Marginalia

This time last week I had no idea that scribbling on books had a name but week three of my poetry challenge ended with Billy Collin's alerting me to the art of Marginalia through his poem of the same name. And with startling synchronicity The Huffington Post ran an article on 22nd January on the same subject.

I am a bit of a book purist and the thought of even dropping a flake of chocolate in the creases of a book brings me out in a clammy sweat.  However the discovery that this is common place, even an art form reminded me of the time when I was thrilled to find scribbling of a superior kind.

It happened when I was researching motivational quotes in Glasgow's majestic Mitchell Library. The only book I could find on Chinese philosopher Lao Tzu, thought to be the founder of Taoism, was in the Edwin Morgan Collection. Edwin Morgan, one of Scotland's greatest poets, died in 2010. At the time of my research he was still alive though very ill.  The books in this collection are kept in some special far away place.  A request form is completed and the precious book is brought to you. Pencil only can be used to take notes and I would hate to think what punishment is delivered if the librarians sniff a whiff of ink. The feeling of being watched is unnerving.

With all the high security I was amazed to find in this edition fine spun pencil marks in the body of the text and margins - questions marks, affirmations and the odd additional wise word. I was being treated to a lecture by two great men.  It could be the marginalia did not belong to Edwin Morgan, it did not matter, he allowed the marks to stand and that was enough for me. I assume they are still there and no one has rubbed them out.

Post script on this subject:  Is there an art form of dead finds in books?

Today I opened a borrowed copy of Oscar Wilde's Lord Arthur Savile's Crime and found on page five pressed across the bottom two lines, a very dried, squashed spider. Being a confirmed arachnophobic I could neither destroy the relic or read the page. It gave a whole new meaning to the term page turner.


 Poetry Challenge Update

My week spent with the poems of Billy Collins was a delightful and rich experience and I have no doubt I will return to his slick brand of philosophy some time soon. Thank you Poem Hunter for providing the free ebook of his poems.

In Week Four of my poetry challenge I will explore poet and poem Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám translated by Edward FitzGerald.   The copy I have is a 1909 (3rd edition) of the first version by FitzGerald and is a great find. It cost me £1.00 in the wonderful chaotic bookstore Voltaire and Rousseau in Otago Lane, Glasgow.  The poem can be read in one sitting but I plan to read it many times this week to absorb the beauty of the language and also to learn a little history of the poem and its many manifestations.

Resolutions of a Transient

At the beginning of every year since I don't know when I have listed goals and resolutions and for the most part I have met those goals.

Because I am a realist I don't list goals of weight loss, alcohol reduction and an increase in fitness - these are ongoing battles for me to win and lose.  My annual goals have been around my writing, learning new skills and my garden.  I never realized until this year that goal setting relied on a certain amount of stability and routine.

2013 will be for me a disruptive year. I will probably be spending about 60% of my time in Paris, returning to Scotland only to meet necessary commitments.  I had already resigned myself to the fact that my vegetable garden would have a fallow year and my greenhouse will be used to store logs.

My whistle playing has all but ceased due to the proximity of my neighbours in the Paris 3rd floor apartment and even when I am at home domestic chores take priority over learning new tunes.

My 2013 resolutions needed to be quiet and portable.

Number one is to finish my ongoing novel project.  This is top priority with a self imposed deadline to finish in the first quarter of the year.  I also want to write a rough draft of another novel in November during National Novel Writing Month. This has worked for me in the past so I am ready to give it another whirl.

My learning goal is obvious - improve my terrible French. I try to do a little each day but it is not easy outside of a class.  If the novel goes to plan I intend to enroll in an Alliance Française crash course in the summer.

But I also want to improve my writing.  Long projects can grind me down,  I fall in a rut, sometimes things need spiced up.  I hit upon an idea to read at least one poem a day and choose a new poet every week.  As an ex accountant the numbers appealed to me. It would add up to more than three hundred and sixty five poems and fifty two new poets by the time the bells bring in 2014.

Where to start?  I was away for New Year so chose my first poet from what was available on my Bookeen book reader.  Poems of the Past and the Present by Thomas Hardy included some war poems and seemed a good opener. Many of the poems made me cry, many I couldn't understand but loved the beauty of their language.  My favorites from this collection were The Colonel's Soliloquy, The Mother Mourns and 'I said to Love'.

I don't intend to review the poems I read but hope that by the end of the year I will have a better understanding of form and can learn from the experience of reading varied poets from many eras.







Because many poets are among my Facebook friends I asked there for recommendations.  I now have a list list of about twenty poets.  The over whelming suggestion was for a poet I already had on my list,  Kathleen Jamie.   Her collection The Overhaul has been awarded the Costa Poetry Award 2012 and my copy arrived just as I was leaving for Paris. I started the book on Monday night and it has been difficult not to gobble this masterpiece up in one sitting. It is a delight.  Every poem has merit but The Gather is my favorite. It is gentle of voice yet strong in character and emotion.

Although this is prescribed reading I know I will return to these collections time and again.  The prescriptive nature is necessary to reign in my flighty nature and open up new worlds to me.

Narrative Know How for Safe Space

One snowy December night in Dunfermline I ran a workshop for the charity Safe Space. As part of a fun raising initiative Safe Space are holding a Write-athon.  Novice writers have signed up to write their chosen distance between September 2012 and March 2013.  The races range from 5K (five thousand words) up to Ultra Marathons (fifty two thousand and six hundred words).

Many of the runners had never written for pleasure before.  My challenge was to come up with a workshop that would give helpful information and a sprinkling of inspiration.  I thought back to when I first started creative writing - the thing I had most trouble grasping was narrative point of view.

After our welcome cup of tea and Tunnock's biscuits we settled down to work.

I wanted to keep it simple so I used two paragraph examples from various pieces of fiction to illustrate different types of narrative and encouraged the participants to seek out the full texts.

First Person. I reintroduced the group of one of the most famous 1st person narratives, the wonderful unreliable narrator Holden Caulfield in that old school text The Catcher in the Rye. One of the drawbacks of using first person is the tendency for the reader to believe the piece is autobiographical. This can be avoided by creating a unique narrative voice.

Second Person. Many of the group had never read the second person.  Although it is widely used in song writing it is less common in fiction.  I used Ali Smith's short story Second Person as the example and everyone in the group agreed that they immediately felt complicit in the story.

Third Person Limited.  For this I used my own novel The Incomers where the reader sits on the shoulder of Ellie, the main character, throughout.  I explained it is possible to use alternating Third Person to allow more freedom.  Many of the group felt this was the point of view they were using

Third Person Omniscient.  This was perhaps the best illustration because I could highlight where the point of view shifted within the paragraphs and how the down side of this point of view could be lack of character depth.   The example I used was from The Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain.

Exercise  I asked the group to choose one of the examples or a paragraph from their own writing and change the point of view.  Many chose the second person, all found that the change was significant.

We still had some time left before the end of the session and the keen bunch demanded another exercise so I handed out a few paragraphs of Barbara Kingsolver's The Lacuna and explained the Epistolary nature of the narration. Not only that, although it is written in first person the point of view is hard to detect.

Exercise  I asked the group to write a paragraph describing how they made their way to the workshop WITHOUT using the words I or me.    They rose to the challenge and even in the cases where it didn't quite work, everyone picked up on what went wrong.

I hope the workshop helped. If nothing else the participants left the session with a few book recommendations and an appreciation of why wide reading is important to a writer.

The Next Big Thing

 I've been tagged in The Next Big Thing by fellow writer David Ebsworth (website: www.davidebsworth.com and main blog on Goodreads  whose first novel, The Jacobites’ Apprentice, was nominated UK Indie Editor’s Choice for the Historical Novel Society Indie Review.

When I was tagged I didn’t know what NBT was about. Is it like a chain letter - if I don’t participate, a curse will come knocking on my door? Or is it a pyramid scheme where only the first tranche find the pot of gold? David described it as a way to reach another audience through blogging.  That is always a plus so I decided I would give it a crack.

I'm instructed by David to tell you all about my next book by answering these questions and then I tag some other authors to talk about their Next Big Thing. So here goes.

What is the working title of your next book?

The working title is The Mongrel.  I don’t know if that will stick. I will need to see how the later drafts develop.  The Mongrel will be the first of a trilogy.  I have a name for the trilogy too but I’m keeping that to myself just yet.

Where did the idea come from for the book?

The story came to me in a feature length, high definition dream. I originally wrote it in short story form but it didn’t work because the theme was too vast. It is set in Scotland, in the future and I had to create a whole new society. The dream became a story, which grew into a novel and is now a trilogy. It wasn’t the type of book I planned to write, but now I am immersed in my new world I am relishing the freedom it has given me.

What genre does your book fall under?

I hate slotting my work into genre, but the publishing world and booksellers demand it.  My last book The Incomers didn’t fit anywhere and was eventually classed as Scottish Literary Fiction.  That would also fit The Mongrel but because it is set in the future I have no doubt it will be labeled Sci-Fi or Futuristic.  I think this is misleading because it is a very political book and imagines a Scottish/European society that could develop if things go unchecked.

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

It’s funny this question is asked.  Early on in the project, to help with the characterizations, I printed off some internet images to fit the characters and pinned them on my study wall.  Only three are famous actors and they are a very youthful, fresh faced Nicole Kidman, Robert Carlyle and Sheila Hancock.  The main character Sorlie’s face is that of a young Scottish actor whose face fits perfectly, but I don’t know his name.

What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

In a world divided into three enemy super-powers and two class systems, a young orphan boy fights to save an underclass from dilution and in doing so discovers his own horrific heritage.  1984 has been and happened – let’s now worry about 2089.

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

My last book The Incomers was published by Fledgling, a small Scottish independent publisher without the aid of an agent. The Incomers was well received and is shortlisted for The Saltire Society First Book Award.  I feel the time might be right to seek an agent to widen the options for The Mongrel, but I may also submit to publishers.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

I used the discipline of National Novel Writing Month to brainstorm the original dream story. By the end of the month I had forty five thousand words written in long hand in two notebooks.  I stuck them in a drawer until I was ready to start another novel. When they resurfaced the first full draft took a year – I am a very slow writer!

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

There are many themes going on in the book so it is hard to pin down similarities with any other books.  I suppose it is a combination of Brave New World (Aldous Huxley), Generation A (Douglas Coupland), Kidnapped (Robert Louis Stevenson) and a terrific non-fiction book about clandestine Naval operation in Shetland during WWII called The Shetland Bus (David Howarth).  Different genres for different reasons.

Who or What inspired you to write this book?

I studied Sociology at University and have always been enraged by inequalities in all societies. After the financial crisis there was lots of talk in this country of "all being in it together and yet the gulf between rich and poor is growing daily.  And despite government spin on environmental targets being met we are continuing to destroy the planet. If things go unchecked we will be in a mess.  For The Mongrel I took the state of the world today and extrapolated (my favorite word) the conditions and created a Scotland in 2089. It is very frightening.

What else about your book might pique the reader's interest?

Although the book sounds grim and all the scenarios I have created are plausible, it is still a hopeful read. I feel the adventure story mixed up with the gritty message will attract readers of all ages. And as in all Shakespearean tragedies, there is a joker in the pack. My joker is called Scud.

Here are some lovely authors I've tagged to tell you about their Next Big Thing …..

Nikki Magennis (http://nikkimagennis.com) is currently working on many projects, novels, short stories and poems.  Her short stories have appeared in over two dozen print anthologies and her first two novels are published by Virgin Black Lace.  She edits FeatherLit, a journal of literary erotica.

Carol Mckay (http://www.carolmckay.co.uk) writes fiction, life writing and some poetry and teaches creative writing.  Her publications include As I lay me down to sleep, a biography co-written with Eileen Munro; Ordinary Domestic: Collected Short Stories and Creative Writing Prompts to Feed the Imagination.  

Uuganaa Purevdori Ramsay 

(http://www.guuye.com http://billybuuz.blogspot.co.uk) was born and grew up in Mongolia. She now lives in Scotland with her husband and children. After she lost her son Billy she started writing a non-fiction book on her childhood in Mongolia and life in Britain. The title of the book is Mongol.

Sue Reid Sexton 

(http://suereidsexton.blogspot.co.uk/  

http://suereidsexton.wix.com/sueweb-2#!) is the author of Mavis's Shoe, a novel about the Clydebank Blitz. She does other stuff too, writes plays, poetry, short stories, more novels, runs workshops and edits other people's work.

Many thanks to David Ebsworth for tagging me. This has been an enriching experience.

Writing in 14e Arrondissement

I am now well into my third trip to Paris since August and my second whilst living in an apartment in the 14e Arrondissemont.

 When I was here in October I set myself small targets. I had only just started writing again after the death of my mum in June and I didn't want to overload myself too soon. In between I have spent time at home in Scotland, but trying to cram two months worth of diary appointments into two weeks proved to be intense. It was a relief to board the Easy Jet flight on Monday and arrive in the rain and to the darkness of the apartment.

 My targets this trip are more ambitious writing wise. I also want to spend one hour a day working on my French. Friends imagine I will be spending my days wandering along the Seine or sitting in cafes sipping absinthe. It's not like that. I spend most of my time here, in the 14e, in the apartment. But I am not short of inspiration.

 In Scotland my house is in the country. The only activities I encounter there day to day are the birds at the feeder and the rabbits scratching around for the last of my vegetable crop. Here in Paris I am surrounded by people and noise and light.

 As I sit writing this blog I can hear the garbage men and women collecting the bottle banks every tenement has. Earlier the street washer truck sloshed down the Rue. The lady in the apartment opposite and one flight down looks like Cathy Bates and sits all night, every night in a large leather chair beneath a map of the world staring at what I guess is the TV. The little girl who lives with her family upstairs has a nightly tantrum and I wonder if it is her dinner or her bath she is objecting to.

 I go for a run round the 14e streets every day and encounter mostly old people, mothers with pushchairs, postmen and homeless. Today a tramp clapped me on up the street. 'ça va, ça va,' he shouted with a grin. He had about a dozen black and orange balloons tied to his shopping cart.

 No, I don't need the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, Montmartre and all the rest to be inspired. I have it all here, in 14e Arrondissement.

Panic Over

In July I Facebooked this article about Paris - the ultimate cure for writers’ block, not knowing I would find myself in Paris in August. No excuses then, I had to put the cure to the test. My first trip was to the Shakespeare and Co Bookshop mentioned in the article. It was a hot and steamy Saturday afternoon; I had been sightseeing all morning and knew the location, on the banks of The Seine, would be busy. I just went for a look-see, I had to see what all the fuss was about.

The cramped bookshop downstairs was packed with browsers and tourists. I felt uncomfortable in the jostling crowd and made my way upstairs. Here I found a scattering of earnest young things in different poses of curled ownership, either reading, writing (Macs on laps) or gazing at some far off spot, no doubt waiting for some inspiration. I found the whole scene hilarious and couldn't wait to get out. This was a shame because it felt like the type of bookshop I could love and had also been given five stars by some friends.

On Monday I had the day to myself. The weather was cooler in the morning but the air told me heat was on its way. I spent the morning in Montparnasse Cemetery in the company of Jean Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir, Samuel Beckett, and Odette. I also enjoyed the presence of some ordinary (live) people who were tending loved ones’ graves. I noticed the grave of a couple who died in Air France flight 447 had fresh flowers. The hum of a leaf blower buzzed in the distance and the slight breeze shook the trees overhead enough to dislodge more autumn foliage. I sat on a bench and wrote a long letter to my friend.

From there I walked towards the river, crunching through the leave filled gutters. The Jardin du Luxembourg is where philosophy students Jean Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir would rendezvous, but I did not discover this until after my visit. This, to me, was a green space where I could sit on one of the park’s many metal chairs and watch. I watched Parisians eating packed lunches, joggers, women with pushchairs and the parkies, in tractors, scoop up loads of leaves and deposit them in a large metal cage. These leaves would eventually turn to mulch to feed the plants. And it was here, at that moment, I took my notebook from my bag and I wrote my first piece of fiction in three months. I was inspired by a pile of leaves. I felt relieved and happy, I could still write – this was the beginning of the end of my block.

From here I wove through the streets, still aiming for the river, and noting the location of all the bookshops on the way. This time Shakespeare and Co was quiet. I made my way upstairs where a solitary girl sat, legs crossed (Mac on lap) and typing furiously while she gazed wistfully through the window at Notre Dame. I found as comfortable a seat as I could in a place where all the seats are ill sprung. Upstairs is exclusively a library of old books so I chose a tattered copy of Voltaire in Love by Nancy Mitford and read two chapters, undisturbed. It was tranquil and special and I could see how some writers find inspiration in these conditions. For me, it wasn't the physical space that allowed me to write although being away from home helped, it was giving myself the space to be alone in a foreign land and to relax for the first time in a long while.