Light Lifts My Spirits

I am one of the multitudes residing in the northern hemisphere who suffer from winter light deprivation. Not the full blown S.A.D. variety but, nevertheless, quite debilitating. I find the omniscient grey wallpaper dulls the senses and depresses the creative spirit.

So, in that mood, I made myself sign up for a three day writing workshop as part of the  'Winter Words' programme at Pitlochry. It turned out to be the kick-start I needed, not so much because of the tutor's input (she was fine) but more because of the way the group gelled: it ranged from a couple of lively twenty-somethings to a wonderful seventy-plus lady who exuded genteel modesty but turned out to be a wickedly funny rebel. We were honest and constructive with each other. sparking ideas until the River Room, overlooking the fast-flowing Tummel, threatened to ignite! The end result is the novel, consigned to the bottom drawer for the last two years, is now back on my desktop. And the Spring bulbs are aglow.

The weekend after the workshop, I was back at Pitlochry to hear Sally Magnusson talk about her latest book, ' Where Memories Go -  why Dementia Changes Everything', a moving memoir of the way she and her family dealt with her beloved mother's dementia. I had read the book and been very moved: what I wasn't prepared for was the intensity of the empathy which came from the capacity audience. It seemed almost everyone in that theatre had a story to tell about caring for a loved one with dementia. And Sally Magnusson handled their questions with such care and passion - a passion which has already seen her chair an important debate on the subject in an attempt to focus the minds of those who have the power and, we hope, the will to drive this topic to the top of the political agenda. 

This is not just another book about the suffering of one individual and her family but an extremely well-written and often joyous account of a daughter's search to preserve the 'self' of her mother in memories.

During the long, dark winter days, I try to keep the writing going by entering competitions. Periodically, I make a note of some of the most noteworthy ones . Usually it's short stories I enter but last month I submitted a memoir for a change. Initially, it felt quite strange writing in this genre but, once I'd found the right voice, it flowed quite easily. It was good to cut to the heart of things and put the magnifying glass on the detail. I found you can't be sloppy with the language of emotion in a memoir: to be credible, you have to distil and then some more until you feel the essence of the experience.

Back to books but this time two books for older teenagers: 'Ferryman' by Claire McFall and 'Slated' by Teri Terry. The first tells the story of Dylan who is killed in a train crash en route to meet up with her estranged father. But she emerges from the crash into a strange Scottish landscape where she meets a boy, Tristan, the Ferryman of the title, whose job it is to escort the souls of the dead across to their final resting place. 

Crossing this wasteland, they encounter menacing demons and wraiths who try to prevent them from reaching the safe houses along the route. They also encounter a developing relationship which, ultimately, presents both of them with difficult choices. As the blurb asks, 'Life, death or love - which will Dylan choose?' 

A sort of modern day retelling of the ferryman story of Greek mythology, this is an unsettling book which poses many questions about life after death, about the power of love and, ultimately, about the complex relationship between body and soul. Big and testing questions for teenage readers as well as for adults.

 
The second is set in the not too distant but scary future in which anyone under the age of 16 is made to undergo a surgery if they are believed to be 'terrorists', or if they are believed to be threats to the society. Their minds and memories are completely wiped and drawn blank. This procedure is called being 'Slated'. Their emotions are controlled by a device called a Levo which registers when the individual is experiencing strong, negative emotions. The state's idea is to control these individuals by keeping them in a permanently level, emotional state

The central character, Kyla is one such 'Slater', confused about all the terrifying flashbacks that keep returning to her - like the man who keeps returning to her dream, smashing her fingers with bricks. And yet, the only answer she is given is that she's "different". She is befriended and protected by Ben - kind, funny and interested in Kyla for who she is. 

The gripping plot involves Kyla trying to find out who she is, who she once was, and who she needs to be.

My only real disappointment was with the ending. The book is the first in what is going to be a series and the ending suffers from that. Too many loose ends are speedily gathered up in an unsatisfactory conclusion, victim of the drive to leave the reader with enough of a 'hook' to warrant a sequel. But, nevertheless, a compelling read.

This morning the light wakened me at 6.30. I could have been irritated by this but, instead, basking in the knowledge that the Spring Equinox is almost here, I threw off the duvet and welcomed the day!
 

 

'Brilliant BOOKMARK'

That was the headline we got in our local press after last month's book festival here in Blairgowrie - our very first, in fact. So, that's my excuse for not having posted here for months. The whole festival thing just took over my life. But it has been so worthwhile. When you get lovely people like Liz Lochhead, Andrew Greig, James Robertson, Mairi Hedderwick and others all saying how much they've enjoyed participating in the event, you feel an enormous pride at being part of the organisational team. And what a team! All volunteers who've given up huge amounts of time and kilowatts of energy to the project. And they're already planning for next year's event!

Books supplied by our own independent book store!

Andrew Greig signs a copy of his latest novel, 'Fair Helen'.

Fiona Armstrong chats to Karen Campbell about 'This is Where I Am'. 

On the Saturday of the festival the heavens parted and we were treated to a spectacular but continuous downpour which threatened to seep inside the Royal Hotel venue. But, ironically, the weather proved to be a bonus as it swept people into the venue to buy up the few remaining tickets. It also meant that the closing whisky tasting event which followed on from an engaging session with internationally renowned whisky writer, Charles MacLean, put people in the perfect mood for later carrying on the 'tasting' in the bar to the accompaniment of a good going ceilidh!

It was wonderful to see so many children and young people at the event. Mini BOOKMARK offered a full menu: a taste of the Scots language for under 5s with James Robertson; a suitcase full of ferrets with the very entertaining Joan Lennon; an inside look at how Katie Morag finally arrives on the page; an animation workshop with the multi-talented, Kyla Tomlinson and finishing off with a Gruffalo Trail which brought together both book and wildlife experience, courtesy of the Perth and Kinross Council's Countryside Ranger Service.

Those who are cynical about today's youth should have been present at BOOKMARK to see for themselves just how wonderfully mature, responsible and capable young people can be. For example, we had a group of senior pupils from Blairgowrie High School taking charge of the technical production. Sixteen year old, Daniel Duncan, set up his company, 'Jam Productions' when he was just fourteen and now supplies technical expertise to a range of events. He and his team took charge of things with a maturity well beyond their years and with a level of courtesy that would show up many an adult! And then there were young, BOOKMARK T-shirt clad marshals who dealt with the public politely and efficiently. Our young blogger, Briana Freedsmith, whose blogs you can read at www.bookmarkblair.com, entered into the spirit of this her first ever book festival with an infectious enthusiasm and a mature professionalism. Well done to all!

The children were, of course, the stars of the show. Their faces say it all. And we loved it just as much as they did! We'll be back with a great BOOKMARK programme in October, 2014.

Raring to Write: Bookmarked, Baltic and Bliss!

Raring to Write: Bookmarked, Baltic and Bliss!: I'm acutely aware that I've been very remiss in posting any new blogs in recent months. My excuse? I've been up to the eyebrows ...

Bookmarked, Baltic and Bliss!

I'm acutely aware that I've been very remiss in posting any new blogs in recent months. My excuse? I've been up to the eyebrows in book fest. organisation. Last post I mentioned my moment- of- madness decision to seek funding for BOOKMARK, a new book festival to be hosted in Blairgowrie (East Perthshire) with fringe events in Rattray & The Glens. After months of delicate gymnastics (jumping through hoops of fire while tied to restraining hand and foot straps), the executive committee (three mad women) have finally submitted applications and await results with a mixture of dread and anticipation. Meanwhile, we have a draft programme (just mistyped as 'pogromme'!) in place but can't finalise anything until we get the green light from those who hold the purse strings ( in some cases to the point where fingers turn blue!).

But, at risk of completely contradicting myself, it's not been ALL work: there was a short interval of play when I took off from this wintry scene

h

 to some South African sunshine . . .

 

and a little wine from Laurensford Estate . . . 

Been back now for a couple of weeks and, although still recovering from the temperature shift (31 to 4), I've also been enjoying long walks in frosty, blue-skied days. Today's another story! I should have been out there climbing a hill to mark International Women's Day but high winds and driving rain - falling as snow up the glen - sent me scurrying back under the duvet. One's empathy has limits.

On these walks, I've had time to reflect: on the shameful contrast between the comfortable lifestyle of many (but not all) white South Africans and the endemic poverty of so many of their fellow black South Africans, despite heroic efforts (mixed with a liberal helping of corruption) by the ANC government to build new houses and provide clean water and electricity; on the privilege enjoyed by many UK residents and rural Scots, in particular, to roam freely without feeling threatened or compelled to live behind security gates and electric fences; on the sheer joy at being alive and fit (relatively!); on the central importance of writing in my life now that it has been so neglected over the last 6 months.

Five years after publication, I've finally got round to reading Steven Galloway's 'The Cellist of Sarajevo'. 

Coinciding as it did with my trip to South Africa, its reading had a particular resonance. The idea that in the midst of the devastation of war and all its attendant cruelties, beauty can emerge as a powerful instrument of truth and common humanity struck me with powerful relevancy.

So . . . it's time to get right back into that short story which I've been meaning to finish for weeks. Maybe it'll never have an ending but then maybe that will prompt the beginning of a new story. The circles of life are still being drawn.

Raring to Write: A book festival in Blairgowrie? You must be mad!

Raring to Write: A book festival in Blairgowrie? You must be mad!: A few months ago, being of unsound mind at the time, I threw out a question, intending it to be rhetorical, 'Why don't...

A book festival in Blairgowrie? You must be mad!

A few months ago, being of unsound mind at the time, I threw out a question, intending it to be rhetorical, 'Why don't we have a book festival in the town?' Unfortunately, there are others out there of equally unsound mind who came back with the repeated answer, 'Why not?'. So here I am, taking precious time out from writing, to talk to book festival organisers around the country, downloading fiendishly complicated funding application forms and generally rushing round in a fever of passionate enthusiasm, nightly cooled by a cold poultice of doubt.

 I regularly attend book festivals, small and large (prefer the small) around the country so I know something about being a festival attendee. On the other hand, I knew precious little about the nature of the beast from an organiser's perspective until I started to make enquiries. Since then, it's been a steep learning curve but less painful than anticipated, thanks to the generous input from the organisers of other festivals such as Ullapool and Borders. Paula Ogilvie from the latter organisation, courtesy of Scottish Book Trust funding, has produced a comprehensive survey of book festivals throughout Scotland (currently numbering a staggering 34!) and this provides a wide range of vital information  from audience profiling to ticket pricing.

Already I have had offers of help from a wide range of people in the area. Now they just need pinning down. I'm hoping my unsound mind phase lasts sufficiently long to see this project through. All it takes is vision, energy, enthusiasm, meticulous organisation, professionalism . . . and a very brassy neck! Let's translate this vision into reality.

The Trick is in the Detail

This month I've set myself the task of keeping a writing diary of details: the telling significance of an object's shape, colour, structure, texture, scent, imperfections . . .

I've always admired writers who can use telling details to add symbolic layers to their writing. Recently, I re-read Robin Jenkins's novel, 'The Changeling' and was full of praise for the way in which he set down details which, initially, seemed insignificant but which gathered layers of meaning as they were picked up at later points in the narrative. It prompted me to think about the importance of detail in our lives: the small gesture that conveys so much, the exact tone of a well-chosen word, the telling sound and so on. As well, of course, as the absence of the above.

So, I've started in the garden - a bit of a disheartening task in this rain-sodden landscape - but it's made me look afresh at so many things: plants, 'beasties', walls, stones, hedges, horizons and much more. It's been a challenging exercise; selecting the relevant details, finding the right words to record them and jotting down any figurative or connotative significances.

I've carefully omitted to say, of course, that all this has been going on while I should have been writing my next short story! But I'm hoping that it will bear fruit in the long run. Well, that's my justification for the moment. How important is detail for you - as a writer/reader?