Starting again

Changing our World

I'm not sure about the phrase 'think big.' If we think so big, the vastness of the idea, plan, dream, is intangible. Can be.
I prefer, start small, but also, think in numbers. Each individual performs one small act that if performed by many, many individuals, it becomes that one big thing.
More and more I'm believing in the power of many rather than of one. It feels better and it is more likely to make that idea, plan, dream become tangible and the process of getting there, to that aim, so much more enjoyable. It's the getting there that is part of the process too.

So, to change our world, start small. I'll show kindness, I'll have kindness shown to me, I'll pass it on and that other person will, to another and another. If we pass on kindness, thoughtfulness, common sense, attitudes will change, we won't need to slam people up in prisons, punish, shout, hit out, blame.
How long will this take?

There are already people out there doing this, so all we need to do, is to hold out our hands and join in.

5

A clairvoyant told me to watch out for the number 5. This October, I've heard has 5 Mondays, 5 this, 5 that. Should I be excited or nervous? My gut instinct is to be excited. I don't want to waste it, whatever it is.

Friday afternoon

Downstairs, Miranda is playing the theme music for Amelie on the piano. The sky outside threatens rain. The air hangs with that autumn grey quiet. A lamp illuminates the computer screen. It's a time for tea and crumpets and butter and snuggling on a sofa to watch on old black and white.
What's that word? Languishing. Despondent? Without thought. Drifting. The keys ring out from downstairs, upwards, along the corridor.
Comforting.

Ever had days like this?

Post The Reading

The Untitled Gallery at 6, Mount Street in the centre of Manchester isn't easily visible, but if you follow the road round from the front of the Quaker Meeting House, keeping to the right, there is a doorway and a sign on the wall. Two charities and Commonword are also resident here. Katie Rutherford, the Director of the gallery opened the door. A little sloping corridor with a bicycle parked up. White washed brick walls. Other corridors.
The Untitled Gallery is a long narrow whitewashed room. A little wooden child's desk and chair stood to the right of the doorway. This was where the writer would sit, typing on a Mac.
At the far end was Katie's desk and all her paperwork, phone, computer etc and a large screen with a projector on the ceiling showing the words typed, changed, corrected, poured out.
And along both walls were a series of old wooden shelves from a disused school library with books, spines to the room - well, blocks that looked like books. This was the Re-Covering Exhibition. I walked down the lines of books and recognised some titles but not the covers. Artists had chosen a book and designed their own cover. I liked the concept. These covers, some with lights attached, bulbous barnicle of wood, flames, holes, images were engaging, interesting, puzzling. Worth a viewing. Even an Enid Blyton title that I hadn't heard of with a beautifully illustrated cover and colour. And bullet holes in another and wood textures. The old school desk and chair blended with the theme.
The idea for The Reading is for the writer to take inspiration from the surroundings, people around and the last paragraph left by the previous writer. I had vaguely thought of an idea in case my mind was blank. The last paragraph of the previous writer proved I couldn't use it without a leap.
Two male characters, un-named. They'd lost their jobs on the building site, one was an expert in cleaning glass partitions, they were going to buy shoes.
I was off. And then I wasn't. I was asked very politely if I'd come off the computer as several venues weren't picking up the link to view the writing on their screens. It was being sent to The Cornerhouse, John Ryland Library, the City Art Gallery, Chinese Gallery, MMU library...other places. Several times over hours these needed to be sorted. And were.

The three hours passed quickly. I didn't edit. The odd word that came out back to front or miss-spelt, but I merely kept writing, moving the story forward, axing John and adding Eve. Taking the story on at a pace, introducing elements. Hoping it wasn't total rubbish.
And then I was finished. Katie had made me a cup of tea at the beginning, asked if I wanted another, but I didn't need it.
The writer after me hadn't appeared, I couldn't stay longer, my back ached, my head was dizzy. I had enjoyed the experience very, very much. Forced to write, forced to write using your wits at that moment was fun, interesting and inspiring.
I'm grateful for the opportunity, the experience and being part of some bigger project. I'd love to read the entire flow of different author's sections, see the changes, the movement, how and if it hangs together as a complete story.

I hope people around the city will follow this and also visit the Untitled Gallery. That is an experience worth finding out.

The Reading

Today between twelve and three I doing my slot as part of The Reading. A writer sits for three hours at a computer in the Untitled Gallery on Mount Street, reads the last paragraph left by the previous writer and then continues.
Whatever they create is screened as they write to screens in The Cornerhouse, the City Art Gallery, the Anthony Burgess Centre, MMU Library....

Titles

The Coty book as in the second one needs a different title. Meeting Coty came so easily. Erosion did. They suit. But this one, this second novel about Tessa and the world of perfume that is really the grown up version of the first book hasn't fallen upon it's real name. I think I'll leave Coty out of the title. So many people don't know who Francois Coty is so I'm thinking as it's Tessa's story to not refer to him at all and have people find out about him as they read the book.
I could have perfume in the title, but there has been a novel called Perfume. Play around with the connotations of scent/sent. The Catholic Church? Counting the Rosary? Or the women in the book. It is about women. Trio of Scent. It is about the three sisters...To Scent or not to Scent.
Now this is getting silly.
The women though. I think I'll focus on that. Voices. Their different choices. Different paths. mmmm. Set me thinking.