Reflections on Bhola

'm bending a self-imposed rule this month and writing more than a couple of paragraphs... stringent self-editing has fallen by the wayside in trying to report everything that happened last month in Bangladesh!

We arrived in Bhola early on the morning of the 9^th April.  At this stage, it’s a homecoming for me as I’ve been to Bangladesh a dozen times; Simon at 3-and-a half is on his second visit, and for Allan, a fundraiser and supporter, also from Scotland, it was his first time in SE Asia. 

After the thrill of a ride in our new auto-rickshaw, the children, armed with Bangla flags and bright flowers, were on hand to greet us – a wonderful, warm welcome for all three of us, but clearly Simon was the one they were waiting for… He had a fantastic time playing with the ‘big boys’ and was using sign language in no time; it took him longer to accept the girls as they were too ‘kissy’!  Allan, a marathon-runner was accompanied on his early morning runs by up to 10 boys in flip-flops, on other days Ali led them in a brisk walk.

It was a pleasure to see so many new faces amongst the familiar ones.  A couple of the younger girls had only just arrived and were busily settling in, whereas old friends had – just as they do in all families –  grown up and moved on. Not moved too far though: we spoke to Tasnur and Dilruba, and met Maksud in the street.  Everyone appeared to be happy, well and in good spirits too.  The older children continue going daily to the local primary school.  It’s not easy for anyone, as they don’t have an interpreter, but they are persevering, and signing and lip-reading classes continue in the boundary.  There was much singing and dancing – there always is – and cricket was the name of the game most evenings.

Official awareness programmes and day-long picnics were shelved for this visit, given the average temperatures of 35 degrees, but we managed trips to Valumia (the new access road is shaping up and the pond is being dug out - very slow and hot work), Supari Bagan, the river, the second bridge and Bhola town.  One highlight was the ‘water melon’ trip: Ali, the three of us, 32 staff and children, and twenty gigantic watermelons on an outing in the tractor; with the crowds that followed, there was plenty of unofficial awareness-raising!  .

 

It’s a tradition that with the arrival of a direct financial donation, a small portion is shaved off for an outing or other special treat.  This way, says Ali, the children learn to forge a link with the outside world and to celebrate their donors and supporters worldwide.  So this watermelon picnic came courtesy of the money raised by Saltyard – and was enjoyed by one and all!  The remainder of the very generous £535 raised will be put towards a couple of specific projects: mainline gas – finally – has come to Bhola and funding buys the correct fittings so that cooking over a wood-burning fire in temperatures of 40 degrees is no longer essential.  It’s also the time of year to brave the bazaar and buy cloth by the yard, from which the girls will sew all the clothes and school uniforms required, and make the tablecloths and bedcovers that bring in a little extra income.  The rest of the money is safely in the bank, a contingency for – literally – a rainy day.

Our last day coincided with the Bangladeshi New Year and Nahian’s ninth birthday, so an evening party, with Ali’s signature dish of ‘sweet rice’ – and when the Bangladeshi’s call something sweet, they really mean it – and a lot of fun and games.

There were the usual types of challenges! The new air-conditioning unit on the third floor continually blew the electrics and added to the thrice daily power-cuts… Eventually the very tenacious electrician triumphed (at 11pm) and the system, used sparingly, is a welcome addition. The microbus kept breaking down due to the lack of clean fuel but again, was eventually fixed and fixed again, and, best of all, the brand new gas supply, promised to Bhola Island for years, finally arrived.  This long-awaited main-line gas means there is a viable alternative to the outdoor wood-fire method of cooking, which is welcome during the hottest of days and the wettest monsoon.

 

On the plane on the way home, Simon asked me, wistfully, if he could, please, have four big brothers, ‘just like my new friends in Bhola.’ Clearly, Ali and Bhola’s Children worked their usual magic on all of us and I remembered over again why this is such a very special place and part of my very extended family.  I would say it was one of the best of visits… except that I say that every time...

 

Anne 

 

 

Bhola, Bangladesh - April 2014

If a picture speaks a thousand words, then let the pictures speak!

The long-awaited trip back to Bangladesh seems to have come and gone in the blink of an eye: Dhaka, Bhola, Srimangal... here are just a handful of the very many highlights...

Hot off the plane(s) in Dhaka, and Ali secures us our rickshaw chariot
 

Arriving in Bhola by overnight launch
 



The new tractor-trailer - carrying 32 of us altogether

 

38 degrees but work to build the new road goes on

Shopping...

Cooking - but mainline gas has arrived!

 

Picnic breakfast for Bangla New Year

Allan leads the exercises...

Sunset on Bhola

Allan took the photos, Simon fitted in as if he'd never been away, and Bhola's children, staff Ali were as fabulous as only they can be.  More about what we did and how the home and school are progressing next time.

Thanks to everyone who's supporting us (and anyone who has any exciting fundraising ideas - please let me know!)

Anne x


 

Spooks, Secrets and Suspects: A Play

As tutor of this highly talented, committed and hugely fun group, I can safely recommend that anyone in Edinburgh and free for an hour on Thursday will enjoy this.  Of course, the writing is good, but we're famed for our refreshments too...




 

CurryFest at the Saltyard - All Welcome!

If a blog isn't a perfect place for shameless advertising, then where is?

There is a wonderful café on Dalry Road, Edinburgh, called The Saltyard.  The rumours might be true about Simon and I spending quite a lot of time there... but I promise you, so would anyone who lives a hop, skip and jump away.  I've certainly been there enough to get talking about Bangladesh and the lovely staff - without coercion, persuasion or hints, honest - suggested Saltyard host a fundraiser for Bhola's Children.

Tickets are now available for this excellent evening, and everyone is welcome!  Details follow... It would be lovely to see anyone who is local enough to drop in on Friday evening.

AN EVENING IN AID OF BHOLA'S CHILDREN

 

'A feast of curry for your senses'

 

Saltyard Café

158 Dalry Road

 

Friday 7th March

18.00-20.30

 

Curry Supper

Table Quiz

Bangla Music & Photographs

 

Tickets £4.50; £1.50 (children); £10.00 (family)

The lucky prize winners will receive a copy of A Blonde Bengali Wife and I will be doing a 5 minute talk about Bhola... but don't let that put you off!  The food alone will compensate, and the company will be second to none.

Anne x




 

Bangladesh At Home

 

NEW YEAR'S DAY 2014

 

 

So, 1st January 2014 didn't quite see us winging our way from Glasgow to Dubai to Dhaka but it certainly didn't mean our hearts and thoughts weren't there.  The four of us - Jacqui, Allan, Simon and myself all regrouped in a certain flat in Edinburgh and created our own little world of Bangladesh for the day.

 

 

Dressed in our best salwar kameezes and serving (if not cooking, that honour goes to Lazeez, the best take-away in the city!) our version of a Bangladeshi picnic on the sitting room floor, we raised a toast and made our plans for a visit in April. 

 

The travel blockades throughout Bangladesh, the main reason we deferred the trip, ran from December through to the 13th January.  This would have left us two days to get to and from Bhola (down in the Bay of Bengal and an overnight boat trip away) in two days... virtually impossible!  So on balance it was the right decision.  Now, let's just get on with the business of reapplying for those visas.

 

I think the sign is a version of Happy New Year in Bangla; that's the sentiment anyway...!

 

 

Anne x

 

To Go Or Not To Go...?

Season's Greetings!

I hope you've all had a very happy and peaceful (or exciting, as you wish!) Christmas and are looking forward to the adventure of 2014.

For the last 48 hours, this little corner of Edinburgh has been a hotbed of international discussion and negotiation as we've followed events in the lead up to Sunday's forthcoming elections in Bangladesh - and wondered if our (Jacqui, Allan, Simon and myself) New Year's trip there can, realistically, go ahead...

The final unanimous decision was reached last night - Simon's contribution pulling it all together with, 'if we go to Bangladesh, we will go to Bangladesh.  If we stay at home we will stay at home' - when we decided, with regret, that it would be sensible to postpone the visit until later in the year.

(Important Note: Despite evil rumour-mongering, this is nothing to do with the fact that Jacqui and I tried on our trusty salwar kameezes and had twin tantrums when we realised they were, um, a little on the tight side and must have Shrunk In the Wash).

None of us feels the political situation is a safety issue, more of the 90% likelihood that we'd be sitting in a guesthouse in Dhaka for more than half the visit: national blockades and strikes mean that even if we got into the city itself, the chances of getting out again to Bhola are virtually non-existent.  So, with thanks to Ali, for his sterling efforts, and to Hasina, Mr Hoque, Mitali, Bonny, Bachchu, Suez (read more about them in the amazing book, A Blonde Bengali Wife, available in print and e-versions, signed copies on request) and Dinah for their advice, we are now rebooked for an April jaunt!

Disappointed, yes.  But relieved to have the promise of being back in Bhola in only a few weeks time.  However, given that Simon's first words on seeing his Christmas stocking were, 'Santa Claus has been, now can we go to Bangladesh?' it might well be that we need to hail a ferry in Rosyth, do a round trip and end up with dinner in an Indian restaurant, just to placate him (he's 3, it'll work, trust me) in the meantime.

So, what to do with two empty weeks...? Suggestions on a postcard, please, but those who mention 'work' will be disqualified as sensible spoilsports.  What we will be doing tomorrow - Jacqui, Allan, Simon and I) - is coming together and raising a toast to all our friends here, in Bangladesh, and everywhere, and wishing you all the very best in life, health and happiness for the coming year.

Love, Anne x

 

Four Novelists and a Narrator

‘Everyone has a novel in them’. 

How many times have we heard that said?  It’s possible.  Probable, even.  The world is full of the blissfully ignorant, who will write their novel ‘one day’ (when they have time) and the woefully knowledgeable, who have a drawer full of rejections.

To write a novel is to find oneself in a gleefully negative community.  Head-shakes and rueful smiles precede a useful little sound bite: ‘who do you know (have slept with/can blackmail/preferably all three) in the publishing business?’ or ‘JK Rowling had 3 million rejections, you know’ or ‘have you thought of bee-keeping instead? Fewer stings. Ha ha.’

At the other end of the scale is the urban myth of the bored bricklayer (brain-surgeon/dog-breeder) who wrote a thriller during a wet weekend in Wales and got a £billion advance and a 6-book deal.

So should the Regular Joseph/ine give up now? Of course not.  And I have four good reasons, aka Craig, Ruth, Katie and Stuart. A week ago, I attended the book launch of Craig Smith’s, The Mile, a funny and serious novel about three friends, a nonagenarian runaway, and the Scottish referendum.  Also accepted for publication is The Single Feather, by Ruth Hunt, which follows smart, sensitive Rachel trying to establish a new life as an artist who is not defined by her wheel-chair.  Katie Hart wrote Finding Destiny, a fantasy novel for young adults in which time-travelling Alex needs to save his family and city from the evil owl, Dragonstar.  It’s now being considered by a publisher, and next, another fantasy novel, Stuart White’s, Rise of the Kalax is currently being reviewed by an interested agent. 

All four are talented, determined (and previously unknown) writers I’ve worked with over the past months… and I’m sure they would agree, that whilst talent is vital, it’s the determination alongside that has got each of them to this point.

There’s another person to mention.  Gerry Coffey died last week.  A remarkable man – kind, intelligent, very funny, some may say a little bit stubborn – who made a huge difference in so many ways over his ninety-odd years.  He wasn’t a novelist but he was a storyteller of the best kind; his anecdotes, tall tales, and straight-to-the-point observations, will be remembered and quoted for a very long time.  Gerry, it doesn’t do you justice (and you’d probably have a word or two to say about my grammar) but this blog (and Simon’s lantern) is for you.

Anne x

 

 

Ten reasons to join a creative writing class...

Thanks to an off the cuff remark by one of the participants in my Thursday morning writing class, I came up with a whole host of potential ice-breakers last week.  I'm always on the look out for new 'warm up' writing exercises that are fun, vaguely useful and never reminiscent of terrible office team-building days.

The man I will call Mr H (in case he's too modest to own his ideas here...) mentioned he had once written - for creative, not personal reasons, you understand - a list of 'Five Reasons to Date Oneself'.*  This started the cogs turning and I took the idea if  not the content to another writing group, twisted it to make it as convoluted as possible and asked them to create a list of things they would write Ten Reasons  about.  If it came from personal experience, all the better. Yes, it did take half the class to explain what I meant but it was worth it.

Here they are:

1 Ten Reasons to take a metronome on holiday...

2 Ten Reason to do a jigsaw puzzle upside down...

3 Ten Reasons why haggis is better than chicken...

4 Ten Reasons to drink tea straight from the teapot...

5 Ten Reasons to wear two pair of trousers...

6 Ten Reasons never, ever to date your ex-girlfriend's mother..

7 Ten Reasons to carve a pumpkin in the bath...

8 Ten Reasons why you should never write lists starting 'Ten Reasons'...

9 Ten Reasons not to climb onto your roof in December in your pyjamas...

10 Ten Reasons to cut jelly beans in quarters...

I didn't go as far as actually asking for the accompanying Ten Reasons... best not, I thought.  No questions that all of these people have earned their place in a creative writing group, or at least, it keeps them off the streets.

And you know what?  Reading these lists is like having a tune stuck in your head: you'll now spend the rest of the day mentally thinking up Ten Reasons....  Feel free to post them here!

Anne

*No, I'm not going to list them... Mr H might have his own plans for them, but there's nothing to stop you making a list of your own!

Images From Bhola

 

What's the best way to beat the blues?  You know: the end of the summer, the increasingly dark mornings and shorter evenings, a new term's work already piling up... 

 

Well, you sit down and peruse the Emirates website and the next minute find your fingers are compelled to book flights for Bangladesh! 

 

January 2014, Bhola (and who knows where else?) here we come.

 

With that in mind, and given your patience at my various pontifications over the last few months, I thought I'd simply post a few random snaps of the children and young people currently living in Bhola.

 

Here they are - 

 

 

 

Ahsan picking the carrots he's grown on our land in Valumia

Boys relaxing on the roof - where they are building the parapet
 

The girls on a break from the tailoring building stop to chat



School children practising for Independence Day Parade

 

Salina giving Rosina treatment  in the new physio room

 

The boys getting a lesson in sewing and mending their school uniforms

Just another day in Bhola!

Anne x

 

Edinburgh Fringe, Toddler-Style

August.
Edinburgh.
Simon shaking me at dawn and demanding, 'mummy, is it morning-time and what show we will see today?'
It must be the Fringe. 
And Simon is a 3 year old groupie... 

If he could write his reviews, he would.  Verbally, he's deconstructed the performances at length and it goes something like this:

ALIENS LOVE UNDERPANTS - 'very excellent funny'
That's good, because neither of us had read the book before we went.  We have since.  Many, many times.  Nearly as many times as we, and all house-guests, have had to check our underpants have not been stolen.  However, it seem we're okay: we live on the second floor, and aliens, like Darleks, can't - apparently - climb stairs...

BIG RED STORY BUS - 'mummy, why don't all buses have stories?'
A trip up Arthur's Seat, accompanied by songs and stories from top-deck storyteller, Peter Snow, was very well-received but has set us up for a lifetime of disappointment on Lothian buses.  Still, if there's nobody singing on the Number 4 bus home from nursery, Simon has no problem entertaining commuters with a rousing '5 little monkeys jumping on the bed'.

MR BLOOM'S NURSERY - 'very wriggling worm and lots of poo.'
Well, what's not to like there, then?

TIDDLER'S TAILS - 'there were no sharks, just pretend ones.  Real ones need big sea and that would fall out the tent.'
Quite.
A bit of a lukewarm response to this one; it just wasn't sufficiently like the Julia Donaldson books to pass muster...

I did manage to sneak out and see one grown-up show, called, ironically, My Village and Other Aliens.  An excellent one-man performance by writer/singer Terence Blacker, which reminded me of a previous life... and where I'm looking to in the future.  Can't ask more of a show than that.  Although, I expect Simon would have said it suffered for the lack of real aliens.  And underpants.


Anne x

 

Much Madness; or, A World Within a World.

Here's a conundrum for all you writers - and readers - out there (keep reading, I'll get to the point eventually):

In the 1950's, the psychologist Erving Goffman developed the concept of the Total Institution.  This, he defined as:

‘A place of residence and work where a large number of like-situated individuals, cut off from the wider society for an appreciable period of time together, lead an
enclosed, formally administered round of life.’

(Goffman, 1961)

It was the heyday of the 'mental asylum' and of the boarding school, even the convent.  Care in the community wasn't even embryonic and criminals were far more likely to be incarcerated than paroled. Goffman was talking about actual bricks-and-mortar buildings where people on the inside only had contact with people on the outside through a strict system of gatekeeping.  These places were, then, worlds within worlds; they were enclosed.

Now, I'm fast-forwarding through lots of theoretical and philosophical debate (I find this fascinating, but I might just be weird), and - you'll have to trust me on this - somewhat redefining Goffman's concept. Let me ask you writers and readers still with me, to take a gigantic leap of faith and think about those words: totality, enclosure, gatekeeping... and consider:-

Is possible to describe a fictional world, created by a novelist, as a Total Institution?  Such a world and its characters are enclosed in the writer's imagination, and that writer is the gatekeeper between the fictional world (the story) and the real world (the reader).

Is the basis of fiction a world within a world, or am I simply locked in my own little world wherein lies much madness?  Any thoughts appreciated, especially since the critical text of my PhD is in here.  Somewhere!

I'm plodding on regardless. banking on the words of Emily Dickinson:

'Much Madness is divinest Sense -

To a discerning Eye - '

 

 

 

Note From Nicaragua

It would have felt very exotic to finish my novel in Nicaragua.  I could have written a neat little Foreward or Afterword, signed and dated Pochomill, or San Juan or Granada.

 

Was it ever going to happen?  Of course not.... too many people to see, deserted beaches to explore, horses and carriages for Simon to 'drive', boat trips to private islands.  Oh, and canopy tours above the Mombachu volcano involving harnesses, helmets and zip wires along tightropes and down vertical drops - I strapped on Simon and off we went!  (Not really, he stayed at home eating ice-cream, counting bugs and hunting dragons.  Honestly). 

 

Ah, yes, another time-consuming activity: staying alert to zap my deadly enemy, the mosquito.  As readers will know, Bangladeshi mozzies adored me and Tanzanian ones got so drunk on me, they couldn't fit back through the netting they had infiltrated.  Well, Nicaraguan ones lined the street, all but waving palm leaves and shouting Hosanna.  

 

But I did some research, important fact-finding in preparation for the future.  I found the perfect location for writing.  The shady garden overlooking the beach at Pochomill was a strong contender, but the crashing of waves, the Plasticine-blue skies  a swaying hammock were all just too much of a distraction.  Then, the house in the mountains in San Juan had a view down to the bay that just kept dragging my eyes away from the computer screen.  But here, in a blue and white colonial house in the centre of Granada, there 's a perfect tiled courtyard between the sitting room and the bedrooms -

 

 

 

 

And here at one end of the pool, a ceiling fan just above my head, is a chair with a squishy cushion and a footstool -  

I've stuck a little flag on top of it and proclaimed it mine.  And now, over a plate of gallo pinto and sapote milkshake, I'm thinking about thinking about writing...

Author's Note

Granada, Nicaragua

June 2013

 

Rounding Up and Counting Down

Two days away from an extended trip to the USA and Nicaragua (far enough away to escape the Scottish summer?) I've spent the week drawing this term's community education classes to a close, and finishing up some editing work.

Inevitably then, it's been a week of evaluation, reflection  and reviews.  Tricky as it is to come up with an original, interesting and useful evaluation form, it's often harder for the respondent to pass on his or her views via a standard, often dry, bit of paperwork.  Nevertheless, there are some past* comments from  writers that sit, immoveable, in a little corner of my mind.

What better to do on a lazy Friday evening, when I should be packing a suitcase, than share them with you?

•  'Class is quite good but we have to spend too much time writing'

• 'I still can't think of anything to write but at least I can do it grammatically now.'

• 'Creative writing?  Seems that there are so many rules about grammar and punctuation and formatting and style and POV and how to submit your MS that being creative is the one thing it's not.'

• 'A new tutor would be nice.  What about getting the person who writes JK Rowling's books for her?'

• Overheard:  Ms A (whines) '...yes, but I don't think I'm being sufficiently stretched...' to Ms B (snaps) '...well, there's Pilates next door.  Why don't you try that next term?'

• 'I had hoped to meet some proper writers but mostly it's people like me'

• 'Sometimes there are no Jaffa cakes left at break time.'

• 'I thought creative writing was those fancy letters you see on signs.  It's not. But I'm glad I stayed anyway because now I know that is calligraphy.'

• 'Very good for my social life.  Now I can tell women I'm a writer as well as a postman and they are much more interested in me.'

• 'I wrote a book of short stories before I joined.  The tutor hasn't been that helpful, I still need someone to rewrite the ends and beginnings and some bits in the middle. And to type them.'

I do hope every one of these people finally found what they were looking for; I'm not sure if being quoted on my blog would have been the type of recognition any of them was looking for, but I certainly appreciate their feedback!

On that note, I'm giving the last word to Simon, who has an uncanny knack of keeping me in my place.  This is his side of a recent conversation:

 'NO, mummy, close up your 'puter RIGHT NOW....  NO.  Writing is not work. Building towers is work.  Help me, please.'

 

 

 

*none of these come from any of my lovely, talented and appreciative current students - I promise!

Thoughts Back on Bhola

Recent posts have concentrated more on life and writing here in the UK, but it's time to return to Bhola, especially during a week when thoughts have turned to Bangladesh in general.  Few people will have missed the coverage of the factory building collapsing in Dhaka and the subsequent tragedy; my heart goes out to all of those affected.  It reminds me of so many 'near misses' on my journeys there, events that make a great story in retrospect - because they ended happily:  a speedboat in a tropical storm off St Martin Island; electricity failure in a lift (10 floors up) at the tail end of cyclone Sidr; a tribal sniper in the Rangmati hills; a bus under threat of hijack...

So, it's great to look at the most recent pictures from Bhola and see the quiet progress that continues to make a sad or sick child just that bit happier.

All the children now go to the local school for some lessons and in addition, the English teacher visits the boundary every day, and Ali teaches lipreading.  We have a new combined resident teacher (for special lessons) and office manager, with particular responsibility for the accounts.  Nozrul knows the community well and is already streamlining all systems!

Salina, mother of a little girl very disabled with cerebral palsy is now in charge of physiotherapy. There are at least 8 resident children and teenagers with CP or other balance and mobility problems, and many, many outpatients.   Salina, assisted by Supia and Rozina, both of whom are blind, is giving morning and evening treatments, and it gives a real and valued role to the two visually impaired young women. Conversion of one of the buildings has allowed for  big and bright physio room.

Valumia, the vegetable garden and 'fish pond' is flourishing, although this year there is little surplus produce to sell; a combination of poor weather and a healthy community who need to eat most of the food produced!

As always the pictures should highlight the stories.... but try as I might, I can't upload them!  Battling with Windows 8, I'm still learning that it might be intuitive, but clearly, I'm not.  Once I work it out, I'll edit this post to add the colour and interest.  Meantime, thanks for your patience....

And I'll finish with a reminder of the colours and the emblem of Bangladesh: the red sun setting over the green fields, which forms the basis of the national flag.


Anne

Chapter 10: The Alien Plumber

Monday saw the first draft of my novel-in-progress off to my PhD supervisor.  Well, I say 'first draft' but it's a draft that has had many, many incarnations over the last couple of years.  And it wasn't exactly the whole novel, just about two-thirds of it (58 682 words or 161 pages to be precise, but who's counting!) Still,  for probably the first, and hopefully not the last, time in my writing life, I can honestly say I could not have worked any harder and I am pleased with what I've done. Though I do have a sneaking suspicion it is nowhere near 'literary' enough for a PhD... watch this space!

Two interesting off-shoots though.  First, Simon's language is clearly developing in too specific a direction.  As well as: 'party biscuit', 'big boy pants' and 'a minute, mummy; I'm busy', he can now say clearly and in context: 'copyright', 'edit' and 'genre'.  How can this have happened?  The literary mantle has fallen far too close to him.  Never fear, I am now working hard to teach him: 'U-bend', 'inlet valve' and 'there'll be an eighty quid call out charge, love'.  And his name will go down for plumbing school as soon as I have checked out the league tables.

Second (interesting off-shoot) is that the novel's temporary departure has given me space to prepare properly for this week's Comm. Ed class and in doing so has reminded me to stay open-minded and try new things, or in this case, genres (thanks, Simon!).  The topic is Science Fiction.  As the tutor, I shouldn't really say that it's only now I've actually realised that science fiction is, obviously, based in science fact. It's really not my thing, although one of the best books I've ever read is Marge Piercy's 'Woman of the Edge of Time' that is partially set (or is it?) in an altered reality.  Oh, and I love Star Trek, but only because I really, really, REALLY want a Mr Data of my very own. Anyway, research has already taught me a lot and - should I ever get time to read - given me a list of SF novels that might well be an education.

So, I can hear you all wondering, how on earth am I going to tie these random thoughts together in a scintillating conclusion?  Obvious.  If the novel doesn't pass muster as is, I shall simply introduce an alien plumber into Chapter 10 and call it experimental fiction. End of.

Anne x

'Sirens, Smartphones and Stilettos'

Thursday afternoons see me tutoring the 'Ox-Pen' Writers, a community education creative writing class in Edinburgh.  It's a small but perfectly formed group (always open to new members!) with a lot of talent and a great group dynamic.  We've spent the last few months looking at the whole concept of 'collaborative writing' whereby we've taken a specific scenario - a wet Monday morning in February, on a street in Edinburgh - and developed a number of characters whose lives are (perhaps) destined to cross...

So, 'Sirens, Smartphones and Stilettos' was born, in which the reader is introduced to: Dennis the rat; Jacqui with the pink shoes; Nancy, owner of Nancy's Cafe; Molly-the-lolly, Kathy and her little girl, Suzy; Micky the bus driver; Kirsty, a girl in labour and  Niall the paramedic; Reg the postman; Malcolm the texting teenager and Alison the minister.

Intrigued?

Last Thursday, the exhibition of work went up in Oxgangs Library (where it will remain for about 3 weeks if any of you locals want to visit), we launched the booklet full of stories and poems, and we had a (very well attended) public reading event -

As you can see, the hard work paid off - and this is a tribute to Georgia, Joan, Liz, Elspeth and Nikki for their talent and enthusiasm - and for brightening up miserable Thursdays!

Here's to the next one....!

Write Right goes 'live'...

So far, January has been a productive month... long may it last!

On Friday, my website Write Right finally went live.  Most of the thanks is due to the ever patient and very efficient Simon at ARCAS, who managed to create something that looks good, reads well and (hurrah)  is easy to use.  So please do go over to www.annehamilton.co.uk and have a look; even take a minute to tell me what you think

On Sunday, my new computer finally, finally, finally went live.  Weeks passed awaiting delivery, and another one saw it sitting on the kitchen table whilst I attempted to find the 'on' switch... That it is now connected to the Internet is thanks due to Ben, one third of the best neighbours ever, and yes, this blog is coming to you hot off the new keyboard, touchscreen, thingy.  Technophobe?  Me?

Today, I've passed the official halfway stage of my novel and have actually been managing to write a few hundred, on (one very rare) occasion even a couple of thousand, words each day.  Okay, it's probably still pushing it for the March deadline, but I haven't given up hope yet!

Will the excitement never end, I hear you all ask... 

So, I'll leave it there and say a big thanks to all of the other people too that have helped me avoid the January blues; Simon and Momo - you head the cast!

Anne


 

Very Inspiring Blogger Award

A Very Happy New Year to you all!












Thanks to Wendy Clarke for nominating me for the Very Inspiring Blog Award - especially appreciated since Wendy's own new blog is so well researched, written and put together... http://wendyswritingnow.blogspot.co.uk



The requirements for the blogger award want me to tell you all 7 completely random facts about myself and to nominate other blogs.  So here goes:

Anne's Total Trivia

• I've run half a dozen 10k events
• I once played Little Orphan Annie
• I hate the dark
• Inside, I'm tall, blonde and willowy...
• I wrote my first novel when I was ten (one day I'll find it and read it again... help!)
• I love terrible American sitcoms!
• As a teenager I had a holiday job as a National Express stewardess

Nominations

mickmal1.blogspot.com           

rosemarygemmell.com

wendyswritingnow.blogspot.co.uk

jacquidunbar.wordpress.com

mariannewheelaghan.co.uk

bigroundandblue.wordpress.com

janicehortonwriter.blogspot.com


Best of luck to everyone in 2013 - in life, writing and whatever your dreams may be!

Anne

Where Are They Now?

And so this is Christmas (almost)...

Whether we stick with the traditional writing and posting of cards, or whether our holiday greeting is an all-encompassing Facebook update, this time of year is probably the most common for flicking through those little black (real, electronic, metaphorical) address books and wondering just 'where is s/he now?'

One of the ultimate pleasures (and sometimes pains...) of travelling is the people we meet; one of the ultimate pains (and sometimes pleasures...) is saying goodbye to them when the time comes to move on.  Thrown together in a strange place - perhaps literally strange, perhaps in the sense of being unfamiliar - often breeds an intense bonding between people whose only point of reference is that they happen to be in the same place at the same time.  For a moment, an hour, a month or a year, this can be an intense joy.  It might even spawn a friendship that survives a lifetime.  More often, that person who was once so important to us eventually becomes the person who receives a fleeting, nostalgic and fond thought sometime mid-December.

It's getting easier now to 'find' people.  Social media like Facebook and Twitter ensure that a random name-check may well throw up a dozen or more potential ex-comrades in travel.  We might well narrow it down to the one true person - and then hover, wondering, over the 'message' button: do we really want to know the older/wiser/respectable/changed person s/he is today?  Or are we happy with the rose-coloured memory?

If I look back honestly over the last twenty-odd years (how did I get old enough to say that?) I have probably stayed in touch, however sporadically, with the people I've really wanted to.  But it doesn't mean that on a rainy, dark December night I don't have a moment of curiosity about someone from Israel,  from Zanzibar, from Bradford...

And there's always one or two I dwell on that bit longer, genuinely wondering... So, Kathy, Jenny, Manfred if you're out there, writing your Christmas cards or posting your Facebook message, I'm here.  You might want to drop me a line.  Or not.

Happy Christmas to all of you celebrating it, and happy holidays to everyone else! 'See' you in the New Year

Anne 

Write Right

Okay, a good excuse for not writing a 'proper' post this month?

Finally, after nearly two and a half years, I've been working on my website and it - Write Right -  should be ready, courtesy of the lovely Simon at ARCAS web design by the end of the year.

Way back when I started this blog, you might remember it was in the lead-up to publication of A Blonde Bengali Wife.  The plan was to follow it up with a website.  Well, I followed it up with a baby instead, and I'm delighted to say I've been concentrating on him ever since.  However, not even I can use that excuse when the said baby is now an independent little toddler who goes to nursery two days a week, hence the need to crack on with the website.

The aim of Write Right is to publicise my services as an editor/mentor for fiction writers, and as such it will sit in conjunction with this blog.  The design is in hand, the text is all but (carefully and succinctly!) written, the testimonials are proudly displayed, all that remains is the red-nosed, cold-stricken, blotchy author's photograph... Photoshop anyone?