Moving on
No, I'm not moving house, but have just heard that I got a distinction in my MA in Writing Poetry, so this time of limbo is over. Graduation is December 3rd and the good new is that my parents in Montrose and Jamie (studying at Aberdeen University) will be coming down to join the rest of the family.
I think I'm still suffering withdrawal symptoms on Tuesdays and Thursdays, not dashing from work to university, but have joined a five week course at Live Theatre on writing for the stage, so that's keeping me busy. Went to see Keepers of the Flame on Sunday which was brilliant, and am off to the reading of Bill Herbert's play tonight, so will be at Live three nights this week. Am learning to leave extra time for car parking now that the big car park opposite Live has gone.
While writing this, I've been listening to Jackie Kay's A Guid Scots Death. Her short stories have been made into dramas for Woman's Hour and are on all this week, repeated in the evenings. I heard Jackie read this story at Newcastle University last year and it was really interesting listening to the way it's been adapted for radio drama.
My own radio play is with the BBC producer, but I've not heard anything yet. Am trying to forget about it and get on with other things. I've been working on a play for community drama groups and also finishing off my National Poetry Day poems for New Writing North.
Over the summer I began writing some poems for children, based on birds, and after my trip to Newfoundland wrote another using all the Newfoundland words for birds. Scurwinkles and wobbies are two of my favourites.
I have a long train journey to Reading on Saturday, leaving at 6am, so will be printing off this month's stories from the Save the Short Story campaign to read on the way. Hopefully they will inspire me to write my own short story!
WPI conference
Hello from Manila, hot, noisy, lush, with the most traffic jams in the world. Cyclists and pedestrians wear masks because the fumes are choking. Poverty and wealth side by side, but Philippinos very friendly and generous.
It’s overwhelming being in a room with women from China, India, Tanzania, Cambodia, Indonesia, Israel, Australia and all telling stories of such power.
The Cambodian woman, through her interpreter tells us after the Khmer Rouge regime there were no writers left. Only two writers exist from the older generation who are now teaching ten younger writers, of whom this woman is one, about the traditions of Cambodian theatre and writing, and how to pass on this to future generations.
The Yorta Yorta from Australia are doing their theatre to demonstrate their fight for the right to aboriginal land ownership.
We were invited for dinner by the Culture Minister in old downtown Manila last night, in the Intramuros (the old walls) very old Spanish feel.
Running our workshop and presenting my play tomorrow - amazing to meet women from Holland who say Poetry Virgins, yes we have your book !
Like being famous !
season of mellow etc
hello again. I've been meaning to do this for ages but have been hijacked by a number of things . first moving from Gateshead to Newcastle, unpacking my books yet again, finding another place to store my vintage collection of Ordinance Survey Maps ( how about the space in the bathroom, next to the toilet rolls my partner suggests helpfully) getting stressed about all things Black and Decker and to cap it all, suddenly the temperature drops. It may be only 3 miles as the crow flies but that river T is as kind as the Gulf stream to good old NE8. They were right all along its warmer down south.
about my throat...yesterday awoke at 2.15am with the feeling that someone had jabbed it with a pair of scissors, I struggled to to shake off the dream I was having about the tatooed lady then realised I was due for another lemsip. Listened to a poetry programme on the world service- 'If' requested by people in Gambia. Just hink of all those gambians pressing their ears up to the radio while skinning a pineapple and here's me with my lemsip and my duvet with lots of togs. It made me feel proud to be British for one nanosecond until I reflected that I was listening to the fagend of colonialism, otherwise known as the BBC. Still at least the trains ran on time ...and we weren't inundated with wraps and ciabattas...
I am slightly delerious apologies if I'm writing bollocks .
I'm currently fighting the passage of time ( aren't we all?) and trying to carve out more ofthe stuff to get my novel written. I'm carrying it about in my head like a half set omlette waiting to turn it out on a plate. Then it will be perfect of course, and highly entertaining. I can visualise it so well. So its as though its nearly finishes I've come such a long way with itand while its still in my head it will always be perfect, like an unborn child beautiful in its inordinate potential...Is anyone else suffering similar delusions? Must go. Mary.
INP's book of the month for November 2003?
Yes, you guessed. INP's recommended book of the month for November is: KEENING. If you would care to check it out go to www.northernpublishers.co.uk. Also you can read a review of the poems at: www.sandwriting.co.uk.
Now, what to write next? mmm...must go and put the kettle on and have a wee think!
Don't know if any of you got down to the Waygood Gallery (centre of Toon), anytime in October, but there was an interesting collaboration between visual art and poetry going on. Ally May, a fine Tyneside poet, had examples of his work dripping from the walls. Not only that, but foot-weary visitors were invited to sink into a cosy settee, put their feet up, don the headphones and listen to Ally's restful tones as he read a cool stream of wonderful words. I just kept hitting the replay. Much more enjoyable than trudging round Fenwicks avoiding autumn's Santa.
Posted by Kathleen on 10 November 2003 at 10:38 AM GMT [Link]
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