Reminiscing...

This morning I have been on a virtual walk...wandering through the once familiar lanes and alleyways of the internet...stumbling upon long forgotten but one time regular haunts.

It's too easy to be distracted by the very present, shiny, social media stuff. Twitter and Facebook dangle baubles that catch the light and sparkle brightly but oh-so-fleetingly. But of course as one glittering tweet fades the light bounces off to light  up another. They are like fairground candy floss...satisfying for a second but with no substance. Blog posts and writers websites on the other hand glow with a constant, gentle luminescence that can be overlooked as we dash from shiny to shiny. So today I have revisited and indulged in a few old favourites. 

One in particular I stayed at for a while - it kindleakindle a little spark which brought me back here to my own stagnant blog, searching for a piece of my own writing...I didn't find it and so I am posting here today, six years after it appeared on Richard Hearn's Geowriting site as part of the Brighton Digital Festival. 

If I remember rightly, the prompt was a boy in a yellow T-Shirt ...

This is what I wrote: 

I made my way from the station. Keeping to the narrow back lanes and side streets. Off the beaten tracks, away from prying eyes. I couldn't risk being spotted. That would raise too many questions, too many puzzled looks, the risk of discovery and repatriation. The last thing I wanted!

A movement at the end of the alley caught my attention.

A sudden breeze lifted the rubbish causing a mini maelstrom of old newspapers and Pizza Place fliers. I squinted against the tornado of dust and grit and saw beyond it, a small human crouching by the bins. He seemed as keen as I not to be spotted, and I couldn't help feeling that a less glaring choice of shirt might have helped him.

We looked at each other, warily.

Separated for an instant by the storm of paper until, as suddenly as it had begun, the wind dropped and the papers fluttered to the ground. One sheet came to rest in front of me. I looked down and saw my own face staring back. And underneath, the hideous human name.

I shuddered in disgust and shame. By the bins the boy stared at me. His eyes flickered to the paper at my feet and back up to meet my gaze. He nodded, the slightest, barely perceptable movement of his head and then stood and jogged quietly past.

Thankful of his understanding, I continued my journey leaving behind the poster offering a reward for my safe return. I hoped the human boy was as successful in his own bid for freedom.

You can find out about the project and read the other contributions from writers across the country here 

http://www.brightondigitalfestival.co.uk/

February is the worst month...

I know. January is usually my worst month, and it was pretty dire, but February is giving it a run for it's money this year. Maybe it's just another of those age things, you know? The older you get the creakier your bones, the worse your eyesight, the longer it takes to get up out of a chair, for wounds to heal, and maybe for the January blues to clear.
Maybe it's because we haven't had a proper winter this year...hardly any frost, no snow to speak of, just lots of greyness and rain. Or maybe it's because this year, more than any other, I simply fail to see a light at the end of the tunnel, no silver linings, no brightside. I always see a brightside, even - or maybe especially - when others can't. Don't get me wrong, I am sure there is one, I just can't see it yet. Maybe March will be my month. That's a lot of maybes.

February is Post-It Note Poetry Month. I have been looking forward to it for a while - it always cheers me up and gets me writing - usually badly but that doesn't matter. The important thing is to be writing. Plus it is good for my succinct style. It is perhaps a testament to my state of mind this February that in 11 days I have posted just 3 poems. Massive fail. Something must be done - not sure what yet, but for sure it must.

For now, I leave you with today's post-it poem. It's not great but I quite like it and writing and posting it made me feel better.

I hadn't intended such an introspective post to break the block, sorry about that. Onwards and upwards, as they say.

"the liminal crawl-space" paintings by P A Morbid

Yesterday I went to a private viewing of an art exhibition.
I have been to such things before, but this one was a little different. This was the first solo exhibition of my friend Morbid. You might gather from his name that he doesn't always have the sunniest outlook on life, and he himself confesses to being something of a "troubled soul". I knew these were not going to be happy smiley pictures. I was expecting dark and disturbing and there was a distinct possibility that I wouldn't "get" them. I am grateful to him for posting his own thoughts on his blog - and allaying my fears that he might be hugely offended if I didn't get it...  https://theblacklightengineroom.wordpress.com/2016/10/29/flying-solo/

I fall resolutely into that much disdained camp of "I don't know much about art, but I know what I like". If I am honest, that is true of many things - my maxim should perhaps be "I don't know much about anything, but I know what I like." but that's a whole other blog post.

I can't talk about artistic style and form, I don't know enough about art to recognise influences...but I can talk about content and colour and emotion. I can talk about my response to what I can see.
I saw a series of paintings filled with darkness and chaos, images in dark greens and blood reds, and black, bright oranges, blinding yellows and light, bright greens. I saw Angels looking anything but angelic, images of hunger and pain, of fire and burning, and of hell.
I felt a sense of pain, and loss, of helplessness and fear. I felt uncomfortable and bemused. I don't think that is an unexpected or unjust reaction.

The full title of the exhibition is "the liminal crawl-space" and it is accompanied by a poem "falling" written by Morbid in 1998. You don't need to read the poem to appreciate the exhibition but it does add an extra dimension. Imagine you are an angel, falling from heaven, cast out from all that was once dear and sacred to you. This exhibition is the crawl-space between heaven and hell. It is full of  doubts and fears, the memories of heaven and happiness,  the anguish of loss, and the struggle to understand. It is the moment between happiness and unhappiness, as you begin to understand the enormity and the hideousness of the transformation of your world.

Morbid joked that I would only take pictures of the pretty pictures. He was almost right. I am drawn naturally to the light. I like "easily she steps through the fire garden" with its muted greens - their coolness at odds with the fire garden of the title, I liked "these words", "there are no shadows" and "the green man", This does not mean that I didn't appreciate the others, they all tell the story but it is a pretty bleak one. My soul naturally seeks out the images that harbour a sign of hope.



My response may not be what other people experience when they view this exhibition. I know a very little bit of the background of the artist. I am also an eternal optimist. No matter how dark life gets I will always see a bright spot.

One of Saturday's enduring bright spots was the sight of Morbid proudly smiling despite all his attempts to look grave and serious like an artist should.

The exhibition runs until 30th Dec in the upstairs exhibition space, Python Gallery, Middlesbrough. http://www.pythonproperties.co.uk/galleries/python-gallery


.

Rule of Thirds

Two is company
Three is a crowd.

Three,
Three,
Three, that's a magic number.

Three little pigs.
Three billy goats gruff.
Three bowls of porridge.
Three chairs.
Three beds.
Three bears.
One Goldilocks.
I grant you three wishes.

One is lonely.
Two is company.
Three. Three is a crowd.

Connect #developingyoureye 5

 .

Connections come in all shapes and forms. I have been mocked occasionally for my references to friends who I know only online. But those connections have proved more enduring than some so called "irl" ones. The connections are no less real just because they are rooted in the ether.
This poem came to me at work through the post (mail) from the other side of the world - from a connection made online. A palimpsest of sorts. I love that.
The poem is by Jodi Cleghorn. She's a Twitter mate.
To be fair, the photograph is not great. But the connection is.
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/blogging-university/developing-your-eye-i-materials/#day5

Bliss #developingyoureye 4

coffee in bed

Morning coffee in bed, drunk at leisure, in peace, undisturbed except for the purring of the cat. #bliss

#developingyoureye 4

Water #developingyoureye 3

Day 3 - you'll notice I am running a little behind!
Our day in Arundel started sunny but with the promise of rain - by the end of the day we had seen more water than we would have liked.

#developingyoureye

Street #developingyoureye 2

A rainy afternoon in Arundel.
Historic town on a steep hill.
Parking is at a premium.

#developingyoureye

Home #developingyoureye 1

I'm on holiday at the moment so difficult to take a picture that represents home. So am cheating a little bit and posting one from last week. It is very apposite though.
This is what we look out for on the way home. Once you spot this on the horizon you know you're almost there...

#developingyoureye

Photo Challenges

A couple of weeks ago I came across a photo challenge blog on wordpress. I've been doing quite a few daily challenges that call for nothing more than to post a picture on a theme each day - which is fun. But this weekly challenge posed a problem. It required a pingback to the original post...which would have been fine if a photo challenge fitted in with my wordpress blog. Dabblewords is all about the words. It has poetry and flash fiction...made up stuff. It does not have the introverted meanderings from the mind of a social network addict. So if I wanted to join in I either posted on blogger and shared it unofficially in the comments...which means not many people will even see it let alone read it...or I found a means to make it about words as well as pictures. And I think I may have cracked it. Taking the weekly theme, I choose a photograph and then I use that as the prompt for a piece of fiction. Presto...Not sure why I didn't think of it sooner! Perfect way to combine my two interests! My first two are up already on https://guerillawriting.wordpress.com/ . Feel free to mosey on over and have a look, leave a comment, or even join in with your own weekly photo...
You can find the link to the Weekly challenge in my previous post... (that's my sneaky way of getting you to read another post...lol!)

Perspective

Looking Up

Last week I went to a university open day with my youngest son. We wandered round among fine old victorian and edwardian architecture and I listened to the excitement in his voice as he planned and hoped that this is where he will be come September. He has the desire, and the enthusiasm and the ability, He just needs the grades. 

In amongst all the red brick grandeur there are one or two concrete and brick boxes. Not so pretty to look at at first glance - but if you look up, you'll be amazed at what you can see. 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/photo-challenges/look-up

Look Up

Crossing boundaries and breaking barriers

One Day?

The first tourists had started to arrive, their cars pulled smugly into parking spaces so early in the day. Later there would be more of them, frazzled, touring the town in search of a space, especially if the weather brightened. But looking out across the bay, at the castle dark against the grey skies, it was hard to imagine the day would brighten at all.
It was hard really to think that another May was already upon them. Before long the little town would be awash with tourists, bursting with excitement and enthusiasm, laden with  fractious children, grumbling grandparents and tourist information.
Very soon there would be little time to stare at the view and dream. There would be endless drinks to serve, meals to cook, rooms to clean.
A sudden gust of wind tugged at the bar door, opening it a few inches; just enough to allow in a brief tantalising breath of air, heady with the sweet scent of new mown grass and the salt tang of sea spray. With it came the sound of waves crashing on the shore and a gull shrieking as it wheeled overhead.
A tentative thought surfaced - today, maybe today would be the day to step outside?
Almost as soon as the thought was formed, the wind dropped and the door clashed back on its hinges, clattering the glass in its frame and shattering the dream before it was even properly formed.

Originally written for Crossing the Tees and published as a podcast on www.rachelcochrane.com

#AmWriting

I have been trying to get on top of this writing lark lately. Not very successfully, I might add. As always I have ideas but they never seem to transform themselves into words on a page...and I know!! the words won't actually write themselves, I do have to put some effort in myself. So I have taken myself in hand and am currently submitting to a number of regular challenges. As well as my old favourite Paragraph Planet, I am trying my hand at Three Line Thursday and Ad Hoc Fiction.


PP is a 75 word flash challenge. You can submit to it anytime, on any subject, as the

muse moves you, but your story must be precisely 75 words - no more, no less.

TLT is a weekly picture challenge. You have one day to submit three lines of no more than 10 words per line, inspired by the

featured image. Winners are announced the following Saturday. It's quite a challenge and the standard of entries is high. It is however a very supportive community of writers.

Adhoc is another weekly challenge. This one gives you a generous 150 word maximum, and the only requirement is that you must include the prompt word in your tale. Winning stories for Adhoc Fiction recieve a free chance to enter the longer Bath Flash Fiction Award.




In addition to all these I am also trying to write a poem inspired by science. That's not going so well just yet but it may get there. I have found my friendly scientist (I didn't have to look far to be fair, he's on my friends list!)and we have had a chat about why he thinks science is fab. Now I have a week to kick it into touch and string together some half decent words and ideas. It might happen. Watch this space!

Bank Holiday Black and Blues...

End of May.
Spring Bank Holiday.
Another one.
Have I mentioned that I really don't like bank holidays?

This time around the Other Half was not working, instead he was off with his cycling gang, riding Hadrian's Way from west to east. So left to my own devices, I hatched a cunning plan of my own...bit of an accidental one actually due to an earlier postponement, but that is not the point! The point is this bank holiday I would be busy doing something. I would not be sitting about waitning, I would be out, doing!
And the thing I would be doing would be a beginner's archery course. Two days of aiming, firing* and mostly missing the target, with my two sons. Seems I may have found something we are all interested in.
The boys were a little bit better than me at hitting the target, surprising for a pair of nocturnal creatures, dragged from their pits for a 10 o'clock start at the weekend!


So after two days holed up in the Church Hall at Newbottle I now know how to string a recurve bow. How to notch the arrow, aim and release it. I know how to fit a sight to the bow and adjust it to allow for my weird vision. And I also now know that my youngest son can't close his left eye. He can close the right one, and he can close them both together, but he can't close the left one on it's own! And, I now know that I bruise very easily and spectacularlym that it is very important to keep your elbow tucked in and the importance of having the correct posture when shooting. You get the stance wrong and my word! you get bruises! You also get aching shoulders, and sore fingers -especially if you are shooting pretty much all day for two days! But hey, what's a little discomfort when you're having fun and learning new stuff!?


And we did have a load of fun! We met new people who are enthusiastic about their sport and new archers who were just as nervous as us at the start of it all. We learnt about friendly competitiveness and rivalry, and team work, and fun. There was also plenty of coffee available - thank goodness. Houghton Archers had all the essentials covered as far as I was concerned!
I may have have left a tad tired and a wee bit black and blue - but I had a brilliant bank holiday weekend. Roll on the next one - any suggstions for an August bank holiday activity?

Tonight, by the way, is our first visit to the archery club since the course. Lets see how much we remember...

www.houghtonarchers.co.uk


*I'm told one doesn't fire arrows. One fires bullets, and shoots arrows. I am uncertain of the correct grammar...was I shooting arrows or shooting a bow? Is it the gun or the bullet that is fired? NOTE TO SELF: investigate this.

National Flash Fiction Day Flashback

National Flash Fiction Day is coming round again and I was reminded today of a piece I submitted in 2012 (thanks FB Memories). It's linked below for your delight and delectation.
Flash Fiction is what got me writing, or to be precise, it's what got me believing I could write and that my tiny scraps were actually worthwhile. NFFD has been fundamental in nurturing this fragile confidence. The guys behind the day have always been supportive and friendly, especially to an upstart newby like myself. They have given people like me the opportunity to join in and try our first tentative steps into the world without fear that if we stumble, the pavement will rise up and crack our skulls. This year I am joining in again. I have actually entered one of the competitions. Don't know if my offering will cut the mustard, but I do know that just entering and putting my words into the mix, is quite a step for me. The next rung on the ladder in my word dabbling journey.
If you are interested in creative writing and aren't sure where to start, then I'd recommend flash fiction - have a look here. There are lots of activities online to get you started.
And finally, here is the thing of mine from NFFD2012. So, what are you waiting for? If I can do it, anyone can.

And, by the way, yes - there is a typo in it. Funny how you don't spot these things till three years later... :-D

The Write-In: Just Say Yes by Denise Sparrowhawk: 
She heard the question. The words were clear, the meaning quite plain. It didn’t seem to be a trick question. She hesitated, wondering. What...

Still small voices

As you may know, if you've been paying attention, I've been joining in with Last Line First, a flash fiction challenge run by Natalie Bowers.
The object is to write a story, in no more than 200 words, inspired by a single sentence - a last line from one of the previous week's entries.
The sentence is chosen by Natalie each week and it becomes the first line of the new entries.
It's a simple idea. Sometimes the sentence is an easy prompt, and an idea occurs to me almost straight away. Other times it takes a while for a story to present itself, and sometimes I find it impossible to come up with anything at all, but it's always fun trying. There have been some excellent last lines and I am amazed at the diversity of stories that sprout from the same sentence.
When I start to write I don't have a last the last line in mind - I just go where the idea and the story takes me. I seem, finally, to be finding my voice and, I think, growing in confidence - helped by the supportive words of encouragement from the other contributors.
I also seem to be getting good at last lines. This is a good thing since I hate the disappointment of a weak ending. So I am happy to say my latest offering was chosen to start week 16, which is also good, as it cheered up my bank holiday blues!

You can read my offering Stillness along with the other stories on Story Scavenger - Last Line First. Why not check out the latest prompt and join in? Make your still small voice heard...

Bank Holiday Blues

I really don't like Bank Holidays. They sweep in with promises of activity and days out and good times but they never live up to expectation. In fact I can't remember the last time a Bank Holiday (Christmas not included - that's a whole other ball game) included a fun day out. I am therefore, as usual, home alone doing desultry housework, and trying to write something.
And I do have a project to write for...Crossing The Tees Festival mini project on breaking barriers and crossing boundaries. I have a story half written. It needs some work to beat it into shape.
I also have a poem to work on. That's a much more slippery piece. Tricksy. So it has been relegated to the "Look At Later" pile.

In the meantime, between loading the washer and washing the pots, I have drunk way to much coffee and written a six word story about waiting...
 ...and a Last Line First story about noise.
I'm now considering 75 words for Paragraph Planet.
Oh...and I've written a blog post...So. There you go. Productive Bank Holiday fun. Hope you're enjoying yours.

Gudbye t'Jayne

Today is the start of NaPoWriMo. The early prompt for today  was  to write a poem in the vernacular beginning with 'I guess it's too late...'
In the great tradition of the Hartlepool Writers group I obviously ignored that and posted a Too Late haiku. This morning on Twitter, reading the other posts and thinking about the evening before, I tried it again. Obviously being English I can't start it 'I guess...' and being a member of Hartlepool Writers group I couldn't make it a 'too late' poem but I think I got the 'in the vernacular' ...just about. I definitely got the sentiment right.

Gudbye t'Jayne

I s'pose I should be grateful
For the good times we have had
But today tbh
Jayne's Leaving just
Leaves me
Sad.

#NaPoWriMo

Murder, muses and mayhem; just another week of culture...

This week has been a bit of a cultural marathon.

Tuesday took me to The Royalty Theatre in Sunderland to see their production of Amanda Whittington's "The Thrill of Love" - the story of Ruth Ellis, the last woman to be hanged in the UK.

Wednesday was Writers' Group at the library -  this week using signs as prompts. Since most of the signs I had hurriedly printed off were the Danger! Warning! type, it's perhaps hardly surprising that they inspired a surfeit of dead bodies...It's fair to say the bloodthirsty members of the group were in their element! Hopefully they will tidy up the blood and limbs and send me some samples for the group blog. (hint, hint writing group people!) Prompts are strange beasts. Sometimes they lead you to the
obvious, and other times they lead you a dance bringing you out somewhere unexpected. I thought I was writing a story about high jinx in the chemistry lab but ended up going in a completely different direction with a poem inspired by the growth in a petrie dish.

Thursday brought more drama with a visit to Arts Centre Washington for "Odyssey" - Theatre Ad Infinitum's fabulous dramatic re-telling of the legend. It had seductive nymphs, blinded cyclops, jealous gods and, of course, a great hall filled with blood and dead bodies... Quite a week so far.
Saturday will hopefully see me at The Blacklight Engine Room in Middlesbrough. I have no idea whether there will be dead bodies involved in that, but it is compered by a guy called Morbid...


You can read my review of The Thrill of Love here.

Find out what else is on at Arts Centre Washington .

Read more from the Hartlepool Writers' Group at The forms of things unknown .

Comments always welcome.

A poem a day keeps the word doctor away.

It feels like I am barely out of Post-It Note Poetry and now we have NaPoWriMo.
I struggled to write a poem a day that would fit on a post-it note and now here I am contemplating another daily challenge.
I very much doubt I will stay on target, but I miss the focus of being required to write something. Mr Malone and the rest of the Heugh Writers gang will no doubt laugh...or at least smile wryly at that. Like I managed to even produce a poem a month for that project! But, as I told Martin, it wasn't that I wasn't writing anything, it was simply that I was too terrified to hand over my few meagre words.
Strangely, despite all my doubts, it seems that people like my meagre words. Either that or they are being very polite.
But I digress!
My point was, I need something tangible to focus on. Someone - or something - to say, "Here, Denise, write about this today". And so, for my sins and for the salvation of my writer's soul, I am signing up to write a poem a day. Again.
Lord knows where I will find the time or the words. But perhaps the writing gods will be merciful and send down manna from heaven.

There now follows a Shameless Plug on behalf of the Heugh Writers Party!

I should say, on behalf of the poets from the Heugh Writers, copies of 'To Cross the Wine Dark Wave' are available to purchase from Hartlepool Libraries. A snap at £4 - cheques payable to Hartlepool Borough Council. 
Ta very much.

/Shameless plug ends!

And if you're interested in the Post-It Note poems you can read them here https://guerillawriting.wordpress.com