I love the act of writing fiction and poetry, but can never be quite sure which of the two I enjoy most, as they each have their own rewards and frustrations. One of the unexpected pleasures of becoming a published novelist is the way that it’s led me to giving occasional talks to readers and other writers about my own writing experiences, and being invited to attend other ‘writerly’ events.
Event Number One was at Selly Oak Library, as you can see from this picture.
I’d just given a talk about my writing, an enjoyable way of spending a Monday morning.
For those of you who don’t know Birmingham, Sutton Coldfield (my home) is in the far north of edge of the city,
while Selly Oak is ten miles away on the south side.
On Wednesday evening, it was back to Selly Oak again, this time giving a talk to 30 members of Open Circle, a Ladies Group who meet once a month at the Methodist hall – an attentive and generous audience. In my previous post I wrote about my visit to Castle Vale, where I met a flourishing Reading Group, most of whom had recently read my first published novel, The Dangerous Sports Euthanasia Society, and it was wonderful to have an opportunity to hear their comments about the characters and the story-line and to answer their questions.
Meeting a new group of people who know nothing about me and my writing is equally rewarding – especially when I know that 75-year old Agnes Borrowdale, and all the other characters from that first novel, will be introduced to a new set of readers. It’s nearly five years since that book was published and I find it strange how I can still be so attached to these invented characters, especially as I now have the cast of Paper Lanterns alive in my head.
I’m lucky enough to still find interest and enjoyment in my job with Adult Education after nearly 30 years, and I’m sure that this is partly because of my career as a writer. As I’ve explained above, it’s not only the writing itself, but also what I call ‘writerly stuff’. Starting Novel Press, my own publishing venture, is a recent addition to those activities, and on Friday afternoon I’d been invited to attend a meeting for local publishers, organised by Jonathan Davidson of Writing West Midlands, at The Custard Factory.
I often feel that I don’t merit the title of ‘publisher’, since mine is still the only product of Novel Press, so I find it very encouraging when Jonathan and other experienced people ‘in the know’ take my publishing venture seriously. Alan Mahar of Tindal Street Press reminded me that when they started up ten years ago, the lottery funding for the arts was in a much better state than in this difficult financial climate. So maybe I should feel at least a little bit proud of what I’ve accomplished so far.
That was a nice feeling to take away with me on my journey down to Sussex for the weekend. I felt particularly lucky to be there on Saturday, enjoying a quiet morning in brilliant sunshine with my mother, strolling up a country lane to an ancient church which I’d hadn’t been near for decades! Click here to read more about the history of this building, and why the windows appear to have no glass!
One of my sisters lives nearby and she encouraged me to go to Seaford in the afternoon, our nearest beach.
It was almost hot in the sunshine and out of the sharp wind, but even in the shelter of the wall it wasn’t nearly warm enough
for me to venture into the sea – my sister is more hardy than I am, as you can see from this picture.
The brilliant white of the cliffs behind the beach and the bright blue green of the sea
almost convinced me that summer was still with us, but the wind gave a different message.
This might not have been her last swim of the season,
but for me it definitely seemed like the last day of summer.
