Saturday 25 October 2008

Three Beautiful Things

We know that we should do some writing every day but sometimes the words are reluctant to appear. I've just found a blog where the writer, Clare Grant, has set herself the target of writing three beautiful things every day, and a lot of other bloggers have picked up the idea - see her "Roll of Honour" (unfortunately some of the links don't seem to work).

Clare's entries are very much in the style of Sei Shonagon's lists but here are more beautiful things from an anonymous writer in New Zealand, which read like journal entries.

How about this as a way of getting those blogging fingers working?

Monday 13 October 2008

Jerome Lawrence Quotes

A neurotic is a man who builds a castle in the air.
A psychotic is the man who lives in it.
A psychiatrist is the man who collects the rent.

Must be right - Jerome Lawrence was a playwright and author!

More quotations here.

Tuesday 16 September 2008

Life is dots, not a journey!

Does that sound even more crazy than usual?

I just read it on one of my favourite blogs, GoodlifeZEN, and I find it a very calming idea.

Have a look and see what you think. The cartoon link is fun as well, and all too true.

Thursday 31 July 2008

Coffee and more from Cardigan Bay

To keep the summer moving - here's where I've been surfing...

Tuesday 24 June 2008

‘One body of work, all figures are different.'

Orange tunic to purple
Trousers to green dress
We talk, we join
We breathe
Together
Whole
On our Planet
We combine

Dark skin, arm outstretched
Indian sari swathes woman’s body
Wooden stick clasped
In mans hand
Blonde long hair, arms folded
Small child, sitting cross legged
Red shirt
Together we exist
Touching, needing each other
To know who we are
Embracing humanity
Diverse yet sharing
The same needs
Food
Shelter
Love

Busy
Colourful
Complicated
Canvas contains glimpses
Of our world
We spill over the edges

All races, creeds and colours span the breadth of the white wall. Neatly placed, row upon row, line upon line, Contained in squares, sequences. Sitting on chairs, facing us. Pink sari on dark hair, lilac trousers to turquoise dress. Blonde hair falling on shoulders. Batman. Our worlds collide. In order. Artist traces the shape of our lives, of us. Our reasons for being. Individuals yet part of the whole.

Intercultural mix of nations. Hoping for understanding, tolerance. ‘When I spoke to you I learnt something about your world, different to mine. We grew’. She holds her baby. He spins yarn on a wheel. She carries sticks high on her head. She carries a black case. He has white angel wings.

‘This artist is really interested in people’, as the indigo shirt on a dark skin leads to a maroon swathed grey haired older woman to a naked bearded cross legged yogi.

Awaking to live another day. We watch the sun rise, breathe in unison, shop, be of use to others, giving and receiving. Line upon line, row upon row. Barefooted, wrapped in white cloth, sky blue t shirt. Superman.

‘Have you seen the 101 Dalmatians up there? Jackie Chan down there? Might recognise this person over here? You may have heard about him, Damien Hurst?’ Museum Guide speaks as two little girls in flower pink dresses stand.

‘Is it real though?’ little girl with the lilac shoes asks.


Juliette Llewellyn
24.06.2008

Artes Mundi 2008: Artist - N S Harsha

Thursday 12 June 2008

The package

(Twenty minute writing exercise from a far country)

With the brown parcel paper removed, I can see it isn't a book, my usual parcel. There is gold-crusted red paper, red ribbon with gold edges. My name but no sender.

It sits on the table while I think. Who is it from? Why has it come? Not my birthday, not my namesday, no anniversary I can remember.

OK, boot up the computer, check my journal for this date plus or minus a week or so over the last few years.

Nothing.

Sit looking at it again. Maybe it was delivered to the wrong apartment? No, it's my name, an unusual one, and... Wait a minute - it has my middle name in full. A clue?

Who knows my middle name? Who knows?! That doesn't narrow it down. Or does it? Come at it again. Who would use my middle name on a package like this and know where I live?

Rules out my American friends, because they would use just the middle initial. Rules out my Scandinavian friends, because they would ignore the middle name if it wasn't tied to the first with a hyphen. So...

Ah, could it be from my distant past in Spain? What clues might it then hold? I pick it up again, checking for perfume. It was a long, long time ago, but the nose has a wonderful memory.

Britt-Marie, the tall blonde I met in Madrid, didn't use scent, but I remember well her golden skin with the memory of an after-exercise spray. Her raven-haired friend Isabel, on the other hand, knew all the ways to impress her memory on a man's mind.

Yes, more likely Isabel, but what might she have sent me after all these years?

Wednesday 28 May 2008

Writing triggered

A haiku a day
Quite a challenge - seventeen
steps to perfection

Inspired by visiting Stacy's blog at Life in Seventeen Syllables, where I found this delightful one:

I growl at the screen
Simmering rage boils over
CONTROL, ALT, DELETE!


Know the feeling?

Wednesday 21 May 2008

Keeping sane in an insane world

There's a post about Gwyneth Lewis's talk today here:
Keeping sane in an insane world

Gwyneth certainly knows how to hit the depression nail on the head. We've often talked in the group about the positive things that can come from depression, such as seeing things realistically and being very sensitive to other people's feelings, maybe over-sensitive on down days, but we haven't yet gone as far as to say that the definition of good health should be extended to include depression. But she's right, I reckon!

Thursday 15 May 2008

An outlet for writing what we know


Our Creative Writing group has achieved wonders under Briony's inspirational guidance, and most weeks we each manage to produce and share some enjoyable and often uplifting work, often surprising ourselves with what appears on the blank white pages after the initial feeling of panic.

It struck me though that there is a whole load of writing we could be doing that isn't really relevant to the group or this blog. We each have some area of expertise, experience, opinion or even gossip which we could write up for our own satisfaction and to share to a wider audience. Anything from coping with panic attacks through favourite recipes to digging ancestors out of the 1841 Census!

A website and directory to do just this has been launched at Qassia. (Yes, there really isn't a U after the Q!). The idea is to build up a new type of searchable directory with bits and pieces of information (or 'Intel') provided by real people, like us. They accept that some of it may be 'bad' intel (not accurate) but there is a feedback option for other readers to comment on this so the post can be improved. Unlike Wikipedia, only the original author can modify the original Intel.

As you can see from my page, I have gone public with who I am, but that isn't necessary. I chose to do it as part of a recovery plan to come out from my chair in the corner, but if it causes problems in the future I can retire behind a pseudonym and change the photo!

One of the nice things about Qassia, once it takes off properly, is that it will generate some income from advertising, and writers will get a proportion of that depending on how often their articles are read. It's not likely to be a significant income for most of us, but the principle is good! It is also designed to give quality links to writers' websites, again based on how popular their contributions are.

I thought I might start with a piece about Cardiff as a fun venue...

Wednesday 30 April 2008

'I like to reminisce with people I don't know.' 
Steven Wright

thought it was relevant to yesterday's class X

Tuesday 22 April 2008

The wise man in the green chair

There is a green chair and facing it is another green chair. On one side sits a very wise man and he is smart and clever at what he does. For five years he has met once a week with the woman sitting in the other chair. At first she was reluctant to talk to him about the inner most things and they fenced backwards and forwards until at last she began to trust him. That was a long slow process but he was patient as he had seen this process many times and that was part of what made him wise because he could see she was frightened. Once she started to talk about the deepest and darkest feelings he could shake them out carefully in the sunlight that slatted in through the dusty blind and they examined the various ideas and feelings. She talked of times in the past that were murky but when they were shown up to the sunlight they lost some of their ferocity and she grew calmer. They were not always strictly speaking alone in the small room as shadows and spectres joined them from times gone by. After a while she began to know that anything could be examined and the clutter of her mind began to ease and her fears to grow less. The spectres of others spoke too in their own way and their ways had seemed cruel and thoughtless but those too in the sunlight had meaning and they shared those meanings and both began to understand. She would always arrive half an hour before they were due to meet to compose herself in readiness and prepare to make the most of the sixty whole minutes. Often she would shift on the green chair upset at what was hovering between them - the unspoken that had been given words and although at first it frightened her the very wise man sat strong and patient and did not let anything phase him. At first he was strong enough for the both of them but over the five years she began to see the power in her own strengths and to trust in herself. At first he talked of boundaries and containment and she felt boxed in like a wild thing but as he trusted in her so she could trust in herself. Slowly she saw an emerging wisdom in herself and she began to dare to have hope. This did not seem to be misplaced and over time things shifted both inside her head and outside in her world and she began to share the world with others not cower inside the prison of her own mind. When he said he was leaving she did not panic and did not thrash around in misery but they accepted the ending together and turned to face it knowing she could now continue to learn alone and when he had gone she did so and she continued to choose to move forwards and onwards. She chose the strength of the light and not the fearsome darkness. Because he had been such a very wise man she continued to thrive and he had done his work well. She bumped into him years later and suddenly he seemed small and almost defenceless and although he was still wise she could see his humanity and out of his green chair he seemed more or less on the same level as she was and she marvelled at how that could be so. She smiled to tell him how well she was doing and then they went their separate ways to their separate lives.

Monday 7 April 2008

Choka

Contribute to the worlds longest poem:
http://chokaonit.com/

Friday 4 April 2008

Where to find a dark sky?

Juliette's post on National Dark Sky Week reminded me of the visit of Comet Hale-Bopp back in 1997.

I was living near Pontypool at the time, and could just see the comet out of my back door, a slightly elongated vague smudge in the blurry orange night sky. This was nothing like the pictures on the television, so I got in my car and drove to the top of the nearest almost-a-mountain to get away from the sodium glare, pulled off the road onto the sheep-tracked moorland, pointed the car in the direction of the comet and sat back to enjoy it. And it was indeed much better than from the town - it clearly was a comet. I tilted back my car seat, opened the windows, unwrapped the fish and chips I had bought on the way up the hill, and pushed the radio button.

It was pretuned to Radio Sweden (surprise?!) and there was a programme about the break-up of Abba, and specifically the subsequent career and life of Anni-Frid (Frida). So I sat there enjoying my meal, watching the comet, and reminiscing about life in Sweden. Abba was big when my daughters were little, and of course at home they sang in Swedish, not Ameringlish.

But the real point of this story is that a couple of days later I visited friends near Llangranog, on Cardigan Bay, where the wind blows straight in from the Atlantic. No factory chimneys between there and Newfoundland. And the view of the comet over the sea was stunning, spreading in an arc across the night sky, a whole life removed from my view while listening to Abba.

And that's what the Week is all about. It is impossible to describe such a magnificent night sky - you must be there and experience it. And with the muck we pump into the air and the totally unnecessary upward light pollution from our towns, houses, offices, roads and factories, most people will never have the chance of that experience.

Grab it while it is still there! A comet isn't necessary - there is more than enough magic and beauty in the Milky Way. Enjoy!

Tuesday 1 April 2008

Our Favourite Place


Brazil Coffee - Church St
29.03.08 CF
Juliette Llewellyn Sony Erickson Mobile

Monday 31 March 2008

The Getting Of Wisdom & Good Companions

The Getting of Wisdom - The Guardian 26.03.08
Article on a Lorna Martin who documented her Therapy in the Newspaper and some interesting Therapy memoirs at the end of the Article
http://books.guardian.co.uk/departments/healthmindandbody/story/0,,2268066,00.html

Good Companions - The Guardian 26.03.08
Befriending Scheme for adults recovering from mental health issues
http://www.guardian.co.uk/society/2008/mar/26/mentalhealth

Saturday 29 March 2008

Earth Hour 2008


Well, Cardiff announced that it was supporting tonight's Earth Hour. I wondered whether to go into town to see the effect, but then I read that they were marking it by turning off all non-essential lighting in their offices. Well, those open between 8 and 9pm anyway, so I decided the effect might be less than spectacular. Good for them for signing up, though. Not many cities have yet.

So instead of walking in to see the unbright lights of the city, I turned off my own lights (two 7 watt low energy bulbs) and the computer (probably the larger contribution - must remember to look at the rating plate once I switch it off), poured myself a glass of wine (enough light in the kitchen from the street lights to see to do that), lit three candles and settled down with a book for an hour.

It would be nice if the energy saving propagandists would occasionally point out that some of us are already doing our bit, rather than tar the whole nation with the same brush. Even if one of our contributing factors is insufficient income to be profligate!

Anyway, I enjoyed reading by candlelight. Used to be a more frequent event out in the wilds of Ceredigion. But I wondered just how many other people were sitting at home in the same way. Next year, let's get together and bring some friends as well and have a candle-lit Earth Hour party. We needn't limit it to the hour, of course!

Friday 28 March 2008

The Real Alternative Therapy

Professor Kathy Sykes
I enjoyed the Kathy Sykes program on Reflexology. Fascinating that she couldn't find any scientific basis for the undoubted success of the therapy, but like a dog with a bone kept gnawing away until she came up with the conclusion, obvious in hindsight, that what we miss is the touch of another human being, and reflexology and massage give that in spades.

However, reflexology and massage come in specifically defined chunks of time, unless one is fortunate enough to live with the practioner. What happens in the gaps between? Our need for that touch, even just a quick hug, can come unbidden at any time. Especially when going to bed at night and on waking up in the morning, in my experience.

The lovely Professor Sykes took it a stage further and joined a 'cuddle party' in Los Angeles. From her face when she was describing it afterwards, she was rather bemused but clearly enjoyed it!

There has been a lot of negative reaction to the program by self-appointed sceptics and assorted besserwissers. I don't want to argue with them until they have lived in a pokey hole somewhere for a couple of years or more, each alone except for the constant nagging of clinical depression. Then we can talk, if they still haven't seen the light.

But I'm left with a thought - instead of spending fortunes on drugs and CBT, mightn't it be better to set up a nationwide network of introduction counsellors whose remit is to help depressed people get out of failed relationships and into loving, cuddling ones? Maybe for a short time to see if the new relationship works, with no criticism if it doesn't?

Or why not keep it simple and just train a nationwide army of Cuddle Party facilitators?

Ugh - the unlikeliness of Brown or Campbell signing up to that is bringing another bout of depression on. Maybe Nick Clegg would, though.

Sunday 23 March 2008

Me blog.

Being appropriate for today, I have posted the lyrics to Tom Waits' Chocolate Jesus on my (shh!) blog. Beware if you are someone who takes your Jesus seriously. Tom Waits, apparently, takes his with ice-cream.

Happy Easter!

Saturday 22 March 2008

Would you believe me if I told that you I didn't eat chocolate very often?

Chocolate. So many people, hopped-up on the sweet, mythical clay. Augustus Gloops, pulled back from the brink, now grown up. I've seen them, slumped on sofas, coming down from the high of a cacao spree. Twitching like dope fiends. Some go for the cheap stuff - get that slant-caffeine into the bloodstream, quick. For others, it is far more serious: they refer to their dealers as Chocolatiers; they put trays of exquisite bronze globes on a par with symphonies due to the practitioner's mastery of the ingredients - all in accord, rising to a crescendo of flavour once placed on the tongue.

I knew someone who used to put packets of chocolate buttons on the radiator, and when it had begun to wobble she would cut the corner, tilt with glee, and drink the contents. I would sit and watch, amused, sipping tea, smoking umpteen cigarettes, thinking, 'You've got a problem.'

On Sunday, when the day draws to a close, there will be thousands of giddy kids, overfull with cut-price, oversized chocolate eggs.

And the parents will be left with carpets of foil and walls of tiny eyes, fizzing with mischief.

Wednesday 19 March 2008

Sun, snow and chocolate

Imagine a sunny day in the Sierra de Guadarrama, north of Madrid, early in the summer so the stream we picnic by is still rushing the melt water from the snow further up in the hills to the river below. Imagine jumping into a pool in the water - too shallow to dive - and splashing around like children, trying to catch the trout around our feet. Then before the cold of the water chills us to the bone, climbing out onto the bank and stretching out on a smooth rock in the sun to bake dry. Repeat several times, and it is a taste of heaven.
But the real taste of heaven came later, after the sun went down. At that time of year in the mountains, once the sun goes in the air grows chilly as it drifts down from the snowline. So we drifted down too, in the car, to an inn at the roadside where we sat under the pine trees drinking cups of steaming chocolate, rough woollen blankets supplied by the inn around our shoulders.

Whenever I see stars through pine branches, it takes me back to that night. Rough blankets, hot chocolate, stars and my love... Heaven indeed.

Monday 17 March 2008

Good UK Site for writers


Browsing around, I came across explorewriting.co.uk, which claims to tell you How to Write Almost Anything. I haven't been able to check their claim exhaustively, but there is indeed a load of good stuff there both for beginners and for established writers, and no adverts!

The picture, The Bibliophile, has nothing to do with exploring writing, but how would the poor chap fill his time if there hadn't been armies of writers producing all those books...

Saturday 8 March 2008

Can Blogging Boost Your Social Life?

Researchers at Swinburne University of Technology in Melbourne, Australia, looked into the psychological benefits of blogging and found that bloggers tend to feel a greater sense of connectedness to a particular community.

And some bloggers feel that they have a larger social support system behind them than those who do not blog.

The researchers also found that using social networks such as MySpace and Facebook, "lifted the mood of all participants (of the study) in some way."

So maybe we really can blog away the blues!

Sunday 2 March 2008

An Average Night

Had a good day. Stories in the Millennium Centre, Breton dancers, relaxed time with good friends, brisk walk home to read a little more of Writing Down the Bones before cooking a (very) late lunch. After an evening pottering, I was in bed by 10:30, aware that the wind was picking up.

Couldn't get off to sleep but too whacked to get up, I eventually stretched out an arm and felt for the radio button. The Shipping forecast was just beginning:
There are warnings of gales in Viking, North Utsire, South Utsire, Tyne, Dogger, Fisher, German Bight, Humber, Thames, Dover, Wight, Portland, Plymouth, Fitzroy, Sole, Lundy, Fastnet, Irish Sea, Shannon, Rockall, Malin, Hebrides, Bailey, Fair Isle, Faeroes and Southeast Iceland.
What a list!

Vaguely wondering how Cromarty, Forth and Forties were missing out, I dozed off. It was, after all, a familiar bedtime story and I was under a duvet, warm and dry. I crossed the North Sea in a storm Force 10 once, and I didn't want to think of what they might be going through out there. I dozed off again.

Some while later, I woke with a jump to the sound of a whistling kettle in the bedroom. I don't have one, especially in the bedroom. It was the gales. They had reached Splott at just the right angle to whistle through the frames of my double-glazed draught proof windows. If I had left one open as usual, it would have been torn off its hinges.. OK, lift the eyeshield and take a quick peek at the clock. Ugh. 3:15. So I went into meditation mode to slip under the whistling, and dozed off again.

Until about 5, when a freight train passed along the track at the bottom of the garden. I don't normally notice them, but this one had a sticking brake or something that clanked as it rolled. In fact, it was quite pleasant lying there hearing the clanks gradually getting louder as it approached, then fading into nothingness as it receded. But 5am! Neither one thing nor the other. I adjusted the eye shield to total blackness and lay there debating whether to get up.

Success at last! While debating, I went into a proper sleep and when I woke up at 8:30 the sun was streaming into the room. So, ten hours in bed and I woke exhausted but lying in the sun, thinking that a whistling kettle in the bedroom mightn't be such a bad idea, if I had a box of teabags and a mug...

Friday 15 February 2008

Global Warming may have plus points


It's hardly Ikebana, but it was fun to be able to go out into my garden on St Valentine's Day and pick both a red rose and a bunch of snowdrops. When I lived near Aberystwyth some years back, there was an annual discussion about whether we would get daffodils flowering locally in time for Gŵyl Dewi on March 1st or would have to import them from foreign climes like Pembrokeshire or even Cornwall. However, when I made a foray to the National Library two weeks ago, the gardens there had at least one clump of daffodils in full flower, so well advanced that they will probably be over before the day comes. Plenty more on the way, though.

Thursday 7 February 2008

Book Clubs are good for you


OK, I admit it. The picture isn't actually from our reconnaissance at Borders, but we did have fun.

Sarah, Mike and I turned up as agreed, then discovered somehow that the theoretical start time was 7:00 rather than the 6:30 we were psyched up for. By 7:15 still nothing was happening and Sarah went into masterful mode - most impressively - and stalked off to find out why. It seems that the Book Club idea had been set up by the manager, who then went off sick without informing the deputies this was the night...

In the meanwhile, one other potential member, Adam, decided that we looked like a Book Club, so came over and introduced himself. A quick check of the other drinkers in Starbucks produced two more, Kate and another Sarah, so we were six and decided to go ahead with or without Borders.

We were lucky that we clicked immediately with the other three, and we began to discuss what on earth a Book Club was and how we would run ours! At this stage, a Borders manager came over with serious apologies for the confusion and collected our email addresses so that his boss could get in touch personally.

We got back to discussing books. How we are going to run it is still up in the air a bit, because with any luck new members will join and make your/their contribution - and if they are like the initial six, then it will to be a 'safe' and welcoming environment. (First Thursday of the month, 6:30pm in the Starbucks coffee bar at the back of Borders first floor!)

We agreed our interests were in reading both current and classical fiction, but we would not decide on titles too far in advance. People suggested possibilities, and the delight of meeting in a bookshop was that we could pick them off the shelves and discuss them! We came up pretty quickly with a short-list of six, but it could easily have been longer.

Our agreed first choice for this month became Daphne du Maurier's Jamaica Inn, with the back-up of Maggie O'Farrell's The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox for fast readers. 'The other Sarah' is a librarian, and a fount of knowledge on what books people are reading and enjoying, and she suggested the Maggie O'Farrell.

So, all in all an enjoyable evening and I'm looking forward to the next one. Our new friends were very interested to know that we are in a creative writing group, but we ducked telling them why they probably wouldn't qualify for ours!

Wednesday 30 January 2008

Haiku for frustrated Computer Users

They are quoted by Gillie Bolton in a book I’m reading - someone sent them to her anonymously - what a delight!

Chaos reigns within
Reflect, repent, and reboot
Order shall return

Yesterday it worked
Today it is not working
Windows is like that

With searching comes loss
and the presence of absence
‘My Novel’ not found

Monday 14 January 2008

The New Year....

'January is a wonderful time to connect fully with your core purpose, your vision and your plans for the year.

The energy of the new year can inspire you to see with 'new eyes' as you decide on what is truly important for you in the coming months.

This is quite different from the process of setting 'New Year's Resolutions' which can end up being half-hearted attempts to introduce change without the commitment and clarity required for that change to happen!

So as 2008 gets into full swing, I invite you to reflect upon:

  • what's really important to you about writing?
  • how crucial is it for you to discover your voice and see your work in print?
  • what are you really aiming for and what difference will it make to your life once you have achieved your goals?

When you're clear about what really matters, the next step is to make a plan that will show you how you can make steady progress towards the results you are looking for.

Be specific with your plan and literally schedule time into your diary for all that you want to achieve with your writing - and in general - this year.

I also recommend that you allow a good amount of time and space for spontaneity and the 'unexpected' ...

These are crucial ingredients along any path to creative fulfilment and finding the right balance between holding to your plan and being open to new possibilities will lead you to the greatest joy and success.'

Julia McCutcheon
The Writers Journey - From Inspiration To Publication

I am on Julia McCutcheon's newsletter list and was sent this. Thought this tied in a little with our class last Tuesday & may be helpful. She was a publisher but now she helps others find their writers voice and helps get their work in to print.