Prison
Hardly had time to draw breath and get over jet lag from the Philippines and I was into working in a Prison, full time for two weeks, helping put a christmas show together.
Very different experience, from international women playwrights to an all male environment, where the system is structured to the Nth degree, and power resides in fine detail at all levels.
It was a mystery to me how an enclosed system that is designed around surveillance and sophisticated security checks can lose lists of people and end up with men in the wrong place, which then takes half an hour to sort out because men can’t be moved unless there is an officer free to accompany them. Also all inmates are subject to sudden security checks and restrictions. It made it difficult at times to organise rehearsals as I never knew whether I would have all my cast. Of course, the men say the system is designed to frustrate them, they call it ‘Mind F**k’ but it affects everyone who works with them as well.
Apart from the inevitable frustrations of the system, people I met were helpful and supportive and the process was fascinating and rewarding. I had to design a performance piece that could incorporate the inherent difficulties - so it was structured in slots that could be inserted or dropped as time and personnel were uncertain. Given that we only had two weeks to create the finished piece from beginning to end, the script was a guide, much of it was improvised, as no one had time to write, rehearse and learn a full script.
We performed a 45 minute show to a generally appreciative audience, but most importantly the performers enjoyed the experience and got all the buzz and confidence boosting that anyone gets from taking part in a live performance
During the two weeks I went one evening to the Centre for the Children’s Book in the Ouseburn, where the Arts Council’s Strategy for Children’s Literature was being launched. It was a very positive affair, acknowledging the importance of literate children with a grounding in books as a basis for a cultured society. Our own Mark Robinson from the Arts Council was saying the first poetry we learn is nursery rhymes and they stay with us to the end, even if our memory for all else has gone.
It struck me very forcibly as there I was in a prison where large numbers come in unable to read and write, and that is one positive thing prison can help them with; but also sitting with this group of men, trying to find some common texts to warm us up with, the only thing we all knew the words to was:
Humpty Dumpty.
Christmas and all that
I am starting to wonder at the insanity of Christmas cards. Not the ones that we send to people that we don't see, but the way that when I arrive at work in the morning, there are cards waiting for me on my keyboard from people who work beside me. In our little office of PR & Communications we agreed not to send cards to anyone else in the building. It feels a bit bah humbug but so far we're sticking to it...
Two weeks ago today was my graduation. A really lovely celebration, even with the lack of sleep when Jamie missed his Tuesday night flight from Aberdeen. Of course, that meant us ringing him at 4am to make sure he got the morning one. Still, he arrived on time and joined us all. Five of us graduated with MA in Writing Poetry so Heather, Jeanne, Catherine and Anna, thanks for helping to make it a great experience.
My writing for stage course at Live Theatre has ended and I've learned a lot. Hopefully before Christmas I'll find time to look over the play I wrote about six weeks ago and see where it can be improved. I also entered a short play for the Christmas Short Cuts at Live on Sunday. If you're thinking of writing for the stage, then look out for the next one in the summer. It's a great opportunity to hear actors reading your work, and also seeing how an audience react. This is the first time I've tried one with some humour in it, so I was really pleased when people laughed at the right bits.
I am working on a short story at the moment which has involved some research. Even although most of it won't come out in the story, I think knowing about the subject is important. For instance, this story involves someone having an operation and I needed to know where the scar would be. I read an interview with Ian Rankin today which said that he does very little research, just enough for the reader to feel it's authentic.
Good news on the poetry front with several being accepted for publication, so 2004 will see my work published in Coffee House magazine, Rain Dog, Mslexia and the next New Writing Scotland anthology.
Got a phone call from Mslexia asking all those weird and wonderful questions about what helps or hinders my writing. Last time I said one of the things that stopped me from writing was trying to match all the odd socks that lie around our house. This time - well, you'll have to buy Mslexia in January to find out!
Novel writing and furious disputes with gas companies...
hello there! part of the reason for writing this is to knock my previous entry off the screen.
It contains swear words and spelling errors and consequently will be offensive to some readers;
those who regard with great repect the old fashioned skills of good spelling and grammar and those who do not wish their ears to be assailed with bad words beginning with 'b' Also I was delerious when I wrote it and should know better... Anyway to move on...my novel is shaping up slowly. I'm rewriting chunks that are already roughly written in pencil in my GREEN notebooks. I have a set of these and keep getting them mixed up but I have a new system...I've graduated to a striped notebook to contain anything I write from now on...Clever or what? I'm thoroughly enjoying myself I must say and am well on the way to making a fortune as I'm onto Chapter 3 already...
About the gas problem... The men have been outside for two weeks now drilling and digging and making a helluva mess in the road. The other night someone knocked on the door to see my meter and wanted access to the house to do something with pipes and metering...It would only take two hours he said and hopefully they wouldn't need to dig up the front of the house. Anyone who's read or seen Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy will know what I mean when I say I felt like Arthur Dent threatened by the road digger at the beginning of the story. I endeavoured to find out what was going on- who were these people and what were they doing? They tried to explain to me but talked in a foreign langauage so t cut a very long boring story short, it took two days of liasing with Transco, EnergyWatch, Enterprise plc, the police incident room in Chigwell, ( honest) to find out what kind of work they'd be doing and why they needed access to the house in the middle of the day. As you can imagine Chapter 3 got waylaid by all the excitement but at least I'm satisfied that they are not going to knock our house down. The noise and disruption has been pretty horrendous though and as I work in the front bedroom i could hear the pneumatic drills all through the day. One wed it got so bad i caught the bus into town to go to the Lit and Phil library but a bloke sitting opposite me was coughing his insides out most unpleasantly. Chapter 3 will never get finished at this rate.
Wish I could say I've won some awards/had something published/been to some exciting places since the last entry but...while Transco is renewing the gas pipe I haven't got a hope. See ya. Mary.
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