Notes Along the Way

I am very pleased to announce the launch of Slice of Life, the online literary magazine devoted to the art of flash nonfiction.

Slice of Life is connected to the online writing workshop, Diving Deeper, but you don’t have to be a member to submit your work. We are looking for windows into life. Although we do not publish fiction, ‘creative’ memoir or creative nonfiction is welcome. What we want is the mundane, the strange, the exciting, the horrifying. Stories that make us weep, laugh, or just sigh appreciatively. Stories that make us feel not quite so alone.

We are also interested in your artwork – photographs or other images, that could be posted alongside the writing. Come and read, submit…Slice of Life.

My time at the Banff Centre was wonderful. What a perfect place for artists and writers! I’m very pleased with my mentor, Marina Endicott. The online portion of the Wired Writing program is well underway and I am more than happy with how things are going. What a blessing to have Marina’s insightful comments and editing, and to have a deadline each week to force me to get to work… Marina feels I should have a final draft by the end of the mentorship period (end of March, 2012).

Here are a few more pictures from the Banff Centre.

In the meantime, an early draft of my novel is long-listed for the Mslexia Women’s Novel competition. Further results will be in January, 2012, and I am lucky enough to once again be accepted for the Sirenland Writers Conference in Positano, Italy next year. (See my earlier blog on Sirenland).

A flash story of mine was published in The Irish Times, “The Promise” and also in 100 Word Story, “Workout“.

Wishing everyone the best for the holidays and see you in 2012!

I have been accepted for the Banff Centre’s Wired Writing Studio. This means two weeks at the Banff Centre in Alberta this October, and twenty weeks online mentorship. I’m very excited – I have been hoping for a mentor to help me finish my novel. The Banff Centre’s programs are competitive and highly regarded. I have also been awarded financial aid from the Centre, so all in all I’m very grateful. Now, to get the novel to 2nd draft so I can start the ‘real’ work on arrival in October!

© Copyright 2011 Roy Tennant, FreeLargePhotos.com.

From The Banff Centre’s website:

About the Wired Writing Studio

The Wired Writing Studio is a unique opportunity for poets and writers of fiction and other narrative prose to pursue their artistic visions and develop their voices through one-on-one editorial assistance from experienced writers/editors, as well as through involvement in a community of working writers, both on-site at The Banff Centre and online for five months following the residency.

Program Director: Fred Stenson
Faculty: Barry Dempster – poetry, Stan Dragland – fiction and other narrative prose, Marina Endicott – fiction and other narrative prose, Sue Goyette – poetry, Alissa York – fiction and other narrative prose, Chris Fisher – technical advisor

I’m delighted that an extract of my novel, Tell Me In Tamil, has won the 2011 J.G. Farrell Fiction award for best novel-in-progress. The competition is organized by the West Cork Literary Festival. The adjudicator is Gillian Slovo, South African born novelist, playwright and memoirist. The prize includes a place in the Halfway Through workshop led by Gillian, and accommodation for the week at a hotel. How wonderful!

There will be a presentation of the award on Sunday 13 July at 18:00 at the official opening of the festival, at the Bantry Library. Please come! More details here.

There are some very exciting events and authors appearing at the festival – John Banville, Linda Grant, David Mitchell, Hisham Matar and many others, as well as creative writing workshops. A festival well worth coming to.

I’ve recorded my short story “Square Root” for The Drum, an online literary magazine publishing short fiction and essays in audio form. You can listen online or download to your iPod or any other mp3 player. This story was first published in Prism Review.

To listen, go here: Square Root

My short story, Mihalis and the Mermaid, received an honourable mention for the Canadian literary magazine Fiddlehead’s 20th Annual Best Short Fiction Competition. There is only one first place, and two honourable mentions. You can read an excerpt of the story here, and purchase the issue here. I believe in supporting literary magazines and small presses, so please do buy the issue if you are interested in reading the story.

The judge of the fiction section of the competition was Steven Heighton, who has written several award winning novels and poetry collections. He had this to say about my story: “”Mihalis and the Mermaid” is a hypnotic tale, lyrical but eerie and disturbing, told from three perspectives that are equally well-handled: that of a seven-year-old girl and of her somewhat older brother, both visiting Crete with their mother, and of a local young man who tells us, “I turn the children in the fire of my heart, turning them over and over like pigs on a spit, washing them with love.” Yikes. As you read this story you will think you know what’s going to happen next and you will be wrong.”

Writer Rebecca Bradley, who has short stories published on the Iphone/ipad/ipod touch app, Ether books, has interviewed me on her blog, Life in Clarity.

I have recently returned from Positano, Italy, where I was a lucky participant in the Sirenland Writers Conference. It was an extraordinary experience.

The conference is held at Le Sirenuse, surely one of the world’s most beautiful hotels. I had a room overlooking the bay and my view was simply breathtaking. Although it’s such a luxurious hotel, I felt completely at home, everyone who worked there took care of me as if I was their closest family. The hotel is family run concern, owned by the Sersales, a house turned into a hotel, lovingly taken care of and every room individual, gorgeous artwork on the walls, a fantastic spa,  swimming pool.

Sirenland is held at Le Sirenuse because the manager, Antonio Sersale, loves literature, and he is the official host. But essentially the event is organised by Hannah Tinti (author of The Good Thief and the editor of One Story magazine) Dani Shapiro (author and professor of creative writing) and Dani’s husband, Michael Maren (journalist and screenwriter).

There were 30 writers (participants) and many had brought family or friends. The thirty writers were divided into mixed-genre groups of three, each under the tutelage of either Dani Shapiro, Jim Shepard or Hannah Tinti (normally this would have been Peter Cameron, but he was unable to attend this year).

Me and Pete Pazmino (Photograph by Michael Maren)

Every morning  two of us were ‘workshopped’. We had submitted 25 pages for this purpose, a few weeks prior to the event.  The afternoons were free. The quality of the teaching was exceptional – I had Dani Shapiro who is quite wonderful, both as a person and as a teacher.  I was impressed how she was able not only to give each of us specific help on what we had submitted, but – in the case of those who submitted portions of longer pieces  – she was also able to consider the whole story. To my mind, essentially everyone came away with a way to radically increase the potential of their work – whether novel, short story or memoir.  We also had a half hour one on one with Dani which was very helpful. The standard of feedback by the other participants was extremely high.

Each day there were different early evening events, readings of work by the teachers and the Sirenland Fellow, who this year was Karen Thompson Walker (who has just sold her first novel The Age of Miracles to Random House), a talk on publishing, on the writing life and so on. We had an informal talk with Jim Shepard, for example. Jim is the reason I sought out Sirenland, I am a huge fan of his writing. Although initially I was disappointed not to be in his group, it seemed to me that Dani was the perfect choice for me and what I’m writing at the moment. And Jim is very approachable, so I had some time to chat with him outside of the workshop mornings. He is a delightful man: funny, wise, irreverent, gives the best hugs. He came with his family, including his wife, the writer Karen Shepard, and each of them added something special to the week. Andrew Sean Greer gave a reading from his novel in progress, (I’ve just finished his wonderful A Story of A Marriage).

Some evenings there were ’sponsored’ cocktail events, and gourmet dinners, others we had free to eat in the village. In the afternoons Judy Becker gave yoga sessions.  I only did one of these on the last day, but regretted not doing more as it was such a lovely, meditative experience. A good contrast to the active socializing the rest of the time.

Photograph by Gary Persecepe

My favourite evening we were all invited to dinner at Antonio and Carla Sersale’s home, and that’s where we had ‘open mic’ night… everyone had 2 minutes (if they wanted) to read something.  I was going to read a recent story, but when I timed out 2 minutes it just didn’t have enough punch for a short read,  I ended up reading a memoir piece about my first colonic which seemed to stay in people’s minds afterwards (perhaps not in a good way…). Jim’s kids gave readings.. his son, Emmett read a story of his (very impressive writing) soon be published in Subtropics; and we had a performance of a hilarious skit on Justin Bieber written (and performed) by Jake, Dani Shapiro’s son.

I met some wonderful people, many who I will stay in touch with, particularly to share work. And all the teachers and those involved in the publishing industry made themselves very available for ongoing connection and support.

I cannot recommend this conference highly enough. Although I am not an experienced conference participant, I suspect Sirenland is quite unique in that it is kept small and focussed: you truly feel you are part of a family, a family that will not abandon you when you leave. In some ways it was similar to my recent experience of being a participant at the Galle Literary Festival in Sri Lanka, a combination of luxury and literature that I could very easily get accustomed to.

Astrid Lowe is a writer I met through Ether Books. She did such a wonderful interview with me, I thought it would be interesting to find out more about her and her own work. Astrid is studying creative writing at the Open University. Her short story Back Then has been published in Body Parts & Coal Dust, an anthology by winners of The Whittaker Prize 2010 in Literature & Fiction, and several of her stories have been published by Ether Books.

Astrid, perhaps we can talk a little about how you got started as a writer?

As a child, I loved stories so much, I never wanted them to stop. My grandmother used to read Pinocchio to me and hope for a nap once she’d turned the last page. But I begged her to read it over and over again. I asked my mother what one or the other letter was in books. Until the day I sat in my tiny ‘grandmother chair’, reading for my friends. I wrote my first letter, in capitals, and my uncle wrote back, in capitals. That was before school. At school, they said I wrote good stories. One was about the same walnut tree from my story Slaughter Day, of which I posted fragments on my blog. But… I liked many things. I liked both literature and maths, so became an engineer. It fitted into the political context back then: you needed a ‘proper’ job. Writers were some sort of wonderful, remote creatures. My writing remained in my letters again, long letters to friends. And a dream emerged: one day, once I’d have gathered all that life experience, I was going to write ‘for real’. One of the things I said I’ll do when I grow up. A few years ago, strange as it felt to accept, I realised that I had grown up. I thought about life, and that it might not be forever. I wanted to create something. And realised that the present was as good as any to make a start. I meant to write memoir, but somehow got drawn into fiction – more freedom to play.

I was really interested to read that you come from a multi-lingual family. I’m curious how this affects your writing. Do you only write in English?

The short stories I write at the moment are all in English. Sometimes I’m sad about it, because I’d like my parents to read them too. But I’m focusing on one language for now, while I’m working on other aspects. After all, I live in the UK and most people likely to read my work are English speakers. But I don’t exclude writing in German or Romanian one day, maybe like Milan Kundera wrote in Czech and French. Or even produce an original mix? I enjoyed the language in Anthony Burgess’ A Clockwork Orange. It reminded me of the way we used to mix words at school (I went to a German school in Romania). I’m also contemplating literary translations. Would welcome thoughts on this…

The multi-lingual aspect has a bigger impact on the actual process of writing, I think. Being multi-lingual is a blessing and a curse: you can come and go as you please, but your home is no-man’s-land. I don’t think in a language. My thoughts are images, impressions, expressions, and, at the interface with the world (the keyboard I type on) they emerge as words, in the language I decide to write in. Sometimes I catch one emerging in another language – not because I don’t know it in English, but because it describes more accurately what I meant to express. There can be slight nuances between equivalent words in different languages. Also, my choice of words and my expressions in one language are always impacted by knowing the others. For example, Romanians use quite a poetic language in everyday speech, which can result in quite a quirky style when applied to English. In any case, I never found it hard to write. Somebody once said to me, ‘This must be very difficult for you, with English not being your native language.’ It’s not. When I have something to say, I find a way to say it.

I’ve read two of your stories, Back Then and In Time. I found these stories compelling and atmospheric. In Time is about a street kid in 90s Romania, and the description of his struggles is deeply moving. I’d love to know how you got the idea for this story, and what it was like to actually write it.

‘In Time’ might never have made it back out of the drawer, if it wasn’t for a good friend who encouraged me to send it to the Slingink  competition. It was successful, but… I hadn’t wanted to write that story. I hadn’t wanted to write about street kids. The image of that naked street kid I’d seen on the Bucharest metro in the middle of winter had stayed with me ever since. I’m sad that Romania is often heard about for the wrong reasons, for the misery side. It’s more than a country with kids on the street. Always has been. For a long time, I avoided touching on the topic. It didn’t feel fair, it felt like sensation-seeking, milking misery. And sometimes it’s simply hard to write about things that are too close to us. When I decided to write it after all, I thought, ‘Fine, I’ll give you what you want.’, and poured all my bitterness into it. Like when you have to admit that something you love is far from perfect. It’s hard. It’s hard to love it, but you still do.

On your website you say you sometimes draw on your experiences of living in communist Romania, and both these stories are set there. Can you tell us more about what inspires you, what kinds of stories you like to write?

I get inspired by the good and the bad in people. Beauty in ugliness. I want to write stories that make you laugh and cry – if possible, both in the same story. I like to play with metaphors and give readers the option to find a deeper meaning. Like in films directed by Emir Kusturica. I like his colourful (rather than black and white) characters and the way he portrays ‘our’ part of the world, the misery, with tenderness. I’d also like to give readers a glimpse of Romania the way I saw it.

A while ago, during last year’s Open University writing course, another student from my online peer group asked the question ‘Can you talk about the regime or is it too painful?’ It took me by surprise. I realised that to me it wasn’t ‘the regime’, it was my childhood. I e-mailed back with examples from a regime-tinted, but happy childhood. They just poured out. Realising that I was taking up airtime from our writing work with personal chit-chat, I put in the subject line of my email, ‘This is not a piece of writing’. Emails came back saying if this wasn’t then what was. I counted the words and I’d written 1,500 of them – a typical example of why I consider letters when I talk about my writing. My peers encouraged me to develop this piece. I probably will.

I’d love to know more about the course you are doing, the Diploma in Literature and Creative Writing with the Open University. What made you choose this course, and how do you feel you are benefiting? Any suggestions for others looking to study creative writing?

I thought I could go it on my own. Some years ago, Linda Anderson’s Creative Writing arrived at my doorstep, in Amazon packaging. It’s nicknamed The Big Red Book (BRB) by those who are working with it at the Open University, where it’s the workbook for the first course within the Diploma in Literature and Creative Writing. Solid, shiny and red, my favourite colour. But I got sidetracked by life and the BRB remained untouched. Stories of Romania remained paragraphs in emails to friends, some of whom began to give me examples of others’ successful work inspired by their home countries. A year later, on an impulse, I submitted my application for A215. I’d just completed my psychology degree with them, so the OU weren’t strangers. I told my tutor I was there for a kick in the backside to get on with it. Deadlines and peers I’d spotted on our online forums (with some of whom I still work) kept me on track through the much needed journey through the workbook. It’s a safe place to experiment, to make mistakes. A safe place to learn. One of the assignments even guides through researching publications and submitting work. I felt motivated to explore other materials about writing, subscribe to magazines and enter competitions. Tutor contact is minimal, but can make a difference. My tutor’s final comment was that my writing had been one of the most memorable in the several presentations he’d had of the course. He built up my confidence and gave me tips on where to go from there.

My suggestions to others looking to study creative writing? Be clear why you want it and be clear what you want from it. Research what’s out there and research the course you’re focusing on. Talk to others who studied and talk to those who haven’t. Take it all with a pinch of salt. Go with your instinct if need be. If you do go for courses, keep in mind they’re not ‘the world’s bellybutton’ (Romanian expression). Use them to complete you – as a catalyst, as inspiration. And leave behind what’s not useful.

I’m always interested in process. Do you write every day? Do you polish each sentence as you go along or do you edit after the first draft is written? Do you have any rituals or activities that help you get in the mood to write?

Most of what I write I qualify as creative writing. In my world, there’s hardly a day without writing. I keep in touch with friends from all over the world (and from around the corner) through letters and e-mails. Snippets of these could inspire or be part of a story. I’ve started a diary with extracts from my letters, counting up to about 50,000 words every three months. I don’t write ‘formally’ every day (stories, for example), but I would if I were a full–time writer. I’m naughty with rules of writing – I know of many and follow few. My biggest sin is polishing too early and judging my writing as I go along. Giving myself a hard time, I mean. I’d like to do less of that, but have decided not to give myself a hard time about giving myself a hard time… I’m hoping to grow into it eventually.

Strangely, what often gets me in the mood to write is reading technical advice about writing: I might even follow it, but mostly it gets me ‘into the zone’ and suddenly something that was only a faint idea before begins to take shape. I often find myself very inspired by brainstorms with my parents, about past Romania. Other times, it’s an emotion: I’ve just seen a hedgehog curl up in the middle of the road and heard a car around the corner: thoughts come pouring in and ideas I had before join together. Other times it’s an empty brain: I walk around a field with my attention skipping from birdsong to airplane, and suddenly I start making notes on my iPhone. Many of my stories so far resulted from homework I’d given to my subconscious to work on till I was ready to type.

Are you influenced by any authors?

Definitely. But not consciously at the moment. I think what I read leaves a little programming behind in my brain, on what to do or not to do. I try to read all sorts, often on recommendation, curious what others like. My only condition is that it holds my attention.

What are your aspirations as a writer? How do you see yourself in ten years time?

I used to say goals are for boys. I don’t play football. I’ve always been carried by the current and liked to keep my options open, seize opportunities, try new things. I’m a self-employed therapist now, but it suited me to work as a project manager. I like to bring together all I am and all I can be. Perhaps this is why I feel that writing is like arriving somewhere I want to be. I’d like to earn the privilege to stay, by creating work that touches readers.

The following of Astrid’s short stories are available from Ether Books:
Back Then, Make a Wish, In Time and Snails

Astrid’s website: http://word-weaver.co.uk