July 2009 Archives

When recently confronted with the accusation that most poems are, well, a bit miserable, Linda France, wonderful poet in her own right, rose to the challenge and suggested this one. I'd never heard it before but it is lovely and summery and will (hopefully) get you through the miserable weather.

On a Perfect Day

.. I eat an artichoke in front
of the Charles Street Laundromat
and watch the clouds bloom
into white flowers out of
the building across the way.
The bright air moves on my face
like the touch of someone who loves me.
Far overhead a dart-shaped plane softens
through membranes of vacancy. A ship,
riding the bright glissade of the Hudson, slips
past the end of the street. Colette's vagabond
says the sun belongs to the lizard
that warms in its light. I own these moments
when my skin like a drumhead stretches on the frame
of my bones, then swells, a bellows filled
with sacred breath seared by this flame,
this happiness.

Jane Gentry
from A Garden in Kentucky, 1995

Elvis Costello is currently in a country music mood, which probably infuriates many of his old fans but pleases me no end.

His current album Sacred, Profane and Sugarcane is a bit of a mixed bag, but it's still got some cracking tunes and The Crooked Line - co-written with long-time collaborator T-Bone Burnett, and with Emmylou Harris on backing vocals - is great.

According to Costello: " 'The Crooked Line' is a song longing for constancy. It's the only song I've ever written about fidelity that is without any irony."

If you are bookish and happen to be in Berwick, make tonight the night you join a real book group! The group meets tonight (and usually the last Tuesday of every month) at 6.30pm with reader in residence Barbara Henderson. It's incredibly easy to join- read the book, turn up and get talking! All groups are informal and fun, the perfect combination of drinks, laughs, a bit of book discussion and the odd visit from an author.

Tonight they are departing from their usual format and having aSummer Reads Picnic! The group are meeting at Spitall Beach and all bringing along a picnic nibble and a favourite (preferably food- related) piece of writing. A great chance to find out what goes on in a book group!

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http://berwickbookgroup.wordpress.com/

If you love reading and happen to be in Middlesbrough tonight, make this the night you join a real book group! The group meets tonight (and usually the last Tuesday of every month) at Middlesbrough Central Library at 6.30pm with reader in residence Natalie Boxhall. It's incredibly easy to join- read the book, turn up and get talking! All groups are informal and fun, the perfect combination of drinks, laughs, book discussion and the odd visit from an author. Tonight the group will be discussing the July book of the month The Crow Road by Iain Banks. Come along and give the real thing a go....

The Reference Library
Middlesbrough Central Library
Victoria Square
Middlesbrough
http://blueloungebookgroup.wordpress.com/

Right now, I'm stuck. I'm almost there. I have to get character A to a particular point in my novel - this is during rewrites - and I don't know how to do it. I have several options, but all of them seem phony. It feels like I'm filling a hole. I feel stuck.

Writer's block conjures images of the angst-ridden writer ripping pages out of his/her notepad, tossing them across the room. Or there's the other image of the writer staggering across the barren plains of his/her imagination, with nary a tree or pond in sight. But the truth is, writer's block happens by degrees. It can happen anytime, any place, yadda yadda. You can be strolling happily along the sunny boulevard of your narrative (I'll desist with the metaphors anon) and, all of a sudden, find yourself waist deep in quicksand.

How to get unstuck?

Some writers advocate taking a break. A day, a week, a month.... If you can afford the luxury, no harm setting down the laptop and going off the park for a bit of fresh air. I find a trip to the cinema helps, or music. But sometimes a longer break is needed. Sometimes you need to look at your work with fresh eyes, from a distance. When my work is too close, when I know it too well, my ability to edit goes down the toilet. Best to leave a good few weeks after a first draft before attempting draft two.

Other writers advocate pushing through it. Right now, I don't have the luxury of taking a break. I've got to keep writing until the finish line (although writing this blog is a bit of a compromise). I used to write when the notion took me. Problem was, the notion didn't take me every day. It was only when I started forcing myself to write whether I felt like it or not that I started to need to write everyday. It is, indeed, habit forming.

My preferred solution is changing the way you approach writing. I find that, if I write in the same way, same place, same time etc every day, I get bored. My writing dries up. Even if it's changing which corner of the room I sit in, it's a fresh approach. It shuffles things around enough for creativity to thrive. Routine, but with enough of a regular shake-up to keep things interesting.

How do you do it? How do you come 'unstuck'?

Let me know. For now, I'm pushing through. Though I might just try something different. Like standing on my head. Hmmmm.

Image credit: TeeRish

stuck

Feeling sexy? Listen to Move On Up by Curtis Mayfield and you certainly will be.

From his debut album Curtis - described by one critic as "practically the Sgt. Pepper's album of '70s soul", Move On Up was never a hit in America but spent 10 weeks in the British charts, peacking at Number 12.

(It was sampled in 2005 by Kanye West for his song Touch the Sky).

A change of tone this week- you can always rely on Philip Larkin to rain on a sunny day. Still, I'm sure we've all felt the same strange sadness of English seasides...

Sunny Prestatyn

Come to Sunny Prestatyn
Laughed the girl on the poster,
Kneeling up on the sand
In tautened white satin.
Behind her, a hunk of coast, a
Hotel with palms
Seemed to expand from her thighs and
Spread breast-lifting arms.

Autographed Titch Thomas, while
Someone had used a knife
Or something to stab right through
The moustached lips of her smile.
She was too good for this life.
Very soon, a great transverse tear
Left only a hand and some blue.
Now Fight Cancer is there.

Philip Larkin

Just a quickie.

I happened to be watching an episode of Eastenders while sorting out socks this morning (... jealous?) when one of the long-running soap's most ridiculous incidental offerings came to my attention.

As I surveyed the stockpiles of sock-piles, which I'd named, 'trainer sockes with emblems'; 'trainer socks without emblems'; 'patterned socks'; 'socks for work' and 'his', I watched as hardman Phil Mitchell (he of The Mitchells, the alcoholism, the 'sorting of things', the exhaling, and the red, bald head) purchased a jiffy-bag-clad gun in order to ;sort' Archie - who also happens to be his uncle and stepdad all roled into one.

Echobelly: criminally under-rated or second-division Britpop also-rans? Discuss.

A bit of both, I'd say. They weren't Pulp or Blur, obviously, but they did have some rather spirited tunes, intelligent lyrics and a decent frontwoman. Better than Sleeper, certainly.

I particularly the swooping chorus of Insomniac, though Great Things is also splendid.

A good poem is a wonderful thing- a delicious nugget of beauty, insight or humour (occasionally all three) that can make the working day just a bit more pleasant. I thought I'd put one up every now and again. Here's a topical one to get you going...

My sleeping children are still flying dreams
in their goose-down heads.
The lush of the river singing morning songs
Fish watch their ceilings turn sun-white.
The grey-green pike lances upstream
Kale, like mermaid's hair
points the water's drift.
All is morning hush
and bird beautiful.

Spike Milligan

(Thanks to Anna Woodford for poetry advice!)