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 writing throws up.

I thought this week would be easy, but it's hard. Monster Belt is throwing up so many things about my childhood, things mum's told me about her parents and their life, her life and it's all falling into this book and it's wrapped up in the Yorkshire moors which can be bleak beyond desolate. And that's my childhood too. I remember how cold it can be. Chillingly, bone achingly cold.

It makes you want to reach out to people in the past, ones I never knew (I never knew my grandparents) but I can't. It's a different world. And as I'm writing, I'm wondering where this novel, in fact, any of my novels fit.

Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?

AT five o'clock yesterday, Sunday, I went with a friend to hear Jeanette Winterson read and talk about her autobiography, Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?
I've only read Oranges are not the only fruit and have seen the television series that was made of it. I don't know the rest of her work, only that it is experimental, she has written some children's books and she is insightful on programmes like The Late Review.
She was funny, interesting, knowledgeable and a great reader. She didn't need anyone to interview her, she could carry an idea, take on board a question from the audience and run with it well enough by herself.
I liked her idea of the inner world seeing us through crises, though my friend pointed out, all very well to say that when you live in Hampstead.
Mmm. It's a mix. We need to look after our outer and inner selves. But we don't need banal aspirations and trivia around us. What does get us through hard times is how we deal with them and that comes from...luck? How we deal with them and that comes from...character? The ability to have an inner world that can get us through rough periods in our lives.
Whatever the outcomes, she made me, I won't speak for everyone, think.
And a young woman from Accrington, where JW is from said her friends were amazed a girl from Accrington could read, let alone write a book. There will be many in Accrington who can read and write and maybe even a novel, but this young woman was inspired by her and had come to Manchester to buy Oranges are not the only fruit and then saw the author was giving the talk.
We could buy books and she signed them and looked you in the eye and responded to everyone, even if they were saying the same as the last, or something similar.

Perfect time of day and the perfect day as well. Five O'clock on a Sunday afternoon. Royal Exchange - we want more!! This should be a regular event.
I'm so glad I went.

Changes

This year is full of changes. Another one today. Feel they are here to tell me something even if I can't always work out what it is.
I feel I'm beginning to understand certain things, about the wider picture of it all, and then something small and personal and selfish hits me.
This is life, I guess.

And in all this, I want to write the best book ever written!

But which one? Monster Belt, Meeting Coty (no, that's done and it's not the best, parts are..) Erosion, Leaving Coty or Jiddy Vardy?

I think it's between Leaving Coty and Monster Belt.

Okay. So, I'm learning things about the bigger picture....

Rough Water

Is it possible to turn the boat around and paddle back up river?
Can you do it alone if you've got enough determination and strength? Can someone else help when they don't know the bends and turns and where the rocks are as well as you?
There's a sandy cove that catches the sun. It's an easy place to pull up the boat; gentle, restful, once you know it, there'll be no surprises.
Someone's standing on the bridge. You crane your neck and squint but you can't see where the road leads. Into the mountains?
Turn the boat around and paddle hard or stay with the current and see where it leads?

Love

Strange how things connect with a common thread. I went to my Uncle George's funeral last Monday. He had a wonderful 100th birthday at the end of June, which was a joyful celebration and then, August, a full church of friends, colleagues and family. The vicar asked how we can judge what is a successful life: the amount of love around. There was lots of love and respect for Uncle George that day. I'm Auntie Joan's god-daughter, so was asked to read Chapter 13, 1 Corinthians. We all know it.
'I may be able to speak the languages of men and even of angels, but if I have no love, my speech is no more than a noisy gong or a clanging bell.....if I have no love, I am nothing...if I have no love, this does me no good.
Love is patient and kind; it is not jealous or conceited or proud; love is not ill-mannered or selfish or irritable; love does not keep a record of wrongs; love is not happy with evil, but is happy with the truth. Love never gives up; and its faith, hope and patience never fail.....' and it goes on.
I hadn't rehearsed this version and I hadn't planned on the entire chapter. It came as a shock when I opened the order of service and saw it all printed out. Thank goodness it was printed out. I read through it a few times to look for where to place emphasis. The vicar spoke of love. He gestured me to the podium and microphone. The family sat at the front. It was a privilege to read.

And the next morning, we drove down to Somerset to the Tribe of Doris Festival. And that emanated love and forgiveness and kindness echoing the sentiments of the funeral service.
I'm going to try and retain all that, remember it - live it.

The Tribe of Doris

'Doris' means 'doorway.' The week spent at The Tribe of Doris Intercultural Summer School of Drumming, Dance and Song near Wellington in Somerset opened many doorways. You could be cynical about the whole thing, but being there, spending a week in the fresh air camping, creating music and dance with a feeling of sharing, forgiving, loving and concentrating on posititivity, it was impossible to resist the spirituality of the site.
I learnt to spin like a whirling dirvish and not fall over or feel sick because the spinning isn't about the physical act, but about concentrating on receiving love from the vertically, loosely extending left hand and giving love out through the loosely horizontally, palm downwards, facing right hand, eyes open, and slowly coming to a stop and then you can spin and spin. If your arms tire, place them crossed over your chest. Sheikh Ahmad Dede spoke and sang of forgiving - of how we are receptacles to ask for love and pass it out so that more love comes back. The whirling is because everything whirls, the earth round the sun, the earth on its axis, the moon around the earth. And we are all part of the universe. It made sense and felt a way to live that would be a relief in many ways. Keep it simple, think positivily, put away negative thoughts. Forgive. It's more effort and hurtful to all involved not to forgive. Follow your conscience nd trust the universe and it will work out. Similar thoughts came out in Denise Rowe's Contemporary African Dance classes too amongst other things. That was the main message from Doris. Trust the universe. And if we work together we can accomplish great things. Think we need that more than ever right now.
The skies clouded during the Saturday night Open Air show when everyone performed what they had experienced and learnt in the week's workshops. People waved away the clouds. The clouds went. The evening was clear. You couldn't not believe there was something in the power of collective positive thought.
There is so much to say about this week in Somerset. It'll have to be a daily update and I'll work through the week from the day we arrived, Tuesday the 9th of August at about eleven in the morning, for the Opening Ceremony at twelve, until Sunday the 14th, about two fifteen after the closing ceremony at noon until two. In the sunshine.

The Lost Steps by Alejo Carpentier

For now: http://occasionalreview.blogspot.com/2007/07/lost-steps-by-alejo-carpentier.html

On The Wire - Digitfest, The Lowry

THE LOWRY - DIITAL ARTS WEEKEND
Last night, Friday was the dance day of Digitfest at The Lowry. I booked for the Workshop, On the Wire with Dora DaCruz (dance) and Tim and Amanda Simpson Photography (lights)
We didn't really know what to expect. There were ten of us. Each session was available for ten people. Studio 2.
I'm not sure about the title, but wires, electrics...fair enough.
I love the idea of mixing technology with the arts so was keen to try something I've never tried before. Everyone was unsure about what was going to happen, but seemed excited.
A 'camera' was set up near the centre of the room, a white wall, and a screen, printer, equipment on a table and music. We were welcomed and it was clearly explained what we were going to do. Dora felt drums were the best to bring out our inner warrior so that played. Felt right.
We took turns to spin across the floor holding some form of light, a long cylindar, two small pin like shapes, a circular space ship looking one. And immediately the streaks and images we produced appeared on the screen. It soon became apparant that the best images came from walking and moving the lights. It was the lights that needed to move, best slowly, rather than our bodies to dance.
To watch, it was more interesting to see dancing with the lights, to see the image on screen, it was best to have made the lights move slowly.
And so we learnt. The poses or jumps that were photographed at the end of each turn, following a trail of light were impressive. 3-D trails, coloured squiggles, glowing spheres injected in. Shadows were created, powerful poses, Jackson Pollock trails, sciencefiction type tubes.
Dora inspired, Tim and Amanda, the lighting photographers instructed and encouraged and everyone applauded. It was a safe, fun, interesting, inspiring, creative environment.
It left me wanting more. To take longer to explore moving the lights, playing with them, finding out what you could do.
Tim said there is no right or wrong. Dora feels the same. It was a new experience that I would happily repeat. All sorts of groups would benefit. The combination worked perfectly.
The pace of the hour never flagged so we kept creating. A definite recommendation.

Mothers and the Menopause

There seem to be a spate of articles around about the menopause. At the moment I seem to be hearing or reading about things that have connections with 'Meeting Coty' as this does.
When I was writing the book I never consciously thought about certain things but amazingly they are there. Take Tessa's mother, Ann Laughlin.
She shows classic signs of the menopause that I didn't know I'd put in never mind that they are symptoms.
She hides herself away from the children.
I didn't realise that when oestrogen levels go down and women stop menstruating, then the 'caring gene' goes because, not having young children (though many women may) it is not deemed necessary. Now this is going back in time because many women now do have their children later in life. So, it's unfortunate.

Are our genes taking care of us through the stages in our lives?

We need to be caring to bring up children.

In general at the stage of the menopause, children have become adults and can take care of themselves, so the mother is now free to do what she wants. By taking the 'caring gene' away, she can concentrate, without forcing herself, on herself.

On the other hand, women of this age now often find that an elderly relative needs caring for so this 'caring gene' would be very handy to retain, but nature takes it away. Bit of a dilemma there then. Forced to care.

But, going back to 'Meeting Coty' Ann shows all the signs of the Menopause, even more in 'Sweet Scent of Success.' Yes, this is the new title. Think I'll stick with this, though must google it to see if it's been used before. Next job.

Back to Ann and the menopause. I keep digressing. Is this a sign? In 'Meeting Coty' she hates being with the children, has no time for them, yearns to be back in Jerez, free to do what she wants: sing. In Sweet Scent of Success that is exactly what she's doing. So, when Tessa turns up for a visit, she is not exactly happy.

Our Woodlands

I've been thinking about all the beautiful places I have walked. The fields I have trekked across, the moorland, green, purple or brown, the woods, sun dappled and leafy, white tinged with intricated dark fingers against the winter sky, peaty paths, grassy trails, sheep bleating, birds calling out, crows rising from January branches. Beside wide amber rivers, grey waters, noisy streams, overgrown springs, gushing waterfalls. And I've been free to wander and sort out the crises that seem more important than anything else. And calm down when I've been upset. And be inspired when I've been struggling.
Many woods are owned by the National Trust. We have to pay for this privilege. Luckily there are woods in our country where anyone can enjoy these benefits. Walk and walk until we feel better, healthier, able to cope.
I've been thinking about what I would have done if I hadn't been able to walk amongst the trees and sort myself out. What would I have done if I hadn't found this release? What if I can't walk freely in woods to find a solution, to calm down, to reconnect with reality. What will I do if I can't do this? What will other people do?

The article says...

Not sure you can read the article from The Yorkshire Post dated Saturday November 6th 2010. Article by Simon Bristow, photograph by Gerard Binks.

" They say an Englishman's home is his castle.
And an elderly couple from East Yorkshire are proving there is truth in the old adage by refusing to abandon their home to coastal erosion.
Land on the coast at Aldbrough between Hornsea and Withernsea is now so unstable that East Riding Coucnil has moved a concrete barrier 10 metres inland to prevent vehicles falling over the cliff.
But the move has left Edith and Brian Grantham trapped in their bungalow in Camp Lane. Their only access is through a privately-owned caravan park whose owner does not want them to use it. The council has offered alternative accommodation but they prefer to stay put.
Mrs. Grantham, 76, said: "We don't want to be moved, we want to stay in our own little homestead. We are comfortable, we've got a lovely home and I'm not shifting. The alternative is to move to a council house but I don't want to live in a council house."

Paul Allison, general manager at Aldbrough Leisure Park said he could only give customers access to the park because of insurance and health and safety reasons and he had offered to sell the council the dividing land.
A council spokesman said: "The council is continuing to investigate the feasibility of several alternative access options for affected residents of Campsite Road."

Could be two of the characters in 'Erosion.'

People living on the edge

Again, what would you do if your home was worthless to everyone but you? Where else is there to go? What if you don't want to go? Can you be forced? If the authorities can force you out of your home but you don't want to leave what can you do? What are you capable of?

'Erosion' explores the dilemma of people living in a coastal Chalet Park with nothing left to lose.

Coastal Erosion

What would you do?

I love Birthdays

Today I feel very calm and happy but from the corner of my eye I can see something lovely is going to happen. It's in the air all around, but there's more...

Erosion Re-writing

I've reached the part in Erosion, Chapter 27, where it's not editing now, it's re-writing. I'm excited, because I know this is what is needed, but it's going to be hard work and take time. I think I've got four weeks to get it clear and then re-edit the lot. Then I'll be busy with other work and looking at other people's work, so won't have the right head space for mine. Editing will be fine then, but certainly will be difficult to be creative.
I really like the people in Erosion, really like them. Group hug? Don't think they'd like that at all. In fact I know how one or two of them would definitely react. Not pretty.
Right. Stop distracting myself. You have a deadline missus.

Happiness

Lost my beloved green glasses a few weeks ago and found them outside this morning dangling from a red geranium plant.

Oliva, Oliva, Oliva

Simplicity, paring down to what we need. The Lost Steps, a tatty book I found on a charity shop bookshelf. Who was it by? Alejo Carpentier. A revelation about what we need, enjoying it and then thinking we need more than this and finding out to our loss, that we don't. Lesson learnt? What do you think? We're human beings living in a world surrounded by 'things' and I mean, that because they are merely things. And proving ourselves, to ourselves, by striving to do this, that, and why? What do we need to prove to ourselves? Why do we need to prove anything to ourselves, putting the whole, proving things to other people, aside? Why isn't it enough just to be?

Truth

Someone I know brought up the truth yesterday. Questioning it. Made me wonder who's the grand judge of what is the truth in a given situation? Who gets to say? And is the truth always the best option? The only option? What's the case for lying sometimes? Is a lie someone else's truth; is it what they want to be the truth? We can ask a question and not want to hear the truth, so who is at fault, the one who lies but makes the other happy, or the one who asks the question and not wanting a truthful answer? Is the truth and maybe pain the better option? Short term effect or long term?
It's a minefield. And that's only the beginning of the questions.

We're all different. We all have different angles on what truth and lies are. The Commonwealth Games accomodation.... teams saying the facilities, aren't adequate. And the organisers saying, well your ideas of hygiene and my ideas of hygiene are different, so how can we agree?
Your idea of truth is different from my idea of it. And it changes all the time. Truthful to ourselves. Is that the way to be?

View from a Terrace