If you have a moment, I would welcome your thoughts and views.
I’m considering recording some of my work so it’s available to listen to, either on this blog or elsewhere (Apple/Spotify etc).
At this very early stage I’m considering three types of content, so keen to hear your views. I’d probably list these as the three themes I’d consider.
Growing up in the 1980s memoirs and recollections
Suburban poems
Short stories
I’ve added examples of each below and would welcome your thoughts.
80s memoir – Tobacco Tins
Poem – Shaky Bridges (a sonnet)
Short story – Shell
Although, I could combine elements of the three I think it would be better to focus on one angle, at least at a time.
I haven’t committed to this yet. I’m exploring options. However, these recordings have been done swiftly on a mobile phone, so please forgive that the audio quality is basic. I would, of course, use a decent mic and edit if committing further.
The factor I’m considering is really about content choice and indeed if the project might be worthwhile. Do you listen to content or always read from the page?
Thanks for stopping by and I appreciate any views shared.
I have a favour to ask. I don’t want your money, or even much of your time. I’d just like an opinion if you have a few moments to spare.
I’ve been creatively writing for many years (since about 1998 on and off) outside of work. My day job (formerly a journalist and now working in communications) means I write a lot in the day too.
DECIDING WHAT TO DO NEXT
I’ve had some creative success with fiction and short stories but a lot of rejection too. It doesn’t get easier and I’ve had some pretty significant setbacks in 2017 and last year.
I struggle with the longer form (novel-writing) as I’m not a natural plotter. I won a novel-writing competition a few years back but alas it went no further. And it’s hard hitting those word counts at 11pm when you stare at a screen all day.
I’ve had some joy with non-fiction, mainly travel, but opportunities here are so limited and especially when there’s little or no time for research (or travel).
Script-writing (like novels) means a lot of ability, luck and persistence too. And effective networking.
As I’ve got older I’ve realised that enjoying it is what really matters and hopefully connectivity with an audience, rather than coveting the elusive paperback deal or TV slot.
I admire those who can still sit and write for hours after a long day spent staring at a screen. But I don’t think I can do that anymore. I no longer love it or feel compelled to do it. It has to be intermittent bursts of energy for me. I’m like an aging fighter who knows a few tricks but has to work in ten second bursts to catch the audience and judges’ attention.
I prefer to work in miniature too. Not a sprawling epic but a few lines on something that’s caught my eye instead. Perhaps a funny line overheard in a coffee shop or life’s possessions pushed about in a shopping trolley.
I’ve published a wide variety of short stories, poems, non-fiction, novel excerpts and journalism on here since 2010 and many of you have been kind enough to read and comment.
I’d be interested in your views of what has worked and what might work, and your experiences too, if you’d like to comment below.
In short, I want to get the fun back and get some response from the online community for what I write. This is why I’m thinking I might write poems for fun (and perhaps dabble with the immediacy of video and audio again) and the odd short story.
It’s been amusing (and concerning) to see some of the banter or arguments surrounding this heatwave. Some people see it as simply a lot of fuss about nothing, whereas others see it as a sign of things to come.
What is certain is it’s bloody hot and we’re seeing the kind of temperatures in the Midlands we’d expect to see in north Africa, more Western Sahara than West Bromwich you might say.
A majority of scientists believe global warming is impacting our weather systems. However, expert opinion never seems to stop debate!
What is amusing or depressing, depending on your viewpoint , is the arguments taking place around how hot it is and that there’s a lot of fuss. On social media it’s taken on the air of Python’s Four Yorkshiremen sketch, with tales of stoic sufferance throughout 1976. I was suffering in a 100 per cent Terylene romper suit while Shang-a-Lang played on our Grundig stereo. Anyway, I thought the views of a few might make a few lines…..
A few words seemed to gain traction. ‘Yeah, we’ve had hot weather before….we called it summer’ they kept saying.
We Called It Summer
We had a word for it: We called it Summer
They bred us tough in ‘76
The mercury soared but we knew some tricks
The heatwave that lasted for 15 days
Tarmac was melted, commuters were braised
It topped 90, that’s Fahrenheit
None of your Strasbourg, Celsius shite
Eggs cooked on pavements. Rodents that fried
Never, not once, did we take off our ties
We had a word for it: We called it Summer
Our suits were fashioned from Terylene
Tailored for melting while saluting the Queen
It got hotter. They said we’d be toast
We drank vats of tea, made a Sunday roast
Knitted mittens and tugged on pullies
Emptied our wardrobes for winter woollies
School was tropical, especially our class
The windows were made from magnifying glass
‘We call it Summer’ were the lines that I wrote
Sitting there scribbling in my duffel coat
Doors were left open. We played out all night
Camping under a pylon, while flying our kite
We ate nettles and drank sludge from the creek
And then we threw stones at the limping freak
Rains finally came and we swam in the quarry
We ignored the signs. We weren’t sorry
So, don’t come to us with your two days of heat
Your sick notes and closed schools and empty streets
In that legendary year we knew real pain
(And we’ve barely ever mentioned it again)
Your smartphones and Twitter are making you dumber
It’s hot. We got a word for it. We call it Summer.
What do you worry about? It might be work, or fire, or getting to interviews on time. Or it could be food going off or handbrakes being left off, or trains leaving before you get there, or not having the right change to park (yes, there are still cash-only meters).
I wrote a few lines about the things that might keep you awake in the wee hours. Natural Born Worrier.
Natural Born Worrier. I wake up sweating it’s half past four/There’s a creak upon the landing floor/I start another day of worry/There’s things to do I have to hurry/I’ll be stuck in endless traffic jams/I’ll lose my savings in online scams/What if I’m a victim of road rage/Or I’m called to sing upon a stage/ The hob’s on fire, the door’s unlocked/I’ll drop my wallet and the sink is blocked/Doctor, what’s that constant throbbing pain/What platform please for the London train?/My wheelie bin’s not out on time/Statistics say I’ll suffer crime/I’m worrying someone’s come to harm/And I’ll forget the morning clock alarm/I’ll get boxed in and I hate reversing/I’ll be picked for the play and I hate rehearsing/And buying stuff for birthdays, weddings/The wrong toaster, the wrong bedding/I’ll trip headlong in my new sandals/I’ll catch Covid from shop door handles/I’ll fail to parallel park the car/I’ll go and choose that cross-threaded jam jar/I’ll choose the jigsaw with a missing piece/I’ll be late for coffee with Denise/I want black dye, I’ll end up with blue rinse/ I’ll get emails from a Nigerian prince/I’ll transfer dollars and they’ll let him go/He’ll disappear with his Picasso/I’ll forget my name in interview/I’ll catch a train for Brum and I’ll end up in Crewe/The ham is off, but the handbrake’s on/I’ll lose my place, my money’s gone/They tell me I’ve got to sort it out/But if I did what would I worry about?
I’ve written before that about the huge amount of housebuilding going on. We clearly have shortages, but in Stafford the majority of the building takes place on greenfield sites. Hedgerows and trees have been cleared, despite there being an abundance of brownfield, former industrial sites, available across the county.
I wouldn’t want to begrudge anyone a home and I hope the building does something to arrest the ridiculous and escalating cost of housing. However, there are former steelworks and warehouses and factories lying empty right across this county. Perhaps they are just too expensive or toxic to clean up. Perhaps people want to live where Shire horses once trod and farmers ploughed, rather than where factory workers took fag breaks.
It has been observed that these greenfield estates are often named after the things that are uprooted and destroyed to make way for them. A sad triumph of marketing over reality.
The need and desire is often understandable – although the four cars per house and ripping up of turf isn’t – but there is a sadness. And so, Dormouse Street.
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