Three of my most hated tips for writers.

I’ve discovered an anomaly; there is dissidence between knowledge and application.

Without wishing to be a depressive, it is apparent, that in a global sense things are not very good: there is an Exodus from terror states; poverty is on the rise, there are great inequalities in the world, a shortage of natural resources and a butchering of the land. There’s a bunch of other bad things too, but I don’t need to labour the point.

All of these bad things were created by humans,  humans that have vast knowledge in all realms including various mathematically calculated dimensions. Knowledge is in abundance; yet there is dissidence between the knowledge and the application of knowledge.

While humankind continues to make a complete mess of the planet; and of being kind humans we preoccupy ourselves with shallow attempts at perfection and self improvement. We swallow this information in the same bite sized hints and tips I refer to when creating canapés.

The internet and the book shop are heavy with how to’s:

How to make a hologram (I looked it up the other week)

Five Tips for glossy hair.

Top Tips to half your household chores.

A Woman in your own Right: Assertiveness and You.

RULES FOR WRITERS.

Hints and Tips for writers are nearly always written by authors I have never heard of who recommend practice that is achievable only if you are a bored aristocrat in danger of sliding into some over indulgent languor.

Here in descending order are three of my most hated tips:

Write it down

On the face of it this seems like a good rule. However ideas don’t always arrive fully formed, a formed idea should be written down, when convenient. I don’t recommend writing down your good idea about the aftermath of a house fire when the sausages are burning. I do have lots of pens and note books all over the house. I don’t know which idea is in which note book and feel that ideas need to be thoroughly mulled over prior to finding the notebook.

Keep writing

Practice makes perfect, but writing and writing is not the answer, editing is the answer. It’s all very well writing 1000 words in an hour or 4000 a day, but if they are badly organised then no one will want to read them. Editing sounds a lot less impressive, it can mean three hours removing ten words, replacing six and adjusting punctuation, but it gives a much better result.

Stick to the routine.

This must be for those writers with a place of their own and no other occupation. How do you stick to a routine when there is a parent’s evening? Or you have a lesson to plan for? If for example Haruki Murakami were to make an appearance at my local community centre (in your dreams Freese) am I supposed not to turn up because it clashes with my routine? I feel better advice would be to write when you can.

A writer writes because they must, a mother nurtures because she loves, a teacher teaches because of potential. We are all more than the sum of one thing, and we have to do our thing, when we can, to our own rules: rules that work for us.

The Write Outfit

I am having a Cinderella moment; I have nothing to wear.

I should go shopping, but I hate clothes shopping; too often the garments on offer are the wrong colour, too big or out of my price range. Finding the perfect outfit in a charity shop is a skill that eludes me. There must be a technique; someone should start an evening class: I’d enroll.

If I were a full time writer or a recluse (research suggests there’s a hairs breath between the two) then I might have a single occasions outfit and my continued wearing of it could be explained away as eccentricity.

Potential Eccentric Writers Outfits.

Carry On Screaming

A Molyneux of Paris style gown, in the deepest purple crushed velvet with sharp Dracula collar.  Occasion wear screaming gothic romanticism for the writer of dark fiction. Disadvantages would be a perquisite pan cake flat tummy.

Little Miss Dumbeldore

Another floor length number, this time in black satin, with great pointed magicians sleeves edged in white velvet.  Sumptuous outerwear for the writer of metaphysical fiction. The Disadvantages are as for the first choice outfit along with the danger of appearing swamped.

My Dress of Many Colours

Still reaching to the ankle is the ultimate bohemian gypsy garb, all flowing lace, embroidery, ribbons and little strips of velvet; very Lady of Shalott. A dress for a poet of the textured soul. Disadvantages lay in its construction; with the involvement of many textures there is a danger of looking like a beautiful cushion cover.

I am not, as it happens a recluse and I’m not that much of an eccentric, so I have compiled a second list selected for understated stylishness.

Potential Stylishly Arty Writers Outfits

The Factory Floor

Sporting Beatnik Chic with super tight black jeans, long sleeved high collared top, black shiny boots; a timeless ensemble for expressionists. Here stands the writer that cuts to the core of emotion and leaves punctuation to the discretion of the reader. Disadvantages lie in not looking young enough.

  

Breakfast at a Coffee Shop:

A knee length, black cotton dress with starched white cotton collar.  For the writer who tells it as it is. Adverbs avoided at all costs whilst teetering on the brink of something we have read before. Disadvantages include lingering in a safe look reminiscent of the Wednesday Addams general get up.

Ninja Warrior

An inspired, Japanese, two piece comprising: Capri length black satin trousers with matching black tailored shirt displaying embroidered button detail. Slashing the space between dreams and reality, this is an outfit for the writer who never really wakes up. Disadvantages you may look like you’re still in your pajamas.

So when she finally turns up, my fairy godmother that is, we have some things to discuss. And seeing as this week we are talking fashion you might be interested to know that she turns up all over the place; she has made appearances in several of my short stories and is trying to sneak her way into my first ever theatre piece. She dresses like Pola Negri .

Writing Like A Rock God

On Friday I gave a reading of my short story Count DireLife (which you can read here) to a small audience from various artistic backgrounds. Though the venue was huge and the microphone hissy, I came away with a great feeling of achievement, a little applause, then a little more as the MC encouraged it and a compliment or two not so much about my story but about my delivery and confidence.

I feel as though I underwent an initiation process, rather like the journey a band might take. The band starts playing small venues, their friends attend, sometimes the drummers Dad will come, there will be a few old blokes at the bar and maybe the girl who runs the cloak room will step away from the coats and take a look too. I wonder how lonely the lead singer must feel when he or she says “Thankyou.” to the sound of their lover and the old bloke clapping.

I wonder how many bands just play that one gig and give up. I doubt there are many. They will have written their songs, practiced their set, thought about their costume and given it their all. Which is what I did.

And then I had a moment of crisis. What if no one really wants to read my words?

Though Friday was the first time I ever read my work aloud among strangers, I have shown my work to others with varying degrees of success. I’ve had people tell me they loved my work, they find it too flowery, that it was evocative, that I have a beautiful way with words, that there was simply too much detail, that it was depressing and very unusual.

I just want people to read it, and to appreciate it.

I’ve never had any one yell at me to get off the stage, or throw plastic cups since they stopped serving bottles. I had a pleasant response, the only coughing came from me, I met a nice group of people who I hope to see again and most of all I had fun.

What would the rock god do next? Having secured a venue they would sneak through town at night and post flyers advertising their next gig. And so it would go on, until the band has a following and finally a manager, who has contacts and knows people and is often over bearing and one day you know they might make it. And maybe they might not. They will have had a load of fun, a stack of stories to tell and by the time they have hit mid forty their sex god pose will have been perfected to a state of imperfection.

So let’s hope my debut with the squeaky microphone in a fabulous venue is the beginning of my gigging career. As I will be reading I don’t need to practice my pout, but I just may have to mix up some paste and get posting flyers all over town.

When A Writer Writes

I am going to a cultural event on Friday, where I shall mingle with other creative types. I will be attending in my capacity as a writer. I have even asked to give a reading of a short story which is yet to be completed.

According to somewhat disturbing advice published regularly on the internet, a writer is someone who writes every day. I hope those hosting this event do not require evidence of such dedication to the craft, though I tried it for about three weeks and this is what happened:

I wrote a short story about why cleaning is a waste of time (I think I wrote it on the lap top and now I can’t find it.) When I find it I intend to use it as an experiment on social media (watch this space)

I completed Chapter 9

Chapter nine haunted me for months; I could not move it on in the manner required. Once complete I should have been able to tackle Chapter 10, which is also written, but needs editing, but I had intended to write every day. I assumed that meant writing something new.

I wrote an incomplete story about beings that live in the walls and feed off emotion; they are getting bored because everyone is very much the same.

The idea had been sitting around in my head for some time and was based on the notion that we are all living pretty much the same lives. It was unfinished because the day ran out and I was trying to write every day.

I wrote a story about a 14 year pregnancy

Still only in draft format, the landscape was previously styled for a story about a puppeteer rapist.

In response to a competition brief (now closed) I wrote a story about Spring Suicides

Currently as a third draft this was inspired by a review of The Babadook, it’s really about the relationship between the mother and son, the Spring Suicides were supposed to be about the Mother character coming to terms with her loss, the story was to hold the theme together.

I wrote about the discovery of a fairy in a dystopian future (incomplete)

This was in response to the election results; it’s about when the majority makes a bad decision.

For the cultural event I have a story about a woman who disappears, ceases to exist, and reforms elsewhere, in the steam of a hot coffee, the cheese of lasagna. This came from a concept I tried to weave into a novel five years ago, I got quite a way in and then abandoned it.

The point is that a writer does not have to write every day, a writer has to edit, to think, to read, to re-visit, to let it sit or run on as required and then to propagate. I might be at the propagation stage.  The story of the disappearing woman is taking root; it needs to be ready for planting by Friday.

  

Four things to expect at your first craft fair.

In the run up to Christmas I sewed two little felt birds. At the time I was pleased with them and made some more, I stylized them, I experimented and I ended up with a beautiful collection. I joined some online crafting groups and then Sunday 31^st May I did my first ever craft fair!

I booked a pitch, organised public liability insurance, painted twigs and ordered paper bags. The day before the fair we had something of a cottage industry going; Dad was helping my husband with the doweling for the mobiles, Mum was involved in cutting out the price tags and threading and I was sewing, sewing, sewing.

I packed everything up and Sunday morning Dad drove us to Devonport Park.

My Pitch before the Gazebo

Over the day I sold two things; one to my mother and one to a little girl. With the money earned my son bought plastic toys from the stall next door. Husband and I spent most of the day standing, cold, concerned that the Gazebo would blow away; and I made a loss!

Me and Mum at the stall (she is colour coordinated!)

I learned a great deal and I had a great time so here are my look outs if you are doing your own show:

There may be equipment you don’t understand

While the table supplied folded out with ease the Gazebo was a different matter and resulted in a sort of family krypton factor. Four adults and one child attempted to open out the spider like construction and then strap on the covering; we had two walls with windows. We spoke to The Man and got a back wall, which we thought was the roof. We figured it wasn’t the roof when it didn’t fit. Eventually we had all the components and had constructed our shop! Exciting stuff!

Your Products might not sell.

I had a good level of interest but didn’t sell. I need cost cutters; goods that are fast and inexpensive to make that will enable me to lower the cost of my more time consuming products. I also need to supply much more information about what they are, who they are for and the skills involved in making them. I am now considering a photo wall of construction techniques.

You will be required to mingle.

I spent most of the day talking to anyone that showed interest in my products. This meant that I spent a lot of the day smiling. I was in the fresh air and I was part of a community. All day there was music from the band stand, there was a refreshments tent and lots of happy happy dogs. Later in the day the sun came out and there were families. I talked to the stall holders. My son made friends with a family selling Egyptian foods and he and their boy played all day long. 

It will probably feel good

I went home feeling I had really achieved something and I slept like a baby. I’m not disappointed by my lack of sales; I’m encouraged by how much I enjoyed myself. I am keen to try out my new ideas and I am excited to be doing it again soon.