Everything But The Beach By Tom Molloy Phil Griffin adores the man from Wythenshawe Published yesterday afternoon at 5:30 PM. Everything But The Beach by Tom Molloy probably contains more typos, misplaced punctuation, spelling mistakes and poor grammar than all other books published this century put together. And I love it. Everything But The Beach is a short book, 191 pages, including Top 10 Entertainment Venues, 30 Memorable Small Hall Tunes and Top Places to Go and Things to Do & See in Manchester. If I started to pick favourite passages, I swear I would end up quoting the entire book. How can a book so, shall we say, informally written, be anything but a lone monkey’s attempt at Shakespeare? Indeed, how can a book that is, in effect, the partial journal of a middle-aged man from Wythenshawe who takes himself into Manchester a couple of days and nights in the week, drinks various strong ales and lagers, eats pizzas, sees bands most of us have never heard of, nightcaps in Big Hands and takes the 43 night bus home, be especially engaging? Maybe the man himself is engaging? Maybe the man isn’t who he says he is? Maybe the man calling himself Tom Molloy, is in fact work of fiction? If he is who he says he is, then Tom Molloy is Holden Caulfield, out of James Boswell, without the syntax. Manchester is his subject. Fired up by the jibes of Chloe Sevigny and Carlos ‘It has nothing’ Tevez, Tom sets out ‘with an open mind but small budget’ to prove them wrong. He makes a drunken bet to see 50 live events in 12 months. With ‘a thirst for knowledge and strong bitter…sponsored by an unexpected PPI settlement, and driven by a burgeoning mid-life crisis’, he’s on the bus into town. Wythenshawe bus stop We first see him on Wednesday 1 June 2011, ‘sat outside the Deaf Institute on a sunny evening’. He observes fellow gig-goers: ‘the couple at the next table were very muso, she was a lot younger and he was wearing cartoon type socks with Liverpool FC emblazoned on them’. First band up is The Suns, ‘four young lads from Chester, with expensive looking guitars. The lead singer slightly Gary (sic) Garveyish, checking lyrics, from his small notebook. Joyful enthusiastic rockabilly, loads of Hank Marvin riffs, an enjoyable throwback’. Some of the time his concentration wanders: ‘At the side of the stage stood a plainly nervous Alice Gold, long blonde hair, black hold up stockings, tight satin shorts and a white basque, xxx factor. A quick headcount of the crowd as Alice started, 23 of us including the four Chester lads who cheered her wildly. She was superb, passionate about her songs and a fine guitarist. An A+ performance’. And so it goes on, with one or two excursions, up hills in Derbyshire, to the Royal Exchange Theatre, Manchester Art Gallery, on various guided city tours, lead by Jonathan Schofield or Ed Glinert, to watch Lancashire play cricket on a rain swept day on Merseyside. Tom passes on information, enthuses about what he sees, picks out incidents, reports participants. The cumulative effect is of a genial (if one-sided) conversation. Within five pages you know Tom Molloy, within ten you want him to sit next to you on the bus, twenty, you want to buy the man a drink, thirty, you are saying, “Can I come with you to Big Hands? Will that be okay?” Everything But The Beach is a short book, 191 pages, including Top 10 Entertainment Venues, 30 Memorable Small Hall Tunes and Top Places to Go and Things to Do & See in Manchester. If I started to pick favourite passages, I swear I would end up quoting the entire book. Here’s one from an account of Big Deal at the Deaf Institute, Saturday 10 September. ‘A recurring feature of concerts in Manchester seems to be two women stood at the bar talking loudly about shopping. The acoustics at DI are so good, at times the band were listening to the two shoppers. Their mission, how to return a dress to Mango at the Trafford Centre….At the end, outraged of Didsbury, strode over to the two objectors. “Excuse me, did you pay to get in tonight? Because we did…to listen to the band”. The Trafford Centre supporters looked genuinely taken aback, only a muttered “Silly cow” and on they carried. ‘I saw outraged on the way out, convinced she was a teacher or community support officer, I said “Well done, can I ask what you do for a living” “I’m a radio presenter” Really? You think she could have made something up.’ Most women in Tom Molloy’s book are ‘stunners’. Most bands are on the verge of ‘World domination’. His dedicatee is Ruth, who translates most often in the book as ‘The lovely R’. Here is my list of the Five Top Things Everything But The Beach has taught me: Not all good books need correct punctuation. As the years go on Manchester only gets better. Erdinger is not for me. The great contribution that Wythenshawe has made to the culture of the city is that all good Wythenshavians make their way into town as often as possible. It is never too late, nor anything less than admirable, for a gifted man to prove, even in this digital age, that he can publish between covers, a good, entertaining and worthwhile book. Everything But the Beach by Tom Molloy is published by Rossendale Books, price £5.99. It is available to buy on-line at lulu.com Tom will be signing copies at Pop Up Gallery 8, 4 Commercial Street, Knott Mill Manchester M15 4RQ on Thursday 13 December, 6-9pm. Cover image from Tom Molloy, Deaf Institute (top) from Jan Chlebik, Wythenshawe Double-Decker Bus stop from Tom Molloy.

Okay, now that Don Joly's Monster Hunter is out there, I've got to get cracking. How's this for the blurb of The Monster Belt? Jessica Winter lives smack bang in the middle of The Monster Belt, an area between two latitudes where the majority of mythical creatures in the Northern Hemisphere are found. Harris White has seen a monster that escaped The Belt and he's looking to find it again and claim retribution for killing his best friend in the aquamarine water of the Mediterranean. They meet at the annual Crypto Zoology Convention in Hawksmoor, they search for Harris' sea creature from Finland to Formentera and every crevice in Jess's head in between and end up back where the hung first began. The problem is, monsters live closer to home that we think and they take on surprisingly mundane forms. And proof? Everyone knows proof is almost impossible to find.

Grrrraaggghhhhh!!! How come every time I write a novel, have an idea, others do too? Maybe because it's a good idea? Well, this is fact...mine's fiction, The Monster Belt about a Monster, but the line between monsters is huge or small depending which way you look at it. Harris' and Jess's monsters aren't what they see in Canada, Norway, France and Formentera, they're very different and much more deadly. But again, Grrragggghhhh!

Good reading for this time of year...set between Halloween and November 5th... Erosion - 'During her first storm swept night in a run-down chalet park on the North Yorkshire coast, a terrified Lizzie Juniper witnesses a building's collapse into the sea. Unable to save its inhabitants, she watches in horror as an old couple and their teetering home crash into pounding waves hundreds of feet below. The next day, the few remaining residents are given seven days to vacate their chalets yet it seems strange they are in no hurry to leave... Lizzie soon finds out there are worse things than an eroding coastline and that everyone has a choice about their future and when you have nothing left to lose, that choice can be surprisingly liberating. November 5th approaches with a run of unusually warm days. A firework display is poised to ignite, a smuggler's tunnel is reopened and Lizzie discovers no-one is as they at first seem. Erosion is about more than a subsiding cliff face; it is about the disappearance of a way of life and the discovery that people living on the edge can make extraordinary choices.'

Monster Belt - Chapter 20

Monster Belt - Chapter 20 ....Cheeks glowing pink with the breath of dreams, Jess snuggled deeper into her thick sleeping bag and turning her head, hair rustling against cotton, stared into Harris' inert face. he breathed unconsciously loud, like a child with no worries. Any moment, he could open his eyes and then they would gaze directly at each other and that child would be gone and he'd feel the stinging cuts and tender bruises of his fall. But at that moment, he appeared peaceful. Veins stood out on his closed eyelids making them ethereal membranes. His face, flushed with sleep, made his tan more perfect and her fingers twitched to touch his unblemished skin. If only she could soothe away pain, maybe then they'd both be ready to let someone in, someone who looked to the future, not the past.

Monster Belt - Chapter 19

Monster Belt - Chapter 19 ......'How are you getting on with my book?' Harris asked between mouthfuls. Jess, fork poised, didn't immediately answer. She carried it now permanently in her bag, thinking she'd pick it up again and read a bit further, but never did. 'Fine,' she prised a chunk of lamb into her mouth. A group of cyclists, in their sleek fluorescent and black, sped across the square and a rust splattered Orangina sign spun on its access. Faded plastic strips in a doorway flapped then hung still. White dust flurried under silent trees. They ate with little conversation after that, until Harris stretched his legs, leaving Jess to drink coffee as he strode across the square to where the Volvo stood, bonnet raised and boiler suited mechanic peering inside. She pulled 'In the Eye of the Beholder' from her bag, placed it on the table and sipped her coffee again. The old women watched, black eyes vigilant and she flicked over the pages. Harris' meanderings no long puzzled her. If it had been anyone else, she'd have assumed they weren't serious about finding out what had killed Jonty; as it was, she recognised his fear and inability to face it.'

Monster Belt - Chapter 18

Monster Belt - Chapter 18 .....'Come on, swimming first,' he dragged her, splashing, into the water, 'you can put me through my climbing paces later.' 'Are you nuts?' she pulled her hand away. 'It's best at night,' he glanced over his shoulder at her, 'no-one about, so no distractions.' 'I can enjoy the water perfectly well in daytime, thank you, better in fact because I'm not worried about what I can't see swimming about out there,' she held back. She knew she made sense. Darkness hanging over and below held all sorts of shapes and movement that she didn't want to encounter. 'It's too cold,' she stepped backwards, 'Let's go, we can set off early tomorrow if we go to bed now.' That sounded pathetic. It never worked speaking when caught off guard and there he stood, his back to her, refusing to budge. She'd never been in the sea at night before. She'd paddled in the shallows, walking barefoot along a shoreline with lights of a promenade shimmering like jewels, but never been lifted off her feet,drifting into free fall. It somehow felt enticing, floating in darkness, stars sparkling down,where she'd find she belonged to something bigger, the way she did lying on moorland grass listening to grasshoppers and starlings on a summer's day. Here, stretched under the sky, fear might similarly dissipate.

Monster Belt - Chapter 17

Monster Belt - Chapter 17 ......'Not a laugh a minute,' she thought as she followed the waiter to their table. She'd written the story when she was fourteen or fifteen. He'd been twelve when he'd begun his. She hoped his had a happy ending; she didn't want to think about how hers would end. Was it any wonder she wrote of death knowing as she did, cold brittle moorland grass and wet, bone-chilling winter afternoons? A large grey barn of a place could be turned into a prison with a life sentence. What did he know about that or about a teenager stuck in time becoming a dead body buried in ice? No wonder she kept her stories hidden in a box. Remember the mountain top, she reminded herself, remember the purity of those clouds and make sure you shut the fuck up in future.

Monster Belt Chapter 16

Monster Belt - Chapter 16 .....It was the same overpowering feeling of being alive that she had felt on reaching the top of Bi

dean Nam Bian, or straddling Aonach Eagach Ridge. It was that pure,clean achievement of looking across an unstained world and all the danger of those times and places came flooding back.

Monster Belt - Chapter 15 ........'What's a Kraken?' jess controlled her voice from shooting off the Richter scale. 'I wasn't positive they existed. As I told you, you've got to see for yourself, but...' 'I thought it was a giant octopus,' she interrupted. 'No...' 'It had tentacles and looked...' 'Definitely a Kraken,' he stressed, 'Krakens usually live at the bottom of the sea, so when you're out in your boat, all you might think is that you're passing through shallower waters. They very rarely come to the surface but if they do, they can stay there for months, maybe years. That's why moss and lichen grows over them, sometimes small bushes.' 'Harris, that was so dangerous. We could have drowned.' She didn't need a crypto zoologist lesson when he needed a crack over the head. He turned the wheel. 'It was irresponsible,' she muttered. 'Shut the door, would you?' She yanked it closed. 'I'm sorry,' he didn't look in her direction, 'but you know when you start to lose faith?' She grabbed hold of the counter. She wanted much more than a flippant apology without even the courtesy of his attention. And he wasn't supposed to have faith never mind lost it, he was a scientist. She was the one who had faith, putting her faith in this crazy trip.

The NHS

The NHS. I swing between how great they've been, to have one word or small action by an individual can tear all that down. What strikes me most is the vulnerability of the patient. How they rely on the kindness, patience and vigilance of the nurses on duty. Of information being passed on and acted on. It's scary on many levels, and one of those levels is unsure whether to insist on something being done and then leaving your loved one vulnerable to retribution, which in its lightest form, is neglect. The lightest form. Not sleeping now, worrying about my mother. Going to phone this morning and hopefully sound rational.

Monster Belt - Chapter 14

Monster Belt - Chapter 14 Harris pushed an old rowing boat away from the jetty, before slotting the oar he had used into its cradle and with long, sweeping strokes, brought them into open water. Opposite, fair-haired Sonja languished, one hand trailing. Held outside the pages, curled in her seat in the ferry lounge as if banished to the shore, Jess read on. Soon, wind off the lake chilled. Her eyes raced along the sentences and without knowing exactly when it happened, she sat in the boat with them, clenching her hands into fists around his, rowing forwards and back, reaching as far as she could in front and then pulling against him. Forward and back, stretching out then curving their spines, his breath warm on her neck and the tall woman opposite, unflinching in her seat. Jess would do all she could to remain between them, keeping Harris safe from whatever this woman threatened and within no time, she pulled him with her, taking control, forwards and back, muscles tensed then relaxed, feeling the movement in the other, staring directly into Sonja's deadened eyes.

Monster Belt - Chapter 12

'The drive to Hamar on Lake Mjosa took two hours,' he wrote, 'with the heater on full, the car soon warmed up.' She took off her cardigan, pictured the car as he described, crates, bags and cases in the boot, a box behind his seat. Music. As he drove off the Danish ferry when it reached Finland, evening sunshine illuminated low fields darkening as the sun set until only grass verges showed in the headlights' spill. Half tempted to snap the book closed, she noticed the elder boy from earlier watching. Damn it, she thought, where's his parents? She looked back at the book. Words began to merge through the long journey and her head, in the quiet of his vehicle, began to nod. 'Shit.' He slammed on the brakes and dazed, she looked up. Static in the beam of the headlights stood a woman staring directly at them. Harris released his seatbelt, clambered out and strode towards the blond haired woman. 'Are you all right?' he put out his hand. The woman didn't speak. Harris gestured to the car and stumbling ahead in his haste, opened the rear door. She doesn't speak English, you daft sod, Jess thought.

TWITTER

JUST OPENED A TWITTER ACCOUNT AND TWEETED MY FIRST TWEET. Strange experience. Yet another distraction from writing, but necessary I'm told. So. Ruth Estevez@RuthEstevez2 has joined the millions.

Monster Belt - Chapter 11 Back on deck, in a sheltered corner, he zipped up his fleece and stretched out on a sun-lounger, remembering her expression when she'd slapped the slim school exercise book with its flower stickers and teenage girl's doodles into his hand. 'Read it then,' she'd challenged, only he hadn't. Not then. He recalled how she'd picked it up hastily from the sofa or table, he'd forgotten which and how she looked embarrassed and he'd made a joke about packing up her entire room, curtains and all and she'd blushed. He thought it a teenage girl's diary. He hadn't known her very well back then. Back then, he had merely a gut feeling that he wanted to know her better. Not in the habit of delving into people's personal lives, he didn't look up profiles and distrusted rooting around in scribbled down emotions, so had pushed the bright, flimsy book into a space between boxes in the boot of the car. Since then however, he'd come to realise that she hid something that bothered her deeply and now they were on the boat and the purpose of their trip about to start in earnest, he didn't want any surprises. She'd told him to read it; she must want someone to know.

Monster Belt - Chapter Ten .........'We were in the science lab,' she hoped her story would make him open up, 'I sat on the second row from the back. Mr. Newman stood on the platform at the front showing us how to take a blood sample. He pricked his thumb and smeared blood onto a slide. One minute I was watching and the next, dangling from my stool. Martin Rose sat behind me, shouted out that I'd fainted and tried to lift me back up but I was a dead weight so I slipped through his arms. People kept telling me about it afterwards,' she built momentum, 'I banged my chin on the desk and the back of my head on the floor. I remember that. When I opened my eyes, I was staring at Mr. Newman's grey beard. Scary.' A small laugh. 'He said I didn't have to do the test,' she paused now, conscious she'd been rattling on and he stared, so slowing down, 'that's the last time we saw him. When he looked at his blood under the microscope,' suddenly, she felt breathless and the words came out stunted, 'he couldn't find any white blood cells, so went to see his Doctor. I can't remember who told us, but he had leukaemia and died about three months later. I suppose I'm telling you this so you know I can't stand the sight of blood.' You idiot, she thought, boring, boring idiot, boring him with stuff and sounding so shallow. He didn't say anything. She'd spoken about death when that was already foremost in his mind. She'd made him think of Jonty. She always rambled and people went quiet and she knew she'd said too much but she couldn't tell him that she was sick of people dying; that at twenty-one she'd already had a lifetime of dead relatives and old people her mum had known and got her to care about.

Monster Belt - Chapter Nine .......She was learning how to gauge him, but one chapter barely scratched the surface; she needed more. She could already see their differences, being brought up in a bone achingly cold moorland village turned you inwards, whilst he, growing up on a white sanded, skin bronzing island, exposed every shade of emotion. 'I don't believe in the Mere Monster,' she said, 'I'm sorry, I know you do, but you didn't grow up in Hawksmoor and everyone there knows it's a myth.' 'Why are you here, then?' he refastened his bag. 'I need to earn some money.' His silence spoke volumes. He didn't like talking about money and she'd mentioned it twice now; about how he funded his travels and now her own state of affairs. She didn't know why you shouldn't talk about it but she knew people didn't like it and that made her awkward. 'What about the monster in here?' Harris reached over and gently touched her forehead. She jumped as if she'd had an electric shock.

Monster Belt - Chapter 8 Part of the way in..... ‘You’ve got to explain this Monster Belt to me,’ she said, ‘it doesn’t make sense.’ He turned his head, his expression serene. ‘It must be massive,’ she continued, ‘how on earth do you expect to find anything on it, in it, how do you say it?’ He smiled and suddenly helooked tired. She kept forgetting that it didn’t work to treat other people as if they thought and felt the same when they were overwhelmed by their own needs. ‘It’s okay,’ she added, ‘you can tell me another time.’ ‘It’s the area between two latitudes,’ he said as if she hadn’t spoken again, ‘Research shows that it’s where most monsters in the northern hemisphere are reported to be found.’ ‘Who says this?’ said Jess, ‘there are monsters everywhere, not clustered together as if certain countries have a monopoly.’ She stopped. That was something she never admitted aloud. ‘Of course they’re everywhere,’ he said, as though it were evident, ‘the clincher is why more people see them in these latitudes than others.’ She thought for a moment. It should be obvious, some people went looking and others didn’t. Some actively searched for monsters while others stayed where they were, keeping busy so they didn’t see anything they didn’t want to see. Some sought creatures out, some closed their eyes, but that should make an average over the world, even things out in every country, make sightings a level figure whichever latitude you lived on. But she did know why. She knew that the majority followed the crowd and the crowd stuck to the main path; the path carrying coffins across moors, the grassy track leading to the Mere when there must be other lakes, camp sites by Loch Ness and treks in the Himalayas. Only if that was the case then why did she see monsters even when she didn’t venture anywhere?

Monster Belt, Chapter 7

Monster Belt - Chapter 7 When her Dad turned off the Hoover and looked at her with his dog -brown eyes, she almostt changed her mind. Standing in the doorway between the hall and living room, she yearned to stretch out her arms, press her palms against the door frame and stop herself from going in and hugging him because if she did go in and feel his warm, safe embrace, she definitely wouldn't leave. He'd dropped her off at her first teenage party and said he liked her eye shadow and the unexpectedness of the comment made her love him more. He stuck up for her when her mother stuck up for everyone else. He did silly dances for their entertainment.

From today, all I can think about is how kindness is important. So many people are vulnerable and reliant on that. It's difficult when we're busy and tired and thinking about all the things we have to do, but really, when it comes down to it, looking after each other is one of the most important things we can do.ou're there, the more the cracks show.

Monster Belt - Chapter Six It didn't seem to apply to buildings. They towered out of the ground, blocking your view even when you closed your eyes. She stood in front of the over tall, over wide doors of the Bunkhouse Hotel. She'd been annoyed that Harris wanted to meet there. 'You know it well, don't you?' he'd said, 'we can have a coffee, I'll have a look at the building, all the restoration stuff and then you can show me your precious moors.' She couldn't remember using the term precious. It wasn't a word she used. That must be him taking the Mickey again, ever so slightly, but doing it just the same. Her dad called it 'Extracting the Michael.' She wondered if he'd understand that.

My stars today, from Numerology: September 28th 2012 Question the hell out of your life. If you don't, no one else will. Keep in mind that continuing to operate due to fear is the biggest pansy excuse that exists! Once you've done that, this day is giving you the added strength and conviction to do what you know you need to. I didn't think, at the moment, I'm operating from fear. Just getting on with what needs to be done. But, I don't think enough about what I want from life in any definite plan way. I do know what I want, haven't worked out how to get there, that's all.

Monster Belt - Chapter Five Jess pictured how police divers would hold the long, dark shape of an abnormally large trout above their heads when they resurfaced, the fish's skin gleaming in bright sunshine, dripping water and making rainbows. She could hear the crowd's disappointment and flurry of nervous anticipation as they realised there had been no mysterious Mere Monster, only another explainable human tragedy. They'd wait for the drowned boy's body to be brought up, but only Jane knew there would be no resulting half-naked corpse. On the bed of the small lake, lying at the entrance to a cave, Jordan King's body would tap to be let in so that it could escape the mayhem of grief and drift down to the sea.

The NHS

Oh and the NHS are on target etc etc? Yesterday, visiting Mum in Wythenshawe Hospital, short of staff on the ward as usual, one male patient escaped. As one nurse said, we've better things to do than go running all over the hospital. Turned out he fell, covered in blood, went home, police called (don't they have better things to do?) and he was back in A&E. And the patient probably was disorientated, so may not have been totally compus mentus, just guessing. And then the patient in the next bed to mum, with a catheter, smeared her excrement all over herself, so two nurses, I'd only seen three on the ward, had to completely wash her down and change the bed and this wasn't the first time, as the escapee wasn't the first time either, and the evening meal was about to be served. As the male nurse said, 'It's not fair on the patients and it's not fair on us.' So. The NHS are on track are they?

Monster Belt. Chapter Four ....the warm, early afternoon sunshine felt good on her skin, with the added bonus that outside, she could give him the tour, shake hands and soberly say goodbye, farewell, hopefully won't see you next year. But as she walked along the pavement with Harris at her side, she felt again the bewilderment that had almost drowned her the previous evening; that's why she'd agreed to the drink yesterday and the walk today; she had always been searching for someone with a monster of their own.

Monster Belt - Chapter Three Jess bought a copy of his book. Claire looked at her in disbelief, but she didn't respond, sitting instead on one of the many vacated seats as people milled about. Lifting the slim volume closer to her face, she inhaled an aroma that reminded her vaguely of sawdust and resin and a wooden beamed building cradled into the valley below The Mere. In that vast, newly renovated Bunkhouse, she'd seen an un-noticed drop of sap, trapped immortal on the wall, hanging with neglect. Immediately, she was transported back to how the Bunkhouse used to be with its grey wooden sleeping platforms looking as worthless as a stack of empty bread trays in a disused bakery.

Monster Belt - Chapter Two The sun dipped low over the hill, sending its lingering beam through the long village hall windows. In its warm terracotta glow, a mixed group of Crypto zoologists, journalists and local residents crowded inside the old stone building with its wide open doors attempting to catch the breeze. Jess sat on one of the chairs on the back row at the rear of the hall, next to her best friend. 'I can't see,' Claire strained her neck. 'Let's stand over there.' Jess pointed. Giving up their chairs, they leant against the wall near the exit for the toilets. On a platform, at the front of the room, a panel of two sat behind a long desk. 'We've heard it all before,' Jess yawned, looking through the doorway at the freshly cut grass that sloped down to the long line of parked vehicles. 'Don't even think of leaving,' ordered Claire, 'This could be just the place to meet Mr. Right.' Jess mentally whisked through everyone she had ever dated and deduced there was no such thing as Mr. Right.

Monster Belt - Chapter One The village of Hawksmoor overlooked a stretch of green water called The Mere. As a child, Jess Swift had been indoctrinated about the legendary creature that supposedly lurked in its hazy depths, but she didn't believe it existed. Now grown up, she still liked to sit on the hill and gaze down on the small lake as she had done as a teenager. Only now, she made sure she never looked past it, down the sloping fields to the hollow of ground with the large barn-like hotel at its centre.

Holding Back

Many of my main characters are emotionally stunted. Does this mean I am? It's that 'holding back' thing that keeps cropping up. How to stop holding back? Will talking to a counsellor help? Will Biodanza help? I think I'll go with the latter, but then as someone pointed out, okay, physical activities, dance etc, may release something on the outside, but you also need to talk about this. It's the 'not talking' that's the problem. Whatever it is, it keeps cropping up and needs facing/sorting/resolving.

Zadie Smith's Ten Rules of Writing

http://www.brainpickings.org/index.php/2012/09/19/zadie-smith-10-rules-of-writing/

Not getting a great deal of writing done at the moment. But then, little Eureka moments keep happening and those are to be thanked. Monster Belt is coming together. I'm making tutus, not the Royal Ballet type, but colourful costume type ones, making little flowers for Juba tops and have ideas and fabric and desires for fabric...time, time, let me be a better manager of time and also have more of it for these things.

Titles again

So, Monster Belt...title. Weaving the Belt is one I'm playing with. Monster Belt has too many suggestions of fantasy and the book will be disappointing to people who are looking for that and find this is about something different. And what is The Belt? That area between two latitudes in the northern hemisphere where the majority of mythical creatures are found. But what is mythical and what is real? Do myths grow from truths? Will Harris find what he is looking for in The Belt and will Jess be able to confront what she knows is there because she saw it years ago? Much, to do, but the book is complete. Going back now, editing, re-writing. And time.

Juba do Leao at Solfest, 2012

Monster Belt - Chapter 40

Harris’ fists tingled to hit something or somebody. He’d never had this feeling before and it shocked him. He’d seen violence on the island, kids treated roughly as if they didn’t have a right to be upset. ‘You’re so lucky,’ they were told, ‘living in paradise, no school as such, no rules. You can do what you want. Kids at home would give their right arm for such freedom.’ He’d always thought that odd. That adults still called the UK home. It made the kids on Formentera feel as if they’d been adopted and didn’t belong to anyone or to anywhere. Jonty hadn’t cared. ‘Fuck ‘em,’ he’d said. That’s why they spent so much time at sea.

29th of August 1991

And looking back a little further. My dad died three months before Genevieve was born. Genevieve will be twenty-one in December. I wish both she and Miranda had known him. He loved playing with young ones, talking to teenagers, relating to young people. He loved playing his music and dancing to The Village People and performing his 'set pieces.' He used to lie on the floor and balance us on his hands, on his chest, when we were little and say we were up there with the 'crowned heads of Europe' and I hadn't a clue what he was on about. And he'd chase us up the stairs to bed with us shrieking!!! He's buried just off the moors in Haworth in Yorkshire with a view across the valley. I expect my sister and mum are up there today.

Thursday, this time last year

I lot has happened over the last year. This day last year, it felt as if I'd been kicked in the stomach and shoved into an abyss and left alone without a rope to climb out. Friends came to help, but it's one of those climbs that only has space for one. First month, I cried. Then I turned fifty. Friends and family thought my state was all down to the menopause. It was suggested I see a councillor. My personality was questioned. I started to climb. Fell. Sat. Lay down. Never wanted to get up as I began to prefer the darkness to the patch of light at the top. Then family and friends' calling was too much to resist. Felt strong again. Then in December, that tingle of the opportunity of another way of living again. That tingle I'd felt after The Tribe of Doris when a simpler, gentler, more encompassing, rewarding, more natural way of life seemed possible. When that hope of achieving that seemed snatched away, I crumbled, but I now knew I was growing stronger again. Yes, the menopause played a part. I know that now. I knew it at the time, but didn't admit it openly. Early 2012, my periods stopped. Fantastic. I didn't think so at first. I thought, my bones will grow brittle, I'll put on a ton of weight, I won't be able to dance the same, my skin will dry up. It hasn't. It will at some point, but that doesn't matter so much. It's August now. A year on. No periods since early this year and I feel emotionally strong again. And I feel that, without worrying about it, without planning, or looking or even not looking, life will take care of things. I can have that simpler life, not yet, but it is possible. And anyway, I do actually like a great deal, a very great deal of my life now.

Continuing inspiration

The Eiger: The Fatal Attraction which was on BBC 4 'If Everest is the ultimate mountain, the North Face of the Eiger is the Alpine climber's ultimate challenge. More than 60 climbers have perished attempting to scale what amounts to a vertical mile of stone and ice haunted by howling winds and falling rocks. If the weather is clear, it's all on view to spectators on the terraces of Grindelwald. But there's an awful aura of defeat and death that surrounds the face. Here's a straightforward history (first shown two years ago) of the repeated attempts to scale the murderous face. It unfolds in parallel with the story of an attempt by two British mountain guides, Kenton Cool and Neil Brodie. As with all mountain tales, it's utterly gripping (Geoff Ellis) I see programmes like this and it brings back the buzz I felt when climbing and also the knowledge that once you lose your nerve, it is difficult to get it back. Not impossible, but not easy.

Wednesday, this time, last year

Wednesday, this time last year, I was riding high after the most enriching, soul nurturing, fun, greatest festival I've ever been to, The Tribe of Doris. The days following, I floated on clouds, contemplating what I really wanted for the future and how it would be possible to make those ideas happen. Such a wonderful Wednesday.

Wow. Some time since I've written here. I seem to be updating on Facebook and commenting there...the Glencoe photographs were interesting. Did we climb there? How did we survive?! Anyway, it's helped. Helped the story of Monster Belt, so that's good. And what else? So much with Juba do Leao. We're performing at Solfest in the Lake District this weekend. Fab stuff.

I was given a disc with some photographs of a climbing trip to Glencoe today. I was fifteen. I am now fifty. This is the first time I have been nervous of looking at photographs. Here we go...

The Sea, The Sea and the thoughts and feelings it leads to.

Reminder: Adrian Slatcher is running this workshop with Fat Roland and Ruth Estevez today at city library http://manchesterlitlist.blogspot.co.uk/2012/07/writers-city-library-self-publish-and.html Manchester Lit List: Writers @ City Library. Self Publish and be Damned - Routes into Publishing 20 manchesterlitlist.blogspot.com The Manchester Library and Information Service blog, featuring books, online resources and events of interest to Manchester's readers.

Titles

So odd. Talking to my sister on the phone yesterday and she said she'd met up with a teacher from our old school who used to take groups of us on climbing trips. He'd found old photos and had put them on a disc. Along with two trips my sister had been on, there was one I'd been on. This is the trip that I'm delving into to use in Monster Belt that I'm currently writing. It'll be so useful to see these photos. Odd. And thinking of a new title as well. The Monster Belt has too many connotations which give people an idea of the book that isn't quite right. What about The Twisted Belt? The Woven Belt? Something more on those lines is more fitting. Can't wait to see these photos!!!

What do you do when you think that finally, finally, you are strong and you've regained your equilibrium and humour and ability to cope and then, out of the blue, you're knocked sideways again and that blackness is there and you just want to slip into it?

Looked at Camper Vans today...

Writers' doubts

Dreamt last night that everyone in the Writers' group I attend said they didn't feel any emotion in my work. Why did I dream this? Is it comments that people, not writing group people, have said in the past? Someone said they thought Meeting Coty detached, someone else said, that's nonsense. Am I detached? Do I avoid emotion in real life and the dream is telling me this? Insecurities...all Creatives have that and we must work through it, having faith, working on, developing our craft so that all we want to come across does. Maybe I'm being too subtle in my writing. I don't want to sledge hammer people with what my characters are feeling. Maybe I am still writing a novel too much like a film script and showing emotions through people's actions rather than words. But I like this way. I want my readers to see the characters moving around, doing whatever they're doing and maybe having to guess at their emotions, with a heavy hint from the actions and the way they speak. It's what people don't say that intrigues me. And deeper themes are for those who see them, and for those that don't, there is the story. But is my dream telling me it's not working?

Junk Jam yesterday. Crowds..Antici-pation...beaters and barrels and wooden keyboard and tubes..anticipa-tion. The Beasts arrived flood-lit in sunshine, they picked up their barrels and tubes and microphones and beaters and began to sway. Bam! And again and the speed and noise picked up and then white clad brightly decorated dancers swayed and swirled and disappeared and reappeared with smiles and vigour and energy. And the Beasts played on and the singers sang, horns of tubing blared. Great, great performance. To all involved - brilliant. XXX Photograph by Genevieve

Adrian Slatcher is running a session on "self" and "small press" publishing for writers on 25th July at City Library - more information soon - but he'll be having Q&A with Fat Roland and Ruth Estevez http://www.manchester.gov.uk/events/event/2475/ - free and tell your friends! Events - Manchester City Council www.manchester.gov.uk Manchester City Councils events calendar for whats on where and when in the local area Events - Manchester City Council www.manchester.gov.uk Manchester City Councils events calendar for whats on where and when in the local area

EROSION - NOW OUT IN PAPERBACK AS WELL AS ON KINDLE.

During her first storm swept night in a run-down chalet park on the North Yorkshire coast, a terrified Lizzie Juniper witnesses a building's collapse into the sea. Unable to save its inhabitants, she watches in horror as an old couple and their teetering home crash into pounding waves hundreds of feet below. The next day, the few remaining residents are given seven days to vacate their chalets yet it seems strange they are in no hurry to leave... Lizzie soon finds out there are worse things than an eroding coastline and that everyone has a choice about their future and when you have nothing left to lose, that choice can be surprisingly liberating. November 5th approaches with a run of unusually warm days. A firework display is poised to ignite, a smuggler's tunnel is reopened and Lizzie discovers no-one is as they at first seem. Erosion is about more than a subsiding cliff face; it is about the disappearance of a way of life and the discovery that people living on the edge can make extraordinary choices.

Drum Camp 2012

Drum Camp tomorrow!!!! beats and stamps and swishes and swirls and stretches and sways and sashays and heel stamping and skirt flicking and hair tossing and arm stroking air and jumping and leaping and singing and sharing and sitting and lying and gazing and sharing and eating and listening and gazing and staring and wowing and wooing and loving and caring and arriving tomorrow!!!! XXXXXXXXX See you there!

Ages ago, I tore out the column A Beautiful Mind by Francesca Hornak from one of the Sunday Times supplements. It was about following our instincts. To quote the article: " Caught in a dilemma, it's easy to turn to a pros and cons list, as you try to think your way to an answer. But perhaps there is a better way. 'Often the brain is telling us to 'do this, do that,' but we'd do better to tune into our emotions,' says the life coach Susie Pearl. 'Imagine you're in a meeting and you get a gut feeling about someone that you don't trust them. But you ignore it and think, 'I'm being silly.' Don't ignore it. Your instincts give you the most acute version of what's going on in your life and what will lead you to be happy.' Pearl believes that we could pre-empt many future regrets if we acted on our intuition and behaved 'irrationally' rather than obeying our rational mind. The trouble is, many of us are so used to suppressing our emotions that we are deaf to our instincts. 'If you've lost it - just practise stopping the chat in your head and notice how you feel instead,' Pearl says, 'Meditation or just sitting still and daydreaming are great ways to tune back into your intuition. And the next time you're in a quandary, if you find you're inclined one way or the other, listen and act on it. Your emotions are your best GPS.' (Instructions for Happiness and Success by Susie Pearl. happinessandsuccess.org)

This was taken at Doris last year. It was the last Doris Festival, so this year we're going to Drum Camp at the beginning of July. Cannot wait to walk and dance barefoot on grass, hear drums morning until late at night, dance, hear singing - I might, just might have a go...learn new things, take chances, so yes, will sing! And listen and watch other musicians and dancers. SO EXCITED!!!

More of the business and less of the writing

Well, the contract with Lightning Source has gone through, I've registered Erosion with them. Then went to create the book cover. Was sent the template, but haven't a clue how to make my design to fit and how to put it on the template. I have a jpeg of the cover design. Other companies had a much easier option. The instructions are clear, I think, but I don't have the computer program to create the cover. Asked for help from my contact at the company, just sent me back the instructions...guess it's not his job. Seriously thinking about going back to Createspace, the other big POD company. The reason I didn't go with them before is because they're based in America and postage takes so long...but I haven't time or the energy for all this. Think I picked the wrong time to take up forming a publishing company. My mother who needs a great deal of care stays regularly, there are so many other things going on, both daughters home for the summer, Juba gigs, relationships to work on...writing to be done. I want to concentrate on Monster Belt. Outcome: must be patient. I wasn't patient with Erosion. I was impatient and sent it to agents and publishers before it was ready. And now it's been sent out and rejected, I can't send it out again even though it's a different book in many ways. So, decision made to self publish this one. It's on Kindle. Easy. But I wanted the hard copy and an e-book version, which can be done, just not with Lightning Source maybe. Breathe. And make a cup of tea and work through the list.

Business

Waiting to hear that the contract with Lightning Source goes through. In the meantime, I'm registering a new business with HMR Customs and the Office of Trading Standards and checking exactly what I need to do. It's not a limited company, just a business. No other company as far as I can find out is registered under Parkinson & Archer. I am the sole employee and it is a very simple operation. I'm doing my utmost to get this right and work through all I need to do methodically. I have my notebook with everything logged. I've changed the real place names used in Erosion to fictitious names as it was pointed out I could be sued. Other people don't see real place names as a problem, but in my usual knee jerk reaction, I changed them. At least this way, I should be covered. Nothing detrimental is said as far as I'm concerned, a character may make an off hand remark, but it's certainly not based on fact and is purely opinion. Anyway, better to be safe on this one as has been advised. Shame, but there it is. What else? One day, I will find peace. I'm never going to be one of those people who radiates calm and serenity and a sense of being grounded. Will I ever know myself well enough to have that aura of peace and tranquillity? It's not me, but there is somewhere in between that is attainable. I won't find it in the city, I know I am not strong enough to zone out and attain that serene being, I need surroundings to aid me in this. I admit this one, I'm going to need external help. Open space, away from cars, mobiles, all the stuff. I'm going to need the computer....for now anyway. Right. On with the list.

Book Printers

Createspace or Lightning Source? Lightning Source or Createspace? Which to be the printers for Erosion? Createspace are USA based so shipping a real slow process to here. Being based in the UK, this has made my decision for me. Lightning Source it is. Registering process begun. When that is approved, can then upload the manuscript, cover etc. As they're owned by Ingrams and have great distribution, then have to go with them too. Patience. I haven't grasped you yet, but one day, one day, or is that fighting my nature just a little too much? Will keep you posted on the process.

According to the Mayan calendar, something massive was supposed to happen on Sunday night, 20th May, 2012. Don't know if it did, but had a revelation last night that felt pretty huge. The end of one thing, the beginning of another. Well, yes, felt like that. And the revelations came through dreams. They're things I've always known, but I really felt them this time, deep in my abdomen. Solar plexis, I'd say. It's really about love. Everything stems from it, true, reciprocated love. That's what it has to be. And it frees you. You can touch, be open, be yourself, be. And everything that comes from that is good. And that old saying about a life lived in fear is a life half-lived. Even less than half-lived. Well, you do not even have to be like that yourself. If you're around people who live like that, eventually, it will drag you down. And the other dream? I was at an initiation ceremony. To become a vegetarian. Only I was eating fish I'd cooked myself. It looked exactly the same as the vegetarian fish. Was sort of funny.

Available now on www.lulu.com Fiction, paperback, £9.99 And soon elsewhere. Keep asking at Bookshops.

Facebook Posts

‎"This isn’t just a change like a turn in the road, this is a deordering, a reordering, it’s telekinesis, a complete revision. This is meta, a metamorphosis, this is transubstantiation, a progressive unstoppable development. This is mental, physical, universal, this is memory. Forget distance and time, this isn’t unspecified or unknown, this isn’t here and now, this is everywhere and every time. This isn’t feeling or thinking, ancient or futuristic. This isn’t about ecosystems, human beings, humanity, humankind, existence or nonexistence, inner being or outer being, spirit or soul. This isn’t finite, not a requisite or prerequisite, a selection or an election. This isn’t moral or emotional, spiritual or immaterial, it’s not about performance or identity, the cosmos or the universe. It’s not inherent or ingrained, instinctive or religious, it’s not native or basic, not an aim or a use, it’s not a reflection or a deception, it’s not a work of art. It’s anything you want it to be." Someone I know posted this on Facebook. This is one of the reasons the site is so useful. We can pass on thoughts, information, start conversations, petitions, trains of thought, actions, images, whatever we want to share. So thank you to all those who post things we want to reread and think about.

Biodanza. Still surprises me every time. Yesterday in the two Valencias, we did 'Identity' and 'Sensuality.' Felt empowered then serene and full of love! Love for self and others. I stood taller and felt strong in who I am and that I can be myself with others. Touch, oh my god, touch! We're told 'don't touch this or that, you can't touch each other..' It's what we all need and respond to. And we were stars! We stood as individual stars because star molecules, whatever the term, is inside us, then we lay down, toes touching, stretched as stars because galaxies of stars exist out there. Humans are no different from animals, stars, birds...we qualify each other, blossom together, work well and develop through others. And it is impossible to answer the question, 'who are you?' because in five life times we'll never have explored who we are. We're all mysteries. Biodanza is about feeling, not analysing, but this is one way of sharing, even though only touching on the surface of what it does.

Question of the Day

The question that has preoccupied me for some time now, is, when is it too late? I could be talking about saving the planet, a country, a system, business, health, a life, friendship, relationship, love affair...anything. The answer will vary in time scale, but inevitably, at some point, in all these things, it will be too late.

People

Are they the most important thing in our lives? Should they be? Why should they be? What else could be more important? Time to work this out? And then acting on our conclusion? Human nature can be funny, scary, endearing, shocking, terrifying, soothing. Many things. Can we cope with teh extremes? Can we cope with extremes? Is living on a plateau satisfying? Leading to contentment...what makes us content? Is this what we aim for? Or living? In all its extremes? And a photograph. Does it really capture what is going on? Or beneath the smiles, the laughter, people are crying and after that moment of tears, there is laughter? The whole picture. What is the whole picture? Pixels?

Do you believe in horoscopes?

Horoscope for today: Happy? Content? Or merely pretending? Be honest. If you're happy, expect an honor or reward from your past creative efforts. If you're pretending, use this realization to embark on a new path to get there. You create your own happiness. Think about it!

LOVE AFTER LOVE

The time will come when, with elation, you will greet yourself arriving at your own door, in your own mirror, and each will smile at the other's welcome, and say, sit here. Eat. You will love again the stranger who was your self. Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart to itself, to the stranger who has loved you all your life, whom you ignored for another, who knows you by heart. Take down the love letters from the bookshelf, the photographs, the desperate notes, peel your own image from the mirror. Sit. Feast on your life. Derek Walcott.

May 1st

May 1st. May Day. Sounds a good day for a new start. Right. Have made a decision, now need to implement it. There are several ways to do this. 1) Will power. 2) Move away. The second option gives me space and time to build up strength to use 1) However, obligations mean I can't choose 2), so it has to be 1) and lots of it! Sounds like a plan to me.

Wishing her well and all those who the world doesn't seem to be able to let have a space. Sinead O'Connor - Thank You For Hearing Me performance (1994)(HQ) www.youtube.com

Ha, ha. Anything to distract me from my thoughts!! So here's the publishing list: Meeting Coty - out there. Erosion - out there to download, almost there in hard copy. Monster Belt - in edit and some rewrite. Leaving Coty - just about ready to go. Jiddy Vardy - finished but too short and needs some rewriting. Nothing Compares - Mmm. Will think about its status. So that's it. How long is all this going to take me? At this rate, longer than it should. Back to work. On Chapter Nineteen about to type in changes...

Yesterday, I felt buoyant, so happy to be working on Monster Belt again. And today, I have that bursting feeling in my chest as the darker side of the book surfaces. These monsters are pesky things. One minute, you're rising to the challenge, the next, they seep inside and drain the tears out of your eyes. Or it feels like that, only no tears fall. You end up not knowing what's real or not. As I said, pesky things.

"The more that you read, the more things you will know. The more things that you learn, the more places you'll go." – Dr Seuss

http://www.scotclimb.org.uk/aonacheagach.shtml This is the next novel. The Monster Belt. There are many monsters out there, people, creatures, thoughts, dreams, buildings, companies, places. Aonach Eagach Ridge in Glencoe is one of them. Climbed it years ago, unroped (wouldn't happen nowadays) just after falling on Bidean Nam Bian the day before, being grabbed by the shoulder and told to 'keep climbing and don't look down.' Again, wouldn't happen nowadays. The other side of monsters though, you always have to rise to the challenge, find their other side and survive....isn't fiction great? Glencoe: Aonach Eagach www.scotclimb.org.uk Hillwalking the Aonach Eagach ridge in Glencoe

Also being released in May in hard copy. ISBN 978-0-9572222-0-5 at £7.99

Which is worse? Desperately wanting to say something to someone and not being able to find the right words, or realising that there is nothing left to say?

Another great Biodanza yesterday. Every time it surprises, bringing with it something new. Laughed, smiled so much my face ached, let go, reached up, out, inward and around. Loved the gentle stroking - simple things often the most affective and the containment which sounds awful, but was really just being held and supported. And of course, lots of dancing in any way you want to do it! Easy to be cynical about things like this, but it works. That's all there is to it really: it works. Many thanks to Antoinette and everyone there. Whoever wasn't there, was missed. XX

The Miracle Worker clip

Poetry

Sometimes someone else's words say what's in our mind. This is from Mary Oliver's 'Dogfish.'

'I wanted the past to go away,
I wanted
to leave it, like another country; I wanted
my life to close, and open
like a hinge, like a wing, like
the part of the song
where it falls
down over the rocks: an explosion,
a discovery;
I wanted
to hurry into the work of my life;
I wanted to know,
whoever I was, I was

alive
for a little while.'

Moving On

I've realised this is definitely grieving. Last year I met someone who I thought was a certain type of person and then it came to light that they weren't that personality; they were someone else. And that's fine, they're still a great person, just I have no connection with them. I would love them to be who I at first thought, but that's not the reality, so I'm grieving for someone who never was. And it's time now; time to put that image away and get on with real life.

Ramblings

The Wharfedale Newspaper group have been in touch. They're going to do a covering piece on Erosion this or next week. The thing is, I've received a copy of Erosion and I'm making so many changes. I can't believe it. How many times have I edited? And it's on Amazon as an e-book. This is unprofessional. I thought it was ready. This is my syndrome. I grow impatient. And I rush.
This copy makes it easier to spot errors though. Will definitely do this in future. A computer screen isn't the same at all. And nor is printed up pages for some reason. The book is the thing!

It's drizzling. Everyone is still asleep. Could they sleep all day? Twenty-four hours and then I retain the peace of the house?

I'm edgy. Dis-satisfied, not content, frustrated. Need to fly away.

Erosion and reviews

Oh and did an interview with Whitby Gazette about 'Erosion.' Hard copy out soon, they'll be reviewing it and are running a competition to win copies. And the sun shone! And now it's this week...

'That is what learning is. You suddenly understand something you've understood all your life, but in a new way.' (Doris Lessing)

Women and groups and humour and strength

Last year I fell down, I've picked myself up several times, but not managed to stay up. Now, finally, I think I can. And the most important thing is, I won't give myself a hard time if I buckle a little. That's okay. Because for most of the time I'm standing up!
Last week, I met an inspiring group of women. I meet inspiring women all the time, but last week, it was a g-dung, g-dung moment. These women aren't well, in varying degrees and yet they support each other, laugh, a lot, banter, don't moan, make huge efforts and generally get on with things with humour. That is a massive key. Humour. I was extremely privileged to attend two of their exercise classes at Whitby Leisure Centre. All the people, mainly women, are referred to the class via their doctors or the hospital. They welcomed me and it was a wonderful experience to be with them.
Yet again, and I've been learning this for a while, the strength of a group. Very, very powerful and it can be used across the board. The support of a group in generating health, happiness and well-being cannot be underestimated.
Thank you to all those I met last week, at the Leisure Centre, the cafe owners by the beach in Whitby, market stall owners, all. And it's not only Yorkshire women, one was from Manchester and two from London. Thank you.

Sinead O'Connor

I'd give up ten gigs to go and see Sinead O'Connor play. Tonight in Manchester Cathedral is was another g'dung, g'dung moment. She vocalises what we all feel. When she smiled, it was with joy, when she put back her head and let rip all her emotions, anger, anguish, pain, jealousy, yearning, it was a release for all we felt and feel. Her honesty and bravery has been mocked for years as craziness, but how can her lyrics and vocal rawness be crazy when they spoke for all we felt? Another door opened tonight. I feel very very grateful and I would urge anyone who has the chance to see her to go. Give up other tickets. Hearing her is not enough. See her. The best night of the year.

Biodanza

Every time Biodanza surprises me. Today started out playful and turned into sensual. All to various styles of music.
Having fun, being playful, laughing without self-consciousness or judgement. Lying on the floor stretching and contracting which was so, so erotic. And connecting with others as a group and singularly and then dancing or moving on your own again. Making eye contact, hand contact, complete embraces.

And it all feels so right. Every since The Tribe of Doris last year, all sorts of things are coming together. And it comes down to how to live our lives. The mist is clearing, I'm learning what I need, my body needs and so my spirit.

Thank you to Antoinette Lorraine from the Bristol School of Biodanza for these few wondrous hours to integrate with myself and with others and with my place in the cosmos. And thank you to Maria Canizalez Jerez from Manchester for making it possible.
Next one 21st of April, 1pm-5pm, The Yoga Rooms, 483a Barlow Moor Road, Chorlton-Cum-Hardy, Manchester M21 8AG

The Monster Belt

Hurray!!! This draft of The Monster Belt complete and the ending is sorted!! It's such a great feeling! Breakfast now...what time is it?

"Far away,
knowing my life is incomplete
'til the day, my dream will belong to me."

Quiet Words Given Voice
by John Kirk

Unwell

Have been ill since last Tuesday though it didn't really kick in until Thursday. It's Sunday now and still have no energy. Funny, that with illness you get some sort of clarity about things.
Too tired to argue who's more ill, the worst off, whether it's worth the effort to wonder what things would be like if you were with someone else, living somewhere else, doing other things, about things we don't have, what we are doing.
Limbs are just too heavy to be raised, the mind too full to have thoughts, the senses too dulled to act.
And maybe that's best. Stay still, let the storm pass and then re-emerge and then put one foot in front of the other, do what's to be done and don't wonder too much, there is too much to do right here.

The Monster Belt

Chapter One
The village of Hawksmoor overlooked a stretch of green water called The Mere. As a child, Jess Swift had been indoctrinated about the legendary creature that supposedly lurked in its hazy depths, but she did't believe it existed. Adamant that there were no such things as monsters, she told herself that although the Mere was not a place she wanted to swim in, nor was it a place to fear.
Now grown up, she still liked to sit on the hill and gaze down on the small lake as she had done as a child. Now though, she made sure she never looked past it, further down the hill, to the hollow of ground with a large barn-like hotel at its centre.
The grass grew to seed on the hill, stroking her bare legs and caressing her cheeks when she lay down. She stretched out, listening to lapwings and giving herself up to the touch of air and grass. She had never been tempted to step into the deserted rowing boat by the unused boathouse and untie the rope, take up the oars and push out towards the centre of mossy water. She never wanted to dip in her fingers and see whether it was as cold as they said. The indoor pool five miles away in Littleton had put her off swimming and nothing would tempt her to try it again. The cubicles were too small, wooden seats always wet and if, struggling to undress in the cramped space, she inadvertently touched the plastic curtain, it clung to her back like a sheet of freshly pasted wallpaper.
And then the walk, almost naked, towards the fully clothed attendant who took her jeans and trainers and sweatshirt in exchange for a well worn, numbered rubber band that was always either too loose it fell off or so tight it pinched. Cold feet on a wet floor. Goose pimpled skin. Bouncing sound. Exposure.

THE chapter!

This is hard. I've reached the difficult chapter in Monster Belt when Jess has to face her monster. It's bringing up all sorts of stuff, but we mustn't let our past affect our present, right? I've got to be honest in the writing, but I need to keep balance too, a handle on the emotion or it's out of control. But keep the rawness.
Funny how writing can make us live.

Dancing

Ah. Juba rehearsal last night and we danced full out. Now I know why I've not been feeling right, haven't danced like that since early December. I feel so much better, mentally and physically. The drums, rhythms, dance, companionship. Hit the spot.

How do you stop your brain from thinking and your heart from feeling? Besides being dead. Or is that being dead? Living dead. Do I wish I was a zombie? No. Funny how you go round in circles. What's that called? How do you stop yourself doing that?
Maybe space and time to think things through deeply, clearly, get perspective. I know that's what would work best, but I want to be writing..I'm talking riddles to you I know, but I know what I'm talking about.
I have other commitments, personal commitments, but what I want is not to do them but to write...but is that fair when that commitment is another human being?
Still riddles. Sometimes, just sometimes, I wish I worked in an office or hospital or anywhere where I didn't feel guilty about what I'm not doing. A rant. Put it away.

Advice...

I remember, if you didn't always have a wide, Cheshire cat grin on your face, the bus driver who drove us to school in the mornings saying,
'Cheer up.'


It's like being told to 'chill.'

And being told to 'be patient.'

What do you think I'm being????

Valentine's Day

First verse of a poem. Thought it was sort of suitable for Valentine's Day.

'I'm not in your enlightened place
That puts attachment at the end of the list.
To love in that wider sense,
That Buddhists hold dear,
Alludes my grasp at present.'


Another two verses here....about attachment and suffering, the one and the many...how it'll be if no-one loves another exclusively and love is universal and the same between all, what will this world be like....maybe more verses.

'But one day, I, like you
Perhaps will see mankind as my greatest love
And spread my wings and thoughts over all.
But now, for now, have patience
That I will balance love between the two.'

Mm. First draft methinks. And then of course, the other verses.

Friday afternoon

My mum had been in the house a few hours.
'You should brush your hair.'
'Is there nothing nice you could say about me?'
Silence.
'Well, if there's nothing nice, maybe don't say anything at all.'
Silence.
'You make nice buns.'
'Thank you.'
'And icing.'

Amazon and publishing

So much being written about companies not stocking books that are on/published by Amazon. What's an author to do? It feels like old boy's clubs are being erected - if we deign to publish you, or you're published by people we like, we'll give you entrance... I can understand the fury that Amazon is taking away everything, but really, it is up to people to choose, not the publishers, especially when there are so many books they refuse to publish, good books.
As a reader, I want choice, not the same old same old publishers keep publishing. As a writer, I want to be published. And I'll go, unfortunately perhaps, but I'll go with who will publish me, retain my rights, and hopefully, be read.

Getting there

Chapter 29, page 202 of Monster Belt. 77,561 words total. I've written the whole novel but am editing and building and digging and increasing the word count and drawing out the story and changing the slant and...keep going.
Jess has decided to leave London and the job she thought she always wanted. For what? A different kind of life. It needs to be a bigger, scarier decision than I've made it. She's given up a career, the one she's worked towards, of course it's a massive decision. Or is it? When we have that bolt of insight, is it then quite easy because it seems the only road possible?
Have to project doubt without her appearing weak. My heroines tend to have dilemmas and hang ups, but they must also show their strength. And she's got the biggest monster of all to face soon.
Right. Do it.

The Monster Belt

I struggled yesterday with chapters 26 and 27. Lying in the bath, sometimes the best place for ideas, mainly because you can't write them down, I realised the problem. The main characters, Jess and Harris are separated here, one chapter each. At this stage in the book, they may be separate, but the reader must be shouting, 'YOU SHOULD BE TOGETHER!!' so in each chapter, they need to be juxtaposed.
Also, the London scenes aren't working. It's getting there with changing the focus, but I need Judith (Jess's cousin, who she's staying with) to point out a few home truths. This will be the first time that someone says out loud that they think Jess is screwed up. And this will give the impetus for Jess to make a move.
Ta-ra! Thinking time. That's all it takes.

Erosion Second Cover

A little more menace to this version?

Wild Sunday

Woke at half past six. It's wild and windy and dark outside. I'm up at this hour on a Sunday morning as the slot given for delivery of a bed is between seven and half past ten. I'll get a text warning beforehand.
The road is quiet. Lights are on in two upstairs rooms at the house diagonally opposite. The rest of the houses sleep. It's a strangely satisfying feeling being awake when no-one else is. I've already started putting files back on shelves and lamps are on, tea is made. The house is in chaos for this bed, but it's a new year and it's good to sort through, discard, re-find, keep, store, reject.
I hope they don't arrive until nearly half ten. It's wonderful being in this cocoon. Only Sushi, the little white cat is leaping about.

Erosion Cover

Erosion on Amazon

A new formatted version went up today..this is it!
Working on a final edit of Leaving Coty for that to go up too.

Erosion on Kindle

Uploaded Erosion (novel) a few minutes ago onto Amazon Kindle. Excited and nervous as the formatting seems intangible until it actually appears. Will it have worked successfully, will it look as I hope it will? I don't have a kindle so haven't a clue how it will look.
And pricing it!! Not like pricing a book. A hard copy of all my work.I looked at a few on line, thought, well, mine's not a best seller...so went for mid-range. Strange, £2.70...the price of a book? How on earth does anyone make a living? Write lots of books and get film rights. And a proper job.

So. Erosion, you've heard me speak about it before, but here is the synopsis as it will appear:

During her first storm swept night in a run-down chalet park on the North Yorkshire coast, a terrified Lizzie Juniper witnesses a building's rumbling collapse into the sea. Unable to save its inhabitants, she watches in horror as an old couple and their teetering home crash into the pounding waves hundreds of feet below.

The next day, the few remaining residents are given seven days to vacate their chalets yet it seems strange they are in no rush to leave...

Lizzie soon finds out there are worse things than an eroding coastline and that everyone has a choice about their future and when you have nothing left to lose, that choice can be surprisingly liberating.

November 5th approaches with a run of unusually warm days. A firework display is poised to ignite, a smuggler's tunnel is reopened and Lizzie discovers no-one is as they at first seem.

Erosion is about more than a subsiding cliff face; it is about the disappearance of a way of life and the discovery that people living on the edge can make extraordinary choices.

Phew. Breathe.

Doing the 'Right' Thing

'The Bridges of Madison County' was on the TV late last night. I started watching it, I'd seen it years before, and had to watch until the end even though I knew what happened.

It's the dilemma. What do you do? Like Elsa in Casablanca, she wanted to stay with Rick, but is married to someone who needs her and who inspires others. To continue with this, he needs Elsa. Rick tells her to go. She doesn't want to, but she knows the 'right' thing to do is go with her husband.

In 'The Bridges of Madison County' we see Clint Eastwood outside those long, wooden American bridges photographing them. We see Meryl Streep inside, walking along, peering out.

This is the visual hint. He is free to roam and she is trapped by circumstances and convention.

They love each other. He tells her that 'this kind of certainty comes once in a lifetime.'

He tells her that observing animals in Africa he saw that there is no imposed morality, it's just the way it is. This reminds me of the female character in 'The Lost Steps.' The male protagonist comes from the 'civilised' world which makes him feel that loving someone isn't enough. He goes back home and realises that that is all that really matters.

Maybe we realise this too late in life. For the lucky ones, who we, seeking success in our careers, wherever, gently ridicule, they realise early on that this is all that is important. Our 'society' does not value this as highly as it deserves if it truly only comes once in a lifetime.

But then there is duty. For Meryl Streep's character it is duty to her husband, children and maintaining that security and way of life so that their lives aren't wrecked.
She would be selfish to leave and risk destroying this stable life that will make them stable adults, wouldn't she?

They last see each other in town, waiting at the traffic lights, in the pouring rain, he in his pickup truck and she sitting beside her husband in their truck which is behind his. He hangs a cross on his rear view mirror, she watches from behind, her hand on the door handle. The traffic lights change to green. He doesn't pull away...

Does she make the 'right' choice?

Somewhere On The Way

A friend sent this to me and it seems appropriate:

Somewhere On The Way

I wanted to say a lot of things:
I wanted to say how often lately
Your bright image has wandered through
The dark rooms of my mind:
I wanted to say how good it is
To wake up every morning
Knowing that the day contains
Something that is you.

I wanted to say a lot of things:
I wanted to talk about
The changing colour of moments,
The silent secret language
Of bodies making love.
I wanted to say that you
Are always only as far from me
As thoughts are from thinking.

I wanted to say I love you
In fourteen foreign languages
But most of all (most
Difficult of all) in English.

I wanted to say a lot of things.
But they all seem to have lost themselves
Somewhere on the way. And now I'm here
There's nothing I can say except
Hello, and Yes, I'd like some coffee, and
What shall we find to talk about
Before the night burns out?

(Peter Roche)

The Year Ahead

Need to work out some really good coping strategies for this year. Think keeping a sense of humour will be high on the list, keeping things in perspective, prioritising, and making the most of time out.
Otherwise I'll panic and that's not a pretty sight.

New Year's Thoughts

These are five top regrets of those who are dying, but they are applicable at any stage of our life, the earlier the better:

1) Have the courage to live the life I want to live, not the one others want me to live.
2) Make time for friends.
3) Work less so that I don't miss out on time with loved ones.
4) Let myself be happy. It is a choice.
5) Have the courage to express my feeling.