Lumb Bank Day Four

#fridayflash

Woo hoo! I got a #fridayflash story out of my time here! It’s ever so short (only 41 words) but I love it. I may even enter it for a competition at some point. If you’re curious about #fridayflash read the appropriate section in this post, I don’t have the energy to cut and paste. I blame the wine, which is a very drinkable Rioja.

The morning workshop

I’m not quite sure what it was about. This course seems to have very much gone that way, workshops involve our esteemed tutors wibbling about stuff and giving us useful pointers, then making us do Really Hard exercises that are at the same time Truly Wonderful. The sheep picture Gwendoline gave me this morning was so scary – imagine the sheep on my #fridayflash post blown up to about 30cm tall – it forced 41 well-polished words out of me under threat of terrifying occult ramifications. (did you see what I did there?)

Anyway, I did get some useful bits out of the morning:

• The voice in any piece of writing needs to be accurate and precise, consistent and appropriate for the piece.
• Similes and metaphors need to evoke the correct mood.
• Include something tactile in the first line. This will pull the reader into the story more effectively than anything else.

We did a couple of fantastic exercises. First, we tried to come up with startling and interesting metaphors relating to the scene of an American park in autumn, faded 4th of July bunting still tied around some of the trees. We all addressed different aspects of the scene, and there were some really excellent ideas. The lesson from this was: if you’re trying to liven up a dull piece of description, write down related thoughts and then take the metaphors one step further. I came up with ‘Japanese maples reaching out, trying to escape the bindings of unthinking patriotism’, which wasn’t the best by any means but shows how symbolism and layers can be built into what could be quite a mundane scene.

The second exercise was to write down a list of 20 nouns, pass it to the next person, and come up with metaphors for each noun. Most people really struggled with this. Some managed to do all 20. I didn’t, I have to say.

The final exercise was simply to write a short piece of polished prose inspired by a picture (we all had different ones). This produced the vampire sheep for me, and all sorts of (mainly sinister) weirdnesses from the other people round the table.

The most interesting aspect of these exercises was how distinct our voices were. Even though none of us are published or experienced novelists, we’ve all more or less established our own individual voices already. And certain themes kept cropping up (Chris and his parrot is an obvious example! you had to be there…).

A Drive Through The Desert

I had to read to the group this evening. I dithered for a long time about what to read, and eventually decided on a story about a soldier critically injured in Iraq. I hadn’t looked at it since I last revised it, in May, and I was surprised to find there weren’t too many changes to make. Gwendoline suggested a few more in my tutorial, and now it’s polished into something I’m quite proud of. God alone knows where it came from, mind you. I really have no idea how a lot of my stories get into my head. It’s bizarre.

I’m bizarre. The sooner I accept that, the better.

Evening readings

Well, I’m glad I went first. I didn’t have time to get nervous. Reading was a very strange experience, different to how I imagined it would be. I felt like no-one else was there, that I was reading to myself.

The other readings were excellent, like last night’s, and I can’t wait to read the rest of those where only extracts were read. I need to know what Billy did while he was away, why Miriam was left her father’s money, and how (or indeed if) Leonardo finished the jigsaw. To find out the latter, I’ll need to buy Bridge House Publishing’s anthology Making Changes, as Debz is marketing manager and she very astutely told us we’d have to buy the book to find out how the story ends! Although maybe if I send in a submission for one of their upcoming anthologies she’ll relent and tell me how it ends…

Most people are still drinking and chatting, but I think I’m too tired to join in… it’s been a wonderful evening, and a wonderful week, and I’m sad it’s almost over. Roll on October, when I’m on another Arvon course at Totleigh Barton in Devon 🙂

Group Photo

Group Photo of the Arvon Parrot Fanciers

Read Full Post »

Lumb Bank Day Three

Last Lines

The idea of writing a last line for a story is interesting, and has been roaming round in my head virtually unchecked since Tuesday. Things I’ve come up with so far include:

• He closed his eyes and went to sleep.
• He closed his eyes, but yet again he failed to go to sleep.
• As she watched him go, she realised no-one would miss him.
• ‘We’ll soon put a stop to that,’ said the vicar, smiling benevolently.

As you can see, mostly quite dull, but I do like the last one.

Four levels of conflict

Bill described the ‘four levels of conflict’ to us:

• Two strong protagonists fighting each other. (Achilles & Hector)
• Two or more linked characters with complex shifting relationships, misunderstandings, duplicity. (Othello, Iago, Desdemona.)
• Internal conflict and its external manifestations. (Hamlet)
• Individual vs society. (1984)

I’ve thought of another one since – society vs society – this would typically be war, but might be in a sporting context too. I’m not sure if this is distinct from the four above, but it is a scenario that’s going to have a different effect on the main character(s) of a story.

Changing point of view

The exercise for the morning was to take an existing piece of our own writing and rewrite it from a different point of view, in a different person, or in a different tense. I chose to take the piece I wrote on Tuesday and rewrite it… the effect was fascinating.

So I roll my chair over to talk to him. He hasn’t given me so much as a single opening in the ten months we’ve worked together, and I’m not going to waste this one.

‘Why would you want to jump off the Eiffel Tower?’

He laughs, a savage sound that tries to push me away.

‘Don’t worry, they’ve got security now. It’s much easier to go off the top of a multi-storey car park.’

I can’t work out whether he is winding me up. His face is smooth and his eyes clear as the sky, just the cloud of that short laugh hovering.

‘So you’ve thought a lot about buildings to jump from? Why would you do that?’

His left eyebrow raises slightly, and his fingers drumming on the desk seem desperate to return to the keyboard.

‘I think about a lot of things.’ His eyes rest briefly on the photograph of a girl, sitting alone on his desk. Then he turns his back on me and begins entering data.

So I’m left with an image of him standing at the top of the Eiffel Tower, arms outstretched, in the instant before he pitches forwards.

I wonder if he wants me to stop him.

So you roll your chair over to talk to me. I wish I hadn’t given you that opening. I’ve managed to keep you at a distance for ten months, why did I let it slip today?

‘Why would you want to jump off the Eiffel Tower?’ you say.

That’s so funny it scares me. You recoil when I laugh, it scares you too. The question is so big, there is no sufficient answer.

‘Don’t worry, they’ve got security now. It’s much easier to go off the top of a multi-storey car park.’ Maybe that’ll shut you up.

‘So you’ve thought a lot about buildings to jump from? Why would you do that?’

Again, that infinite question. Why? Why does anyone do anything? Why do you think you might understand? Why do you even want to know? My fingers twitch, tapping out answers on the desk, answers I’m never going to tell you.

‘I think about a lot of things.’ My eyes fall on Annie, who gazes out of her silver frame at me, she knows what you will never know. I’m not going to talk to you any more.

So I return to my work, the blandness of data smothering questions and answers alike. A small part of me stands in the wind at the top of the Eiffel Tower, ready to leap.

I know you want to save me, but I really don’t think you can.

I’m really pleased with this pair of pieces, I don’t think either is particularly special on its own, but together they make something really sad and lonely.

Random thoughts

A few points I got out of the morning workshop:

• Describing a situation from an outsider’s point of view is a good way into a story.
• There is often a clash/conflict between a character’s internal fantasy/perception of life, their interaction with the rest of the world, and the actuality of the world.
• Writing in the second person (vocative) can address the reader or one of the characters (inside or outside the story).
• Writing in the second person can be reflective and relentless.

And finally

My tutorial with Bill was excellent – we got the synopsis for my novel sorted out and I feel like I can go away and write it without worrying too much about whether the story’s good enough.

Cooking tea was great fun. We didn’t think it’d take three hours to get veggie lasagne and raspberry crowdie (without the whisky, unfortunately), but it did, and it involved much Latin cursing, discussion of European ailments, and searching for various kitchen implements.

Half of the group read short pieces after tea in the Barn. I have to say, the standard of writing is absolutely amazing. I’m reading first on Friday… I almost wish I’d signed up for Thursday now and got it over with!

Read Full Post »

Lumb Bank Day Two

All About Character

Most of the first part of the morning workshop left me bewildered and feeling rather inadequate. Gwendoline Riley talked to us about character, then asked us to discuss our favourite characters from literature. Just about everyone started having deep and meaningful conversations about characters from Chekhov, Flaubert, Disraeli, Kerouac, Tolstoy, Nabokov, Tom Wolfe… none of which I’d read. So that was half an hour that was more or less wasted on me. I was glad to discover later that there were a couple of other people who were equally literature-challenged.

Apart from that, I did manage to extract some useful points:

• Moments of instinct illuminate people’s true characters.
• Obsessions are interesting, as are aspects of people’s characters they refuse to change.
• Intermittent reminders to the reader of important physical characteristics are useful.
• Characters talking about other characters can be very illuminating, both about the person talking and the person being talked about.
• Characters will react unpredictably outside their ‘home’ context.

Some photos

I promised some photos, so here they are…

The view from my writing desk

The main house. My bedroom is on the first floor at the far end.

One of the three old mill chimneys in the valley that can be seen from the house.

A couple of the 'writing huts' that are scattered round the grounds.

Earlier bedtime today

It’s just gone 10pm and I’m shattered. It seems to have been a very long day. My tutorial this afternoon was (again) extremely useful, and gave me lots of ideas for the structure of my novel. So I spent a couple of solid hours re-jigging the synopsis before tea, so I can get some feedback from Bill and Gwendoline while I’m here. And I’m down to cook tomorrow so I had to help with the washing up today (that’s how it works), and even with four of us it’s exhausting washing up after 19 people!

Night all…

zzzzzzzz z z z z z

Read Full Post »

Lumb Bank here I come!

Just a quickie. Am off to Lumb Bank for an Arvon course on novel writing shortly. Doubt very much whether I’ll be blogging from there – it sounds like an altogether more serious proposition than Caerleon. I am taking many bottles of Diet Coke to keep me going.

Rebuilding my novel

I’ve had an interesting weekend. Been thinking an awful lot about writing, but not doing very much actual fingers-to-keyboard stuff. Jane Pollard’s course at Caerleon was excellent, and her critique of my synopsis and first chapter was really useful. However, as a result, I’ve realised my novel is a smouldering ruin. My main character is unlikeable (I like her, but there’s no reason why the reader should, she comes across as a whinging miserable cow) and my plot has some serious problems. I’m not quite sure where to start the reconstruction exercise. Hopefully Bill Broady and Gwendoline Riley, the tutors on the Arvon course, will help.

Reading for fun

Just recently I’ve been trying to read Good Uplifting Novels and Short Stories to Make Me Think. It hasn’t worked. All that happens is I switch off, or get too involved in analysing and critiquing what I read to take in the story. Last night I got fed up with reading and re-reading the same page over and over and over again to try and work out what was actually happening in the characters’ lives, so I picked up the first book in L.E.Modesitt’s Recluce fantasy series. This is pure escapism, not brilliantly written but not so awful that I can’t read it, and a thumping good story. I’ve had the first 14 books in the series for over a year now, but haven’t embarked on them because… well, I don’t know why. Newly-acquired literary snobbishness, I suspect.

So, is it OK for a writer to read stuff like this? I don’t intend to write for this market, I don’t think I could. But sometimes I need to switch my head off.

Anyway, that’s about all I’ve got time for. Need to finish packing…

Read Full Post »