Sanctum – don’t leave us Bristol

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Sanctum


20151110_180959The joy of Sanctum is never knowing what’s on – 24 hour performances of art. It’s addictive. On  a wet Tuesday we turned up and were unable to gain entry through the stone arches into the structure. We discovered the joys of the King’s Head with its original panelled snug complete with Victorian gas lamps and hard benches to sit at.

When we gained access to see a band it was the wooden structure built by the Theaster Gates team that overwhelmed us. Built from recycled windows and, large floorboards it resembled an upturned boat or a Cathedral, 20151117_183007and given that we were in the bombed out Temple Church, it seemed appropriate to see the innards of the building on show.  Galvanised bolts, and long struts thrust down into the guts of the structure. The windows leaked water. Inside this intimate space, backlit by recycled windows is a perfect showcase for art performances

It took me less than 5 minutes to decide this one wasn’t for me. But on Saturday night I took a chance and got there early. The queue was ominously long and I waited for an hour or so. I’m good at waiting.

In the queue was a man with blue glitter on his eyelids, a waistcoat the colour of a Turkish cushion. A Performer? I wasn’t disappointed – he was and he didn’t disappoint. Sanctum offers a queueing system at busy time. Once you get in you are stickered and politely asked to leave after a certain time.

20151107_205025The band, Ushti Baba were amazing. I caught a glimpse inside the honey colour wooden Sanctum space. A woman in Turkish style costume swirled shot green silk around her head. She jumped on a wooden box and belly danced. It was a sexy, sweaty, gusty performance from the wonderful Ushti Baba with fiddle, guitar, jazz and gypsy folk notes that made Ushti Babayou glad to be alive. The man with glitter on his eyes in his velvet trousers did not disappoint. Everyone danced and although I was only there for the last two songs I was glad to be alive, picking up on the riotous energy of the performers. What followed was a big brass band, the Presidents of Parp. The tuber player, balding, bearded, pork pie hat moved his 20151107_211407whole frame as he played.

It was a great night.

 

 

 

20151107_204419The following morning I got up at 7 to see the dawn rise over the church. The bombed interior of Temple Church is so poignant. During the November raids on the city in World War Two the ancient church took a direct hit and the faded picture outside with firemen standing ankle deep in ash is a reminder of the trauma. The grey light filtering through Sanctum structure and beyond through the sturdy stone pillars reminded of what was lost and forgotten. So many of my friends weren’t aware of Temple Church’s existence or location.

The music that cold wet morning was plinky plonky, and after the excitement of a 7 am start it left me cold, staring at a bearded youth cross legged on a work bench rocking back and forth and nodding to his computer as he twiddled with the buttons. Synth music isn’t much fun to watch. The music was soothing but like me many people left when the storm clouds and angst noises began to disturb the pace

We were told to come back at 10 for ‘something special’, but were surprised by tea and papers on offer with a group which described this as a meeting similar to the Quakers. I was rather apprehensive that I was in the hands of religious gathering but had to stay as I’d dragged friends and family along. We were asked to read out headlines that made us angry or moved us. A bearded young man facilitating the event read out his headline and encouraged us to speak. After very British silence someone spoke out about the John Lewis Christmas ad, kids being streamed at 8 years old, tax avoidance, refugee crisis, Calais camps and so on. Anger and sadness built in the space and were given space. Suddenly we stopped observing and became contributors.

It seemed fitting to remain quiet for the 11th November remembrance day. Our silence was interrupted by that urban ubiquitous sound of the ambulance siren, all the more poignant for its warning sound of danger.

20151108_105505 Then we had a bit of role play with the organisers pretending to be politicians. What would you say to Theresa May?  In the background some rude guitarists began practising for their next set whilst we wrote our headlines on bits of paper and handed to the organisers. Suddenly flames leapt from the archway outside as our headlines were burnt and the guitarists began strumming angrily. I’d been had. It was all part of the performance and these were not religious or social activists but actors.

I’ve started going after work and pre or post social events. I’ve heard stories – notably a wonderful piece from a woman in North Bristol Writers Group about a homeless man who died in the cold, tricked by a mysterious woman into lying still, and wonderful music. I’ve had the opportunity to listen and experience music I’d never normally come across and have the freedom to leave if I want to or stay if I can. People have told me they’ve cried.

“It’s the randomness of the programming that delights – the ability to be in an audience and listen or to leave if you want. In this way performers find their own audience and the audience find their performers.”

I write short stories and flash fiction and novels and put my name down in a big blue book to see if I could perform. No-one’s called yet, but some writing friends who know my work have given me a 5 minute slot with North Bristol Writers’ Group. I couldn’t be more delighted. It will be a highlight of my year.

Please don’t leave us, spirit of Sanctum.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Redcliffe Future Way Story Walk

As part of Redcliffe Future Way Story Walk, writers were asked to imagine a future Redcliffe: bristolstorytrail.wordpress.com/redcliffe-future-way/.

3 linked short stores of mine about Redcliffe were accepted as part of the trail. The stories are all linked by a sense of smell and this first story takes the point of view of a fox.

You can follow the trail and find the QR trails around the harbourside. (Unless the codes have been taken off – they will gradually fade away……)

STORY 1

Fox stops by the lamp post and sniffs the air on the cool night breeze. He smells man, rancid and sweet from the meat that’s been eaten. Again, he sniffs, nose high; there’s food beginning to turn. He trots to the gates surrounding the flats; too many lights. The pavement is hard on the pads of his paws. The food is in there. He pushes against the gate but there’s no give, no space for digging either. He can’t get in.

Seagulls squabble over-head arching over the harbour. Restaurants and high rise flats block out the stars, the light begins to thin at dawn, he needs to hurry. He turns towards the stink of man’s piss and checks a yellow polystryrene box on the ground. He nudges it and is rewarded with the soft pap of a burger. He hears a rat skitter away, sees a silver scaly tail drape into a hole.

He trots to the back of a building on the water’s edge. Next to a big red box lie some stinking black bags. He rips them open and rummages amongst the stuff to get to the food  – finds a whole cooked chicken. He cracks the bones and gnaws, then pads back to his den in the caves next to The Ostrich. Rich pickings these days.

Grace-Palmer-by-He-Smells-ManJudy Darley and David Rodgers stories also feature on QR codes on objects around Redcliffe.

Judy writes an excellent blog at Sky Light Rain and her description of the trail is here: http://www.skylightrain.com/scattered-stories/

David Rodgers is a sci-fi novelist http://www.davidjrodger.com/ and his work features on the trail too. His latest novel, Oakfield is a taut, creepy and frightening.

Writing a novel Day 1:

Day 1:

I’ve been mulling over this novel for a while. Since finishing the Wish Bone I’ve been missing the irresistible pull of filling the virgin page – discovering what I don’t yet know, and having a novel to work on. Writing is a bit of a compulsion. I need to do it otherwise I feel ‘off’.

So, spurred on by the need to write 3,000 for a couple of competitions and writing course submissions, I’ve started.

I’ve been using, ‘How to write a best seller‘ by Jacq Burns for help with the planning and plotting of the novel before I start to write. I’m also using, ‘Writing without a parachute – the art of freefall,’ by Barbara Turner-Vasselago  which helps turn off my internal critic.

I’ve learned a lot from writing the Wish Bone – my first novel, out with agents at the moment. The main thing is that as Stephen King suggests I’m going to keep the first draft secret to myself, to ‘keep the door closed’ on my writing rather than workshop it endlessly at first draft stage with my writing group. I also think with a scaffold behind me then the words can flow more easily within it.

So, spurred on by this I’m writing possible scenes for the novel on bits of index cards – it’s not linear but a random scattering of ideas, details, character traits. To get in the mood (I am on holiday) I needed to get away from my desk where I normally work and sort out Novel Nights events.

Being a tourist in your own city can be fun. On arriving in Clifton on crutches via taxi I was dismayed to be sharing the @AvonGorgeHotel terrace with Shaun the sheep, and hence lots of children. Luckily my spread of cards kept anyone away from my table and a friendly waitress kept me supplied with food / tea. As the new novel is set in the country a table with a view seemed perfect.

Avon Gorge Hotel

Avon Gorge Hotel

Later that evening I carried on at home, getting myself in the mood with candles in order to take the work seriously.

 

#amwritinganovelDay2

Day 2: The First Page

A day filled with visiting friends, cooking for family. By 5 o’clock I realised that no work was being done. Where was my inspiration of yesterday?

Back at my computer I typed up the first few hundred words from long-hand notes of yesterday. I know I can write but I need to have made some fundamental decisions on who my character is first to get the work flowing.

I love to write by writing, but I’m getting stuck as I don’t know deeply enough on who my character is or who are the people in her life, yet. So tomorrow, must be a day of planning my characters. I think I may invite her to an imaginary cafe for a cup of coffee in her home town. Once I’ve decided where she lives, of course.

 

 

Self worth, honesty and writing

Image

Too often blog posts, facebook and twitter seem to be about projecting an idealised version of oneself. Happy, successful, inspired, creative. This very website began to document a process of my creativity but ended up as a simulacrum of a creative life. Quite simply I don’t know what to say anymore.

With one eye on the possible impression that a visiting agent may get should they wish to publish my novel this blog has become a sterile beast, like a hybrid flower with no sustenance for bees.

Perhaps it’s also my job – I’ve been working in marketing for years  where one has to think about an ‘audience’, creating a message that will resonance to create a plan of communications. It’s all so worthy.

Well it’s stifling me; stopping me wanting to blog for fear of creating the wrong impression. I have of course full-blown imposter syndrome. I used to be convinced that I’d be found out at work – shown up to be the incapable one, the one they shouldn’t have employed

These days the imposter syndrome is fed by the process of being a writer. Every time I receive a rejection it becomes harder to continue. I wonder if I should give up this writing lark that causes so much pain and requires so much effort. Gardening holds none of these dilemmas.

Deep down I know that my self-worth should not be measured by publication. My writing self should be fed by love of the writing. But I don’t want my work just to sit in a draw or on my laptop any longer. Of course I could self-publish, but in my world I want the satisfaction of knowing someone else thinks it’s good enough to be traditionally published. Publication = validation.

These emotional wranglings ignore the root reason I write – because I must – because it’s all I know how to do – because when it flows there is nothing better, and I want to leave something of worth. Also I want to connect with others, as well as myself. But without an audience, what use is writing? Just some self-indulgent compulsion that isolates and takes time from my family. Not being brilliant, not doing it, editing and letting it lie fallow are all reasons for my current unhappiness.

As for blogging, without some emotional honesty, the blog is going to be a pale imitation of art.

This may be self-indulgence, but it feels like it’s important to set down a marker to of where I am in my writing life. I’m not giving up, the only way is to go deeper, and one way of that is to pick off the scab and give my writing dilemmas some air.

Cheltenham-20130311-00192

Meet the author and agent: Young Adult Fiction and publishing

July 16 @ 8:00 pm10:00 pm

The Lansdown, Clifton Bristol

| £5

Chaired by literary agent Ben Illis,  hot-ticket authors Lu Hersey, Eugene Lambert and Stefan Mohamed will be discussing their books, techniques and roads to publication, with a focus on writing for young adults. Also readings by YA authors in the first half of the evening.

Guest speakers

Lu Hersey’s debut novel, DEEP WATER won the 2012 MsLexia Children’s Novel Writing Award, and is published by Usborne. Deep Water has been described as “outstanding” by Malorie Blackman and “excellent” by the Independent.

Stefan Mohamed’s superhero crossover novel, BITTER SIXTEEN, features probably the world’s coolest superhero sidekick – a talking beagle (and die-hard Bogart fan) called Daryl.
Praise for Bitter Sixteen:
“Highly original… clever and funny… I didn’t think the superheroes genre had anywhere left to go. Mohamed convinces otherwise. Daryl and Stanly have one of the greatest buddy relationships I can recall – the rapid fire dialogue between them enviable in its witty ease.” Alex O’Connell, Times
Stefan Mohamed
Stefan Mohamed
Eugene Lambert’s debut, THE SIGN OF ONE, has been described as a “page-turning sci-fi thriller trilogy”, and will publish in Spring 2016, on Egmont’s Electric Monkey list, with books 2 & 3 following 9-12 months apart.
Here’s some pre-publication praise for THE SIGN OF ONE: “Strongly-imagined, rhythmical, clear, strange” David Almond, author of Skellig
“Vivid and action-packed. Stakes are very high” Julia Green, author of Blue Moon
Eugene Lambert

Eugene Lambert

Chaired by Ben Illis, literary agent.  The BIA was established in 2012 by Ben Illis to offer specialist literary representation, focussing on writers of Children’s, Young Adult and crossover fiction and select clients who also write for adults

Tickets £5 on the door. Doors open 7:30

Ask an agent with Kate Johnson

What burning questions have you always wanted to ask a literary agent? Kate Johnson will cover submissions, pitching and more.

Kate Johnson is a literary agent at Wolf Literary Services, based in Bristol and New York. Prior to joining Wolf Literary Services, Kate was an agent and vice president at Georges Borchardt, Inc., for more than eight years. She previously edited and reported at StoryQuarterly, Bookslut.com, New York magazine and elsewhere, and graduated from Northwestern University’s Medill School of Journalism.

Kate is on the hunt for literary fiction, particularly character-driven stories, psychological investigations, modern-day fables, international tales, magical realism, and historical fiction. She likes moral ambiguity and vivid settings, from the Midwest to Moldova, and would love to read a good Southern gothic or Glasgow noir. Nonfiction-wise, she’ll read just about anything about food, feminism, parenting, art, travel and the environment, and she loves working with journalists.

READINGS of the first three pages of their novels by Susan Nott-Bower, Judy Darley, Steph Minns, Nick Edwards and Christie Cluett.

Tickets are £5 on the door . Venue The Lansdown. Starts 8pm

FULL DETAILS 

 

 

Digital Lives and writing

This morning the first thing I did on waking was to grab my phone to check my twitter and facebook feeds. I did not pick up a pen, my journal or the masses of books that I want to read.

On the train to work I, like others, barely register the world outside as we are sucked into the world of the screen on our phones. Outside we pass through the rounded hills around Bath, through Somerset and Wiltshire countryside and can see sunsets, deer, a bird of prey, a flush of blossom, secret lives of travellers and homeless living in shacks and shelters by the railway tracks out of view of everyone else. At first I made a game of it, I tweeted about my journey every day through the frame of the train window:

But, after two years of this journey I barely register, I am sucked into tweeting to others, telling them about the Novel Nights I organise, promoting other writers at the event I’ve organised. Nikesh Shukla’s Meatspace is all about the hold that digital has on our lives, our obsessions and paranoia with being noticed

As a writer it’s all pernicious – we should be creating, not endlessly consuming other content, unless we can use the content creatively, like  http://nationalflashfictionday.co.uk/

On the other hand I still have a sense of wonder that this medium exists where our thoughts and words can be discovered by complete strangers. I’m a child of the 60’s and grew up pre-computer when getting into print had a completely different cache.

cuckooAs always the issue is quality, but, as writers we owe it to ourselves to concentrate on our work, to write, edit, rewrite and then send things out.

Like the cuckoo in the nest we need to protect our own creativity and not mindlessly feed our cuckoo phones.

 

 

 

 

Writing comedy and social media for writers with Nikesh Shukla

Aside

Novel Nights is on April 16th at the Landsdown. 8pm – 10pm. Tickets £5

Guest: Nikesh Shukla

Readings by Hari Ramakrishnan, LE Turner, Maithreyi Nandakuman and AAAbbott

 

Short Stories with Tania Hershman

WHEN: March 19th
WHERE: The Lansdown
Short story writer, Tania Hershmanpoet and teacher, Tania Hershman will be reading and talking about writing short stories. Her latest book is Writing Short Stories: A Writers and Artists Companion (Bloomsbury 2014) which she co-wrote and edited with Courttia Newland.

Tania’s achievements grown year on year. Publications include short story collections: The White Road and Other Stories (Salt 2008), and a collection of very short fiction: My Mother was an Upright Piano (Tangent Press 2012). She curates a fabulous website about UK & Ireland short story activity ShortStops (you’d be mad not to join her mailing list!), and her list of awards and prizes is enough to make you dizzy.

She’s the Royal Literary Fund Writing Fellow in the faculties of science at Bristol University, and is studying for a PhD in Creative Writing at Bath Spa University, and teaches on Arvon courses.

Join Novel Nights for another unmissable event.

We will also be featuring  readings and flash fiction from Bristol-based writers. Confirmed: Ken Elkes, Judy Darley Louise Gethin, Harriet Kline, Freya Morris, Thomas David Parker

See you there Tickets on the door £5