Showing posts with label gorse. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gorse. Show all posts

Wednesday, 2 May 2012

Another Hexham Book Event


Gorse, sometimes called broom
Meg Rosoff is an American who has lived in Britain for a long time. She doesn’t approve of “teaching” creative writing but if she practised the art, would suggest that Archer, Brown and Meyer should take up other occupations. Thinks all writing is a reflection of the author, and that it takes seven years, like an ancient apprenticeship, to learn the craft of writing. Or to put another way, it takes 10,000 hours before you produce reasonable writing. (Though it occurs to me that in seven years the apprentices did more than a million hours, and that’s if they worked a five-day week.)
Most people find that their first chapter is overwritten, overworked and often omitted in the final book. There’s too much exposition.

Think of a Colander – everyday stuff rushes in and falls through the holes, but some things will stick. They’re the important bits and will be quite different to other people’s bits. The contents make you, and the particular you that you are will dictate what and how you write.
Some people are clear, sometimes too clear. Everything is on display. Others are not connected to their subconscious and you feel you keep coming up against a pane of glass as you talk to them.

Depressives are attracted to the arts. (Or perhaps it is vice versa.) The depressive thinks he sees the world more accurately than anyone else. Perhaps it helps to be a depressive writer? When we’re writing, we’re looking for a conduit to the subconscious. What’s in the brain should come out on the page. I think this quote is from the Talmud: “We do not see things as they are. We see them as WE are.” Once you start writing, you may be surprised at what comes through to the page.
There is no objective truth, no one way to write. Often writing is technically competent, with good storytelling and plotting, but has no voice. Think of voice as in singing: you want a strong voice from your rib cage, not a thin little voice from your throat. German dressage riders have a word that roughly translates as through-goingness – from the rider to the horse and out into the dressage movement – a complete flow of energy.
Principal ballet dancers stand out against the corps de ballet because s/he has a quality the others do not. Their voice is strong.

Who you are, what you have to say, plus the confidence and self-knowledge to get it on the page – all these things go towards making your voice.

Monday, 13 April 2009

Forss Hotel and Gorse





This is the wilderness garden at the front of the Castle of Mey. Lots of wizened looking trees not yet in leaf but strong enough to survive the Arctic winds that blow down on them. At the front right are some of the Caithness flagstones performing a function peculiar to this region - they stand on end and make fences. Square and very strong although only an inch thick, we saw row upon row dividing fields and marvelled at them. They were once exported all over the world to make pavements and for all I know people may still be walking on them in cities like London and Sydney - and then concrete became so much easier...

I recommend the Forss Hotel and not only because the trees look healthier, but because it is a perfect country house hotel with exactly the right atmosphere. Rabbits nibbled the lawn as we sat in the conservatory and ate breakfast. The house sits within the loop of the Forss river, and the waterfall and the riverside walks are very pretty. It is a time-share river, so salmon fishers will want to know about it. If breakfast is anything to go by, dinner would be a very good experience, but of course we were eating the evening meal with family and friends for the two days we were resident.

We walked along the river in brilliant sunshine towards the sea, and out of the reach of the wind.

All the way up the coast from Inverness through Brora and Helmsdale we had driven by hillsides covered in gorse, which looked wonderful against the bright blue sky. The road is twisty and offered very few places to pull over, so I did not get a photograph en route - but we enjoyed a smaller version on our walk to the sea.