Severn Valley Authors

If not now, when?

2012-01-04T11:30:00.006Z

Primo Levi's 1982 novel If Not Now, When? chronicles the adventures of a group of Russian and Polish refugees caught behind German-occupied lines in World War II. I read this remarkable book several years ago and expected it to be a rather worthy account of tragic events, since Levi himself was survivor of Auschwitz. Instead, I found it to be a compelling, fast-moving adventure, full of drama and beautifully-written.

I was immediately reminded of Levi's novel when we were presented with Annie's short story, based loosely on her Estonian father’s wartime experience. In Annie's story, the protagonist -- a young man called Olev -- admits, at the time of the Russian invasion, he 'wasn't even the man of the house, let alone a man of the world'. He is confronted with a choice: to fight for those who have invaded his country and taken his freedom ... or to flee. The ensuing events follow Olev and his younger brother as they leave the family farm and head north, dodging Russian troops. Annie's story cleverly shows how Olev's obsessive-compulsive difficulties in later life are a direct result of his wartime experiences. Thus, not only is this a convincing slice of history but also a realistic psychological portrait.

As we were reunited for our first meeting of 2012, Linda observed that the story was quite a departure from Annie's usual subject matter. Several of us were confused by what exactly became of Olev’s brother. We all presumed he must have been drowned in the river-crossing but this was ambiguous, perhaps highlighting the difficulty of making meaning clear, particularly when describing an action-packed scene. Clive liked the verisimilitude of the formal language used in the dialogue, suggesting the 1940s setting and creating the illusion of characters speaking a foreign language. Everyone agreed that the ending could be strengthened by deleting the two final sentences, proving once again that, sometimes, less is more.

In our news roundup, several of us have taken up the challenge to submit an entry for a Reader's Digest competition to write an ultra-short story of a mere 100 words. Whether or not any of us win, we plan to post all of our entries on the SVA blog in the future. Clive is working on a very dark short story about Ireland. Rob has entered the Birmingham Book Festival Short Story competition. Linda continues to receive lots of positive feedback from her writing mentor on her novel-in-progress, as she assiduously produces 10,000 words per month. Chris is currently working nights in his day job (so to speak) and -- as a former night worker myself -- I sympathised with the disruption this causes to life in general and any attempt at a writing routine in particular. I'm not sure if it's any consolation to Chris that William Faulkner is said to have written As I Lay Dying while working nights as a powerhouse.

And so, the powerhouse of creativity that is the SVA saw in a new year of writing activity. It's well-known that writers need to be a bit selfish and single-minded and to avoid procrastination. In the words of The Song of the Partisan:

If I'm not for myself, who will be for me?

If not this way, how? If not now, when?

Aunt Cecily's Electric Kettle

2011-12-15T19:30:00.000Z

Mince pies and mulled wine greeted us at Rob’s house, where we met on Tuesday, December 13^th, to listen to Tony’s story ‘Visiting Aunt Cecily’. Quite how we found ourselves discussing the origins, use and pronunciation of the word ‘chagrin’ within five minutes of our arrival is not clear from my notes, but it may have had something to do with the wine. Annie added to the merriment with a demonstration of her uncanny ability to ferret out a double entendre from unlikely material.

When we’d settled down again, Tony read his 1500-word story in which the narrator, Aunt Cecily’s nephew, recalls his relationship with her, his visits to her house both as a child and as an adult, and a meeting at which he was coincidentally present, between Auntie C and her old friend, Dorothy Morton. The story enchanted us all: Tony had succeeded in creating a ‘sense of an era’ (Chris), and feeling of nostalgia. The microscopic detailing and imagery, especially the ‘dying rose’, attracted plaudits from us all. The piece was variously described as ‘warm’, ‘touching’, ‘moving’ and ‘quirky’ and no critique of a Gillam work is complete with at least one mention of Garrison Keillor and ‘whimsy’ and, sure enough… There was, however, a significant caveat which inhibited unalloyed approbation.

When Cecily’s old friend Dorothy unexpectedly arrived, Cecily displayed considerable disquiet – her demeanour was ‘different’, ‘slightly nervous’, ‘embarrassed’, ‘uncomfortable’, ‘irritated’ – and we all wanted to know why. Tony couldn’t tell us. He was only a compere introducing his guests – whatever they had been up to backstage was none of his business: like Manuel in Fawlty Towers, he knew nothing. He actually started to say “My best guess is…” but was silenced by disbelieving howls of outrage. Chris in particular found this all this most unsatisfactory and, had Chris remembered to bring his Inquisition kit, Tony would undoubtedly have ended the evening an inch or two taller (than he was when he arrived) . A rowdy debate ensued, involving a Greek island, a poet called Sappho and Margaret Rutherford’s tweed jacket: yes, it was that kind of evening! After Rob somehow managed to drag Ngaio Marsh into this quagmire, he remarked that ‘it’s always a pleasure to read Tony Gillam’ and we whole-heartedly agreed.

The eventual conclusion was that, yes, the two old dears had probably shared a mutual affection that may conceivably have ventured beyond the Platonic: they had, after all, shared a flat in Birmingham (that notorious centre of lust and carnal venality), both been members of the arcane and possibly esoteric Elektra Club, and, to cap it all, had bought each other electrical appliances – for water, the boiling of. The kettle, a Premier Quickset, may indeed have somehow symbolised their relationship: the mind can only boggle. But how was Tony subtlely to convey this to his mystified readers – Annie had the answer. Old friend Dorothy would be introduced to the nephew as ‘Miss’ Dorothy Morton, thereby dispelling any lingering doubts (as the cliché has it). And that was that. One point of possible merit elicited by the discussion was that a short story can be compared with peering though a gap in a fence, insofar as the views to left and right of the gap are understood to exist but are invisible and cannot therefore be portrayed and whatever is happening there can only be guessed at, as Tony tried to point out. Short stories are fragments and a resolution is by no means a sine qua non.

The news, as can easily be imagined, proved somewhat anti-climactic. Rob had none, except that he is knocking out 2000 words a day, with which he’s unhappy (the quality, not the quantity) on ‘The Sting Inside’; Tony reminded him to contact Radio

Scotland

. Tony described how to write a dash, using ALT+0+151 (that’ll be the dash also known as a ‘Scouse accent’); this led to a confusing and desultory discussion which was too boring to merit description here. Chris handed out for distribution some leaflets advertising his talk at the Rose Theatre Kidderminster on Saturday, February 11^th at 2 p.m. and Linda advised us to desist from employing the past continuous tense. (Filthy habit!) I had no news, and if Annie did, I failed to make a note of it: sorry Annie! She did, however, suggest that we instigate a Round Robin of 100-word stories for the Reader’s Digest competition, which closes on January 31^st, 2012.

We agreed to meet next on January 3^rd at Chris and Linda’s when Annie will read and Tony will blog, exchanged season’s greetings and stepped out into the night.

Gastronomie Française

2011-11-28T17:53:00.000Z

Dancing 'widdershins'.

It seems appropriate that in our first meeting since we reversed the order of our unwritten table d'hôte we also enjoyed a digressive discussion on the word 'widdershins'*. Annie, acting as maître d' led us through the hors d'oeuvres, in which we made the menu choices for our forthcoming festive dinner.

Moving into the plat principal Linda read an extract from Chapter Ten of her novel A Headful of Budgerigars. This tickled our taste buds on so many levels – the humour, the tempo and the dazzling special effects in her prose . Linda's flair for descriptive writing was shown au bon effet in her filmic account of a Gallic Hunter's Feast where the gourmandise of the natives was contraposed against pithy observations from and between a small group of British parvenues.

Pour dessert, we moved into what has previously been our entrée (in the European more literal sense rather than the American) and shared news of our literary successes:

Linda is shortly to endure/enjoy (delete as appropriate) her first mentoring session under the Gold Dust programme.
Chris is reworking his article for inclusion in a New Zealand-based denunciation of flying as a sustainable means of travel and continuing his successful British tour of the Why don't you fly? talk. (I know this sounds contradictory but it isn't.)
Clive has been a very busy bee, although he denies it. In addition to penning his regular 'Grumpy' columns he has written an article on hops, is working on a piece on the part music plays in memory and is writing for a start-up Internet radio station.
Tony has entered the BBC 'Opening Lines' story competition with The Idea of Marmalade and has had an article called Readers Turned Writers printed in the Malcolm Saville Society's magazine.
Rob has entered the same BBC competition as Tony and is not writing his novel as quickly as he should.
Annie under pressure of school commitments is working on the piece she is going to read in our first meeting in the New Year.

So SVA moves into la fin de l'année 2011. With only one more meeting in December, now is the time to wish Bon Chance and Joyeux Noël to all our readers.

*Widdershins: Moving in an anticlockwise direction, contrary to the apparent course of the sun (considered as unlucky or sinister); unlucky, ill-fated, relating to the occult.” (OED, see also withershins.)

Madness or Sanity

2011-11-06T15:05:00.003Z

The Reader:

This week we met at Annie's house to critique Chris's 'Madness or Sanity', and we concluded that anyone who cycled 16,500 miles to China has got to be mad. However using a bicycle as your main method of transport surely displays a degree of sanity in an insane world where planes, trains and automobiles choke our planet with pollution and are contributing to the problems of climate change. Chris's article was intended for a book about long distance travel and reducing our dependence on flying. He certainly demonstrated the benefits of sustainable travel, but wouldn't argue that the bike could be a serious alternative to the plane.

I thought this was a well written and inspirational article, but probably not quite right for the book in question. Tony suggested submitting it to the 'slow travel' section of Resurgence magazine.We all agreed that he had made us think about our future travel options, and Annie said that she might consider a more fitness themed holiday next year such as walking or cycling. Rob suggested sending the article to a health and fitness/lifestyle publication for men.

The News:

Annie's delicious Victoria sponge took centre stage. She also submitted to a short story competition for children.

Tony had an article published in the British Journal of Wellbeing.

Clive has had an article printed in B: magazine and he has written another successful 'Mr Grumpy' column.

Both Rob and Tony gave very accomplished and enjoyable presentations about their work, at Bewdley library. Rob received 18 feedback cards from the audience saying that they would like to buy his book when it is published, and Tony sold 10 books, one to a little girl who took pity on him and helped him to spell her name: f,r,e,y,a.

Comment:

I have just received my copy of The Elements of Style by William Strunk Jr. and E.B. White. Although Strunk and White are Americans and have a few dodgy spellings, this is a fabulous book. I loved Dorothy Parker's (Esquire) comment: 'If you have any young friends who aspire to become writers, the second greatest favor you can do them is to present them with copies of The Elements of Style. The first greatest, of course, is to shoot them now, while they're happy.'

I was interested to see that White is the author of Charlotte's Web and Stuart Little.

Next Meeting:

Monday, November 21 at Tony's house.

A Sprinkling of Gold Dust

2011-10-26T18:34:00.001+01:00

Rather unusually I am reading and blogging this time. I had already interfered with Rob’s blogging algorithm by going out of turn and so I thought I would offer to blog as I am on half-term.

The news this week came thick and fast.
Clive: A magazine called Britain at War are interested in an article about a metal case made for Monty by Clive’s father during World War Two.
Chris: Has given another successful talk that was well attended.
Rob and Tony: Are preparing for their talks at Bewdley Library during half term.
Linda: Hold on everyone! This is big news! Linda has been accepted on to the Gold Dust mentoring programme. After attending the Arvon Course Linda was invited to submit her work for specialist mentoring and has been accepted. Linda has an Australian tutor and they keep in contact by skyping. Congratulations Linda, well done.

We also discussed my story that I wish to submit to a competition to write a children’s story. Everyone engaged well with my main character, Thomas. Linda did suggest a few more mannerisms to be included to give insight into his character, which I have done. Also the group were in agreement with the age range that I plan to submit the story for.

The other news of the night was that Chris failed to notice I had missed a vocative comma, leaving it to Rob and Tony to pick this up.

Clive was concerned that the ending of the story was too predictable. Often when I am reading with children at school it is easy to predict what will happen in the book so I am not sure if it is a problem that an adult can predict an ending. Tony thought that the ending did not have enough of a comeuppance whereas Rob thought that the pay back was good.

Eagle-Eyes Gillam noticed some typos: coupe instead of couple and conversions rather than conversations. I was also picked up a number of times for missing out the second set of speech marks.

Thank you all for your valuable contributions. The story is now ready and I will be posting it tomorrow.

An Englishman in Berlin

2011-10-06T14:47:00.000+01:00

Given that there were a couple of sparkly bits, The News On Tuesday was like the curate’s egg. Chrisattracted sympathy for his Dorsetventure where, of five events, two were well-attended and three were not, forwhich sole responsibility apparently rests with his sister-in-law (do not enquire).Perhaps people in that part of the world are insufficiently proletarian in outlook to appreciate thefiner points of cycling – I’ll bet they wouldn’t recognise a whippet if theysaw one – though the prospect of meeting a man who cycled from the

to Peking mighthave been expected to provoke at least the merely curious. Odd that

Wessex

,having produced one of

England

’sfinest writers, failed so miserably to support a contemporary author.

Tony is undertaking a new course at Worcester University which will,amongst other things, require him to produce a pair of two and a half thousand-wordpieces before the end of the year, but he was cheered by the sale of some ofhis books on a market stall (not his, someone else’s – the stall, not thebooks) and, with Rob, looks forward to the Bewdley Authors’ Reading Week forwhich Rob provided some leaflets. Tony reads on Wednesday 26^th at one o’clock and Rob onFriday 28^th at two thirty. I reported a tie: one rejection and one acceptance(unpaid) in Mensa magazine’s December edition (and Rob liked my new website). Anniefailed to report anything, having at the time a mouthful of Mrs E’s finesthome-made ginger biscuits and being too polite to attempt to speak.

The highlight was Rob’s success in the 31^st WinchesterWriters’ Conference competition into which he had entered a synopsis and thefirst three pages of his novel ‘The Sting Inside’, of which we later heard anextract. Rob received a Certificate of Commendation which he intends to frameand to which he will give deserved prominence.

Once the decks had been cleared of news, Rob read an extract from a discoveredmanuscript for a memoir called 'My Cabaret Years' (sub-titled ‘In Isherwood’sFootsteps’), written by one of the characters from his work in progress, ‘TheSting Inside’. The memoir found unanimous favour, attracting such epithets as‘engaging’, ‘convincing’, ‘crisp’, ‘well-researched’ and ‘authentic’. It iswritten in the first person by Cameron Mortimer, a gay Englishman visiting Berlin in1932 and looked after by his Jewish friend Leo. Apart from those too young toknow, of whom Tony claimed to be one[1],it was felt that the era and the place were extremely well-drawn, realistic andauthentic, but anyway, Tony trusts Rob’s research. Chris enjoyed the contrast betweenthe superficial gaiety and innocence on the one hand and the underlying menaceon the other, while Annie was entertained by the homosexual passage towards theend. The writing was of a consistently high quality, and although I disagreedwith Rob’s choice of word in a couple of places this was balanced by myadmiration for some well-chosen verbs. This served to illustrate one of thebenefits of first-person fiction: the author takes the credit for the good bitsand blames his character for the rest. Towards the end, Rob moved into thepresent tense, creating tension and a sense of immediacy, pointing up theclimax when Cameron becomes instantaneously infatuated with a young, blond,blue-eyed Nazi. The physical description of Cameron’s burgeoning lust was feltto be surprisingly authentic, by those in a position to judge. We look forward very much to reading more of‘The Sting Inside’; in the meantime, Chris wondered whether we might have sightof a synopsis.

We were able, sadly only momentarily, to relish the prospect of adebate on whether the ‘s’ of the verb ‘focus’ should be doubled when formingthe past participle. To everyone’s regret, Tony averred that as he frequentlyfound reason to use the word, he’d taken the trouble to ascertain that bothforms are correct. We took out our disappointment on Rob who claimed to haveforgotten the algorithm again; the rumour that he’s lost the original and can’tnow remember how he did it is gaining ground. We meet next to critique work byAnnie at Chris and Linda’s on October 18^th.

[1]. Rob alluded in the memoir to “a Sally Bowles character”: areference lost on the ‘youth’ party who claimed never to have heard of her. Shewas, of course, the character upon whom Lisa Minelli’s role in the film‘Cabaret’ was based. Now there’s a thing . . . Rob’s piece could easily havebeen entitled ‘An Englishman in Berlin’, as in ‘An American in Paris’,which was a 1952 film starring Gene Kelly and directed by . . . VincenteMinelli – Lisa’s dad!

A 21st century equivalent to Somerset Maugham

2011-10-02T20:31:00.013+01:00

We gathered at Rob’s for new member Clive's debut reading - a short story called Old Friends. Both Linda and I were initially put off by the golf club lounge setting of the opening scene but still the story managed to engage and everybody admired Clive’s acute ear for dialogue, much of which sounded completely natural, as if it were real conversation overheard. Annie was very taken with the character of the annoying waiter, commenting he was ‘annoying in a really good way '. She wanted the waiter to go away so she could continue eavesdropping on the other characters’ conversation - proof of the compelling nature of Clive’s storytelling. But it was Rob who really hit the nail on the head when he observed how Old Friends - a rather old-fashioned, highly moralistic tale in which the good are rewarded and the reprehensible get their comeuppance - could have come straight from the pen of Somerset Maugham.

Now I didn't let on about this at the meeting but Somerset Maugham and I have something in common. Last year I wrote an article for the British Journal of Wellbeing called Time to write the next book. I don't mean to cause a distraction here so I'll put a link to the article at the end of this blog entry and you can click on it and read it at your leisure. The point is, Clive is anxious to break out of his rather old-fashioned style but, as there are probably few people writing in the tradition of Somerset Maugham these days, why shouldn't Clive be the one who picks up that particular baton?

There is an apocryphal story that Thomas Hardy (one of the greatest of English novelists and also one of England’s finest poets) wanted nothing more than to be remembered as an outstanding dramatist like his friend JM Barrie (one of Scotland's most successful novelists and playwrights in his time) who in turn berated himself for not being able to write poetry like Hardy. The moral of this story is that, if you’re brilliant enough to create a Far from the Madding Crowd or a Peter Pan, you should be pleased with your achievements. And if my Severn Valley Author friends insist on my being Wyre Forest’s answer to Garrison Keillor then I think Clive might settle for being the 21st century’s Somerset Maugham.

Click here to read Time to write the next book by Tony Gillam as published in the British Journal of Wellbeing, August 2010 – Vol 1 No 5.

'The Idea of Marmalade' by Anthony Gillam and The Pow-Wow Litfest

2011-09-19T14:46:00.000+01:00

On Wednesday 7 September it was Tony's turn to play host. The biscuits were of the usual excellent quality.

Clive, SVA's latest recruit, announced that he has landed a column in the Worcester News on an initial 5-month trial. The title? 'Old Grumpy'. We congratulated him. A column in a local paper! Sadly, however, he won't be paid for it. Once a month he must find something to complain about and write about it. 'Not difficult,' he said. 'I do a lot of cycling and the resentment just builds up.'
'Doesn't it just,' I replied.

Rob and Tony will be talking about their writing at Bewdley Library during the festival fringe - Tony on Wednesday 26 October and Rob on Thursday 27. Naturally they expect the audience to be packed with literary agents and publishers. Linda and I will try to squeeze in if there is any room left.

Tony (right) and Rob at The Author's Fayre

Having resubmitted his proposal of a book about the role of creativity in mental health to a publisher (after they lost the original), Tony told us that the idea, aimed at mental-health nurses and professionals, has had a mixed reception and it remains in limbo. Better news from Rob: after writing to the New Statesman every anniversary of 9/11 criticising their reporting of those terrible events, his letter is finally to be published on the tenth anniversary. If you don't at first succeed...

At length we got down to business. Tony read out his latest short story, entitled The Idea of Marmalade, about a week in the life of an unemployed graduate. Tony makes a habit of focusing on random, every-day trivia in his sort stories, giving each event significance. The story begins with the graduate's inability to like the taste of marmalade - although she likes the idea of it. Tony went on to describe her novelty socks, each pair a different colour that was supposed to represent the wearer's mood. Annie strongly objected to the matching of the colours to the mood. 'How can "orange" be "tired"?' she objected. The story takes the reader through each day of the week, each with a different pair of novelty socks. The events were well described with Tony's usual expert command of grammar, dialogue and punctuation, but we noted his tendency to repeat the same word a little too often in the same paragraph. The story ends with a dream, in which the graduate relives the experiences of the week, but in the surreal, chaotic way characteristic of dreams.

On Saturday 17 September we drove up to Moseley to attend the 2011 Pow-Wow LitFest. The event was held under canvas behind the Prince of Wales pub on the Alcester Road. We arrived a little late because of the volume of traffic on its way into Birmingham, so we missed about 20 minutes of the first event, the interview with Catheryn Kilgarriff from Marion Boyars Publishers. She spoke mainly about the working relationship between author and publisher, and the need for the writer to create a profile or a brand. Self-promotion is about building relationships by visiting literary festivals, and using a website or a blog to create a persona. Her description of the submission she received from Hong Ying as 'commercial dynamite' prompted a member of the audience to ask what constituted 'commercial dynamite'. The reply was that it was historically correct, the right length, cogent and had a love interest.

The second event was an interview with three budding novelists based in Birmingham: Anna Lawrence Pietroni, Charlie Hill and Andrew Killeen, the organiser of the event. All were disarmingly modest, self-deprecating even, and spoke eloquently and with humour about the business of writing books. Although it became clear that each author had a very different method of writing, they were all passionate about it, using every spare minute possible to work at their craft. I was struck how often all of them expressed my own feelings about writing - that it is a craft and, like all crafts, you get better with practice. If you can't imagine not writing, keep writing! Practice until you are good! Anna's confession that it had taken her 5 years to write her debut novel, Ruby's Spoon, made me feel better about the time it is taking me to write Karl Marx and Careful Driving (5 years and counting) - 'Books aren't written; they are rewritten,' she said. Nothing is wasted in the creative process. Charlie stated that he wrote because 'he was rubbish at everything else' and didn't want to do 'a proper job'. His statement that ideas gestate even when you aren't at the computer struck a chord - some of my best ideas have come to me while out running in the Wyre Forest and listening to Bach on the I-pod. Andy stated that being rejected by publishers or agents doesn't make you a failure; it makes you a writer. Being talented is never enough, but neither is hard work. You need to work hard and have a core of talent upon which to draw. My conclusion was that above all you need to be passionate about writing.

Sarah Ballard, a literary agent working for United Agents had the slot at 3.30pm. United Agents were formed 3.5 years ago by agents formerly working for the Peters, Fraser & Dunlop agency. She spoke about the role of an agent. At United Agents each agent works with their own list of clients, reading their work, working with them to improve it, maintaining contacts within the publishing industry, overseeing the publishing contracts, getting blurb and jacket right, checking stock levels and publicity - all the stuff that most authors neither want to do nor have time to do. She stated that her favourite part was the reading and editing of submissions. What makes her take a book on is the language. There comes a point, usually 30 or 40 pages in, when she decides that she has no reason to turn down the manuscript. Such manuscripts are so good that she feels the need to read extracts out loud to her husband. She summarised her most frequent reasons to refuse a manuscript as basic mistakes in spelling and grammar; self-consciousness, the feeling that the writing isn't confident and lacks smoothness, and that the writer hasn't yet found his or her own voice. If she is unable to decide how a book should be published, which publisher would want to take it on and what the jacket would look like, she will reject the manuscript. Her advice was to become a member of a writing group to iron out grammatical mistakes; to keep writing but to be critical about one's work; and to be sure that you actually want an agent and you want to get your work published. She was gloomy about the prospects for new writers - apparently it has never been harder as publishers want to publish fewer and bigger books. Non fiction is particularly difficult to sell to publishers now - they are interested only in important, urgent books written by people with excellent credentials. Hmm.... does Karl Marx and Careful Driving fit into any of these categories? When a literary agent accepted 'Why Don't You Fly?' I was convinced that my writing career had been launched, but he submitted the manuscript to 13 publishers without success before giving up.
Sarah claimed that it was perfectly acceptable these days to send work to 5 or 6 agents at once, but it was advisable to admit to having done so in the covering letters and to promise to let agents know of any positive responses from others. An agent has to share the author's vision and be prepared to fight for it; sometimes the agent - author relationship doesn't work. Sarah advised us to use agents who are members of the Agent's Association because it guarantees certain minimal standards of behaviour.

There followed a debate about the future of publishing between four representatives of three publishers: Luke Brown (Tindal St Press), Dan Holloway (8 Cuts Gallery Press) and Sarah Taylor and Jeremy Thompson (both representing Matador Books). Tindal St Press are a small publisher of literary fiction with authors based all over the country. They have only four employees and pick up writers often without agents.8 Cuts Gallery Press is a publisher of the unorthodox and the unfashionable, with the emphasis of working with the author at live events; and like Pen Press, Matador offers authors a way into mainstream publishing by producing their books - presumably at a price. I was impressed by the amount of support Matador appear to offer their authors in marketing and selling the books. Perhaps the lines between self-publishing and mainstream publishing are blurring. The general consensus was that big publishers are taking on fewer books, the emphasis being on less books and larger quantities, leaving more room in the market for niche publishers. Editors are more conservative about what manuscripts they are prepared to take on. The landscape of the High Street is changing: Borders and Books Etc have gone, and Waterstones are struggling. Few writers are able to make a living from their craft, and we have to write because we want to write. We live in uncertain times, with e-books coming onto the market and nobody sure what effect they will have on printed books.

This was in effect the end of our evening at the Lit Fest. We went out for a pub meal, and by the time we came back, all the seats were taken and we were unable to hear anything from our position next to the bar at the back. The afternoon had been enjoyable and very informative, and I'm looking forward to attending the 2012 Pow-Wow Litfest.

Now we are six

2011-09-02T16:25:00.003+01:00

We met at Chris and Linda's but sadly Rob was unable to join us. His wife had told him that he would be visiting his mother. Is organisation a woman thing?

We did however have some visitors/interlopers/tag-alongs...call them what you will. We were please to meet Clive Eardley from Worcester who is interested in possibly joing the group or setting up one of his own. Linda also introduced us to her friend Tracy that she met on a recent Arvon course. Tracy is interested in joining a writing group and wished to attend our group to see what it was like. Chris and Linda extended a warm welcome with banana bread.

We read a chapter called 'Tears of Remorse' from Linda's novel. We had looked at the same piece before but on the advice of the course tutor at Arvon Linda is changing the piece so it is in the first person. The change was a resounding success; Chris felt the writing was more natural and Linda's voice came through more easily. I felt the writing flowed without the name Lily appearing like a clever at regular intervals. Tony disagreed as he felt the change to the first person made it sound self-pitying. Tony 'the hyphen' Gillam also noticed the omission in tightly-wound.

Tracy found the piece engaging and loved the phrase, 'Her ruffled petticoat and skirt were hoisted around her waist displaying her meaty thighs and tomorrow's washing.' Clive described the chapter as funny, moving, intriguing and authentic.

Lots of us moaned about green plums and how they sounded rather sour until Linda told us that she was referring to greengages.

Our thanks to Clive and Tracy for attending and joining in with the spirit of the Severn Valley Authors. Can anyone remind me why I have jotted down the phrase 'hermaphrodite screenplay'? in my notes.

Looking forward to Rob's return, hopefully his wife will remind him of the next meeting date!

The Eagle, the truck driver and Plato*

2011-07-22T17:46:00.001+01:00

In the ‘About’ wording on the right of your screen, we say that the members of Severn Valley Authors share a commitment to being published. So we always greet the news that one of us has had a success with huge enthusiasm. Aquila the magazine of ‘fun, challenge and inspiration’ for youngster of 8-13 is publishing Tony Gillam’s short story Times Wing’d Chariot in its summer double issue. Well done, Tony. (And he’s paid for it too!)

We settled down to the main event of the meeting which was to workshop a rewrite of an extract from Chris’s meisterwerk. Chris Smith is not your usual truck driver. In Karl Marx and Careful Driving, the book he is writing (the act itself makes him unusual), Chris describes one of the great migrations of the truck-driving fraternity and weaves into his story the history of world politics and philosophy. It’s an odyssey of the body and the mind. His plan is to write this in such a way that your every-day, currant-bun reading truck driver can make sense of it. This looks like a crack-pot scheme and originally I doubted Chris’s sanity for trying but, if the extract he read at our meeting is anything to go by, he’s going to pull it off.

The thoughts of Plato, who was absent in the original extract (a shameful omission, I think you’ll agree), have now been added to those of the other philosophers and political thinkers in Chris’s repertoire. He has seamlessly woven this content into his expert travel writing that describes the night drive from Kidderminster to Dover which is the first stage of Chris’s bodily odyssey. He does it in such a way (now that the extracts from heavy tomes are confined to the footnotes) that even I find it accessible and riveting. We all agreed that this is a winner.

*Aquila is Latin for eagle – but you knew that.

Accomplished Writing

2011-07-04T18:33:00.002+01:00

Our meeting was diverted to Rob's house this week because Tony had some limp excuse about flies in his chimney. I think he was afraid that we might ask to meet the elusive Mrs Gillam who he claims is kept in the attic. Do you know, I'm sure I've heard the rattle of chains during our meetings there. He says that the flies come from a decaying squirrel that is stuck behind the gas fire. What I want to know, Tony, is where is your wife? At least he had the decency to bring the chocolate biscuits.

Any business: We have to congratulate Rob on his budding modelling career - he is the new face of HPB and we have decided not to renew our membership of NAWG. Sorry, NAWG, you were great but at the same price as a Chinese take-away, we have decided to opt for the latter. Annie has entered her excellent story The Ninth Step for the Bridport prize and Tony has also entered with his engaging story Paper Thin. Good luck to you both.

Rob takes us to Spring 1932 in Berlin. We all agreed that this was a seriously accomplished piece of writing. The characters were compelling, the dialogue excellent and Rob had done a really good job with the research into Berlin during the 30's, including all the authentic place names. He wrote about homosexuality in a very convincing way and with some great 'dark' humour. We all loved the image of 'two stately homos of England flouncing ahead of me in their open-toed sandals (Chris hid his feet under the table at this point) and Besides my valise, which was large enough for me to have smuggled in a boy for my gratification. I am looking forward to reading the finished book. I think this could be a winner, Rob.

Golden Arches and Dancing Plants

2011-06-21T19:53:00.000+01:00

On Tuesday 14 June we gathered at Rob's to discuss Annie's submission, entitled Yellow Peril and the Green-Eyed Monster.

News: Tony has entered the Guardian Weekend short story competition, the theme of entries being 'journeys'. After changing most of the narrative from first to second person, Annie is entering her short story The Ninth Step for the Bridport Prize. Rob has submitted entries to the Guardian Weekend, the Bridport and the Bristol competitions. I wonder how he finds the time. Linda spoke glowingly about her week spent on a residential Arvon writing course. She received great tuition from a couple of brilliant authors who were both very positive about her writing - as are we at the SVA, but Linda suffers from an entirely unjustifiable lack of self-confidence. After returning from deepest Shropshire she has changed direction and decided to rewrite her novel A Head Full of Budgerigars in the first person.

On my first reading of Annie's short story, I found myself wondering just what the point was of writing a detailed description of a three-year-old girl's fascination with the act of a man (her father) urinating. But then what is the point of writing anything? Perhaps Tolstoy has put his finger on it in What is Art?:

To evoke in oneself a feeling one has once experienced, and having invoked it in oneself, then, by means of movements, lines, colours, sounds or forms expressed in words, so to transmit that feeling that others may experience the same feeling - this is the activity of art. Art is a human activity, consisting in this, that one man consciously, by means of certain external signs, hands on to others the feelings he has lived through, and that other people are infected by these feelings and also experience them.

Annie has done exactly that by reproducing the experience of a three-year-old child, skilfully reproducing all the toddler's curiosity, fascination and bewilderment by deploying the art of what Rob calls "showing, not telling":

'The slapping of liquid on leaves stops me (she writes). His back is to me but something is happening; I can tell. I put down my trowel down and stand up wiping my hands down maroon corduroy dungarees. As I come alongside I see a golden arch making the plants dance. Yellow droplets gather on the long grasses and then slide to the ground.'

On second and third readings, as is often the case, I found the story growing on me. It is a well-written, acutely-observed and charming piece about an unusual subject, described with humour and a child's attention to detail. We had the predictable argument after the reading about whether or not a child's experience can be expressed in such adult language. I felt that it could, and indeed would have to be, for a child of that age is clearly incapable of writing or expressing itself in a way that would make entertaining or even comprehensible reading. The recreation of any childhood experience has to be accomplished by the adult writing about events seen from his or her former self's point of view.

Linda described it as a very poetic description of someone having a wee but wondered why there was no reference to smell. Both Tony and Rob felt that the item was a little too brief for the short story genre and Rob wondered if it might be extended to include the mother's addressing her daughter's distress at her inability to 'wee standing up' like her father by listing female compensations. And we established that there is a hyphen in wee-wee.

In which Tony gets a 'Reality Check' and Rob dangles his participle

2011-06-13T18:39:00.004+01:00

We met in the upstairs sitting room at Chris and Linda's and were served very fine banana bread.

Tony read a story that he had written some years ago called 'Reality Check'. The story was about an aspiring musician; whose work is only discovered, when after bitter disappointment, he leaves it out to be collected by the bin men. Rob enjoyed the 'Tony-Gillam-Garrison-Keillor' feel of the piece. He also felt that he was in safe hands as Tony's technical knowledge of speakers/guitars/cables etc. was clearly shown. Well-written with good subject matter, super command of dialogue was Chris's appraisal. Linda thought that the story was very neat and fitted together well.

There was much discussion about the ethics of one of Tony's characters who had had several beers at lunchtime and had then collected his kids from school. Some of us weren't happy with this state of affairs.

It was then that Rob informed us that he had spotted a dangling participle... We were horrified but luckily Rob was on hand with a sheet of information about this dangerous occurence

http://grammar.quickanddirtytips.com/dangling-participles.aspx

Well done Tony a carefully constructed piece with a lovely sense of completion.

The Slaughtered Lamb

2011-05-20T12:08:00.002+01:00

Who remembers 'An American Werewolf in London'?

The book I’m reading at the moment is The English German Girl by Jake Wallis Simons. It’s an interesting story and Simons makes it rattle along while employing some interesting point-of-view trickery to give it a literary quality. But, occasionally, I find my reading pace checked when I come across something which, I believe, should have been smoothed out by a diligent editor.

There are times I read a piece of writing that is so simpatico, my internal editor switches off and a preternatural connection transmits the meaning from the writer’s pen straight into my brain. Our member Linda produced prose of this order in the latest extract from her novel-in-progress, A Head Full of Budgerigars. This was from a chapter headed Magnetic Socks in which Linda’s protagonist Lily spends a day in her Shrubshire home but contrasts the current idyll with a remembered life on a French farm where:

Trevor dragged the frightened lamb on its back across the unkempt farmyard in Sainte Béatrice, to a piece of rough ground in front of the kitchen window. … He slit the lamb’s throat and the blood dripped into the bucket below. Lily had expected it to gush out in a hideous torrent. He cut open the stomach and removed the liver with a knife that flashed in the sunlight. The liver flopped into a chipped enamel bowl. ‘Do you want to fry this up? It’s beautiful when it’s fresh, not like that crap in the supermarket.’ … She [Lily] grimaced, ‘I’d rather not.’

The humour in the pay-off line is typical of Linda’s novel which is also characterized by a wistful, elegiac tone for the pieces about the English countryside. We all hope that when Lily finishes the book she can find an agent or publisher who loves it as much as we do.

In other news, we discussed the current round of competitions and it looks as if at least three of us will attempt to have a story in the Summer Guardian Weekend Short Story special. We also floated the idea that if we can’t afford to go to writing retreats organized by other people why can’t we do-it-ourselves? Five Go (Writing) Mad in Dorset beckons.

2011-05-09T19:05:00.007+01:00

Our last meeting was at Rob's house where we listened to Chris read an extract from Karl Marx and Careful Driving. It was generally felt by the group that Chris had got it just right this time, ie more about the journey and less philosophy. Marx (as the title implies) is central to the theme of the book and Plato is becoming equally significant, so Chris didn't quite agree.

I felt that this was an exciting extract from the book - real swashbuckling, romantic stuff. The loneliness and isolation of the long distance truck driver really came through. Tony appreciated the 'dark' humour and Annie enjoyed getting a bit closer to life on the road. Rob was a little disconcerted about Chris's thoughts on speeding: 'The Inquisition is wielding radar guns on the Minsk bypass'. Hopefully this contentious subject will attract interest and discussion and we will soon be listening to Chris being interviewed on Radio 4, while we eat our cornflakes. Doesn't he bare a striking resemblance to Errol Flynn?

Apologies to Annie for missing my turn to blog on her latest short story Aspirations and Ambitions. We all agreed that this was a well constructed story with an excellent twist and the requisite happy ending. This is the sort of story that women's magazines love and hopefully she should do very well with it. Several of us felt that the title should be changed. I suggested Keeping up with Monica.

Fine upstanding writers

2011-04-10T13:13:00.005+01:00

It had been a while since we'd met at Chris and Linda’s and the mood was light-hearted. Thanks to Linda's hospitality and baking skills I enjoyed my second accidental cake of the day. Annie and I shared a pew while Rob -- suffering with a back problem -- was obliged to spend the meeting either towering over us like an intimidating lecturer who had lost his lectern or else kneeling beside this. Poor Rob. But the supplicant was rewarded for his humble genuflection with lots of thoughtful and constructive feedback on his submission to this week’s meeting -- an opening chapter for a ghost-written memoir. This is a fascinating project and generated much discussion about the particular challenges of writing memoir and the extent to which a ghost-writer must remain faithful to the recollections of the ‘ghost-writee’. All memory is imperfect. How much poetic licence can the writer of memoir-at-one-remove be allowed?

Meanwhile, Chris has been busy touring his ' one-man show ' based on his book Why don't you fly? With the logistical backup of Linda, Chris is as busy doing talks these days as he is writing. He played us a recording of a recent interview on BBC Radio Shropshire. Notwithstanding the chummy facetiousness of the radio presenter, BBC local radio remains one of the few forums for emerging writers to publicise their work. The BBC is a public service and, like all public services these days, is facing cutbacks. BBC local radio is a precious platform for writers just as BBC Radio 4 is one of very few outlets for short literary fiction for UK-based writers. Let us hope, as the BBC's output is scrutinised, opportunities for new writing are developed rather than cut back. Perhaps we should follow Rob's example and ask for as much on bended knee.

Certainly Not a Soft Head

2011-03-29T18:16:00.003+01:00

The Severn Valley Authors met to review the third and final part of Tony's long short story - 'The Softeness of Heads'. Everyone agreed that it was a strong piece that would also happily stand alone without the first two parts. Rob was thrilled by the indifference shown by Tony's protagonist when it came to remembering the name of a cousin. So much so that Rob was inspired to muse on this point on his own website! There was much discussion about the use of a very large jump in the narrative. Linda and myself thought it too big a jump but Rob on the other hand did not mind. Many other facets of the writing did not divide opinion. For instance we all loved the reference to bald rather than bold knights. The story had a period feel, which Tony drip-feeds in, creating a 'roomy' read. We also agreed that this was a multi-layered story that each reader had interpreted in very different way. But we also agreed that it was about being different. It was insightful and depicted childhood well. This story was strongly autobiographical. Tony revealed that some of the events that we questioned the likelihood of, had actually happened. So he did fall down the coal hole! This story was skilfully created with Tony taking us inside the head of a child very convincingly. It reminded me of many situations from childhood and feelings of being out of step. Does anybody ever truly feel in step though? Rob was bold (or bald) enough to suggest a tiny modification to the ending where the protagonist had learnt from his experiences and had toughened up. As change should be at the heart of any short story this did sound like a good suggestion but the decision lies entirely with Tony. A gentle but captivating read!

Flying gerunds

2011-02-25T14:52:00.001Z

A captive gerund - Gerald Scarfe

We welcomed a potential new member, Holly, who came to view us to see whether being part of our group would help her with the fantasy trilogy she is working on.

It has been part of the SVA ethos from its beginning to take the workshopping element of our meetings seriously and it may seem a bit scarey for somebody new to watch as we analyse our compatriot’s writing. I think we are good at emphasising the good parts and describing our suggestions for improvements as techniques of writing rather than finding fault in the writer.

Linda read an extract from her novel about the peregrinations of Lily – this chapter being titled Homeward Bound. There was much for us to admire in the way Linda evokes mood with her smooth-as-Guinness prose. She imparts a poetic rhythm with repetition, adverbs and adjectives shaping and counting the beats and this gives her work a lyrical, almost Celtic personality. It may sound as if this means the work is ‘away with the fairies’ but nothing could be further from the ‘life as Lily lived it’ story that Linda is unfolding.

In the discussions that followed, we examined the practicalities of obtaining permission to quote lyrics – in this case from the eponymous Simon and Garfunkel song – and the use of apostrophes indicating possession when the ‘thing’ possessed is a gerund. Eg: the boys’ misbehaving was driving her wild. We failed to resolve this and decided in favour of changing the sentence to eliminate the dilemma.

So, Lily is now homeward bound to Shrubshire (or wherever) and at the end of the meeting the SVA members returned to their homes to dream of possessed gerunds trussed into strait jackets and flying away on the wings of giant apostrophes.

Thanks for the Petticoat Tails, Tony.

One-sentence paragraphs, metacognition ... and the quietest places under the sun

2011-02-12T22:00:00.010Z

IT WAS the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way- in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.

(From A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens)

Thus Dickens begins Tale of Two Cities with one of the most famous one-sentence paragraphs in literature. If Dickens could use one-sentence paragraphs why shouldn't less celebrated authors? Yet I'm surely not alone in having been told in school that a paragraph must have more than one sentence. A quick internet search provides supporters and detractors for the practice in equal numbers. The consensus seems to be that one-sentence paragraphs are not strictly forbidden these days - and can indeed have great impact (hence their widespread use in print journalism) - but that they should be used sparingly. With this in mind, and bowing to Dickens’ genius, I'm prepared to forgive Chris’s one-sentence paragraph habit which became a talking-point at this week's meeting of the Severn Valley Authors.

We were discussing an extract from Chris’s work in progress: Karl Marx and Careful Driving. With flashes of brilliantly fine writing, Chris’s project is becoming ever more complex and multi-layered. Chris acknowledged that it is highly experimental but I'm not sure what he made of my suggestion that, at times, it is now closer to an epic prose poem than a narrative.

Rob noted Chris's tendency to sometimes “go off on one”, by which he meant those times where Chris quotes philosophy without linking it to his highly original truck-driving theme. The great difficulty is getting the balance right and the group agreed that it sometimes reads too much like a textbook. Annie wanted “nuggets of Marxism and chunks of real life” rather than the other way round and Chris defended himself by pointing out that the lengthy Marx quotes have only been ‘dropped’ into the text provisionally and will be edited and paraphrased in time.

Annie dazzled us with her introduction of the concept of ‘metacognition’ with reference to the following (two-sentence) paragraph of Chris’s:

Individual fulfilment is achieved by closing the gap that exists between our unique personal essence - the perfect imaginary world that figures only in our dreams - and our existence (the world transmitted by our senses). The gap between essence and existence, theory and practice, the World of Ideas and the World of the Senses, had narrowed.

Annie had always thought this thought, apparently, but hadn’t known she had thought it until now – metacognition, indeed!

After the above, one-sentence paragraph the only question that remains is: Do decades have capitals? That is to say, should it be “the eighties and the nineties” or the “Eighties and the Nineties”? Perhaps Linda will discover the answer to this and other questions when she attends the Arvon Foundation course at Clunton in June.

“Where’s Clunton?” asked Rob.

I don't want to give away the exact location for obvious reasons for, being an inveterate 'Shropshire Lad' of course I know that, in the words of A E Houseman:

Clunton and Clunbury,

Clungunford and Clun,

Are the quietest places

Under the sun.

(from Clunton and Clunbury by A E Housman)

The Sting Inside

2011-02-01T08:53:00.005Z

I have been sitting here in front of my computer screen for some time struggling to find the right words for this blog. I wonder if I will ever finish my book - if I will ever find the right words - if I will ever add to my own blog, last written in September 2010. I have been attacked by self-doubt, but then I am kicked in the behind when I think of all my fellow writers at SVA. They soldier on, continuing to search for the right words in the face of the minutest odds that their hard work will be recognised. Tony and Annie manage to produce fabulous work in what little spare time they have. Working full-time, making time for family and relationships and finding time to write is a skilfull juggling act.

Chris gets up at 4 a.m. every morning so that he can get a couple of hours of writing in before cycling off to work. He allows himself a lie-in on those days when he doesn't have to work: he gets up at 5 a.m. instead.

Rob also juggles several jobs and commitments beyond writing, but never ceases to come up with the goods. We all know - it isn't easy.

After the dramatic first chapter of The Sting Inside, Rob sets the scene for his characters and their new life in America. He beautifully crafts a sense of authenticity with references to screen doors that slammed shut if you didn't wedge yourself in them and yellow school buses with folding doors that shushed open and the flag that swings out to stop the traffic. He also hints at the difficulties the family face in a new land: Ben starting a new school and the importance of having friends, and Rachel facing long days in an empty house. Annie and I immediately felt sympathy for Rachel and felt that her story should be developed but Rob showed that she was no pushover when it came to standing up for her son and her firmness with the school. I wasn't going to have them mess it up, she says to Jon. Jon comes across as a loving family man and there are nice little touches like Jon embarrassing his son by singing and clicking his fingers 'old-fogey' style, but we do get a sense of his smugness; that this life in America is about his career and the riches success can bring.

Underpinning this depiction of family life, guilt, in the guise of a malignant worm burrowing inside Jon, adds a sinister backdrop. On this occasion 'guilt' speaks, in fact it tells the story. Annie felt that the worm needs to have a persona, indeed a more malevolent one. I liked her question, Is it an English or an American worm? I also have to agree with her point that it seems hard to believe that anyone could forget that their story is going in to print that day.

Tony enjoyed the sinsiter undertones that the worm gave to the story of the (hitherto) good life in America and felt that the epigram by Primo Levi was helpful.

Phrases praised by all of us were: her cereal-commercial brightness and Ben's gangling limbs galumphing about.

We already have strong hints of the conflict to come: the musical Cabaret with its Nazi/Jewish theme, the gay lovers and of course the aftermath of 9/11 and survivor guilt. We all look forward to reading more and to discovering exactly why, as Rob says, Every good thing has a sting inside.

The Longest Journey Begins with the First Step

2011-01-18T19:21:00.010Z

As local authors sharing the same publisher, Rob and I used to meet in Piccolo's coffee bar to discuss our latest writing projects. The idea to start a writing group was Rob's. When pondering a suitable title we decided upon 'authors' rather than 'writers' as we wanted members of our group either to have written, or be in the process of writing, a book. We wanted them to be serious. In short, like us.

So we were delighted when Annie announced a couple of weeks ago that the novel-writing course she has been attending in Evesham had inspired her to get cracking on Chapter One of her first novel (title as yet unknown).

This is a momentous occasion for any author. I am firmly of the opinion that writing those first few vital sentences is the hardest and most daunting part of a task that will demand a great deal of commitment for a period that may last for years.

On Tuesday January 11 2011 at Tony's house in Kidderminster, Annie read out the first draft of Chapter One. Set in the inter-war period, the story begins with Isabel's arrival on an island in the Hebrides to begin a new life as a teacher.

Weakened by seasickness following the a stormy ferry crossing from the mainland, she is met by the curmudgeonly and ungracious Francis Murdoch and taken by horse and cart to a church to witness the funeral of a two-week-old child.

The fog, the looming cliffs, the waves, the ungracious Murdoch, the grieving congregation and the tiny coffin conspire to evoke a sombre atmosphere, but the chapter ends with a lift in the mood. The sympathy and friendship offered to Isabel after the funeral by the dead child's mother is as if the fog has lifted to reveal blue sky and sunshine.

We congratulated Annie on her ability to create an atmosphere and describe scenes. Rob, who has 'been there before' and is also embarking upon a new novel, suggested that the action might begin at the funeral. Isabel's sea voyage, arrival on the island and journey to the church could be revealed by a series of flashbacks.

This idea met with general approval. We debated the pros and cons of using Scottish dialect in direct speech and whether or not the island should be fictitious - or even if it should be Scottish at all. Tony pointed out that a fictitious island that wasn't necessarily Scottish would save a lot of research into culture and history and keep Annie out of the minefield of reproducing dialect that would sound genuine to a Scottish reader.

Annie - who, like the main protagonist, is a teacher - stated that she wasn't yet sure where her story would take her. Nevertheless she appeared already to have plenty of ideas about a plot. I have found from personal experience that a story can generate a momentum of its own. One new idea often inspires several others, taking the narrative in all kinds of unexpected directions. We advised her to just get the ideas on down on paper and revisit them later. Rob added that imagining the characters as film actors is a good way of ensuring consistency of description.

I left the meeting wondering where our various ongoing projects will have taken us this time next year.

Eerie tale on a cold night

2011-01-07T18:11:00.004Z

The frozen River Severn at Bewdley - December 2010

The start of the coldest cold snap in the history of the UK gave us an excuse to start our final formal meeting of the year with a glass of mulled wine. Suitably lubricated, we bounded into our customary discussion of the Bewdley and Kidderminster literary scene and the vagaries of the publishing industry at large. Soon the conversation was in full flow - in contrast to the nearby turgid River Severn which was already showing signs of the first freeze across its width in living memory.

Under 'membership news' (we adhere to a strict agenda in the SVA) Tony reported that he has been given support from his employer to do research into the role of creativity in mental health care. He is keen to develop this into a proposal for a non-fiction book and is very excited about this project. Annie has written the first 1000 words of her novel which is based on a fictional island which has a history similar to that of St Kilda. Both successes were greeted warmly by the other members.

Tony read the first half of an eerie tale called A Game of Chance. We have come to recognise Tony’s writing style which closely follows his speaking patterns. I have come across only three writers who have the ability to make me hear their voices when I read their works: Garrison Keillor, Clive James and our Tony. Not bad company to be in.

We all have our suggestions for smoothing Tony’s prose or using ‘better’ words but then we ask ourselves, would ‘improvements’ ruin his colloquial style? This was the question we discussed at the end of the meeting.

Before then we all agreed that A Game of Chance, in which the narrator meets a dead person who is reading a yet-to-be-published copy of magazine in a railway carriage, had us all on the edges of our seats. We voted that Tony should end the suspense by sending us the second half of the story.

So the formalities for the SVA year ended. But seven days later the members met again to enjoy a festive dinner at The Old Pack Horse in Bewdley. Wine and good cheer were in abundance and there were none of Tony's ghosts to disrupt the fun ... as far as we know.

Shame On Me

2011-01-05T13:05:00.000Z

Tears of Remorse was the name of Linda’s piece but are also being shed by me for my somewhat late contribution to the blog. So sorry folks, too many mince pies and general lethargy. However so vivid was the description in Linda’s piece that I can still remember much of it now, over a month later. Linda’s description of Madame Bonnet ‘displaying her meaty thighs and tomorrow’s washing’ was appreciated by all. As was the description of, ‘a wondrous sky of graphite, teal and petrol, like a peacock’s feather.’ In addition Linda’s heroine Lily is certainly demonstrating herself as a force to be reckoned with.

Chris highlighted Linda’s flair for description but also requested that she added more dialogue. Rob felt that the piece was full of humour and humanity. Tony’s praise was whole-hearted when he said he couldn’t wait to read the whole book as each section had been comic, touching and evocative.

Rob did request the English spelling of gaol as opposed to jail. He also gave a solution to problem of adding dashes to prose. Sometimes automatic formatting means that they appear as hyphens and are not long enough. Rob suggested using the minus sign instead which does not appear to change length willy-nilly. Thank you very much Rob.

Five misfits in search of literary recognition

2010-11-06T18:44:00.006Z

Annie was having a bad day, Rob was nursing a cold and Linda looked tired. At least I wasn't on-call this week (had I really suggested at the previous meeting that we dress up for our Christmas meal: Rob as a parasitic worm, Chris as Karl Marx and Linda as a budgerigar? Oh, what a strange delirium being on-call induces.)

This evening Chris was reading another extract from his magnus-opus-in-progress Karl Marx and Careful Driving. Snuggled in a nook of the Black Boy pub, we all listened intently as Chris shared a little of this dazzling fusion of political philosophy, travelogue and autobiography: "... Stem the flow of ideas and the effect upon society would be similar to the effect on the Volvo were I to lift my foot off the accelerator. Although for a while the wheels would drive the engine, the vehicle's momentum would eventually be overcome by resistance in the form of wind, gravity and the friction of the tyres on the road surface. In the absence of a supply of fuel to the combustion chambers, or of fresh ideas to the debating chambers, antithesis no longer confronts thesis to produce synthesis. Whether mechanical or political, revolutions cease and progress comes to an end..."

Karl Marx and Careful Driving draws on Chris's experience as a self-declared misfit French graduate who becomes a driver of 38 tonne trucks. Chris writes: "... Some of the animosity I encountered was almost certainly due to the perception that I was different... people with a degree in French didn't become lorry drivers; they became teachers, translators or civil servants ..." As a French graduate who became a mental health nurse, I'm saying nothing.

The Blossom and the Bee

2010-10-31T12:31:00.004Z

The standard of blogs for the Severn Valley Authors becomes more witty with each post, from 'Five Writers In Search of a Home' to Chris taking out his frustrations on his computer.

We continued in this vein at our last meeting when Tony suggested that we dress up for our Christmas meal: Rob as a parasytic worm, Chris as Karl Marx and me as a budgerigar. I know I should follow Twitter but really.

Rob introduced us to the (revised) first chapter of his new book, 'The Blossom and the Bee'. The book begins with a bang - literally - with a clever description of the destruction of the twin towers. I loved the surreal parallel between the aircraft plunging into the tower with 'a stray dart embedding itself into the soft panel of a loudspeaker'.

The opening sentence was enigmatic to say the least and completely lost on me, although everyone else nodded in admiration when Rob explained its meaning. I still don't entirely understand 'I am the life form spawned when something that does not exist fails to come into being - the positive product of two negatives'. Rob wants his readers to be kept guessing which is something I enjoy in a book but I think that most people will give up if they find it too challenging.

In this first chapter, Jon, the main character, witnesses the destruction of the World Trade Center, forcing him to think about his own mortality and spirituality and the answers that his Jewish background may be able to offer. Later on in the story, Jon meets Willie Keel 'a survivor of the Holocaust death camps'. Both Jon and Willie are suffering from survivor guilt which Rob describes as 'Like a parasitic worm'.

It will be exciting to see how this story unfolds and how Rob manages to manoeuvre through the many twists and turns of a complicated plot.

Talking of twists and turns, we will be back on the road with 'Karl Marx and Careful Driving' next Tuesday at the Black Boy. I look forward to seeing you all there.

The Ninth Step

2010-10-18T05:01:00.006+01:00

Apologies for the lateness of the blog. Having been woken up at 2 a.m. by the usual drunken morons yelling in the street, I got up at 4 a.m. on Saturday morning with one of those 'sleep-deprivation headaches'. After spending over an hour attempting (and failing) to send a press releases about the Tenbury talk to the Tenbury Wells Advertiser, I did what any reasonable human being would do. I threw the computer onto the floor.

Accordingly I was unable to write this Blog on Sunday because the computer screen was cracked. They should make the bloody contraptions stronger so we can regularly throw them across the room with out necessitating expensive repairs. I am now £100 poorer - but I have a computer with a new screen and enhanced memory that allows me to send emails with press releases attached.

The Severn Valley Authors have found a new home, 'the snug' in The Black Boy pub on Kidderminster Road. We reunited on 5 October to trade the usual insults and discuss Annie's short story entitled 'The Sign'.

News: Annie has enrolled on a ten-week novel-writing course at Evesham College and is thinking about setting her first novel on the island of St Kilda. Tony announced that his article on the therapeutic value of writing has been published in the British Journal of Wellbeing, so I'm thinking of submitting an article on the therapeutic value of throwing a computer across the room. Rob's entry for the Bridport Prize, an annual competition that attracts some of the best writers in the country, was shortlisted in the top 100 out of 6,000 (see the entry on Rob's blog entitled 'Close but no Cigar' (http://robertronsson.co.uk/). So congratulations to Annie, Tony and Rob.

Annie deserves congratulations too for her short story, an insightful, perfectly structured and thoroughly researched tale of a woman's escape from the brutality of a drunken and violent partner that was inspirational rather than bleak. Rob drew our attention to the expert build-up of tension as the narrator makes preparations for her escape while her partner snores upstairs. Linda's suggestion that the title should be changed from 'The Sign' to 'The Ninth Step' met with universal agreement. Tony's concern about the authenticity of the narrator's voice led to a general discussion point. How, for example, does one write a narrative from the point of view of a child? And if we wrote dialogue as we truly speak to each other, it would be unreadable. The art of writing lies in the author's ordering and interpretation of events and of the interaction of protagonists rather than an exact reproduction of them.

Annie has entered 'The Ninth Step' for a competition. I have little doubt that it would be accepted (and paid for) by a women's magazine.

Five Writers in Search of a Home

2010-09-19T16:10:00.000+01:00

The wind from the north, channeled by the valley’s sides, funnels into a gale and rips the leaves from the trees. The leaf litter swirls like torn betting slips on a deserted racecourse until a shower matts it into clumps. Then the frosts come and the clumps sparkle as the moonshine breaks between the scudding clouds. Surely, autumn is the cruellest season to be put out on the streets.

But this is what has happened to Severn Valley Authors. The advent of a weekly Tuesday night quiz at the Arches means we are to be evicted from our meeting room. Commerce trumps art.

So in our final Arches meeting it was fitting that our very own master of ‘wistful’, Tony Gillam, was reading the second extract from his three-part work, The Softness of Heads. In this part the hero graduates to junior school, goes to a Hallowe’en ghost reading, has a bath and discusses with his older brother the merits of watching the Lunar landing on their Gran’s colour television.

Not the most gripping material, you may think, but in Tony’s confident hands the accuracy of the reminiscence and the way he prompts sparks of recognition to flash in the reader’s mind made this an enthralling follow-up to part one. How about this for a heart-tug: ‘At playtime I stood in the playground and ate the Lincoln biscuits which Mum had wrapped in a piece of wax paper torn from the loaf of Mother’s Pride. She worried that, on these cold days, I might get hungry before lunchtime. I felt the crumbs in my pocket, crumbs of mother’s love, wrapped in mother’s pride …’

We all congratulated the Garrison Keillor of Kidderminster on this one.

Chris was absent with man-flu (Get Well Soon, mate) so Tony was spared a forensic examination of his comma-splices and on this occasion the discussion focused on the subject of ‘voice’. On the one extreme Linda feels that it is impossible not to inject hindsight and experience into the supposed voice of a seven-year-old and that a reader would be foolish to expect the voice to be 'authentic'. On the other, Rob thinks that the writer needs to be consistent and if the piece starts in the naïve voice this should apply all the way through unless the writer signifies he is breaking out of it. Tony remained tight-lipped on whose advice he will take when he looks at The Softness of Heads again.

In other news: Linda and Tony reported on a writers’ networking event in Worcester they had attended with Chris on the previous Saturday. Annie is awaiting news of a recent submission to Mslexia and Tony circulated a copy of his article, Time to Write the Next Book which appeared in the British Journal of Wellbeing.

Severn Valley Author's is thriving now but, after an Autumn on the streets, who knows what may become of us.

The one after the summer recess

2010-09-11T11:35:00.004+01:00

The Severn Valley Authors were reunited once more at The Arches with new pencil cases and satchels at the ready to start the autumn term. Well, sort of. Some of us had worked most of the summer keeping the wheels of industry, health and social care oiled (if health and social care can be said to have oiled wheels). Annie (the only schoolteacher among us and thus the only one entitled to a proper Swallows and Amazons-style summer holiday) couldn't get enough of classroom pursuits and had been off to Writers Summer School (see her previous blog post).

And so it was that we gathered to discuss Linda's untitled piece. This had been entered for the Birmingham Book Festival's Short Story competition and we spent a short time licking our wounds since neither Linda, Rob or myself had been successful. It was also noted that none of the group had been successful in The Guardian Short Story Competition a few weeks earlier. This general lack of success was positively re-framed as (a) indicative of immense perseverance on the part of group members who risk repeated failure by entering competitions and (b) proof of the truism that short story judges' decisions are purely a matter of personal taste and therefore shouldn't be taken to heart.

Linda's untitled piece had been shaped into a short story for the purposes of competition entry but had originally been conceived as part of the novel-in-progress A Headful of Budgerigars. I found the piece lyrical, affectionate, humane, full of perfectly-chosen words, with musical, rhythmic sentences and poignant psychological observations. Rob described it, aptly, as elegiac. For me, it captured the atmosphere of a funeral and the unanticipated family dynamics and even unexpected humour that these situations can provoke. From a writer's point of view, it made me reflect on the differences between a short story and a short extract of fiction - not necessarily the same thing, though there are examples of short stories that went on to become the first chapters of novels.

We may not have won any competitions this month but Linda's beautifully- crafted poetic prose is, a far as I'm concerned, a successful piece of writing. As long as we continue to write and hone our craft we can't really go wrong for, to quote Richard Bach, a professional writer is really no more than "an amateur who didn't quit."

The one before the summer recess

2010-08-30T11:17:00.002+01:00

Tuesday 27th July 2010

The Severn Valley Authors met at the Arches to discuss another chapter from Chris's book 'Karl Marx and Careful Driving'.

Chris was picked up on his choice of sentence construction in the first paragraph.
Outnumbering the tractors in rural areas, where manual rather than mechanical labour still predominates, the horse and cart is a form of obstruction frequently encountered and roundly cursed on Poland’s main roads. A number of members agreed that the subject of the sentence (the horse and cart) coming so late in the sentence effected its flow.

Chris's Orwellian quote that 'some animals were after all more equal than others,' did cause me some confusion because I'm ashamed to say I'd never heard of it. The other members agreed that there should be no dumbing down. Oh if only I could be as equal as the others.

There was also much discussion on how much 'heavy material' should be included. Rob asked for more showing rather than telling. He was particularily keen for an encounter with a 'suicidal pedestrian' and felt that anecdotes like these would contrast well with the complex sections. Members were still keen to hear more of Chris's experiences of life on the road. Chris assured the group that he had many of these still to add and was trying to get the structure of the academic material organised first.

I am and so I suspect are the rest of the group in awe at Chris's dedication to this task and look forward to future installments.

With holidays and other commitments looming the group decided to take a summer recess. Tony told of his recent success: a short story accepted by Aquila, a children's magazine on the condition that it was reduced by several hundred words. It was agreed that Tony would send his story on email and the group would make suggestions in order to reduce the word count. It would also allow the group to tick over during the summer.

Congratulations also to Rob for his entry 'My Dedication to Joe Crane' which secured him a plaque from Centro Mallorca.

I went away to Swanick Writers' School over the summer and would thoroughly recommend it to anyone. One guest speaker Roger Ellory gave some very useful advice on getting published and I have included the link for you here: http://swanwickwritersschool.co.uk/news.asp?id=27

Looking forward to seeing you all on Tuesday.

After Dad Rattled the Skeletons in our Cupboard

2010-07-18T18:21:00.010+01:00

This evening I went for a run with my friend who is in her sixties. She runs half-marathons and rings around me. I have always adhered to the theory that if one works hard enough then anything can be achieved. This rule does apply to running where the time and distance can be improved on (if only fractionally) week by week. If only this theory applied to writing, then Rob's book 'The Spaniard's Wife' would be an enormous success and quite rightly so. It seems, however, that unless you are Jordan or Peter Mandelson - a combination that makes me grimace - that a magic ingredient must be found to achieve this success; maybe a twist in the tale, an unusual story, a controversial topic, catching the right wave, or a liberal sprinkling of fairy dust. Rob has several of these assets, certainly the twist in the tale, an unusual story and the controversial topic of corrupt politicians. I just hope that he has a good supply of fairy dust with which to enchant a publisher because such a polished book deserves to be published.

As an enticement to the reader to buy and read his book, Rob has submitted a short piece for The Guardian Family called 'After Dad Rattled the Skeletons in our Cupboard'. He shared this latest offering with his fellow Severn Valley Authors last week at The Arches. With Parliament as a backdrop, Annie wittily suggested changing the title to 'Skeletons in the Cabinet' which we all applauded. Chris and Tony suggested using this piece as an introduction to 'The Spaniard's Wife', which I thought was a good idea because I found the current introduction rather confusing. We had a discussion about the use of 'may' and 'might' and decided that 'may have become Prime Minister' should have read 'might have become Prime Minister' because he didn't, eg. 'you may have a biscuit' as opposed to 'you might have a biscuit' - if I decide to offer you one!

My grandfather had local celebrity status for growing the largest marrow and producing the best rhubarb champagne for the village show - he even had his photograph in the local newspaper. This all seems rather small fry in comparison to Rob's possible pedigree. My grandmother, like the Spaniard's wife was dark and tiny (4'10") and as neat as a button. She was a softly spoken woman who lived for her family. Mary Ireland was a firebrand, a strong politically minded woman who sacrificed her family for the love of John Wheatley and his politics. This happened before women had the vote and when such adulterous behaviour was seriously frowned upon, especially among the working classes. John and Mary had both fought their way out of poverty and improved their lot, and certainly couldn't be described as the average couple.

What if Rob's grandfather had been John Wheatley, the cabinet minister who could have become Prime Minister but for his scandalous life, rather than the Spaniard described as 'a drunkard and a waster'? Had this been the case, we probably wouldn't have been sitting in the pub with him discussing the hard road to recognition. The magic ingredient would have been his birthright; with wealth and notoriety, who needs fairy dust?

Annie pulls the rabbit out of the hat

2010-06-23T09:56:00.000+01:00

Misdirection: the art of distracting the audience while you perform your 'secret move'.

Annie presented her story, The Knife Edge on June 22. There was so much to praise and yet the game of ‘punctuation-pedantry’ (in which members of the Severn Valley Authors could represent Great Britain) was still enthusiastically pursued. Happily, the suggestions regarding: comma splices, hyphenation and use of inverted commas failed to detract from our enthusiasm for what was a top-notch tale.

The story was an ostensibly simple one with a young male protagonist, Jay, who lives a ‘sink’ life where his only escape is found at the bottom of an adhesive-smeared crisp packet. He finds a role-model who trusts him but, as the story progresses, the reader’s heart sinks when it appears Jay is going to betray his new friend and backslide into his old solvent-addicted life. Annie gave us a sympathetic character, provided him with a route out of drug-abuse and appeared to be dashing our hopes that he would take it.

Happily, Annie put a twist in the tail. In an uplifting final scene, Jay, is using the stolen solvent to save the day. ‘He had chosen a different way to make himself heard.’

When, as a reader, you have been misdirected so convincingly it becomes important to re-read the story and see how the author did it. In this case, it was necessary for Jay to break some rules and abuse the trust of his friend to put his redemption plan into action. We were set on the path of believing he was back on the slippery slope. Some clever ambiguous phrases and words opened us to the interpretation that solvent abuse was the answer to Jay’s problems and he needed it to ‘erase’ events from his mind. Annie was misdirecting us to insert the word ‘abuse’ into our interpretation. Jay’s real intention, as revealed in the final paragraphs, was to use the solvent for its proper purpose – a crucial, emergency cleaning job – this was Annie’s ‘secret move’.

So an excellent job by Annie, with some truly innovative and memorable similes. The consensus was that The Knife Edge is a potential competition winner.

The Eleventh Hour

2010-06-22T17:07:00.002+01:00

The Burning Fence Festival

It is not the passing of the years that ages a man but the surrendering of his ideals.

And as I read Tony's submission 'The Burning Fence Festival' I was reminded of the above quote. Tony's story centres around a man who was too poor to go to music festivals during his youth. In later life when he did have enough money to go it seemed that it was too uncomfortable and the that the idea of queuing for a lavatory was intolerable. The queuing is the easy bit so I've heard.

The protagonist's daughter convinces him to hold his own festival in his garden. It was interesting that no reference was made as to whether our character was discussing the subject with his son or daughter but the group all wrongly assumed he was talking to his son.

The festival is a great success and the climax to the evening is the garden fence burning down.

Linda described the story as a light read that was a gentle family piece. Rob stated that this was Tony at his wistful best. Chris thought it was pleasing writing but did have a little moan about the words 'nice' and 'nicely' as he thought they had been over-used. I was thrilled that at long last there was a climax.

The was a long debate about whether it should be 'oblivious of' or 'oblivious to'. Tony was later to clarify this will the following information. The usual preposition following this word is of (oblivious of the people around her), though to is sometimes used, especially with inanimate nouns (oblivious to the difficulties). Purists have objected to the use of oblivious to mean 'unaware', but this sense is now common and widely accepted.

Everyone agreed that the dialogue at the end of the story was excellent - both well paced and humorous. A very enjoyable piece Tony.

Latitude

2010-05-27T11:20:00.006+01:00

The unenviable task of following Tony's entertaining entry about last week's meeting and the Local Author's Fayre has fallen to me.

This week it was Linda's turn to submit a chapter of her novel A Head Full of Budgerigars to the unforgiving scrutiny of the Severn Valley Authors. Entitled 'Tiger! Tiger!' the chapter dealt with a visit to America by Lily's cantankerous mother. As usual, Linda's writing was full of some wonderful imagery and descriptive phrases but we agreed that the two pages describing Lily's husband and the town in which they lived might better be reserved for use in a separate chapter.

I felt that she could make more use of dialogue and direct speech as a means to describe and develop her characters and illustrate the conflict between them. Dialogue (written as opposed to spoken) is an area in which Linda lacks confidence, but expertise will come with practice.

Changes in a recurring nightmare about a tiger that eventually lost its power to terrify were skilfully used to symbolise the shift in Lily's relationship with her mother during the holiday. Rob stated that the chapter was very evocative of time, place and people. We discussed the classic story line of 'opening, build up, climax and resolution'. Rob, who had fully recovered from the horrid life-threatening disease that afflicted him last week and is reading Lynn Truss's Eats, Shoots and Leaves, is particularly hot on punctuation at the moment. He pointed out that a comma was needed between 'fat' and 'pink' in 'a fat pink tongue'.

We it came to the use of italics, however, we were obliged to consult The Oxford Guide to Style. Then we argued amically about the appropriate position of the apostrophe in possessives ending in s: "Ed Ricketts' House" or "Ed Ricketts's House"? 'Use 's after non-classical or non-classicizing personal names ending an s or z sound,' states The Oxford Guide to Style. Nevertheless it goes on to state in a more conciliatory tone: 'Convention allows latitude in possessives (e.g. the additional s is used more in speech than in writing).'

Thank God for that. I'm all for latitude - particularly when it comes to speed limits and the drivers' hours regulations.

All is fayre ...

2010-05-23T21:06:00.007+01:00

words Anthony Gillam
photo Phil Richards

It's been a hectic week for the Severn Valley Authors. On Tuesday we gathered for our usual meeting where Chris presented his most recent extract from Marxism and Careful Driving. Rob was feeling somewhat under the weather with some dreadful contagious disease, Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever or some such malady. Perhaps it was even just the common cold. Whatever, Rob felt it necessary to sit at a considerable distance from the rest of the group which, for some reason, made us all behave like silly schoolchildren. There was some discussion about the nature of ‘skype’ (for the uninitiated , a software application that allows users to make voice calls over the Internet). After some inexplicable hilarity about the true meaning of the verb ‘to skype’, Chris read his extract which was greeted with extremely positive feedback from the other members of the group. Personally, I found Chris's piece a brilliant melding of high ideas with everyday detail. It seems to me that Chris is close to perfecting his experiment in blending a history of philosophy with a compelling road trip. Several members of the group felt they they would like to hear more from the perspective of the truck-driving narrator and I wouldn't disagree with this suggestion.

On Friday evening, the Severn Valley Authors reconvened at Perdiswell House in Worcester for the much-anticipated Authors’ Fayre. Chris, Rob and I were strategically positioned behind a pillar in a corner of the crowded room. Rob went into serious marketing mode, targeting every potential buyer for his novel Olympic Mind Games. Annie 'meeted and greeted' arrivals, managing to look relaxed and happy despite having spent the last few days supervising a school field trip. Linda helped Chris to man his stall promoting Chris’s epic velocipedic travelogue Why don't you fly? I managed to sell two copies of A Passenger in Time but Rob was the bestselling Severn Valley Author of the evening with a staggering three copies of Olympic Mind Games sold. Despite not being able to retire on our takings, it was an interesting evening that gave us an opportunity to meet fellow authors, young readers and even the organiser of the forthcoming Worcester Literature Festival. Linda Bromyard, whose idea this evening was, is to be congratulated for a successful and enjoyable event.

If I was heartened by the sale of two copies of A Passenger in Time on Friday, by Saturday morning I was to be living proof of the saying ' pride comes before a fall '. At a car boot sale, I happened upon a battered copy of my first book Reflections on Community Psychiatric Nursing selling for the princely sum of 25p. The full story will appear at http://passengersintime.blogspot.com/ once I've finished feeling sorry for myself. It's a funny old business this writing lark.

Kenneth’s Taste for Red

2010-05-08T11:13:00.003+01:00

Every SVA member loved Rob’s short story written in a humorous style with captivating character descriptions. Rob had asked for our input having been unsuccessful in a writing competition. We tried our best but found it almost impossible to improve on what Rob had initially written. This led us to question what judges look for in a piece of prose. We decided it was difficult to define.

We are introduced to Kenneth Madeley, the third time winner of best wine in show in his local town competition. He is deliberating whether he needs more challenging opposition when he is unexpectedly elevated to the position of judge. Kenneth relishes the task. However, his judgement comes under scrutiny from a rather irate Mrs Mary McKellar demanding to know why he has declined to judge her wine. There ensues a comical conversation between expert and novice each standing up for their rights. Kenneth’s dogged determination to abide by the rules begins to waver as he becomes distracted by his admiration of Mrs McKellar’s physical attributes.

SVA members highlighted aspects of Rob’s narrative that particularly drew their attention: The double-entendre in the title, the excellent portrayal of Kenneth’s personality, the vivid picture painting the competition scene and Kenneth’s expertise as he performs each stage of the wine judging process.

Rob’s cleverly written prose draws the reader into the scene as the red-haired woman makes her dramatic entrance. Her unexpected shriek initiates images of shocked faces and sudden silence as all eyes are focused on Kenneth and the woman. The reader is then treated to an entertaining dialogue in which we learn about Mrs Mckellar’s Aunt’s potato wine recipe. “…….But I make it with Smash”, is no doubt received by the other competition entrants with incredulity. This is rapidly followed by, “You know, for mash get Smash off the telly.” Kenneth indignantly states that competition wines have to be made from original fruit and vegetables. The coup de grace comes at the end of the paragraph, “…..Certainly not packets of freeze-dried pebbles purporting to be potatoes”

Examples of the linguistic richness of the text are illustrated by: ‘...pushed his snout inside like a dog checking a dustbin….’(alluding to Kenneth’s checking the nose of the wine), ‘….she wrestled her bosom higher in her chest’, ‘Her pippin cheeks puffed…..’, ‘Her pink tongue slithered like a snake across her moist lower lip’, the description of the rolling of the Scottish ‘r’.

True to form, dilemma’s concerning punctuation were raised. On this occasion the subject was the use of the colon & semi-colon. The debate continues……..
Posted by Helen 080510

The Kennedy Question - with a hint of Clinton

2010-05-01T13:52:00.002+01:00

Annie’s story The Kennedy Question is a rites-of-passage tale of a teenage girl considering her mortality. Annie composes easy-to-read prose which flows easily and this tale has a wistful, Gillamesque quality which any reader can empathise with.

The evocation of teenage years came through during Annie’s reading despite her having to speak over the increasingly raucous deliberations of the Bewdley Footpaths Association which was meeting in the other half of the upstairs bar at Arches because of a double booking. (I assume that any footpath marked out towards the end of one of their meetings is a meandering affair.)

The ensuing discussion (in our half of the room) identified a number of instances of excellent prose work. For example, instead of simply telling the reader that the narrator was too young to remember where she was when President Kennedy was shot, Annie informs us that the girl was, ‘perhaps … eating parsnip puree from a plastic spoon’. Or how about the same girl, recovering from a faint recalling that, ‘the cool tiles of the science prep-room stuck to my calf muscles’? Details ‘were no longer sketchy, they were stark’. There was much to admire.

Of course an SVA meeting would not be an SVA meeting without its members contributing advice regarding comma splicing or hyphenation. But on this occasion we were also able to indulge in some interesting speculation on how to wring the best comic effect from a schoolgirl fainting and falling onto her knees in front of a teacher in such a way that her head nudges into his groin leaving a lipstick smear on his trouser fly. (Annie assured us that this was a true-life story.) Robert’s miming of the scene from the teacher’s viewpoint generated gasps of horror rather than the serious debate about the mechanics of humour that he had intended.

For a few minutes, the footpathers were silent as they eavesdropped our authorly discussion.

Eighteenth-century thoughts on writing

2010-04-25T16:00:00.004+01:00

by Anthony Gillam

In 1979, when I was an 18 year old English and French student, I was required to study 18th century literature. While I loved the satire of Voltaire, the humour of Henry Fielding and the lyricism of Keats and Burns, I'm afraid the cleverness of Alexander Pope's poetry left me cold. I was very taken, though, with some prose he wrote on the nature of writing and I copied it into a little red notebook. The other day, I found the notebook (that I have had for a mere 30 years) and thought it was time to share these words of wisdom that have survived a rather more impressive 240 years:

From The Works of Alexander Pope (1770)*
“I am inclined to think that both the writers of books, and the readers of them, are generally not a little unreasonable in their expectations. The first seem to fancy the world must approve whatever they produce, and the latter to imagine that authors are obliged to please them at any rate. Methinks, as on the one hand, no single man is born with a right of controuling the opinions of all the rest; so on the other, the world has no title to demand, that the whole care and time of any particular person should be sacrificed to its entertainment. Therefore I cannot but believe that writers and readers are under equal obligations, for as much fame, or pleasure, as each affords the other …

… I confess it was want of consideration that made me an author; I writ because it amused me; I corrected because it was as pleasant to me to correct as to write; and I published because I was told, I might please such as it was a credit to please. To what degree I have done this, I am really ignorant; I had too much fondness for my productions to judge of them at first, and too much judgment to be pleased with them at last …”

*Full Title: The Works of Alexander Pope Esq. In Nine Volumes, Complete. With His Last Corrections, Additions, And Improvements: together With the Commentary and Notes of his Editor. London: Printed for C. Bathhurst, W. Strahan, J. and F. Rivington, R. Baldwin, W. Johnston, T. Caslon, T. Longman, B. Law, Johnson and Davenport, T. Davies, T. Cadell, and W. and J. Richardson. MDCCLXX.

A Tale of Gradual Inebriation at The Arches

2010-04-11T12:15:00.005+01:00

On Tuesday 6 April we reconvened at the Arches to discuss Tony's latest offering, a short story entitled 'Kerry's Fleece'. The short story isn't a genre with which I'm overly familiar, and I asked myself what the point of a short story should be. To entertain, certainly; to inform, perhaps. These, however, are essential to all genres of fiction.

So why the short story? Annie told us that a successful short story is 'something you can read in under an hour and remember for a lifetime'.

Tony's short stories tend to act like the telephoto lense of a camera, bringing clarity, colour and detail to incidents that might otherwise be considered to be inconsequential. His writing is well constructed and controlled, his command of grammar, punctuation, description and dialogue assured. Nevertheless while I was reading, Kerry's Fleece, I found myself longing for him to abandon some of that control. I feel somehow that he tends to hold himself back when he writes, and the real Tony, the insightful and humorous Tony who appears at SVA meetings, is either subconsciously or deliberately kept separate from his prose.

Tony has an eye for descriptive detail, but I felt that Jason's encounter with an attractive teenager that led to an afternoon drinking session in her parents' house might have been given more psychological and sexual tension, perhaps by the inclusion of more dialogue between the protagonists, and the strong potential for humour in a scene depicting the gradual inebriation of two people was largely ignored.

Rob felt although that the story had a beginning and a middle, the end was anti-climatic and required a better resolution. 'Are you wondering why I've enticed you here?' (Kerry) would provide an unexpected change in the dynamic of the story and set up a final twist. Annie suggested that the unexpected reappearance of Kerry's parents from their holiday and finding their daughter in flagrante would have provided a more dramatic ending. The story ends instead with the sentence ' So Kerry put the peanuts in a little pan and warmed them through on the Aga and they ate hot nuts and drank wine as the sun went down.' The question uppermost in both Jason's and the reader's mind - whether Kerry is a nice girl, a seductress or manipulative - is left unanswered.

We all picked up on the allusion to Jason and the Golden Fleece, but we were unable to understand the point of it. In the legend of the Argonauts Jason trades the golden fleece for a kingdom and Linda wondered if Jason wanted a nice rich girl as the price for getting her fleece back for her.

Tony explained that the point was contained in that last sentence. The story is, of course, about 'Jason and the Aga nuts'. We all groaned. All successful puns should make one groan, but is a single pun powerful enough to provide the raison d'etre of a short story? Rob pointed out that the danger of this approach is that if readers don't get the pun, they won't get the point of the story. Although the pun deserves inclusion, the story needs to have an alternative raison d'etre than to provide a groan at the end.

The Rowan Tree

2010-04-04T17:49:00.003+01:00

The meeting was short and rather sombre. Chris did not attend due to a family bereavement. Our thoughts are with him.

Linda read ‘The Rowan Tree’ another extract from her novel ‘A Headful of Budgerigars’. The humour and vivid descriptions blended to create a piece that elicited many positive responses from the members that were present. Rob described it as ‘a near-perfect piece of writing’. One particular description ‘fairies dancing in wisps of silk the colour of a starling’s egg,’ delighted all. Linda revealed that this ornithological reference had come from a paint swatch card rather than a guide book to British birds, proof enough that the aspiring writer should always be ready to collect interesting and unusual expressions from a variety of sources.

As with all meetings of the SVA there was much discussion over the finer details such as the use of hyphens: zigzagged, harebrained and whitewashed all came under scrutiny.

Linda had continued editing and so the version that had been sent out and the version she read from had minor differences. There was a unanimous vote to keep in ‘checking for poos.’

The chapter ended with a surreal and dramatic paragraph – another excerpt from one of Lily’s dreams. This technique is working well and I am looking forward to the next chapter and its ending.

No -ly adverbs were used in the writing of this blog. Effortlessly, certainly and slightly were all totally annihilated from this passage. Having read the article ‘Those Pesky –ly Words’ I must admit that Rob may have a point. ‘I am certainly looking forward’ has become ‘I am looking forward’ and it is stronger as a result. I am willing to go adverb free as an experiment and see what happens!

Those pesky words ending in 'ly'

2010-04-03T09:56:00.002+01:00

I posted something on my website blog (http://www.robertronsson.co.uk/) about adverbs and it triggered a comment or two from fellow students at the National Academy of Writing. Fiona Joseph, who is writing a biography of one of the Cadbury family, posted the link which you follow by clicking on the title of this piece. All any writer needs to know about the use of adverbs in fictive prose.

Karl Marx Back on form

2010-03-11T10:10:00.001Z

SVA welcomed Helen Jones, owner of Bewdley Books and novelist, as a prospective new member joining this meeting to try us for size. Helen settled in quickly and was an early contributor to the perennial SVA topic of the use of adverbs. She tended towards the there is nothing wrong with them; they add colour and can aid the rhythm of a sentence majority. (The pedants among you will have noticed that the words in italics should by rights have been linked by hyphens to form one Mother-of-all compound adjective but I couldn't be bothered.) :)
We moved on to the meat in the meeting sandwich, the reading of an extract from Karl Marx and Careful Driving by Chris Smith. Everybody agreed that this is Chris's writing at its best. Here he achieved a balance between the threads of his complex project, giving us the 'knights of the road' narrative and travelogue interspersed with history and philosophy. Chris writes easy-to-read prose even when he is discussing mind-stretching stuff such as Plato's observations on the Eternality of Truths.
Tony contributed some ideas about typographical structure which we all agreed would improve the reader's experience. Linda described a picture of Chris as a conductor bringing in each of the orchestra's sections to achieve the symphonial experience which Karl Marx and Careful Driving could be.
Our forensic ears inevitably detected a few discords of either grammar or word choice and these were offered as constructive criticism. The general view though was that this extract was the model for how the whole book should proceed.
One question persists - does it mean it's an Eternal Question? Plato was strutting his stuff 2400 years ago so we describe his activities in the past tense. He believed stuff. But does this mean we should describe his beliefs using the past tense? This gives us 'Plato believed Truth was Eternal.' If Truth was Eternal it still is. In any event, when he believed, he did so using the present tense (I, Plato, believe Truth is Eternal.') so should we describe what he believed using the present tense? No definitive solution presented itself.
And there we shall leave our band of budding authors in the sparkling new luxury of the upstairs room of the Arches Bar discussing the eternal mysteries of prose ...

The Blossom and the Bee

2010-02-28T14:05:00.002Z

Rob introduced the first chapter of his new book for the group's scrutiny at this weeks SVA meeting. In The Blossom and the Bee, we see Rob writing in a completely different style to his previous novel The Spaniard's Wife. He shows enormous versatility in his move from the Glasgow tenements to a New York suburb. The first chapter is written in a very relaxed style that is easy to read and shows great promise, although at one point i thought i was reading War and Peace when every character seemed to have more than one name. The ideas that Rob has for the book are interesting and exciting, but i don't think this first chapter does them justice. I think that starting with an 'in your face' excerpt from Cabaret would be much more striking. It would have visual and emotional impact and set the scene for German/Jewish tension. Good luck Rob.

We also talked about competitions during the meeting and the recent competition run by Chapter One Promotions. I have read some very negative feedback on various websites about them. It seems they don't always let people know when they are winners and some winners do not receive their prize money. I will personally check out any future competitions more carefully.

Linda

Blame it on Bizet

2010-02-06T16:37:00.005Z

In a departure from the fictional offerings that usually form the centrepiece of a SVA meeting, Charlotte surprised us with a journalistic debut. It turns out Charlotte is an opera enthusiast and, when asked to produce a piece for the group's scrutiny, came up with a review of a live broadcast of Richard Eyre’s production of Carmen. Now I have to confess I have never liked opera so Charlotte's review might have left me cold. I do, though, always appreciate exuberant writing and Charlotte’s bold, confident style, her obvious enjoyment of this production and her surprisingly deep knowledge of the subject bowled over the whole group

It is notoriously difficult to write about music. A strange aphorism attributed to Elvis Costello argues that “Writing about music is like dancing about architecture; it's a really stupid thing to want to do.” Charlotte, though, managed to write convincingly about the music and drama of this unusual cinematic experience of opera.

It is one thing to offer up a piece of writing for the consideration of the group and another to read it aloud in a pub. If she was anxious about this, Charlotte's strong, clear voice betrayed little self-consciousness.

Discussion ensued about the usage of 'amongst ' as compared with 'among' and Chris seemed particularly pleased with himself at spotting not only the occasional English grammatical error but a French one too. I blame Bizet.

The group were much exercised with the question of how much a delightfully youthful authorial voice should be tempered. None of us wanted to edit out that ebullience. One solution we hit upon was to put Charlotte forward for the presumably non-existent job of opera critic of the NME.

Sampling Dates and Figs Upstairs at the Arches

2010-01-21T14:30:00.007Z

Waiting for the Speed-Dating Bell to Ring - spot food-diary man

Writing for laughs must be one of the most difficult skills and it seems to be one writers possess or they don’t. Judging by the reaction of members to Annie’s piece, Dates and Figs, she has the comedy gene. Each critic in turn explained how their first reading of Annie’s venture into speed-dating had them laughing out loud. Her David-Attenborough-esque pen-pictures of the species of male to be found in this particular jungle were brief, telling and very funny.

Our very own Helen Fielding was urged to find the right magazine and submit the piece tout-suite. Make some money out of it, Annie!

Of course, it wouldn’t have been an SVA meeting without some constructive suggestions for improvement. Most of these revolved around punctuation (what else), including: how to avoid the seven-word, compound adjective; the comma splice; the role of semi-colons; and positioning of commas and other squiggles vis-à-vis speech marks.

Under the heading ‘general-discussion’ we roamed around: the literary merits of Mills & Boon and Dan Brown; the motivation of Jeffrey Archer; and the vocabulary in writing for children. Rob failed to get any interest in an analysis of the value in modern writing of the verb ‘get’. Get this, it got forgotten because everybody was getting bored and wanted to get home.

Charlotte will be reading at the next meeting on February 2, when we may also hear from Tony’s friend, Phil Richards about possible involvement in a book sale event. Tony will confirm the start time.

'Paws for Thought' by Rose

2010-01-19T16:07:00.002Z

I wood like to sayyy that I am a little disa um.. disa $%ppoint?ed that my ayms for 2010 wurnt discust. I wont to bee offishal maskott for yore groooooop and tayke minits from Robbs lapp. I also wont to hav Bosun the bulldog over for tee becoz he iz very yumyum. Iff yoo wont to contakt meeeee on the Interpet yooo can sendd mee a pee-mail on rosie@poodlemail.com

Deep and Crisp and Even

2010-01-17T21:31:00.001Z

The Intrepid Six also known as the Severn Valley Authors ventured out to an almost deserted Bewdley. It had been snowing for most of the day so we were pleased to find ourselves in the snug little alcove in the Arches. The Arches is Bewdley’s newest bar and bistro.

Tony then read ‘The Softness of Heads’. His mellifluous voice was the perfect vehicle for this gentle piece of 1970’s nostalgia. There was much discussion about the main character. Some members of the group thinking that there was a ‘Strange Incident of the Dog in the Night Time’ feel; while other group members did not make that connection at all. There was plenty of discussion about the use of apostrophes in trade-marks, split infinitives and whether mint creams needed a hyphen or not.

The dropping of letters in dialect also raised an interesting discussion point. Tony’s piece read as follows.
‘’id in the cupboard every time’.
At first there was the suggestion that the ‘i’ should be capitalised. It was then decided that the capital H was missing due to the character’s dialect and that the capitalisation did not need to be transferred to the ‘i’.

To finish the evening there was a short discussion about each member’s literary ambitions for 2010. The items were recorded and we will return to them quarterly to discuss progress. A brief synopsis is given below.

By the end of 2010 Chris wants to be ready to approach a publisher with the first part of Karl Marx and Careful Driving.

Rob hopes to have a publisher for the ‘Spaniard’s Wife’ and is also beginning to plan his next book – a three strand novel. The group was very interested and excited by Rob’s brief synopsis.
During 2010 Linda wants the first draft of ‘A Head full of Budgerigars’ completed. She also wishes to develop her business.

Tony would like to concentrate on polishing some short stories and marketing his book ‘A Passenger in Time’.

Attending university to study English and Drama was Charlotte’s burning ambition.

Annie would like to start a novel if only she could decide what to write about.

The venue worked well and it was agreed to use it again for the next meeting.

An unforeseen book-signing at The Woodcolliers Arms

2010-01-04T17:11:00.005Z

Just before Christmas I visited Ludlow in Shropshire and called in at the Castle Bookshop, one of those wonderful independent bookshops which hopefully will continue to flourish despite the rise of Amazon and the fall of Borders. On my last visit, they had in stock five or six copies of my book A Passenger in Time and I naturally wanted to check that they were all still prominently displayed on the shelves. In fact, I could find no copies of my book so I cheekily asked the owner if he had sold out of my book.

“What's it called?” he asked.

“A Passenger in Time.”

“Oh, that's the one set on the Severn Valley Railway, isn't it? Yes. That sold quite well. Did you supply them yourself?”

“No. I think you got them from the wholesalers.”

He searched on his computer.

“Oh, that's right. I'll just order a few more copies then.”

Music to the ears of any self-published author.

Then, between Christmas and New Year, I was to be found in a local pub. The Woodcolliers Arms in Bewdley is not exactly my ‘local’, being over four miles from my house. However, since I drink there most weeks, I could be described as a regular. Roger, the landlord, had kindly agreed to display a copy of A Passenger in Time when it was first published several months ago. This unusual arrangement may have made The Woodcolliers perhaps the only pub where customers could buy a children's book with their pint of real ale. Week after week, I have sat nursing a pint of Ludlow Gold or Twisted Spire and noticed numerous people pick up my book and read it with interest, often discussing it with their drinking companion, before replacing it carefully on its display stand.

Last Thursday was different, though. I watched as a young lady went through the familiar routine of flicking through the pages and admiring the cover but was then amazed when she foraged in her purse for a handful of coins. I pretended not to pay much attention as she approached the bar and asked Anna, the landlady, if she could buy the book. Anna then discreetly passed the six pound coins to me, explaining that she could not put the money through the till. She asked if I had a penny change for the customer so I fumbled in my pocket and found a 10p piece which Anna then passed over to the customer. Next, I overheard her explaining that the author himself was here in the pub and, if she would like a personalised message written in her copy, Anna felt sure this could be arranged. The book buyer duly walked over to me and, with a mixture of embarrassment and delight, I wrote a few words on the title page for the kind lady.

These are strange days for the book trade with multinational bookshops going bust and pubs hosting impromptu book signings. There’s nothing for it, I’ve decided, but to take all of this as a good omen and hope that it's going to be an auspicious year for authors, publicans and independent booksellers in 2010.

Anthony Gillam

Following on...

2009-12-19T10:51:00.002Z

We gathered again, in festive mood, on 15 December for the SVA's Christmas meeting. The focus was on Linda's work - a revised opening chapter called Elderberry Wine. There was a great deal to admire in this and the consensus was that it made for an enticing, warm and gently comic opening to what promises to be a wonderful novel.
There was some discussion about the advantages and disadvantages of disguising place names. On the one hand, many readers are drawn to books set in real locations and an identifiable setting can make books more attractive and more marketable. On the other hand, if situations and characters are based partly on reality, disguising the setting can help avoid embarrassment and libel! As the old saying goes, "the names of people and places have been changed to protect the innocent."
Speaking of innocents, I innocently forgot how to access this blog and accidentally became a follower as well as a contributor. This caused some consternation as other members of the group got very excited, thinking someone in the wider world had cottoned on to us, only to find it was just me! It could seem the height of vanity to become one of my own followers but it was all down to blogging incompetence on my part. If anyone knows how to cease being a follower please let me know because, having become one by accident, I have no idea how to un-become one. Perhaps this is how we become and remain followers of most things in life.
Chris and Linda supplied hot mince pies and real wine (not just fictitious elderberry wine) and then we adjourned to a local pub where, it was suggested, we should hold our next meeting. It reminded me that, as a younger man, I had been a follower (again) of a group called The Anglo-Welsh Poetry Society who used to meet at the splendidly named Loggerheads pub in my home town of Shrewsbury. Hardly a poet myself, instead I would take along my guitar and perform some of my songs as a kind of musical interlude in the poetry readings. This seemed to go down well with the poets who were tolerant enough of a singer-songwriter in their midst. I'm not sure how I feel about reading aloud my short stories in a public house but Rob assures me we will have a (fairly) private alcove, and we will be cordoned off from the non-literary pubgoers. Perhaps, though, we will get some accidental followers?
Anthony Gillam

Karl Marx and Careful Driving

2009-12-14T19:44:00.004Z

Apologies to my fellow SVAers for the lateness of this contribution.

At our last meeting we looked at an extract from 'Karl Marx and Careful Driving'. We can now see the enormous dedication that Chris has shown for this incredible work really coming to fruition. The journey, history, philosophy and Chris's personal history are intricately woven together to form a really fascinating and entertaining book.

It was said at at our last meeting that more information and storyline about Chris himself was needed to hold the attention of the reader. I agree, but I also know that there is more of this to follow.

I would like to see more colourful descriptions of the places and events that Chris witnessed on his journey when everything was a source of wonder and adventure for him. The readers are new to this experience too and would like to feel the thrill that Chris felt when he first opened 'The Children's Picture Atlas in Colour'.

Will Self and speaking without being interrupted

2009-12-01T22:58:00.003Z

The author Will Self, in an interview he gave to Word Magazine in July 2003, made the following comments about writing: "What writers like myself have is that we're free of the constraints of a capitalist society in a way. We're liberated from the hierarchy. We don't have bosses. We're like coalminers. We produce a product - 'self-coal' - that no other mine can produce. We have our own stock, we mine it, we ship it, we flog it and nobody can f**k with it. And I think that idea of writers being an owner/proprietor/operator in a way is very appealing to people...."
No doubt many writers aspire to be free in this way but the reality is most of us fit writing in around the day job. Perhaps this kind of freedom is only available to the lucky few successful, published writers, but we can all at least take comfort in the words of Jules Renard who said of writing, "Ecrire, c'est une façon de parler sans être interrompu - Writing is a way of speaking without being interrupted." In the hubbub of the daily grind, that sounds like a good enough reason to write for me.
Anthony Gillam

Dark machinations, infidelity and intrigue: just another meeting of the SVA

2009-11-18T14:18:00.005Z

Now we are six. On 17 November we welcomed Charlotte as a new member. Although unwell with the flu she persevered to the end of the meeting and even found the strength to make one or two acerbic remarks about Rob's latest two-thousand-word extract from 'The Spaniard's Wife', an account of dark machinations, infidelity and intrigue that traces a politician's path from Glasgow's slum tenements to Westminster.The extract displayed all of Rob's usual strong points: excellent command of grammar and dialogue, detailed research of his subject and expert development of characters and plot. I was unable to find any missing vocative commas but I enjoyed pulling him up on the use of the hideous 'comma splice' (the joining together of two sentences with a comma) and an even more hideous exclamation mark in the title of Chapter Three (War!).

If there was one criticism that received general agreement it had to be an absence of detailed discription of the environment in which the action takes place. Linda, whose work I think shows great descriptive flair, remarked that it was a little colourless and Tony felt that Chapter 3 skated over details. I thought that his descriptions of the Glasgow slums at the beginning of the twentieth century might be a little more Dickensian; take this example from the opening of Bleak House:

As much mud in the streets, as if the waters had but newly retired from the face of the earth, and it would not be wonderful to meet a Megalosaurus, forty feet long or so, waddling like an elephantine lizard up Holborn Hill. Smoke lowering down from chimney pots, making a soft black drizzle, with flakes of soot in it as big as full-grown snow-flakes - gone into mourning, one might imagine, for the death of the sun. Dogs, undistinguishable in mire. Horses, scarcely better; splashed to their very blinkers. Foot passengers, jostling one another's umbrellas in a general infection of ill-temper, and losing their foot-hold at street-corners, where tens of thousands of other foot passengers have been slipping and sliding since the day broke (if this day ever broke) , adding new deposits to the crust upon crust of mud, sticking at those points tenaciously to the pavement, and accumulating at compound interest.

Fog everywhere. Fog up the river, where it flows among green aits and meadows; fog down the river, where it rolls defiled among the tiers of shipping, and the waterside pollutions of a great (and dirty) city. Fog on the Essex marshes, fog on the Kentish heights. Fog creeping into the cabooses of collier-brigs, fog lying out on the yards, and hovering in the rigging of great ships; fog drooping on the gunwales of barges and small boats. Fog in the eyes and throats of ancient Greenwich pensioners, wheezing by the firesides of their wards; fog in the stem and bowl of the afternoon pipe of the wrathful skipper, down in his close cabin, fog cruelly pinching the toes and fingers of the shivering little 'prentice boy on deck. Chance people on the bridges peeping over the parapets into a nether sky of fog, with fog all round them, as if they were up in a balloon, and hanging in the misty clouds.

Unfortunately the story of 'The Spaniard's Wife' isn't related by an omniscient narrator who has the luxury of being able to focus simultaneously upon the Essex marshes, the Kentish heights and the shivering little 'prentice boy on a ship's deck, but I hope you get the general gist: this is great descriptive writing. Dickens's attention to detail truly immerses the reader in Victorian London.

An interesting point of discussion was opened by Tony's remark that Rob's reluctance to use natural contractions such as wouldn't and isn't even in direct speech gave some of his dialogue a slightly stilted feeling. Rob replied that he had read somewhere that this was a device to be used if the reader was to get the impression that the dialogue took place several generations ago, but I found myself in agreement with Tony. The following extract from Bleak House (written in the mid-nineteenth century) doesn't bear out Rob's theory:

'Where would you wish to go?' she asked.
'Anywhere, my dear,' I replied.
'Anywhere's nowhere,' said Mrs Jellyby, stopping perversely.
'Let us go somewhere at any rate,' said I.
'I don't care!' she said. 'Now, you are my witness, Miss Summerson, I say I don't care - but if he was to come to our house, with his great shining lumpy forehead, night after night, till he was as old as Methuselah, I wouldn't have anything to say to him. Such Asses as he and Ma make of themselves!'

It is worth noting from this passage that Dickens - one of our greatest novelists - apparently endorses the use of the dash (Linda) and of adverbs (Rob).

Rob drew our attention to an announcement in the Parish magazine by another writers' group in Bewdley eager to recruit new members. Charlotte volunteered to go undercover and infiltrate their organisation as a mole and report back to HQ, but Rob suggested that if we treated them as friends rather than rivals we might be able to collaborate (at festivals, for example) and that he'd send them an introductory email.

We calmed down.

Cinderella in Cyberspace

2009-11-04T08:55:00.002Z

Our newest member, Annie Tauk, brought copies of her prize-winning story to our last meeting. I've now had the opportunity of reading it and I can see why it won and was published in Writing magazine. It is humourous (always a difficult trick to pull off IMHO) clever and complete. Well done, Annie!

Delay

2009-11-03T21:44:00.003Z

Tony, who surely merits the soubriquet, 'the Garrison Keillor of the Wyre Forest', shared his short story, Delay. What to some was a gentle snapshot of domestic life was to others a feat of controlled disclosure where portents of an uncertain future arrived unheralded in the humdrum life of the protagonist. At first sight a simple story but one which, because of its hidden depth and haphazard punctuation, stimulated much discussion.
There is much to admire in Tony's writing, particularly its gentle tone and his mastery over mood and dialogue.
The critiques prompted further discussion on: the proper use of the word 'properly'; whether the vocative comma should be used in two word exclamations (surprising Chris's pet subject should come up despite his absence with Swine Fever); commas in general and semi-colons in particular; a mini-diversion through the swamp that is point-of-view; and the correct punctuation of reported non-speech (ie speech we were told did not happen).
An excellent meeting with much pedantry, spirited debate and Tony raising the catering bar to new heights with the provision of chocolate cookies with a chocolate coating on one side.
Tony also hit pay dirt coming up with a sentence where the inclusion or omission of the vocative comma changes its meaning drastically: What is this thing called, love?
Lovely Jubbly! (or should that be, Lovely, Jubbly! or Lovely jubbly!?)
Enough!

slithy toves

2009-10-31T11:52:00.005Z

Rob points out that we should only break the rules when we have made a conscious and informed decision to do so. It could be said that some great writers have made breaking the rules their passion. James Joyce revolutionised the form and structure of the novel with Ulysses and Finnegan's Wake by pushing language to the extreme limits of communication. Lewis Carroll's books for children were also appealing to adults because of their inventive absurdity. The Jabberwocky commences 'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves'. How did they get away with it?

It is not just the rules of language that we have to learn but also the uncertain sensitivity of our readers. Your best friend may very quickly become your ex-best friend after he has read your book. So do we compromise and please everybody or do we stick to our moral guns and tell it as it is? Did Lawrence ever imagine when he wrote Lady Chatterley's Lover in 1928 that it wouldn't be published in full in this country until 1960?

I know that some of my stories about life in France and America will offend some people, but I try to tell the events, places and people as I saw them. In some ways - which I hope is becoming apparent - I am singing a hymn to England and to Shropshire in particular; a place that truly stole my heart.

Linda

Useful Epigram

2009-10-23T12:21:00.002+01:00

I think this comment, apparently attributed to Bernard Levin, reflects SVA thinking on grammar and punctuation:

You can break every grammatical and syntactical rule consciously when, and only when, you have rendered yourself incapable of breaking them unconsciously.

A Head full of Budgerigars

2009-10-22T19:38:00.002+01:00

I think the role of the SVA should be the publication of its members - whether a novel or a short story in a magazine. It is a little unnerving to submit one's work to the examination of others but it should always be borne in mind that any suggestion or criticism is made with the objective of improving the work under consideration. One member's success should be considered the success of the entire group, and hopefully we can one day become a community of published authors.

Frequently I wonder what publishers are looking for (don't we all?). The cynic tells me that getting one's name and picture splashed all over the News of the World is a far more effective way of getting into the best-sellers' lists than writing something wonderful. I have come to believe that any work submitted by an unknown author has to have something that marks it out as being 'special'. It has not only to be well written and entertaining but have that 'X factor' that distinguishes it not only from the tide of rival submissions but also from books already written by established authors. The task confronting us is therefore extremely difficult but real authors will always continue to write because of the delight to be had in the process of manufacturing sentences and of communicating experiences and ideas.

On Tuesday 20 October we welcomed a new member to SVA - Annie Tauk. She arrived with the formidable achievement of having won the first short-story competition she had entered. Linda read out her latest extract from 'A Head full of Budgerigars', a novel set in the UK, the USA and France. It must always be borne in mind that whereas Rob and myself have been working for a considerable time on our respective manuscripts, Linda is still composing her first draft. As such her work has less polish, but then she has had considerably less time to edit it. I find her descriptive writing exciting, original, full of richness and variety, and humour is always present. The extract painted a wonderfully vivid picture of rural French village life in the Dordogne and was full of the sounds and smells and people on market day. Tony remarked that Linda's affection for France shone through and Rob looked a little uncomfortable when the extract mentioned the 'shagging' of the local mutts. I think that the dialogue needs a little working on but as with any craft the more one practises, the better one gets. I think that an advantage of belonging to the SVA is that its members all have different strengths and weaknesses and we can learn from each other.

When we got home Rosie Canus vividly expressed her disappointment at having been deprived of the opportunity of taking the minutes of the meeting and inserting her tongue into Rob's ear.

'Next time, Rosie,' we promised.

Karl Marx and Careful Driving

2009-09-29T09:28:00.000+01:00

Few of us can match the enthusiasm of our latest recruit Rosie Canus. She leapt from lap to lap punctuating every sentence of Chris’s reading with a yelp of delight. She went so far as to lick Tony’s face when he congratulated Chris on his smooth connection from the Greek philosophy of thesis, antithesis and synthesis, through the Age of Enlightenment to the inner-workings of a Volvo diesel truck engine.
Chris’s project, Karl Marx and Careful Driving is a unique record of a truck-driver-philosopher’s trips to Kazakhstan back in the day. He treated the group to another two thousand words and the ensuing discussion ranged around: empirical didactic in non-fiction; the role of the author as pedagogue, pack-animal hierarchy and Rosie’s place in it, and the crisp yet yielding texture of Linda’s excellent chocolate brownies.
After the critique of Chris’s writing we moved on inexorably to punctuation and the role of the comma.
Severn Valley Authors is now a member of the National Association of Writers Groups and we also discussed ways to make its presence felt in the local arts community.

The Spaniard's Wife

2009-09-18T20:03:00.003+01:00

This week the group discussed the second chapter of Robert's novel-in-progress The Spaniard's Wife. All I knew about this was that Robert had described it as a work of 'faction', i.e. a novel woven around actual historical events. As the newest member of the group I had to do my homework and read the first chapter as well as the one under scrutiny. Far from the rather stately historical saga I was expecting the extract turned out to be a gritty, not to say brutally realistic depiction of 1912 Glasgow which reminded me of Martin Scorsese's film Gangs of New York. All quite a departure from Robert's children's book Olympic Mind Games. The Spaniards' Wife promises to be an impressive, wide-ranging and ambitious novel and we look forward to reading further chapters. Meanwhile, group members bemoaned how tired they were by - if not of - their 'day jobs' and the problem of finding the time and energy to write when writing is a sideline and not the main means of keeping the proverbial wolf from the door.
Trying to avoid sounding too bitter, Chris had a rant about Jonathan Creek star Alan Davies who was apparently heard complaining about how boring it was promoting his new book on The Simon Mayo Show. Robert also showed signs of world-weariness when the conversation ranged from Derren Brown to Dan Brown - one Brown had apparently successfully predicted the lottery numbers, the other had played and evidently won the booktrade lottery that day with the publication of The Lost Symbol - which, for all its commercial success, Mark Lawson in The Guardian described as "a puzzling, rollicking piece of tosh".
While all little-known authors lose the plot from time to time, the prize this week must have gone to Linda who - exhausted after a gruelling working week - came out with the idea that Arthur Ransome had just died. In fact, although a new biography had been published last month (which might explain why Linda thinks she has recently read about him in the papers) poor old Arthur died in 1967. It all goes to show it certainly isn't easy to hold down a job, write in your spare time and keep up to date with the latest literary news.

Drinking with Alphonse

2009-09-06T13:27:00.003+01:00

Welcome to the SVA blog. Until last week I didn't really know what a 'blog' was. The internet was just a useful tool to send emails. Now I am faced with all sorts of dilemmas: can I blog and Twitter at the same time? Should I Google or should I Bing? Why would a search engine be named 'Dog Pile'? Anyway, my friends at the SVA have forced me into the 21st century, so here goes.

We meet every two weeks in the beautiful Worcestershire town of Bewdley, famous for its 19 pubs, 5 Indian restaurants and more litter than a McDonald's wheelie bin. The town is surrounded by beautiful woodland and open country and of course the River Severn.

Last week we discussed Anthony's short story 'Drinking with Alphonse', which I thought was a great title. The story revealed much about Anthony's mis-spent youth as a student in France. It was clear that he did more drinking than studying. The story threw up (excuse the pun) many topics for discussion: When is a short story not a short story? Must there be a beginning, middle and an end or indeed what we traditionally consider to be a plot? When is it permissable to break the rules? Rob thought it was, as long as you knew the rules and when you were breaking them. Can you introduce your main character - in this case Alphonse - half-way through the story? There was no real agreement on this, but I thought it was amusing and it kept my interest. Should there be speech marks around a thought? We thought not. And lastly one for the pedants to get their teeth into: How many dots should there be in an ellipsis? There was considerable discussion on this point, but I will let one of my more learned friends illuminate.

Please put your anoraks on and send us your pearls of wisdom on these topics and any others that you would like to discuss. Send all corrections to spelling and punctuation errors from this blog to someone you don't like.

Linda