Here's two up-coming literature festivals: Ilkley Literature Festival, between the 1st and 17th October; and the Morley Literature Festival, between the 11th and 17th October. The two towns are within train-catching and bus-catching distance of one another, so if it was your wont, you could watch Will Self in Ilkley and then get the bus to Morley to watch him again. At one or the other of these festivals you can: write poetry with Simon Armitage; hear about Iain M. Banks' new novel from the man himself; hear the best new from emerging writers, courtesy of The Cadaverine magazine at the Ilkley fringe festival; and sing along with John Shuttleworth.
Currently reading
Memoirs of a Geisha Arthur Golden
Agnes Grey Charlotte Bronte
The Shooting Party Anton Chekhov
Short story writer & novelist. K Blundell Trust award-winning Author, Saboteur Award winning editor (Remembering Oluwale), fiction editor at Strix Magazine. Director of the Northern Short Story Festival.
Monday, 13 September 2010
Wednesday, 25 August 2010
Thoughts of the day...
I'm still in the enviable position of having plenty of writing time at the moment. I know it's enviable because I told a writer-friend how much I'm getting done at the moment, and his face turned green and he tried to scratch my eyes out, right there on the pavement, in front of the library. The ensuing injuries explain why I haven't had much time to update this blog lately.... sorry.
This week I have mostly been watching (on ghetto Sky+, also known as "Freeview Plus"; apparently kids these days call that "Pov TV", Pov being short for Povvo or Poverty rather than point of view), a show called In Their Own Words: British Novelists of the 20th Century. This is a series currently being shown on BBC4, about writers of the 20th century. It uses archive footage of interviews with the authors themselves, so you get an eclectic mix of writers from Barbara Cartland to Christopher Isherwood and from Jean Rhys to Robert Graves talking about their own work.
It's a fascinating show, partly in terms of the revelations about attitudes of the times in which writers lived (you see Evelyn Waugh being interviewed by a female journalist in the 60s, find out that he only agreed to do the interview on the specification that he was interviewed by 'a pretty gel', and that off-camera he asked the production crew "When is she going to take her clothes off?") but also about the writers themselves. There's much encouragement to be had in the knowledge that even EM Forster suffered from the writer's gremlin. Even after writing some of the finest novels of the early 20th century, books which were critically acclaimed and massively popular at the time, he didn't consider himself to be a great writer. Of his own capabilities, he said: "I don't consider myself to be a great writer because I have only really managed to get down onto paper 3 types of people: the person I think I am, the people who irritate me, and the people I would like to be. When you get to the really great people, like Tolstoy, you'll find they can get hold of all types." It speaks volumes that even a great writer like EM Forster had crippling doubts about his own self-worth.
So I really recommend this series, even if just for the fact you get to find out Top Facts like that Robert Graves mainly wrote I, Claudius to pay off his mortgage.
Currently reading
One Big Damn Puzzler John Harding
The Language of Others Clare Morrall
Blankets Craig Thompson
Shortcomings Adrian Tomine (FIVE BLOODY STARS, although come on Adrian, stop being such a bastard to your girlfriend).
This week I have mostly been watching (on ghetto Sky+, also known as "Freeview Plus"; apparently kids these days call that "Pov TV", Pov being short for Povvo or Poverty rather than point of view), a show called In Their Own Words: British Novelists of the 20th Century. This is a series currently being shown on BBC4, about writers of the 20th century. It uses archive footage of interviews with the authors themselves, so you get an eclectic mix of writers from Barbara Cartland to Christopher Isherwood and from Jean Rhys to Robert Graves talking about their own work.
It's a fascinating show, partly in terms of the revelations about attitudes of the times in which writers lived (you see Evelyn Waugh being interviewed by a female journalist in the 60s, find out that he only agreed to do the interview on the specification that he was interviewed by 'a pretty gel', and that off-camera he asked the production crew "When is she going to take her clothes off?") but also about the writers themselves. There's much encouragement to be had in the knowledge that even EM Forster suffered from the writer's gremlin. Even after writing some of the finest novels of the early 20th century, books which were critically acclaimed and massively popular at the time, he didn't consider himself to be a great writer. Of his own capabilities, he said: "I don't consider myself to be a great writer because I have only really managed to get down onto paper 3 types of people: the person I think I am, the people who irritate me, and the people I would like to be. When you get to the really great people, like Tolstoy, you'll find they can get hold of all types." It speaks volumes that even a great writer like EM Forster had crippling doubts about his own self-worth.
So I really recommend this series, even if just for the fact you get to find out Top Facts like that Robert Graves mainly wrote I, Claudius to pay off his mortgage.
Currently reading
One Big Damn Puzzler John Harding
The Language of Others Clare Morrall
Blankets Craig Thompson
Shortcomings Adrian Tomine (FIVE BLOODY STARS, although come on Adrian, stop being such a bastard to your girlfriend).
Monday, 16 August 2010
Wednesday, 4 August 2010
Have you got a story to tell?
As part of the first ever National Short Story Week in November, I'm in the process of organising an event that celebrates the short-story teller in all of us. After all, there's nothing the British pub-going public like better than a good old yarn, right?!
This event is loosely themed for "Myths and Legends". (Hence the picture of Thor). But you take this theme as lightly as you like: there's no need to get all studied up on Norse mythology before you come, or to know the name of every single Roman God. You will not be thrown out bodily if your story is not to do with ancient myths. Your story could be to do with a myth from your school-days, a living legend you've met, a legend or myth you yourself have created... the theme is really yours to riff off as you like.
Additional musical accompaniment will be provided.
In addition, (although this, also, is not compulsory), you are welcome to dress up as your favourite myth or legend. Whether you're going for Artemis The Hunter or Peter Beardsley, all costumes will be judged as equal, except for when it comes to prize giving at the end of the night when the winner of the costume competition is revealed.
If you've got a story to tell and you'd like to speak at this event, share it! Please get in touch with me at s dot j dot bradley [at] hotmail DOT com.
You can join the facebook event for "Have you got a story to tell?" here.
Monday, 26 July 2010
Even More Tonto Short Stories
Here is a book called Even More Tonto Short Stories. It features one of my very own short stories, and it comes out on August the 5th. It features not only stories from new writers, but more established ones too. You can buy it off Tonto Books, or you can buy it from Amazon.
As you can imagine, this is very exciting news not just for me, but also for my long-suffering boyfriend who I would like to thank for all his patience and help (like that time when he built me a writing desk in the corner of our living room, using just pieces of wood and his BARE HANDS, and I never used it very much, but did long-suffering boyfriend complain? No he did not. No, I don't know why he puts up with it either). Also I would like to thank Pig Destroyer who likes to 'help' with the typing sometim55555555555555es.
Wednesday, 21 July 2010
Every writer knows the transformative power of books, right? They change the way we see things, open our eyes to others' experiences, and take us away from our own lives. In a spectacularly enlightened move, the state of Texas has also recognised the rehabilitative powers of literature: it is sentencing (GEDDIT?!!) offenders on reading courses, instead of throwing them in prison. The programme is called Changing Lives Through Literature and has reduced reoffending rates from 42% to 19%. Rather predictably, the programme does come in for some stick, but many of those who have attended the programme say it has quite literally changed their lives.
Elsewhere on the internet, Le Rejectionist is running a one-year anniversary uncontest on the theme of What Form Rejection means to me. Fellow bloggers are invited to blog on this topic this Friday, then post a link to their post in Le Rejectionists' comments box. Five specially selected winners will be awarded a mix CD made by Le Rejectionist herself...!
Elsewhere, in real life news: I have a cat to feed, a greenhouse to water, a curry to spice, six Sky+'d episodes of Project Runway to watch, and a novel to write.
Currently reading
The Long Firm Jake Arnott
Scoop Evelyn Waugh
Elsewhere on the internet, Le Rejectionist is running a one-year anniversary uncontest on the theme of What Form Rejection means to me. Fellow bloggers are invited to blog on this topic this Friday, then post a link to their post in Le Rejectionists' comments box. Five specially selected winners will be awarded a mix CD made by Le Rejectionist herself...!
Elsewhere, in real life news: I have a cat to feed, a greenhouse to water, a curry to spice, six Sky+'d episodes of Project Runway to watch, and a novel to write.
Currently reading
The Long Firm Jake Arnott
Scoop Evelyn Waugh
Wednesday, 14 July 2010
Get your pen and your tarpaulin: this patch of grass is now your office
The urge to write can bite any time, like a blood-hungry midge wreaking itchy havoc on a set of campers. For your average writer in the street there's nothing worse than being struck with an idea, and being desperate to realize it - but not having the time or paper to write it down. It's the curse that strikes all writers on a more or less weekly basis. It's part of the reason why all writers pockets are full of scraps of paper, scribbled-upon napkins, bus tickets crammed with microscopic writing, and notebooks. You never know when the ideas are going to hit you: that's the devil of it.
Just like that, the desperation to realize an idea can catch us scribbling away in the strangest of places. Anywhere that has room enough for a notebook and pen becomes the writer's office. I admit, I've done it myself, on occasions where that idea just couldn't float around my head a second longer...
On a train. We're not talking 40's style romanticism here. I was heading away for a rowdy weekend of karaoke and booze-facedness that absolutely wasn't conducive to the Big Project I was planning. Consequence: rattling along with my pen in my hand and the smell of catering-car Croque Monsieur in my nose, making strange marks on the page every time the car jumbled over "the wrong sort of leaves" on the track.
Sitting on a wall outside a community centre, in Hastings. Long-suffering boyfriend enticed me into coming away on one of his working trips. He thought I was going to make myself useful: I thought I was going to work on my novel. About halfway through the day, realizing I was holding his flash stand in a sulky and entirely unsatisfactory manner, LSB snapped: "You're no use at all! Go and get on with your writing and stop making my life a misery!" Result! With no way of getting to a lovely warm coffee shop, I instead plonked myself on the nearest wall, pulled my fleece warm around me, and got to work.
Under a tree. I'd read somewhere that CS Lewis used to do this, and so I thought if I did it it would be well literary. However, instead of producing a series of seven children's books that have endured through the ages, I got grass on my skirt and bird poo on my head. It didn't really work out the way I'd hoped.
I know I cannot be the only one parking my office wherever inspiration strikes....
Just like that, the desperation to realize an idea can catch us scribbling away in the strangest of places. Anywhere that has room enough for a notebook and pen becomes the writer's office. I admit, I've done it myself, on occasions where that idea just couldn't float around my head a second longer...
On a train. We're not talking 40's style romanticism here. I was heading away for a rowdy weekend of karaoke and booze-facedness that absolutely wasn't conducive to the Big Project I was planning. Consequence: rattling along with my pen in my hand and the smell of catering-car Croque Monsieur in my nose, making strange marks on the page every time the car jumbled over "the wrong sort of leaves" on the track.
Sitting on a wall outside a community centre, in Hastings. Long-suffering boyfriend enticed me into coming away on one of his working trips. He thought I was going to make myself useful: I thought I was going to work on my novel. About halfway through the day, realizing I was holding his flash stand in a sulky and entirely unsatisfactory manner, LSB snapped: "You're no use at all! Go and get on with your writing and stop making my life a misery!" Result! With no way of getting to a lovely warm coffee shop, I instead plonked myself on the nearest wall, pulled my fleece warm around me, and got to work.
Under a tree. I'd read somewhere that CS Lewis used to do this, and so I thought if I did it it would be well literary. However, instead of producing a series of seven children's books that have endured through the ages, I got grass on my skirt and bird poo on my head. It didn't really work out the way I'd hoped.
I know I cannot be the only one parking my office wherever inspiration strikes....
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