Literary happenings in Edinburgh this October

Looking for a little something warm your cockles this month? Head to one of Edinburgh’s super duper literary events and find yourself wrapped in a warm wordy blanket.
Find out about the best lit events happening around the city…

Four thoughts that don’t help writers one little bit…

It isn’t easy being a writer; a pretend one, a real one, an aspiring one, a struggling one…none of those are easy. The writer’s path is a hazardous one, like some nightmarish yellow brick road littered with rejection, existential crises and strewn with the headless bodies of munchkins (did I say munchkins? I meant manuscripts).

Taking Editing Advice from Orwell and Vonnegut

You may have noticed things have been a little quiet on the blogging front for me recently. Or maybe you haven’t. (What, you mean you haven’t been sat by your computer awaiting my next exciting instalment with baited breath?).

Well, let me explain…

Ten things to do when you’re not writing…

Writing is hard work. I spend a lot of time not writing. Even on a ‘good writing day’ I only spend at most six hours out of an entire twenty four whacking out words on my keyboard into a vaguely logical/meaningful order (that’s right, I said good day).

Read more and find out how to make the most of your non-writing time…

What’s your type? Audio, visual and kinesthetic writing tactics

Recently I have been struggling to get to grips with structure, that slightly dull but entirely necessary feature of any story that must at least be given a little consideration before you sit down to write.

Not to generalise, but I wouldn’t say planning is the forte of most creative types, most of the time we are far too busy with the fun stuff. Like procrastinating in the pub.

Check out how knowing your writing style can increase your productivity…

On Failing (and not giving up)

Rejection and being a writer go hand in hand, everyone knows this. But it doesn’t make it any easier.

Find out how failing could actually make your writing better…

Finding poetry and not finding babies in jars

Today I went in search of babies in jars, all in the name of research you understand. So what better place to look than the royal college of surgeons museum. The warnings received from my friends who had already visited to not go with a hangover came back to haunt me, as I began to feel a little queasy at the displays of gangrenous feet and pickled pancreases.

Check out what an awesome source of inspiration the Royal Surgeon’s Museum proved to be…

Faeries and Fingers

On Sunday I attended a storytelling evening run by Illicit Ink, a group set up by the creative writing students at Napier University. Now, let me tell you, I was fighting off a plethora of grotty germs and had almost lost the ability to speak (which, as anyone who knows me would testify, was a particularly traumatic prospect for me) yet I had two major motivating factors. The first being pals: the second being my massively nosy nose. My two beautiful and talented classmates Roxanne DeRouen and Sindhu Rajasekaran were both doing readings, which I knew would be too good to miss. Also, since I did my undergrad degree at Napier, I was intrigued to see what type of thing their creative writing students were working on. So I manned up and dragged my snotty nosy nose along to cab vol for an evening in the Faerie Court.

Now, I don’t really like fairies. They’re just a bit…soft. But these were not your average Tinkerbell. There was the terrifying and the far fetched, the funny and the ridiculous, the sad and poignant, evil princes with mechanical hearts, malevolent spirits and the filthiest take on Pinocchio I have ever heard (splinters there, really? ouch). Everyone was very friendly and smiley, and the intimate, red lit venue was a perfect setting. I’m looking forward to the next event by these guys already.

You may be wondering what fairies have to do with fingers…well last Tuesday saw yet another smashing Inky Fingers open mic, and you can read all about it here. This month I am running the Inky Fingers writers’ group, which should be lots of fun and a great place to get some anonymous feedback on your work. There is also a wonderful workshop coming up by Eliza Langland, a lady who knows a thing or two about performance. Info on both here.

And finally, a little fairytale of my own. This one is about a Kelpie who lives in Leith…

Horse
In the pit of the stomach of a city drenched in rain, a hovel lies buried beneath barbed wire and broken glass. Many are lured inside but few ever leave. A young girl turned old in a year, curled in a ball listens to the septic weeping walls dripping on concrete. Her lungs are full of rot, from the damp air she breathes. In the corner, something moves, too blurred to define. It circles her, stays in the shadows. She can feel the eye that led her here, feel its hunger to feed.
She came with a friend, whose name now she cannot remember, into the bowels of the neighbourhood, where the streets reek with danger. An adventure, her friend had promised, somewhere they had never been before. Claimed to know this man, who walked with a hood and a stoop. Peered at them sideways with an eye like a fish. His dry, unblinking eye, followed them until they reached the hovel, where he disappeared inside. Come on, she said, now intrigued, her friend not so keen. But halfway in she became stuck, suddenly changing her mind, wire cutting her skin, damp hands from the depths pulling her in. Her friend held her for as long as she could, but it was too late, she had to cut herself loose. And run. That was the last thing this young girl saw, that is her fading memory of the world of light, her friend’s trainers pounding away on the pavement that night.
Was it years? Or days? Or minutes ago? Time passing here is marked only by drips and drops. From the shadows it moves closer, she can taste the moist breath of it on her lips. Closer. Licks her wet hair. Then a spark and a light, a thick hand holds out a pipe. For a moment she sees the hand, dripping in gold, thick horse hair, looks up to the slime of his slicked back mane.
Wait, don’t I….?
But before she can finish, the black waters rise around her and drown her all over again.

What’s your favourite scary movie…

Last week, I went to see Scream 4 with a few pals. I wasn’t expecting much, I only really enjoyed the first one (probably since I was twelve years old when it came out and I knew I shouldn’t have been watching it, och well…) but actually I found the newest outing of ole ghostface pretty entertaining. Lightly entertaining. In fact, Lauren has summed up the film wonderfully in her blog, and she is a self-confessed cinephile. Although I laughed, and Rosie called me a psychopath for doing so (who knows, maybe) I found myself a little disappointed that the film wasn’t scarier. The thing is I love horror films. I can’t think of anything better to do for two hours (other than Gerard Butler) than sit in the dark getting the sh*t scared out of me. Those films that stay with you and freak you out for years to come, that make you check under the bed when you hear a strange noise and keep all the lights on when you’re in by yourself, those are the films that I think can truly be classed as successful horror films. Now, this is a little self-indulgent, but hey this is a blog afterall, ladies and gentleman welcome to my top ten favourite horror films (in no particular order) and my best bits…
REC
(the Spanish version)
Entrance the first dead body makes. Boom.
The Orphanage (another Spanish one)
Fingers trapped in the bathroom door. I couldn’t breathe for most of this film. Thumbs up.
28 Days LaterThat opening scene.
Texas Chainsaw Massacre(original)
When the chick thinks she’s gotten away from Leatherface. Course she hasn’t.
30 Days of NightStuck in the loft, don’t make a sound…
The Ring(the American version)
When she first comes out of the TV.
The Omen(original)
They dig up the ‘mother’s’ body…oh no…
The Wicker ManThe climax. Pretty eerie throughout but the end is just horrible.
SawThe bit in the carpark. I don’t like carparks anymore.
The Blair Witch ProjectA local’s eyewitness account of the witch as a woman ‘covered in horse hair’. Argh.

Ok, so I am omitting several ‘classics’ here;, I recognise that. The Shinning, Psycho, Dawn of the Dead etc. are all films I love, yet didn’t stay with me in quite the same way. I can’t wait to see Insidious, the new film by the makers of Saw and Paranormal Activity, looks mighty promising, let’s just hope it has me checking under the bed for years to come…I just heard a strange noise…no really…

Wordy things happening in Edinburgh…

A few things going on around town.

Monday 11th April – New open mic at the Blind Poet. With those lovely chaps Harlequinade and Gavin Inglis doing their thing, it’s going to be a blinder.

Tuesday 12th April – My chums Harry Giles and Russell Jones tell us about their favourite Desert Island poems from 630pm at the Central Library.

Wednesday 13th April – It’s writers’ night at the quirky little Boda’s Bar.

Wednesday 20th April – The wonderful Golden Hour returns for another night of words and music.

Tuesday 26th April – Inky Fingers open mic, I’m looking forward to it already and will no doubt be reading out some stuff I have written recently.

Also, Edinburgh Uni are about to embark on their next season of creative writing evening classes, which, having taken a class in flash fiction before my Msc, I highly recommend as a way to dip your toe in the water of ‘learning to write’. The acclaimed Jenny Lindsay is running a class in performance poetry which has a few spaces left and I have heard is sure to be amazing.

And next month…1st May, a spoken word night run by the Napier Uni creative writers at Cabaret Voltaire.

So get out there and get wordy!