Word of Mouth 8th July

If you are around Nottingham on 8th July (that's tomorrow) and free for the evening, then come along to the event below. Lots of the coolest Nottingham writers, like me, of course lol, and a free glass of wine with your ticket. What more could you want? Hope to see you there...

Word of Mouth – Wed 8^th July 2009, 7.15pm in The Len Maynard Suite, (upstairs) The Royal Centre, Nottingham.

Curated by Michael Eaton, Word of Mouth promises to be a very special event, with readers including: Jon McGregor, Nicola Monaghan, Mike Wilson, David Belbin and John Lucas, covering a variety of forms from Newspaper interviews (James Urquart’s Lobster Lunch with Kazuo Ishiguro) to Ann Featherstone’s extracts from the journals of a Nottinghamshire Edwardian Lad, besides poetry, short fiction and critique. Tickets from RCH Box Office: £4 NWS Members/£5 other includes glass of wine/soft drink.

Lowdham and space time

The same thing seems to happen to me every time I arrive at Lowdham Book Festival. I walk into the main hall and find Ross (one of the organisers) and Jon McGregor chewing the cud near the main door, along with various people I've known over the years from the MA and the first punters of the day perusing the book stalls. I really love this about the Lowdham festival; that the writers and readers mix like this and there is none of this fake separation between the 'talent' and those who pay the wages. It feels very down to earth.

This year when I saw Jon, and Ross, and the people from various previous Trent MA intakes, I was struck down with a very strong sense of deja vu. My very first Lowdham came to mind, freshly published, a double act with Jon. His relaxed style and gentle sense of humour put me at ease completely and the day was a lot of fun. There's something about Lowdham that throws me back, though, further than that. Back to when I was a student.

The thing that's weird about that is that the Lowdham I'm thrown back to was one I didn't even go to. It was the day I started to write The Killing Jar. I was at the end of my first year on the MA course. It was a lovely summer Friday and a bunch of us met for a drink and ended up at a Warehouse party. I'd been thinking about the Broxtowe Estate for a while, about the sense of anarchy I felt being around there. I was staying with my sister at the time, just outside the estate the other side of Strelley Island, and my bus stop into town was the one I wrote about Kerrie Ann waiting at, more than once. I'd been watching from there; remembering what it was like on the estate and how it had felt to be part of back in the 70s and early 80s. I'd also done an writing exercise in class that had led me right back to the close I used to live on, and to the long hot summer of 76, ladybirds and butterflies. The warehouse party was the last piece of the puzzle.

The next morning, almost everyone from the course was heading to Lowdham for the book festival. I had crashed at one of my Uni mate's houses, and was considering going with them, but I had a strong urge to write that morning and I couldn't ignore it. I left St Ann's and went into town, found the nearest Starbucks, sat down and wrote the first scene of The Killing Jar. Kerrie Ann's voice came to me strong and clear, like possession. In hindsight, I am very glad to have missed that Lowdham and, at the same time, it has given that festival final Saturday a special place in my heart.

Being back there on Saturday and seeing Jon and Ross by the door, walking around town, nipping into The Ship for a quick drink, it brought to mind so many times I'd had in that village. Getting drunk last year with Clare Littleford and her partner after launching the Okinawa Dragon (really quite appropriate for that book, I'd say) and her book, The Quarry, and doing very bad impressions of Goldie Looking Chain. Launches for both The Killing Jar and Starfishing, kindly hosted by Jane at the Bookcase. Good times.

The whole thing made me think about spacetime. It made me wonder; can a place and time be so connected in your mind they almost become the same thing? Because I can't help walking into Lowdham and feeling like I'm walking into various previous chapters of my life, and one of my first novel. It's strange.

It reminded me of a phrase, one I've used a few times in my current work in progress, which has a good deal of action in Pere Lachaise cemetery. 'Someone walked over my grave.' It's a phrase I really like because, for me, it gives a sense of a fourth dimension somehow more fluid and malliable than we usually see it, a dimension that can be traversed in both directions, like the others we know. I love the idea it gives of a future that's connected to now, just like you can draw a line from that bus stop at Broxtowe all the way to Lowdham.

I'm digressing more than slightly so I'll get back to the point. I spent the day at Lowdham wandering between tents and book stalls then, it felt, randomly standing up in one talking about my work and reading from it. It was the kind of day when I can't help but love my job, surrounded by writers and readers and love for books. The quality of the readings and speakers was absolutely excellent. There were several things I was considering missing my own reading to attend. (Don't worry, Ross, I never would have done that...)

I was particularly impressed with a new publisher that has launched in Nottingham. They're called Pewter Rose Press, and have been set up by a previous graduate of the Trent MA. They've produced two books so far, short story collections, beautiful books and, what I've read of them so far, beauiful stories. (Watch this space for a review soon...) I actually published Robbie Dewa, one of the writers, many moons ago when I was editing Pulp Net. I really like her writing so it was very pleasing to see her first short story collection in print.

If you're interested in writing and you haven't been to Lowdham yet, you must. Expecially that final Saturday, when it's free. The only good excuse for not going is if you just have to, really need to, are possessed to and can't ignore the call to write the first couple of pages of your first published book.

Book of numbers

The last week has been a bit of a blast from the past, with return visits to Perry Barr for a NAW student showcase, and to Foyle's in London for the launch of their anthology 'Book of Numbers' , as well as a visit to Lowdham Book Festival, which somehow always reminds me of my own days as a writing student, perhaps because there's always such a strong Trent MA presence there.

More about Lowdham later but, for now, I want to talk about the National Academy of Writing. Last year, the anthology was done quickly, to be produced in time for the showcase in June, and as a result I ended up editing myself but that was never the idea. It was always intended that the students should run with this project, as part of their professional development and to give them editorial experience. I'm pleased to say that, this year, this is exactly what happened.

A small team Nick LeMesurier, Roger Noble and Geoff Mills were the main core, with help from Rena Brannan and Eveline Williams. I had the slightly surreal experience of being edited by one of my students. In the end, this wasn't that strange, because I've always workshopped my own writing with students I've taught and am used to the two way feedback. Some people have called me brave for presenting my work to a class of twenty odd people for comment but my opinion was that it was always a perk of the job. How often do you get the chance to get that much informed reader feedback in one go?

The editorial process was definitely good for me, and for the story, and I'm very pleased with the final version that appears in the book. The student team worked hard and were very professional, and they've produced a lovely book. Normally, I'd review it here, except that doesn't really seem appropriate given that one of the stories is mine. I will recommend it, though. I read it cover to cover yesterday and it is full of goodness.

Book of Numbers is the nth anthology I've had a story in (see what I did there?) but the first for which I wrote the story specially instead of just falling back on the folder I have of stuff I've written in the past. I was inspired to do so, because I found the theme very compelling. It may even have inspired my next novel. This made me think, about themes. We had one for our student anthology and I do think they work well when you are asking for submissions. As part of an audience at Lowdham the other day, in a session on short stories, I was asked what I think about themes. So there you go. You have the answer, Anne. I think it possibly makes more of a difference as a writer, rather than a reader and so for an anthology like this a well chosen theme may lead to improved standard of submissions. (More about Pewter Rose later, a very exciting new local publisher.)

It's so lovely seeing something you've worked on come to fruition. It wasn't always easy, working in Birmingham. The journey was hellish, the university kept changing things and I was pulling up a course and an ethos from thin air, based just on what I thought it should look like, although with lots and lots of help from colleagues, I might add. One of the biggest part of my vision was that the students should take control of a large part of the activities, particularly showcases and publications. This wasn't easy to put in place at all. There was resistance from some of the student body, used to more didactic teaching and controlling tutor influences in their pasts, who felt insecure and wanted more staff input. But, in the end, there were enough individuals ready to run with it and it worked and now it's just the normal run of things at the academy.

This year's showcase, just like many previously, was run by Rena Brannan. As ever, she did a fabulous, professional job. I was very glad to see her effort recognised with one of the course prizes this year. The showcase was perfect in that it was an embodiment of the course, with students reading a selection their own work, and actors performing some of the plays written on the Scripting and Staging module. It was a very special night.

I am very proud of what I achieved in Birmingham but prouder still of what the students have done. It was always their course, and I tried to give it to them.

Kapow!

I went last night to the launch of Kapow! the latest anthology produced by students at Nottingham Trent University. It was in the usual venue, Sillitoe Room at Waterstone's on Bridlesmiths Gate. I've heard so much over the years about Waterstone's not supporting local writers but that is miles from the experience I've had with them in Nottingham. I've always found them very accomodating and extremely helpful. I think last night was particularly hard for them; apparently nine of their staff had been made redundant that day, but they were as welcoming and helpful as ever.

It was a very pleasant evening with some posh horse dewberries, free wine and short, well presented readings. All the things a book launch should be and a good time all round.

My only real disappointment was when I spoke to one of the new writers about his experience of being in print for the first time, and how cool that must be. I mentioned I remembered being there myself, in a similar anthology, not that long ago. I was shocked by the bitter and cynical response I got, a short diatribe on the evils of the publishing industry and how it's hardly worth being a writer at all, the money you can't make from it. I countered this, talking about my experiences working with my publisher and agent, and in the end I stood there sounding like the naive first timer still with stars in her eyes.

This is a line of argument I'm used to hearing, of course, from writers further down the line. It's a really common theme, so common I'm almost bored of it. It came up on a forum I'm a member of recently and I ended up writing such a long post on it that I decided I really ought to blog about it.

I'm going to make a statement. It's controversial and may upset a lot of people, but I also think it's true. There is nothing less attractive than a bitter midlist author.

I know this because on my MA course I had pretty much two years of visits from this kind of writer. Nearly every speaker who came could be fitted into this category, with one or two notable and brilliant exceptions. In a way, it was a good thing. It certainly gave us a realistic view of what 'being a writer' really meant. At the same time, it was about as inspiring as a brick in the face, and six months after the course finished there was only one person left writing.

Maybe because of this education, or perhaps just because I'm generally quite a positive 'can do' kind of person (possibly a little bit sickeningly so) I've always managed to stay feeling pretty good and positive about my writing career. Don't get me wrong; I've had my moments of feeling down, frustrated or confused, but I've made an effort not to let these feelings get to me and I can genuinely say my attitude to being a professional writer has stayed positive.

This is the way I put it on my forum post.

"Although when you look at what Melissa Nathan was earning in the early days it's hardly a good salary or hourly rate. But it really depends on how you look at your writing career as to how you see that. Personally, I don't think you can or should expect a good salary from writing at the beginning. It's not a 'job' per se with an employer and that kind of security. In fact, it's a self-employed business.

If you set up in business selling widgets of some kind, or as a driving instructor (which my sister did and I can tell you is *much* worse) or with a new restaurant and so on, you wouldn't expect to make much money the first few years and you'd probably find yourself doing all the hours god sent to push your business forward. You'd see those years as 'investment' periods. You probably wouldn't take a salary at all from your business for a good while. You certainly wouldn't have a team arranging your product, PR and publicity. Sure, ultimately, you could see it as that these people take a big cut of your profit from the final product too but, then again, without them it would be hard to produce a viable product or get taken seriously at all, because they have the reputation to add legitimacy to what you're doing."

That's the way I see it anyway and it's helped me ward off the bitterness thus far.

Review: The Mother Garden and The Mercy Papers by Robin Romm

These two touching and moving books were yet again gifts from my US editor, to whom I am forever grateful. She works on wonderful books and has excellent taste but, of course, I would say that.

I'm sure you would too if you read these books. The first, The Mother Garden, is a book of short stories with a definite theme. In every story there is a mother and, in each of them, this mother is either dead or dying. The book is a smorgasboard of oxygen tanks and chemotherapy, of lives lived on but with an inevitably massive hole. Most of the stories are firmly planted in the soil of realism, except perhaps 'The Mother Garden' of the title. This slightly surreal piece contains many different mothers brought together and planted in an attempt to fill the hole left by the main character's lost mum.

The entire collection is touching and compelling. I often find short story collections tricky, enough of the stories leaving me cold to make finishing an entire book difficult, but this was definitely an exception. I was compelled to pick it up and continue until I had finished them all. Since, I've found I wanted to buy it for friends, one of the biggest compliments I could give a book, passing it on to people I care about.

It's no surprise then, that reading Romm's bio, you find pretty quickly that she did lose her mother in the recent past. The Mercy Papers is her record of that experience. It's a sad book, so very sad, but it's also incredibly honest, at turns angry, aware and vibrant. It's beautifully written in that clear concise style that seems to be such a mainstay of American publishing. Crafted. Although the subject matter is sad, and it could be depressing, I didn't feel depressed afterwards so much as full of compassion for those who have, are and will go through such things. All of us, then.

I hate to use a cliche but I feel I have to here, about these books, and that is that they are two sides of the same coin. This is an overused turn of phrase, but it does describe perfectly what I felt on reading these two pieces of writing so sod it. Romm documents what I think must be her most life changing experience so far in a memoir, then fiction. In doing so she gives the most complete picture I could ever imagine and that's as much as a writer can ever do. I am full of admiration.

I wrote a story once on this topic which I couldn't help but think of when I read Romm's books. In fact, it was my first pubished piece of fiction. I don't think for a moment it stands up to what Robin Romm has achieved. They say write what you know, and I didn't know this at all, though I could imagine it and have, as we all do, in bad dreams and moments of worry. I can imagine it whole lot better now thanks to Robin Romm's insightful and moving account.

I can't recommend these books highly enough.

Synecdoche, New York

"Millions of people, none of them is an extra. They're all leads in their own story."

I've been trying to blog about this film for days and have variously deleted everything I previously wrote, started from a different angle and realised again that it won't be enough. In the end, I decided this would tell people more about the film, and the dilemmas of its main character Caden Cotard than I ever could. Some people have compared the movie to a mobius strip , but I'd say it was more of a torus, self referential, spinning in on itself, everything the same and yet everything different. A rather abstract way to talk about a movie, I know, but then it's a rather abstract movie.

I thought it was brilliant. Like I did with Mulholland Drive, I know I will buy Synecdoche on DVD and that I will watch it many times, as many times as it takes for me to be able to watch and enjoy the scenes without trying to piece them together. My lovely hubby felt very differently, and I quote 'It was stupid.' The reviews I've read online seem to flick between these two standpoints, some of them expressing both opinions at the same time. Again, that tells you more about the film than I ever could.

Go see it. It's brilliant. It's a little bit stupid too.

Realism in films

I've been thinking a lot about film recently, and watching lots of new films as well as old faves. This is partly because I'm working on the adaptation of The Killing Jar, partly because I finally have the time to focus on film and TV, but a good deal to with a course I'm teaching in Nottingham: Writing a short film. I sometimes feel a bit of a fraud teaching this. I've not got any short films out there. I have written them, though, but inertia and practical issues have meant I've never tried to go further than the writing. I was so focused on being a novelist for so long, especially when I first discovered screenplay, on my MA course. But, to be honest, it does quite suit my style. Very structured, very visual. I enjoy the challenge of having to break my story down and work it out in pictures.

One of the films I've revisited recently is Swordfish. I think this is an interesting movie, not necessarily that great, but definitely one that I find worth studying. The opening is pretty special and probably holds more promise than the movie as a whole plays out. We've got John Travolta talking for several minutes, delivering the well written lines of dialogue the way only he can. He's talking about Hollywood and its lack of realism. He's suggesting ways that seige situations could be more realistically done, with no mercy on the part of the hostage takers and lots of bloodshed. People are sitting around drinking coffee, commenting on what he says. Then bam: span out and we are actually in a seige situation. Travolta follows up his words, well, I won't say how because some readers might not have seen the film. But he does follow up.

It almost feels like the film writer is setting his premise with Travolta's speech. 'This is going to be a realistic Hollywood film'. Of course, as the film continues, it's really not at all, just as stylised as anything you've seen. There's the longest and most unrealistic car chase I've ever seen. And the computer displays are much more visual than any hacker's screen would ever be. Perhaps it's impossible to be realistic in film, no matter how you set out to be. Maybe that's the point. A couple of views and I'm still not sure.

So I thought to myself, what would happen to some Hollywood storylines if the writer did try to inject some of that realism Travolta talks about?

Starting with Swordfish. Well, I reckon it would have taken the Hacker several hours if not days to get into the department of defense computer. He would have drunk coffee while hacking, not wine, but if he had drunk wine then he would have spilled it on the keyboard, turned the thing upside down to try to empty it out, then started typing again only to find the spacebar didn't work and several other keys had to be bashed quite hard, over and over, to get the letter on the screen, at which point they would stick and the computer send out a mad beep as it filled with bbbbbbbbbbbbs.

Fight Club would be a really short film. Jack would go out and get himself beat up once, then realise that it hurt, and he didn't like it, wasn't very good at it, and retreat to his finely Ikead apartment with his tail between his legs.

Pulp Fiction, I don't even know where to start, except that Uma Thurman would have died, John Travolta got shot by the big boss, and Bruce Willis would have won the fight and taken the money.

I'm going away to think of a few more examples and will post them when I do.