Saturday, 21 May 2011

Fizz 7, Derren Brown and my writing desk

Good morning, Folks. I have a confession to make, so listen up as I'll say this only once - I've have done very little writting this week due to a busy, busy schedule... but I have experienced lots of new things which all aids my writing.

Firstly, Tuesday was the poetry Fizz 7 evening, which I've reviewed in the post before this one. It was a wonderful evening, I read for the very first time, which wasn't as nerve racking as I thought it would be. I was amazed but please to see such a high turn out - which added to the occasion.

Wednesday,  I spent the majority of the evening writing the review, and saying goodbye to a fellow writer Paul who is heading to Prague for a year. Funny story alert: Paul went to the wrong location on Tuesday night for the Fizz 7. We were in the Abbey refectory, he went to the Tithe barn and interupted the local council meeting - bless him. Thankfully, he found us in time to share in the evening.

Thursday, I spent the evening in Birmingham at The Alexandra Theatre watching Derren Brown, the illusionist. Now for folks that don't know me; I love this man. He plays with your mind and scrambles your head by creating illusions, reading peoples' body language - all in the name of entertainment. But the best thing, is not knowing how he does it. Three days on, and I'm still walking about trying to figure out how he does, what he does. It was the fourth time that I've seen him and he still takes my breath away.

Friday, I shocked a class of year 10 pupils by acting out the character of Joan, a 62 years old, who collects teapots. I was asked to demonstrate how they should perform a 'character in role' piece for their speaking and listening assessment. So I did. Now you've got to remember that this particular class don't know me as well as my own classes do. My own classes know that I can suddenly start performing, drop in little funnies, as well as be the wicked witch giving out detentions. Within a space of five minutes, they were on their feet applauding, as I'd morphed into a bitter old lady, ranting about her beloved teapots being broken. Once they'd calmed down and settled back into their seats, and I morphed back into me, I explained that with creative writing you have to put yourself in another person's shoes. You have to imagine yourself as that charcater in order to write a realistic account of their behvaiour, dialogue, mannerisms - then hopefully you can capture their essences upon paper. Fingers crossed, that next week's assessment goes O.K. for them, and I'm pretty sure that the name Joan will be shouted down a corridor or two next week as I pass by.

I also surprised some of the year 11s, by creating little poetry ditties for their memory books. I don't write one for every child, just the ones that have been taken under wing, shall we say. It has been a pleasure to watch them share and enjoy the humour of words captured in a few short lines.

The school newsletter carried the story of the Polesworth Poetry Trail this week, too. I'd mentioned my poem to several people and low and behold was asked for a copy of 'Jutt' so it could appear next to the article. Again, just a small piece but it conveys to the pupils that anyone can be creative using words. I didn't realise just how much I've completed at school this week.

And finally, I thought I'd share with you the basics of my writing - where I write. In the corner of the dining room, is where my old wooden writing bureau, the kind with the flip down front, proudly resides. I searched for ages for the right desk, one which looked decorative when closed, but fully functional and most importantly, had the right feel to it. My desk, when open, has lots of tiny wooden drawers, cubby holes and nick knack slots - so that everything I could possible need is at hand. I have a row of paper weights, collected but never used which sit before me as I write. One top of the writing bureau, sits my grandfather's clock - which never strikes the right time, it is always two stricks out, so at ten o'clock it will sound twelve strikes. My hubby keeps offering to get it mended, but I don't want it touched, it reminds me of my grandfather - always slightly out of kilt with everyone else. Next to the crazy clock, I have a happy buddah, who sits next to a small glass containing coloured wax in black and white, mimicking a glass of Guinness. The Gunniess candle came from the Guinness Storehouse in Dublin, where the Queeen has just visited (note: I drank the pint of Guinness whereas old Libby refused). On the other side of the crazy clock, sit three crystal eggs; a blue moonstone, a lapis lazuli and a rose quarzt - I use these to meditate with or simply play with whilst I'm thinking. My chair, which hubby/stepchildren are banned from sitting in, is a brown whicker chair, with a couple of old cushions. I bought it especially for writing, hence the reason no one is allowed to be seated - just me, oh and my beautiful cat, Czar. I also have a crystal hanging from the window, as I love to see the rainbows appear on the painted wall in the late afternoon.

Over the years I've found that it doesn't matter how much I plan to write, create time for writing I can somethings miss the slots and avoid doing the job. So, on days when I'm tired, don't feel like thinking, I go through the motions of sitting at my desk, fingers on the laptop's keyboard because the 'magic' always happens once I'm seated ready for business.

Wow, I sat down thinking I hadn't much to write about this week, but hey the words have just flowed. Enjoy your week - I have two writers' meeting this week so need to hone a few pieces to read aloud.

1 comment:

pollysworda said...

Another good blog - Thank you for the picture of your writing space, I am glad reading at the Fizz was not too bad for you. - You read well and I hope we will hear more of your work at the Fizz in future - Msy be extracts of HER.

Regards
Mal.