a brilliant, buzzing event, to Nottingham Writers Studio for all their support, and to all the lovely, lovely people who came along to listen.

You're all fabulous.

THANK YOU TONS

Roll up! Roll up!

I've been invited to read this Saturday at Leftlion's fantabulous (Canning) Circus Extravaganza , an incredible day-into-night of FREE live music, art and spoken word in the heart of Nottingham!!

I'll be reading (possibly from second novel 'Before the Light') alongside the amazingly talented Nicola Monaghan and just before a whole dazzling parade of poets.

The literature events begin at 4pm in the upstairs gallery of the Hand and Heart

Would be marvellous to see you there!

Obsessions

Rachel has 'tagged' my blog and given it an award! Thank you Rachel (I hope I'm doing this right).

I've been challenged to list 5 obsessions. Since my personal obsessions (wine, chocolate, daydreaming etc) aren't very exciting, I thought I'd offer 5 obsessions in my writing instead (hope that's ok) so here goes

Some features that tend to haunt my stories are -

secrets

smells

breaking points

light

mothers


hmmmm.

Moving swiftly on, I'm to pass on the award and challenge to 5 others, so stand by
Anne
Annie
Shanta
Nik P
Nik J

Playing Drafts (3)

He's reading my novel.

I wanted him to. I asked him to.

It's freshly printed and neatly hole-punched. It sits like homework in its brand new folder. All the latest edits are in place.

The pages are crisp and clean and as-yet unscribbled on. I'm ridiculously aware of their slow slide, their rustle.

I can't be in the same room as him. I'll start watching his face - I might not be able to stop myself from asking.

And so I hover nearby, making coffee, And then more coffee. I pretend to think about the book I'm reading and the other writing I have planned. But -

He has been reading for almost two hours.

Eventually I go up to our bedroom. I rummage through the heaving shelves there and then lie on top of the covers and turn pages determinedly.
I try not to picture him doing exactly the same downstairs.

look what Annie did!

Well, I've just returned once more, a little bit sad and filled with longing already, to find that the fabulous and talented Annie Clarkson has given me a lovely review on her excellent forgetting the time blog.
Thank you Annie for cheering me right up (-:

Travel Broadens the Mind (or something)

I've been away to the Land of Dreamy Dreams.

It was amazing!!

Aside from having a generally fabulous, funny and fascinating time, the trip released so many imagination triggers that I've returned with a head ringing with stories.

Plus my usual chasing-the-dream philosophy, alongside my reading and writing appetite, may have grown even bigger.

In fact, I feel voracious (besides which, I love that word) not so much in terms of twitting/blogging/promoting internet thangs - I simply want to write and write and write.

So please excuse me if I stay quiet for a little longer.

lucky

It’s been quite a weekend.

On Friday afternoon, I received my MA results. And I’ve passed. With Distinction!!!!

Yay!

I have loved studying creative writing so much. I’ve learnt tons, read some absolutely brilliant original fiction and met many wonderful, supportive and inspiring people.
Having the actual marks has been like adding extra delicious fudge icing to an already lush and chocolate filled cake. Or something (in case you haven’t guessed, I’m very happy)

And then, on Saturday, I ran my workshop at Lowdham Book Festival.

Yay!

We had a full house and everyone who took part was wonderful. I was a bit nervous beforehand, but then there was a lovely moment when I looked around at all these writing people and I could almost feel the crackle of words flying about their heads. Thank you so much to everyone who came along.

And then, I was whisked away for a celebration involving cocktails and cabaret.

I’m still grinning.

Playing Drafts (2)

Snip, switch, scribble, slash . . .

(but will there be any novel left?)

Workshops and Websites

"There's No Place Like Home"

I'm running a creative writing workshop at this year's Lowdham Book Festival, from 10.30 - 11.30am on Saturday 27th June.

Come along and learn how to transform childhood memories of real places into fictional settings. You might even find the beginnings of a whole new story . . .

The workshop is FREE and will take place in the Nottingham Writer's Studio tent. Book your place by calling 0115 9597947, or emailing nottinghamwritersstudio@gmail.com.

I'd love to see you there!

In other news, I've been playing with my website. Along with information about How We Were Lost, you can now read more about my recently completed novel, Before the Light and the brand-spanking-new The Lives of Ghosts.
:-)

Help Save Salt

As you may have gathered, I'm a huge supporter of independent publishers. As the mainstream plays increasingly safe and so grows ever-narrower, it's frequently the small presses who champion the unique and the innovative, who look to the future.

This year, Salt lose their Arts Council funding. You can help them to survive by buying a single Salt title. Please visit
http://www.saltpublishing.com/

Or visit their blog to read more about this campaign
http://www.saltpublishing.com/blogs/confidential.php

Playing Drafts (1)

It’s been over a month since I completed the first draft of my third novel, ‘The Lives of Ghosts’.

For me, having some space between completing a draft and beginning to read and edit is essential. My overall perspective on my stories is shaky at the best of times, but during those final intense novel weeks, the trees have so completely overgrown the woods that it’s almost like writing in the dark.

But now, after spending some time working, playing, reading, writing a new short story, but mostly simply attempting to catch up with all the things and people I’m destined to never completely catch up with, while at the same time trying not to think about my novel at all - I’ve printed it out at long last. (293 pages - the printer was a bit grumpy about it, but finally gave in). And this morning - I opened it.

It was a shock. To say the least.

What is this story? Who told this story?

Was I honestly such a different person when I wrote this - or has some mysterious, masked author crept in and secretly rewritten my novel while my back was turned? Perhaps I was more thoroughly possessed by my Ghosts than I imagined . . .

In a way, this sense of surprise is ideal, since in order to go through the manuscript as subjectively as possible, I need to try to see it from the perspective of a reader (a crotchety, pernickety, generally quite difficult reader frequently works best), but nonetheless the gap between the novel I believed I had created and the actual story on the page before me was startling. After all, these characters have been living in my head for almost a year - yet somehow, they’ve managed to sneak off and make their own way. Even their scenery is subtly different . . .

However, after that initial jolt, when I actually allowed myself to simply read (and only read – no rewriting or corrections are allowed, not just yet!), I found my irritation giving way here and there to a grudging pleasure and then, eventually, to a dawning relief.

Well, hello there story, I thought. Nice to make your acquaintance.
I’m looking forward to finding out what you’re about to tell me next . . .

(but what if I'm not really a Writer?)

What if I’m just Deluded?
And no one will ever read another word that I write?

(have I lost you already?)

I think that -
I’d still have the stories in my head
I’d still want to explore those people, and those places
(and especially all their secrets)
I know I’d still need the sheer escape of writing

So, I reckon that . . .
I’d still love it

I’d still write.

phew

So that’s ok then.

A Walk in the Park with the BBC

'My favourite way in is on foot, through the quietly rustling Parkside entrance. There is something almost fairytale about passing through one small, creaking gate and then another, and in the spring, the vivid, violet spectacle of bluebells beyond the railings is dazzling - dizzying. A reason in itself to love the park . . .'

My piece about loving Wollaton Park has recently appeared on BBC Nottingham's website! Please click here if you'd like to read more . . .

Fiona Writes Back

I sent Fiona Robyn 'How We Were Lost' while I was reading her wonderful debut, 'The Letters'.

Fiona not only read my novel, she has also written a review!
(Thank you Fiona)

You can find the review on her 'planting words' blog, over here . . .