Worth Watching!
R’Ha
Worth Watching!
Writing Workshops and Getting Published
Around this time last year I participated in a series of workshops that explored ways of engaging with the city of London via writing. Entitled ‘Write Around Town’ and facilitated by writer Shaun Levin, each workshop took place in a different venue. I found myself writing in galleries and museums, department stores and cafes. All fun, and more importantly, great prompts for creativity.
As a primarily science fiction writer, I surprised myself by writing a couple of pieces of fairly decent ‘general’ fiction. The work generated during the adventure of ‘writing around town’ has now appeared in an anthology, published by Tree House Press and edited by Shaun Levin. The anthology is entitled ‘Writers in the Crowd’ and can be found both on Amazon, and more pertinently on the Tree House Press website.
My story: Junction 13: There and Back Again is, believe it or not, about driving on the M25. Sounds dry, huh? Well, to my surprise the piece really took hold of me; it wasn’t exactly a pleasure to write, but the damned thing wouldn’t let me go until I’d finished it.
Fortunately for me, I am within spitting distance of completing my MA in Creative Writing. This means that I am at liberty to sign up for the next ‘Write Around Town’ course, which starts in October this year. I’m looking forward to meeting new people, and writing for fun in interesting places. And you never know, some of the work may well appear in print.
Writing Workshops – a positive experience
Over the last five years I have participated in a variety of writing workshops. Some focussed on character, plot, point-of-view: the ground work of all creative writing. My first experience was with a beginners class offered by The Complete Creative Writing Course run by Maggie Hamand. This experience gave my confidence a huge boost and I progressed through the intermediate and advanced courses offered by the same company.
By the end of this process I had living, breathing, compelling characters, a world that I’d created from scratch which felt pretty real (and which has continued to gain shape and definition over the intervening years), and a solid stab at my first novel.
I realised that there were other approaches to writing workshops that allowed for more discussion and investigation of the approaches and methods used by established writers. These groups are usually smaller, 6-8 participants, and often focus on a particular author for each workshop. Here, the time is usually skewed slightly more towards discussion than writing exercises. Once or twice I found myself with serious ‘resistance’ issues around a particular writer’s style or approach, but once I got over that I was very pleased to discover elements that really strengthened my own writing.
One fun and creative way to approach writing is to use a variety of locations, for example art galleries and museums, in which to write. I do, on occasion, wander off to the South Bank with notebook in hand and come back with at least one piece of inspiration for my book (often more). If you’d like to do this sort of writing activity in a group, in a more directed style, then workshops like those run by Shaun Levin are ideal.
I have attended a number of Shaun’s workshops over the last two or three years, all of which have been very useful (and fun). In fact I have recently signed up for his next round of workshops entitled ‘Writers Around Town’, which start in October this year. I’m looking forward to writing in the Tate Modern, White Chapel Gallery and the Wallace Collection.
Stepping away from structure and towards practice, I regularly attended a weekly workshop run by the playwright Diane Samuels. In these workshops the focus is entirely on the ‘practice’ of writing: relaxed, free form, opening up and really listening to our inner voice. It might sound a bit ‘out there’, but trust me those workshops really made a difference to the quality and depth of my writing. I’ve had to take a break from these and other workshops while I work my way through my dissertation, but I can’t wait to get back to Diane’s workshops.
Ah, and that’s what I should be doing now, working on my dissertation. I started my MA in Creative Writing at Middlesex University in October 2011 and will finish in September this year. I chose Middlesex University as it offered an MA with a Science Fiction and Fantasy strand. It has been a real boon to work with other writers and tutors in the SFF field. It is a real pity that my cohort is the last to go through this excellent course.
Taking the plunge to do an MA seemed the next logical step after whetting my appetite and my skills on the range of aforesaid external workshops. I’m well on my way to finishing my first book, Crystal Flight, and have out outline for the sequel. (Hurrah!)
One of the BEST and most USEFUL aspects of all the above course and workshops was the element of critical feedback from other participants and tutors. Feedback might be scary at first, but it is essential for a writer. If you want your work to shine, you need to dig out the grit and polish up the rough edges. And sometimes, well quite often, other eyes are better at spotting those tricky smudges.
Self-sufficiency on Mars: Synthetic Biology holds the key
Mars is topical at the moment. In response I looked at the feasibility of building a self-sustaining human colony on the Red Planet. See my article featured on Astronaut.com, a website where Science Fiction meets Science Fact.
Astronaut.com: Science Fiction to Reality
A great website with lots to offer. As a guest blogger I have an article: Developing an off planet mining industry, which looks at the increasing pressure on Earth’s natural resources, and the economic pressure driving private industry’s race to gather the bounty of space.
Home Rock
Through his link with Tara he knows she is close to Home Rock, but he is closer. He’s crouched within twenty strides of the fist of granite that marks the start and finish point of the game. The urge to throw off his concealment and make a dash for it is almost overwhelming. Alden’s legs tremble with the need to win. Let me beat him. Just once. Please.
They’ve been playing Hide and Hunt for two hours, and already four teams have been captured by the Hunter. At dawn twelve Prey, split into teams of two, had spread out from Home Rock and concealed themselves within the forest. A mixed bunch of nine to twelve year old boys and girls, all keen to claim the honour of defeating the Hunter. Now only Tara’s and Mika’s teams are left.
Tara’s words whisper in his mind. ‘This is our chance. I’m going to make the run.’
‘Wait. We don’t know where the Hunter is.’
‘C’mon Alden, we can win this!’
Her excitement is infectious. Alden grins, maybe she’s right. ‘I’m closer. I’ll do it.’
Home Rock sits at the centre of a broad circular clearing surrounded by dense forest –– all they have to do is touch Home Rock to win. Only Prey are allowed to set foot inside the clearing, but the Hunter can strike from a distance. And this time the Hunter is his brother, Zand.
‘I’m the fastest.’ Exasperation stripes Tara’s words. She’s three years older than Alden, with two wins to her credit; one more win and she’ll be promoted to Hunter. Her tone softens. ‘Get ready to distract and defend.’
Tara sprints like a deer flushed from cover. In five thundering heartbeats she covers more than half the distance to Home Rock. Alden wants to yell with excitement. The edge of the tykae strike catches his shoulder and knocks him aside. He flings up a defensive barrier even as his mind cries a warning, but he’s too slow. The force of the strike lifts Tara into the air before sending her sprawling face down on the rough, pebble strewn ground.
A sharp barking laugh cuts the sudden silence. Zand steps out of green shadow into the sunlight dappled edge of the clearing: a tall stringy adolescent, snow-white hair coming loose from the single braid down his back, lips curled in a confident sneer.
‘Come out. Come out. Wherever you are.’
The sound of his voice is like a slap. Alden drops to his belly, heart hammering. Over the years Alden has perfected the art of concealment, an act of simple survival when growing up with an older brother like Zand. He feels Zand’s scan slipstream over his defensive shield and skip beyond his position. His brother’s curse sounds close. The air snaps with vicious anticipation.
Alden knows that the best tactic is to abandon Tara, circle round and wait it out. He might get another opportunity when Mika’s team make their run: only one member of a team has to reach Home Rock to win. It’s what Tara would do. But he can’t move. He’s transfixed by Tara’s struggle to rise –– blood darkens one side of her face; thick, slow motion drops spatter the ground as she raises her head and rolls onto her side. She doesn’t try to touch his mind; she knows that Zand can use an active link to backtrack Alden’s location. She starts to push herself up into a sitting position.
‘Last chance,’ Zand says, too loud in the green-gold stillness.
Zand has that look on his face. Alden wants to run but the familiar paralysis takes hold, leaving him helpless. Tara yelps as Zand yanks her towards him, her ankles bound in a savage tykae grip. It’s against the rules to use excessive force to subdue the Prey, but Zand doesn’t care about the rules. He just cares about winning.
His brother gives the tree line one last raking look, and then leans over to place his hand on Tara’s scratched and bleeding leg. Skin to skin contact, that’s all Zand needs to inflict his punishments. Alden knows what comes next; his body trembles with remembered agony.
All choices flee when Tara begins to scream.
Alden cowers under the bushes, his head buried in his arms, trying to block out the sounds tearing the air. He can almost feel the delicate tendrils of tykae energy piercing his body. Zand is laughing, the way he does when he’s got his little brother trapped and thrashing at his feet.
Silence –– broken by Tara’s wracking sobs. Alden peers through the bushes. Tara is curled into a ball, her body shuddering with the absence of Zand’s touch.
‘What’s it to be, noik? You or the girl?’
Alden’s heart is pounding so hard it hurts. Tara hands scrabble weakly at the pebbles as she tries to crawl away. Her whimpered ‘please’ stops his breath. Zand kicks at her until she stops.
White fury uncurls inside Alden; he steps into the clearing.
‘I knew it.’ Zand’s face twists with disgust. ‘Weak. Useless.’ He stabs a finger at Alden. ‘You should’ve run or stayed hidden. You might still have had a chance to get past me.’
Alden weaves his outrage into the lattice of his defensive shield. At least Tara is quiet now. Zand’s tykae strike sends him staggering backwards, but he keeps his feet and his silence, knowing that both will infuriate his brother. Zand never stops until you beg, and sometimes not even then. Alden can sense the confusion behind Zand’s rage as his brother skirts the edge of the clearing, closing the distance between them.
‘Give it up, little brother.’
Alden tightens his shield, and his fists.
Alden knows that Mika’s team is still out there; if he can distract his brother for long enough they might have a chance. Alden doesn’t want to win anymore. He just wants Zand to lose.
And then Tara slaps her bloodied palm against Home Rock.
END
Cast of Wonders
I’ve just had a short story accepted by Cast of Wonders, a YA Audio magazine. Check out their website, I’m impressed by the quality of provision for the 12 to 17 year old market.
NeXus—mankind gets an upgrade
Ramez Naam – Angry Robot
This book is set in the near future and looks at the impact of nanotechnology, specifically its ability to engender a form of telepathy in humans—the ability to link minds. As with all step-ups in technology, the impact of the drug Nexus has a multiplicity of possible benefits and opportunities for misuse—implications that the author brings to the fore through the struggles of Kaden Lane, the main protagonist.
Kaden is a young researcher who has redesigned Nexus—an illegal drug—to allow the drug’s nanostructures to be pre-programmed. The book opens with Kaden carrying out a field trial of the ‘Don Juan’ protocol. The ‘Don Juan’ protocol analyses his interactions with a young woman and controls his responses, changing a shy and diffident young man into a confident, smooth operator.
The T S Eliot Prize
As a novice in the world of poetry I attended the Shortlist Readings of the T S Eliot Prize with a sense of excited anticipation. The event was well organised and ran very smoothly, and I have to say that in the person of eight out of ten poets (rather like ‘eight out of ten cat owners’) my expectations were fully met and in several cases exceeded.
Nothing can really match an accomplished poet reading his/her own work. They were, without exception, consummate performers. The Festival Hall housed an audience of around two thousand who listened in silent awe to each poet deliver a sample of the best of their work this year.
Simon Armitage gave a witty introduction to his reading, speculating on ‘what can I do to win this year?’—his last collection Seeing Stars was shortlisted in 2010. He read a section of his contemporary retelling of the four thousand line alliterative Morte Arthure (The Death of King Arthur). I enjoyed it much more that I expected to. His writing has certainly caught my attention, and I shall be looking back at his previous works with more than a little interest. I have also been reliably informed that he is a speaker well worth listening to.
Paul Farley gave a very entertaining reading of several of his poems from The 
Dark Film, waving airily in what he thought might be the direction of the Royal Box, glasses perched precariously on the tip of his nose. His last poem finished with the declaration: ‘Oh fuck! I’m the queen.’
Jacob Polley topped them all with his rendition of ‘Langly Lane’ from The Havocs. He was the only poet to receive spontaneous applause after reading his first poem. His book is now in my hands and I’m happy to say the rest of his work is of the same wonderfully high standard.
He should have won.
