Thursday, 29 September 2011

WoW - Songbird - Into my arms

Write On Wednesdays Exercise 16:
Hadge says:  Take a favorite (or even random play) song and write the story behind the lyrics, not something inspired by the lyric, but the flesh on the bones of the story. It gives lots of scope for interpretative writing. Use the lyrics or theme of a song  for a piece of flash fiction (50 to 200 words). To clarify, write your version of the story behind the lyrics in a song 

Nick Cave is an Australian musical legend and I adore his musical poetry. My piece is not his meaning of the song, but it is the interpretation I have taken from it. This song has special meaning for me so I've written a (true) fairytale with an unhappy ending.
Listen here whilst you read......
Into my arms

A blue eyed angel, just one, lived with her parents in the sandstone house on the narrow street. A good child became a beautiful woman who fell in and out of love. She studied hard, she partied hard, she laughed a lot, she loved deeply.
As she grew to know her destiny (to work for others, to have a family) fate (or God?) stepped in.
This was not to be. The cells had spoken. For her, a battle royal, a disintegration of body, a struggle of mind, a gentle swell of time before the end.
Last days spent above the perfumed garden in the arms of those who adored her, final breaths as carols chimed.
A comfort of angels fill the candle-lit sandstone house on the narrow street.

Sunday, 25 September 2011

why write?

Why write? We write for many different reasons, to communicate, to express thoughts and feelings, to draw pictures with words, to stimulate and extend. Writing can also be an academic exercise, a challenge in thinking, in crafting the perfect expression. For some it can be free flowing, for others precise tight and disciplined.
I write for myself, for a sense of achievement, and to share (perhaps!).

Why do you write?

Wednesday, 21 September 2011

WoW - the problem

The brief
Write On Wednesdays Exercise 15 Give yourself some time to notice the people around you. The people who may cross your path each day. The lady in front of you at the supermarket, the man who helps the school kids cross the road, a neighbour, a waitress in a cafe, a librarian, anyone at all. Choose one person, someone you don't know, and this person will become the basis of the week's writing exercise. Describe this person as you see them, describe their surroundings. Then imagine a problem, create conflict for this person. Describe the conflict. Describe how your character deals with the problem. The conflict might resolve itself, it might not. It is up to you. Perhaps, the lady in the supermarket has forgotten her wallet. Does she bursts into tears? Maybe the librarian finds a lost child. The aim is to show how your character responds to conflict and in the process, reveal something about that character. Tell us their story.

Let's aim for around 200 words, keeping with the theme of the last few weeks (to make each word count).

This was fun! I had a few characters in mind, but this guy intrigues me every time I see him.

His eyes snap open. The hydraulic hum, the distant smash of glass a far away call to duty. Feet to floor, he dresses quickly, buttons one two three four five, a compulsory sixth tightens his neck. High waisted jeans, longitudinal creases precisely pressed. Hair parted and combed slickly.

His pulse quickens as the noises come closer, anxiety presses in as he anticipates the disruption ahead. Socks, then shoes, laces left over right, under, looped then tightly snapped. Sugared tea stirred, exactly thrice.

He stands outside tense and waiting.  His block runs from Shipley St to Windy Parade and he must keep it right.

‘G’day, mate!!” shouts the garbo over the cacophony of rubbish and recycling. An annoyed dismissal – how dare this troublesome invader expect response?

Machines lift and lower, coloured-lidded bins crash landing spreadeagled in gutters and grass. As the truck moves off, he scuttles into action, dragging them back into place, perfectly lined.
Down the street, house after house, (the units are the biggest anxiety), order is regained. Sweaty palms pocketed, his breathing slows as he surveys his morning’s work.

Another Tuesday morning.

Would love your feedback, positive or negative!

Saturday, 17 September 2011

weekend away

Sitting with family and friends, watching tennis, a lazy day of laughs and sharing. Leaving the big smoke for the space and green and starry skies - a headclearing space refreshes for return.

Tuesday, 13 September 2011

Rewrite...The God of Small things

Write on Wednesday Exercise 14 - The Mighty Mighty Rewrite...
Zanni: I did a workshop with literary author Mj Hyland, who teachers Masters in Creative Writing at Manchester University. She asked us to choose our favourite book, take the first paragraph and then write our own content into the paragraph, keeping the structure, tone, language etc. It's really helpful!

Here's my first go at WoW, I don't think I've attempted creative writing since school days! 

I love the God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy. I've tried to keep the tone and language, but change the context and weather.

"May in Ayemenem is a hot, brooding month. The days are long and humid. The river shrinks and black crows gorge on bright mangoes in still, dustgreen trees. Red bananas ripen. Jackfruits burst. Dissolute bluebottles hum vacuously in the fruity air. Then they stun themselves against clear windowpanes and die, fatly baffled in the sun. The nights are clear but suffused with sloth and sullen expectation."

"February in Bourke is a hot hellish month. The days are long and tortured. Dust blows and seeps slickly into the crevices of cars and homes and families. Mirrored light shimmers a mirage. Black crows gorge on the battle-losers and blowies hum their hypnotic drone.
The nights are cooler but instilled with lethargic anticipation."

Comments welcome!

10 years on...

Where was I on 9/11? When the towers tumbled I was in a world of pain of my own - 9/10 (or 10/9 as we say in Oz) was my day of horror - my beloved father passed away. So in the dark early hours of another sleepless night , when my husband stared in shock at the CNN footage, my reaction was "and.... what does this have to do with me?". My immediate pain could not allow me to absorb that of others.
But over the years, I've been able to consider the incomprehensible, think of the losses of those involved and yesterday, finally watch the outpouring of grief with compassion.

Sunday, 11 September 2011

inaugural post

Wow, this time last week I would never have thought I'd have a blog, but a chance conversation with an inspiring woman has led me to this moment. As a young girl, I wanted to be a writer or a librarian, but somehow ended up as a doctor. Not a bad career, which continues to bring in the bacon, offers a privileged view of people and life, and (I like to think) helps people with their daily struggles.
But lately, with my babies nearly grown, I feel a pull to create. And what better time than Spring, to explore new growth!