Coming round to the Dark Side

On Tuesday, I had the rather tremulous pleasure of visiting the British Library exhibition ‘Terror and Wonder: The Gothic Imagination‘. Indeed, there was a certain amount of trepidation involved – going up to That London – and not knowing what to expect. Would it be over in a flash and leave me at a loose end? Would it be tacky, or too full of jargon and conceit to enjoy?

I had no need to worry. I shall try to avoid ‘spoilers’ – but if you want surprises, just stop here at the end of this sentence: it’s fascinating and diverse. I wrote over twenty pages of notes – but you won’t get all of them, I promise.

There is a chronological thread; you start with The Castle of Otranto. Don’t miss the curious Czech film – and try imagining what the transparencies would look like backlit with flickering candlelight. I am a bit of a fan, so many of themes were familiar. Still, it was a treat to see exemplars of the Sublime up close, as a for-instance. As long as I can remember certain places – gorges, mountains, waterfalls, ruins, castles… have thrilled me.

Lady Blanche crosses the Ravine… by Nathaniel Grogan

That’s none too weird, you might say. But then some frissons of pleasure I had mingled with concerns about what these said about me. I felt a surge of delight when I re-encountered old friends like Count Dracula and Carmilla. I wished I hadn’t got rid of my LPs, posters and books.

Was this stuff I should enjoy?

When prompted to think about the real Terror in Revolutionary France, I faltered. My vision of Gothic is one of disturbing beauty, of hidden desires. I cheerfully admit that it had much to do with my adolescent sexuality.

But extreme violence – where did that sit in my understanding? I have to say I felt nauseous contemplating the Jack the Ripper letter. Violence against women is not a matter for my entertainment. This was an ethical challenge.

Image by James E. Nicol

As you may know I am fond of dressing up. Perhaps my Gothic side is merely superficial, put on like the Blackpin veil ? But that doesn’t explain why this weird disconnect troubles me so much. There’s deep ambivalence here – I do love and yet I fear I should not.

It is not resolved. I have found some comfort in the thought that expressing the darker side can be, perhaps, cathartic. I believe, for example that Boris Karloff was a perfect gentleman – and I know Chris Priestley (talented artist and cracking writer) is a delight to engage with.

And after all, the Gothic Imagination deals with the two biggies Love and Death – like the best opera. [Lots of similarities there, now I come to think of it.]

Il Commendatore by Anna Chromy

The best resolution I have found to this debate comes in the words of Cornelia Funke, though she is talking about fantasy in general:

 If you cannot imagine another world, you won’t be capable of changing this one. The role of the writer is to ask the questions that others may not get round to asking, to fish for the unspoken truth.

 

full article here c/o David Almond

I really don’t have an answer – do you?

Of riffs, tweets and bees

white_bee_Kate_Long

Twitter can be a source of unabashed delight, I want to tell all the non-Tweeters out there. I spotted a lovely picture of a white bee posted by Kate Long – and alerted Joanne Harris to it. Those who follow her will know she starts every #storytime with

There is a story the bees used to tell, which makes it hard to disbelieve..

It seemed likely she’d enjoy it as much as I did. And then one bit of sharing led to a happy little exchange of riffs on the white bee theme. Joyous.

From that exchange, a little story has emerged in a flurry of wings and pale fur. I hope you enjoy ‘A Tale of White Bees‘.

In the Light of Day

By now, there will be plenty of reviews and critiques of Kate Bush and her concert last night in Hammersmith. Fans will chant a hymn of adoration: share, relive and adorn their experience. Detractors will mock and sneer to amuse their tribe.

My approach is neither of those things.

I write from my perspective – way up close to the deluxe beryl green art deco ceiling of the Apollo – for no such defined readership. Lucky me,  I have few expectations to meet.

Never For Ever by Will-O'Mailley - non-commercial reuse

As we waited for her first concert after thirty-five years, my husband wondered aloud what she might be feeling. I thought about that too. How I have so often read artists in different media say:

I wonder if I can do it again? Will I pull it off this time?

And the astonishing thing, at least to me as a beginner with so much to learn, is that the most established, practised and loved artists in any field feel the same. Over and over again truly creative people doubt themselves.

From what I have read and understood the hard way, there are two ways to get through this. Both require a particular kind of focus. Not straining, not blinkered, but a sort of yearning.

moon-morguefile-web

First is a deep involvement with the piece of art itself – for itself. Growing it, wondering at it as an entity with its own existence. Through nurturing the song, the story, the dance, you lose sight of any pointing, leering critics and the dark pitfalls of the ego. Putting the sculpture, canvas or poem at the centre of the process means all helpful suggestions can be accepted – from whatever source.

This also means waiting until the text is ready to be performed, until the oils are quite dry and the frame is gilded, until all the right sound effects have been sourced.

Secondly, when leading this precious new being out onto the stage, introduce it first to just one person. Read your opening chapter for that one listener who truly hears what you’re saying. Focus on delighting that girl with the open face, that boy with his head cocked, paying attention.

I began to voice my focus-on-the-work-in-hand theory to my husband. Then the first stirrings on the stage led to joyous tumult all around us – fans standing and calling and waving their arms. There was no chance of discussion.

ticket fish painted on it.st

Even the tickets were art.

In the interval, I read the programme. It’s more of a work of art tracing the blooming of the stage show than any practical guide to what happened  on stage. What struck me, though, was how the project had become an entity in Kate Bush’s experience – an ‘it’.

As for focusing on one person, I have no idea if she did that. What I observed was a woman surrounded by a creative hive and its outpourings. Protected perhaps, yet at the heart of the events. As the music and drama and stories burgeoned, it seemed to me she loosened. The stories the music told began to dance through her and that lovely voice soared free again. Older and different in timbre, certainly, but recognisably hers.

screen-shot-2014-08-26-at-3-19-40-pm

Something I long to do.

I do not have the body of work in my past that she has – but to see a mature woman create something so idiosyncratic, risk it all in the public view and then triumph on her own terms is a joy.

 

Before the Dawn

I tried to have a nostalgic wallow – a warm sound-bath of memories from the 70s onwards. We had the snacks, we had the beer and we watched two hours of Kate Bush on BBC4 – her career and her performances.

It turned out quite differently.

Kate_Bush_by_PhatF-ck-deviant-art

That voice split open my carapace. The notes burrowed somewhere behind the centre of my ribs and gave my heart room to swell. How could I have forgotten how much those songs meant to me? The words gave me no chance to appreciate their cleverness in some filtered way – they swooped in and demanded to be loved again.

hermit-crab-close-up-CC

I wonder, does it hurt hermit crabs to creep out of their too-small homes? It hurt me to be excavated like that but – ‘what a lovely feeling!’ 

Those songs draw me into other worlds I desire to experience – so many lyrics I have learned by heart. And they dance in my mouth, they move me literally. Her passionate vulnerability rouses mine. Like dry moss in a downpour, it twists, stretches, grows green and fresh again.

Exuberance is Beauty – William Blake, Proverbs of Hell, 1790 – 1793

She sought her voice in her first recordings, tried out all manner of characters – and adolescent me went along for the ride. Alone in my attic bedroom, my shadow was Kate’s. It spread long fingers over the postcards of Pre-Raphaelite beauties on the sloping walls, and swirled amongst the incense trail and cobwebs. It became the woman in The Warm Room, clawed at Heathcliff or flew off In Search of Peter Pan.

dancers-shadow-CC

Kate Bush’s songs are full of narrative; poetic, sometimes impressionistic, but still they tell stories or fragments of them. I recall that in one of her rare interviews she echoed this sentiment from one of my favourite writers:

I am far more interested in other people than in talking about myself – Joanne Harris

They both want to give the stories themselves a voice – I admire that so much.  I am in very good company: Jeanette Winterson, Neil Gaiman and Stephen Fry are amongst the writers who treasure that literary spirit. How could I not adore a singer whose first hit was based on Emily Brontë?

My adult self does not wish to be her, but I’ll have a shot of that engaging weirdness. I’ll knock back a tincture of esoteric flavoured by a dash of out there and infused with the dark and ethereal.

Magical-green-glass-bottle-Pixabay

I rejoice that her songs and voice and their meanings have deepened over time. It takes more musical power to crack open scar tissue and release that spinning, yearning girl of the Seventies. So many moments of pleasure, jugsful that refresh and sometimes chill the jaw with a rush of pain.

I will take long inspiring gulps on Tuesday, even if my eye-teeth howl like banshees – and there will be no barriers between us if I can help it.

kate-bush-live-on-stage-promo-2014-636-380

I will be at the Hammersmith Apollo on Tuesday 26th August. Please do say hello.
[Heaven help anyone whose I-Pad, phone or any other gizmo gets in my way, though!]

 

 

 

All fuss and fairytales

There has been quite a bit of uproar about Richard Dawkins supposed opinions on Fairy tales and their effect on children.

Do listen to https://audioboo.fm/boos/2226602-richard-dawkins-fairy-tales-can-be-beneficial-for-children to hear what Richard Dawkins actually said on Radio 4 and if you want some silly fun, follow  on Twitter.

I don’t intend to comment on over-simplified reporting or whether Mr Dawkins stirred up controversy for the sake of notoriety – whilst these are interesting topics, this is a blog about writing after all.

What I do want to do is to celebrate the love for fairy tales and fantasy I share with thousands of others – and to think about why this is a good thing.

First of all, stories must entertain – and stories with magic of one sort or another can absolutely enthrall both children and adults. The glorious inventiveness of, say Catherynne  M.Valente or Frances Hardinge, uses enchantment to engage. We delight in sheer ingenuity  – and that I think has much to do with Einstein’s point of view.

If you want your children to be intelligent, read them fairy tales. If you want them to be more intelligent, read them more fairy tales.” EINSTEIN

Secondly, all stories that last act as settings for things we hold precious. They let us experience the results of hope and courage, love and steadfastness for example. They teach, more or less obviously through fable, and the wonder of the fairytale world helps us remember what we learned all the more.

Of course, realistic fiction can do this too – but for those with a taste for the extra-ordinary, characters like Iorek Byrnisson or Eowyn thrill us more. There’s more connection with these invented characters, their largeness and other-worldliness gives us space to explore ideas and emotions.

fairy-tales-are-more-than-true-not-because-they-tell-us-that-dragons-exist-but-because-they-tell-us-that-dragons-can-be-beaten-GKChesterton

My third and final point is more contentious. The first two could be agreed with by the most ardent rationalist – unless they regard all fiction as irresponsible lies.

However, I do hold with ‘there are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy’. It is the storyteller’s role to leave room for the numinous. My experience is that the deepest, most treasured parts of human life cannot be measured, weighed, dissected or rationalised  – and the wisest stories allow for this.

It should remain for the reader to explore how much is metaphor or magic – and how much is ‘real’.

I leave the last word to Joanne Harris via Katherine Langrish’s excellent blog Seven Miles of Steel Thistles.

A story can bring down a government; or steal away a child’s heart; or build a religion; or just make us see the world differently. Storytellers come and go, but stories never die. And if that isn’t magic, then I don’t know what is.

 

Black & white engraving of a beautiful enchantress

The Enchantress by Howard Pyle [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Shake out those shelves

Of course you want more book suggestions to feed your habit…

Boromir-on-books

You want a courageous heroine – here’s a baker’s dozen of them:

  • The Wolves of Willoughby Chase – get two for the price of one – Bonnie and Sylvia.
  • My Name is Mina – Mina is imaginative, fragile and full of creative courage.
  • Jane Eyre – “I am a free human being with an independent will.” Enough said.
  • Chantress – Lucy, who finds her own voice in the midst of upheaval. A remarkable story full of the truth of creativity.
  • Matilda -“I’m wondering what to read next.” Matilda said. “I’ve finished all the children’s books.” Roald Dahl at his best.
  • The Ransom of Dond – Darra shows the courage of love in a beautiful myth.
  • Coraline – for goodness’ sake, read the book. She did not need a male sidekick to face the Other Mother.
  • A Face like Glass – Neverfell,  with her honesty and her expressions take on Caverna. A marvellous fantasy, with depth – and cheese.
  • The Visitors – deafblind Adeliza Golding is no Victorian victim!
  • The Girl who Circumnavigated Fairyland – Once you’ve met September, it’s hard to forget her.
  • Charlotte’s Web – I never thought I could love a spider.
  • The Book Thief –  ah lovely Liesel, naughty and curious and so alive.

yellow-tutu-girl

Escape to the country?

Each of these is so evocative of the place you will either want to dash there immediately – or avoid it like a sink-hole.

It’s my birthday and I’ll blog if I want to…

I hope you’re singing that – or at least humming along.

I though I’d use my birthday privileges to blather on about my Hundred Book Challenge – which is now well over the ton, by the way.

I was given Brian Aldiss’ Frankenstein Unbound by an older girl on whom I had a crush at Wakefield Girls High School. I had never encountered that sort of Science Fiction before – erudite, serious and yet happy to play with previous literature. Rather mind expanding.

Frankenstein's monster stands in a moonlit graveyard

Artwork by Chris Priestley

As is its source – Mary Shelley’s astonishing Frankenstein; or The Modern Prometheus. Such huge ideas begun at 18 and published at 20 – inspiring stuff. It also led to the dark and rather moving Mister Creecher by Chris Priestley – I loved the way my sympathy was shifted from one character to another so deftly. I have to say this idea of messing about with Proper Books is a refreshing one to me – watch out the Brontes and Miss Austen.

I have a soft spot for the Gothick imagination – so I will give Chris Riddell’s Goth Girl the mention it could have had. Not only is it beautifully produced but it is fun.

A girl in a purple Regency dress holds up a ghost mouse.

Next on my list is The House of the Spirits by Isabel Allende. You can’t really use the word epic now because of the baggage labels dangling from it – but I loved the scale of it all, that similarity to saga on one hand and the baroque complexity on the other. I revel in books where the amazing intersects the everyday without one character blinking.

To be honest I don’t really know what the difference is between magical realism and fantasy. I am not sure that I care. I just know that I adore the books that nurture wonder in me. Which leads me like a Will-o’-the-wisp to David Almond and My Name is Mina.

It was dreadfully difficult to choose just one of his – but I settled on Mina for the playfulness and experimentation. It references and informs Skellig, of course – yet stands on its own. It’s a bit bonkers and I’m not at all sure about it – but that’s what’s good. I have learned to enjoy the challenging and the flawed and the downright weird.

Sir Gawain is confronted by a huge green knight - with an axe.

My final choice this time, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, surely comes under the weird category. I love its alliteration [this is the Tolkien translation, unsurprisingly] – and the language. It’s my dialect – near enough, and I will always have time for the honest, the earthy and the Northern. So Ted Hughes Remains of Elmet is in there and A Kestrel for a Knave [Kes] Barry Hines ought to be.

Fay Goodwin’s photographs in my edition of Ted Hughes’ poetry are soaked in the spirit of the Pennines, and the film Kes was shot close to where I used to live. I love all that grim-up-north brooding intensity – but I also love send-ups. How on earth could I have missed out Stanley Bagshaw and the Twenty Two Ton Whale? Glorious mickey-taking fun from Bob Wilson.

In Huddersgate, famed for its tramlines,

Up North where it’s boring and slow

Stanley Bagshaw resides with his grandma

At Number 4 Prince Albert Row…

 

Addenda

Some more thoughts on The 100-book Challenge.

Don't panic They're only Vogons -by Bob Jonkman CC

Of course, I reserve the right to alter, update and generally mess around with my own list. Inevitably, I found dreadful omissions – and I have reconsidered putting other forms of writing in. Surely they deserve their own list?

The most interesting thing for me was seeing the connections and clusters of influences on my own writing – sparkling like dewdrops on a cobweb. None of that will make sense to you, Dear Reader, if I do not spell out what I see as the highlights. A heap of books is quite interesting in itself – but how much more so if someone enthuses with joy and detail.

So here goes.

The first book leads me to a facet I admire in other writers – but haven’t even attempted – humour. Douglas Adams’ Hitch-hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy had such unexpected comedy – it was a new and startling thing. Could you do that in Science Fiction? It appeared you could. The vigour of it all is something I aspire to – and the joyous use of words.  Such characters ! Who can forget Slartibartfast and the coast of Norway, Marvin the Paranoid Android – or Vogon Poetry?

In this batch, I’m going to include the anarchic and bitter Catch-22 by Joseph Heller , Henry Tumour by Anthony McGowan, and The Radleys by Matt Haig. They all deal with dark and important things – without being po-faced. Any book that can make me laugh and cry has to be good.

Some where close by, I’d have to stack Cold Comfort Farm by Stella Gibbons – replete with Starkadders, sukebind, and Graceless, Aimless, Feckless, and Pointless the cows. There’d have to be The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster – with the Jules Fieffer illustrations too. I love the ridiculous puns and have a very soft spot for the likes of Tock the Watch-dog Faintly Macabre, the not-so Wicked Which and The Mathemagician – and there’s a proper story .

Tock the Watch Dog

Richard Adams’ Watership Down comes next. I had to have this for three main reasons: it’s a saga, there’s a deep sense of landscape and there are animals that aren’t twee. I shall focus on the latter.

I am not a vegetarian – but I have thought hard about it. Generally, I don’t eat meat that I don’t know the provenance of – I buy organic or free range  or do without. Part of this is down to such reading. Almost anything by Dick King-Smith delights me – but The Sheep-Pig just tops the list.  I foolishly omitted Anna Sewell’s Black Beauty [guaranteed to make me weep buckets ] and Lloyd Alexander’s Book of Three where we meet Hen Wen the Oracular Pig for the first time from my original list. Mea culpa.

Good animal writing is tricky to pull off – but I’d have to say I still get great pleasure from Rudyard Kipling’s Just-So Stories [not to mention the wonderful, unpatronising language]. The valiant Reepicheep  made ‘The Voyage of the Dawn Treader’ just reach the top of my C.S.Lewis pile. [It has to have the original Pauline Baynes illustrations, of course.]

Reepicheep by Pauline Baynes

Third on the alphabetical list came Joan Aiken and I picked The Wolves of Willoughby Chase. Two things I particularly cherish in it – alternate history (I read it late and had not known that you could do such a thing) and Winter. The use of a different ‘trouser leg of time’ [T. Pratchett, The Night Watch] leads to such wonders as much of Sir Terry’s work, and the haunting if flawed Jonathan Strange & Mr Norell by Susanna Clarke.

Ah but Winter! How that speaks to my Yorkshire soul. Three books I left out feature glorious evocations of snow: Dark Matter by Michelle Paver, Miss Smilla’s Feeling for Snow by Peter Høeg and Vendela Vida’s Let the Northern Lights Erase Your Name. All of these took me to crisply shown worlds and looked at them through strange and unsettling angles.

I’d have to have Philip Pullman’s Northern Lights as part of this Venn diagram – Serafina Pekkala, Iorek Byrnison, and Svalbard all inhabit my Winter imagination. So indeed does the White Witch but I can’t have another Narnia – but I will garner both The Box of Delights by John Masefield and The Children of Green Knowe into this corner. Both of these very different yet imaginative works finish a conflict between good and evil on Christmas Eve. I find it hard to think of a much more appropriate time. I’d better include Dicken’s A Christmas Carol – I do love a redemption story and I can be shamelessly sentimental at times.

I can’t believe I left out Hans Christian Andersen’s The Snow Queen – how could I forget brave Gerda and the Little Robber Girl? A wonderful Scandinavian adventure – with heroines.

The Snow Queen By Milo Winter [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Next time – from Frankenstein to Sir Gawain.

Do let me know any suggestions you might have – or comments.

The Hundred-Book Challenge

Exploring the books that make me.

a little girl reads a book

I am indebted to David Rain – you can find the article about his reasoning  and the original challenge here.

The Challenge

  • list 100 books that you love
  • only ONE per author
  • any form or genre of writing is allowed – so long as you LOVE it

WARNING: this can take hours of happy research.

Here’s mine, purely in alphabetical order:

Adams, Douglas The Hitch-hikers’ Guide to the Universe
Adams, Richard Watership Down
Aiken, Joan The Wolves of Willoughby Chase
Aldiss, Bryan Frankenstein Unbound
Allende, Isabel The House of the Spirits
Almond, David My Name is Mina
Anon Sir Gawain and the Green Knight
Atkinson, Kate Behind the scenes at the Museum
Barber, Antonia The Ghosts
Bathurst, Bella The Lighthouse Stevensons
Blake, Quentin Mrs Armitage on Wheels
Boston, L. M. The Children of Green Knowe
Briggs, K. M. Hobberdy Dick
Bronte, Charlotte Jane Eyre
Butler-Greenfield, Amy Chantress
Clarke, Susanna Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell
Connolly, John The Book of Lost Things
Cooper, Susan Greenwitch
Crane, Nicholas Two Degrees West
Dahl, Roald Matilda
Doherty, Berlie Daughter of the Sea
Dowd, Siobhan The Ransom of Dond
Dunmore, Helen The Greatcoat
Dunsany, Lord The King of Elfland’s Daughter
Fox, Essie Elijah’s Mermaid
Francis, Sarah Odd Fish and Englishmen
Gaiman, Neil Coraline
Gardner, Sally Tinder
Garner, Alan The Stone Book Quartet
Gavin, Jamila Coram Boy
Gibbons, Stella Cold Comfort Farm
Gutterson, David Snow falling on Cedars
Haddon, Mark The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time
Haig, Matt The Radleys
Hardinge, Frances A Face like Glass
Hardy, Thomas Collected Poetry
Harris, Joanne The Lollipop Shoes
Heller,Joseph Catch 22
Hill, Susan In the Springtime of the Year
Hodgson Burnett, Francis The Secret Garden
Hughes, Ted Remains of Elmet
Ihimaera, Witi The Whale Rider
Jansson, Tove The Summer Book
Juster, Norton The Phantom Tollbooth
Kemp, Gene The Turbulent Term of Tyke Tyler
Kingsley, Charles The Waterbabies
King-Smith, Dick The Sheep-Pig
Kipling, Rudyard The Just-So Stories
Lanagan, Margot The Brides of Rollrock Island
Langrish, Katherine, West of the Moon
LeGuin, Ursula A Wizard of Earthsea
Lewis, C. S. The Voyage of the Dawn Treader
Lively, Penelope Astercote
Macdonald, George The Princess and Curdie
MacFarlane, Robert The Old Ways
Mackay Brown, George Greenvoe
Manley-Hopkins, Gerald Major Poems
Mantel, Hilary Beyond Black
Marquez, Gabriel Garcia Love in the Time of Cholera
Mascull, Rebecca The Visitors
Masefield, John The Box of Delights
Mayne, William The Blue Book of Hob Stories
McCaughrean, Geraldine The  White Darkness
McGowan, Anthony Henry Tumour
Meade Faulkner, J. Moonfleet
Mieville, China Railsea
Monk Kidd, Susan The Secret Life of Bees
Morpurgo, Michael Grania O’Malley
Mosse, Kate The Mistletoe Bride
Murphy, Jill Five Minutes’ Peace
Newbery, Linda Lob
Nimmo, Jenny The Snow Spider
Norton, Trevor Reflections on a Summer Sea
Paver, Michelle Dark Matter
Pollock, Tom The City’s Son
Pratchett, Terry I shall wear Midnight
Price, Susan The Sterkarm Handshake
Priestley, Chris Mister Creecher
Proulx, Annie The Shipping News
Prue, Sally Cold Tom
Pullman, Philip The Northern Lights
Ruiz Zafon, Carlos The Name of the Wind
Seuss, Dr The Lorax
Shelley, Mary Frankenstein
Shreve, Anita Sea Glass
Sommer-Bodenburg, Angela The Little Vampire
Sutcliff, Rosemary Beowulf
Swift, Graham Waterland
Thomas, Edward Collected Poetry
Thompson, Kate The New Policeman
Thomson, David The People of the Sea
Tolkien, J.R.R. The Lord of the Rings
Tremain, Rose Restoration
Valente, Catherynne M. The Girl who Circumnavigated Fairyland
Vickers, Salley Miss Garnett’s Angel
Vipont, Elfrida The Elephant and the Bad Baby
Walsh, Pat The Crowfield Curse
Wells, Philip Horsewhispering in the Military-Industrial Complex
Westall, Robert The Kingdom by the Sea
White, E.B. Charlotte’s Web
Zusak, Markus The Book Thief

So unsurprisingly, there are a fair few with more than a hint of fantasy or magical realism. There’s poetry and word-play in many, and definitely a sense of place pervading this selection. The sea and ghosts have a tendency to crop up – and heroines.

I am happy to put in links to The Hive ( which supports independent bookshops) for any title if you are interested – just let me know.

Now – go and do likewise. You might be surprised what you find out.

Pick ‘n’ mix

First of all, apologies for not posting till today. You can blame the Chi-SCBWI lot* for that.

Last night at our meeting, the lovely and talented blogger Vivienne DaCosta of Serendipity Reviews**  fame, brought us all a fruitboxful  of books to delve into. It was an immediately appealing and diverse selection.

Clearly, we’re all bookaholics. I don’t quite see how I could be a writer without having this particular addiction.

  1. I’ve learnt so much more about the way to write for different age-groups.
  2. I’ve developed much more of a ‘nose’ for what works for a given genre.
  3. I’ve encountered techniques and structures I might never have thought of by myself.
  4. I’ve had my mind stretched like  an octopus trying to get out of a bottle by reading far outside my zone of prejudice.

an octopus emerging from a bottle

But it wasn’t just that which made us all scurry to select and snaffle –  to stage a [fairly genteel] raid on  a sweetie shop. Stories are treasure we can amass like a jackdaw does jewels  – but they’re even more precious when they become part of us. It’s the ones that stay on in your mind, that feed your creativity that matter.

Our eagerness, I believe, stems from our search for the stories that will nourish us. In the way that our food literally becomes part of us, I believe the stories we truly engage with nurture our imaginations and build up our spirits.

a bower bird's nest

So it’s well worth having a rummage to seek out stories that will feed us – and our writing. At times it might be something a bit romantic, luxurious and Nigella, other times we might need something more challenging and a bit Heston Blumenthal. Nothing wrong with a bit of traditional too.

And there’s always the happy thought we might just chance upon something new and wondrous. Or better still, pick a mixture.

display of handmade sweets

pic sweets

Chichester branch of  the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators – wonderful group of supportive people – who meet on certain Thursday nights

**fabulous book review site whose tolerant owner allows me to spout forth from time-to-time