Patricia M Osborne

I spoke to Debra Hart, a spokesperson for Save Bolton Palais Campaign. It seems that they can’t demolish the building because it’s protected but there are plans to try and change it. Please read what Debra has to say and don’t forget the petition. The people of Bolton need our help.

Hi Tricia, as you know the building dates back to 1928, is older than our Civic Centre in Le Mans Crescent and holds lots of memories of WWII and the Americans coming to dance there, it did a lot to keep the people of Bolton’s spirits up during WWII. This building is not going to be demolished 🙂 just thought I’d point that out. The current owners would love that to happen. For some very odd reason the leader of the town’s councillors would like that to happen too (we can only speculate on why that might be). This building is in the Deansgate Conservation Zone, these Conservation Zones are protected by English Heritage (the building on its own has no heritage listing, but the streetscape is protected – the visual elements of a street, including the look of the lights and street furnishings on the road and the building material should all be as close to authentic as possible). The Palais has been protected so far and its heritage in the Art Deco Era is still there behind the cladding. Nobody has managed to destroy this so far and we have every intention of keeping all Councillors (including their leader) to the objectives of having a conservation zone. The owner of such a building may use materials of the era to beautify and uplift a building within a conservation zone. What they cannot do is destroy the building and replace it with a modern glass building – glass is not in keeping with the Deansgate Conservation Zone. The giant sized silver item on the roof is certainly not in keeping with the zone. If that planning permission is granted – by council in consultation with English Heritage – then it would be fair to say ‘someone is on the take’ – there is no way that a glass building with a giant silver item on its roof fits in with an English Heritage Conservation Zone – no way in the world. I’ll add a picture of the building, which was taken as the building’s authentic character was being protected many years ago. Nobody wishes to hold the building back from having future potential, but once one destroys a building from 1928, it is then gone forever. All eras of buildings have equal brilliance within this conservation zone, with the exception of a 2017 building made of glass and steel. We intend to keep the buildings that pre-date Le Mans Crescent, we will protect it. A book featuring the Palais would be great, Boltonians would love that. Hopefully the building’s owners will love it too as I’m sure it will promote the building, which of course they must restore in keeping with the conservation zone in which it stands. Bolton needs to be promoted as a historically brilliant town with buildings from some very exciting and dramatic eras – we do not intend the centre of Bolton to be a parking lot for people visiting Manchester, they can use the outskirts of Bolton for that idea. Thanks for your interest Tricia and we look forward to reading your book. I will write again once I’ve read how exactly we are supposed to voice our objections to the glass and silver metal building to the Bolton Council, just in case they need help in making the very obvious decision of saying no to the developer, or rather the building restorer who just doesn’t know it yet. We intend to follow the correct process, whatever that may be.

I thanked Debra for clarification and details. I asked if she was happy for me to post her comment on my blog.

This was Debra Hart’s response:

It is absolutely fine by me 🙂 We would love everyone to appreciate heritage. Australians and Americans know that it is what England does best. Bolton should keep and promote its best asset. Supporting this one conservation zone is really also supporting the whole of England’s Heritage. These zones are what visitors to the UK want to see. Australia has the sunshine and the beaches and England trumps us all with its history, which is why UK TV sells so well, people around the world want to see the settings. Why else would a world traveller ever wish to visit the UK if it wasn’t for the heritage and nostalgia. This particular zone has many eras of buildings in the one afternoon walk, but nobody wants a cheap 2017 building ruining it all. I honestly think your book could help the owner of the building but they make take some time to realise that. Thanks

Thank you Debra for filling us in and keeping us up-to-date.

Please see below a letter sent to Bolton Planning Department from another spokesperson, Maggie Gallagher. Maggie has given me permission to post it on here:

Bolton Planning Department, Tracey Crouch, Mr Martin Mansell and Mrs Marion Barter,

Re planning application number 97795/16

I am writing on behalf of a group of people that wish to preserve the Palais de-Danse building and enhance the Conservation Zone in which it stands.

We would like to present our petition with 3,231 supporters, who wish to have the building preserved, and this Conservation Zone enhanced.

The Palais de-Danse building was built in 1928, before the Civic Centre on Le Mans Crescent was built. The building is within a Conservation Zone and we wish to protect the zone with this building included. We would like to see the outside of the building restored by professional restorers to enhance the Conservation Zone and keep the Art Deco Era of this building alive within the Conservation Zone.

We have been in contact with Jon Wilson from Darwen Terracotta and Faience and he has been telling us of buildings that have not retained their original interiors but have still managed to have a great decorative façade that is in keeping with the era of the building. We would like the people who are paid to look after the Deansgate Conservation Zone to speak with Jon. We know that the previous owners, who wished to open the building as a restaurant, found the building to be in a good condition and had their design plans sent to council with no mention of the building being structurally unsound or only fit for demolition. We feel that Bolton has a good future in tourism and has a lot of history available on the internet for world travellers and British tourists. We want Bolton to preserve its buildings that predate Le Mans Crescent so that it can have a future in tourism. According to the UK Government’s Tourism Action Plan, tourism is one of the UK’s most important industries, directly responsible for 1.6 million jobs at all entry levels throughout the UK.

Darwen Terracotta and Faience http://www.darwenterracotta.com/restoration/

The current owners of the Palais de-Danse building, which they refer to as the former Ikon nightclub or Jumping Jaks, imply that the building should be knocked down and replaced by a glass and steel hotel, which is not in keeping with the Deansgate Conservation Zone in either building materials or original design of 1928. Bolton may well be able to have a new hotel but it needs to be located on another block of land, we do of course like the look of the plans for The Link on Bow Street. The Bow Street block of land does not already house a vintage building as it currently has an unusable car park on it.

We do not hope to dictate the use of this building, our objection and our petition is to stop the Palais de-Danse building from being demolished and therefore ‘keeping it’ for the future. We do believe that it has a very valid future in the entertainment industry and could be used for dancing and parties etc but we leave its immediate use in the hands of the owner. All that we ask is that you do not allow anyone to destroy the building. If the current owners do not see a viable potential for them, then they should sell the building to a buyer that does see the potential of an Art Deco Era of building, which was built in 1928 and stands in a Conservation Zone.

The building is home to a huge amount of Bolton’s history, with many WWII dance parties, including a VE Day party being held there. It also holds many personal memories to the people of Bolton since 1928. Many of these historical stories have been covered by the Bolton News. We want to keep the home of these memories standing and not have it replaced with a new build. At the moment there is cladding protecting the original features of this building, which have probably been protected by the Conservation Zoning so far.

The Palais and the Pictures – going out in Wartime Bolton. http://www.boltonswar.org.uk/t-goingout.htm

This story is titled Dancing the night away in the Bolton Palais. http://www.theboltonnews.co.uk/…/13808272.Dancing_the_nigh…/

At this time we ask for either reassurance that the building will not be allowed to be bulldozed, or time to gather further letters of petition from local businesses and time to contact groups such as Royal Services League for any help and letters of support that we can gather.

Please let us know by return email of any time limits that we need to work with in gathering further support and presenting our petition to Bolton Council.

Kind regards

Maggie Gallagher

Don’t forget peeps, The Palais is where it all began for Grace and Jack from House of Grace. House of Grace will be launched early 2017, watch this space.

Don’t forget to sign the petition. Let’s keep this beautiful building.

https://www.change.org/p/moorgarth-group-save-bolton-palais-de-danse?recruiter=78113269&utm_source=share_petition&utm_medium=facebook&utm_campaign=share_page&utm_term=des-lg-share_petition-custom_msg

And to keep up-to-date follow Facebook’s Save the Bolton Palais de danse Information Page

https://www.facebook.com/BoltonPalais/?fref=ts

 

 

House of Grace is finally coming. I hope to launch it in the new year, so watch this space.

Grace meets Jack in Bolton’s Palais De Danse. This beautiful building which now risks being demolished. I never got to visit this wonderful venue when I lived in Bolton because I was too young. We moved when I was only eleven but I always hoped that one day I would return and get a chance to view it.

Members from Facebook Bolton’s Palais De Danse allowed me to see inside it through their memories which they shared to me when I was researching for House of Grace.

Now it’s my turn to return the favour and help them by highlighting the threat to this building.

To sign the petition go to:

https://www.change.org/p/moorgarth-group-save-bolton-palais-de-danse?recruiter=78113269&utm_source=share_petition&utm_medium=facebook&utm_campaign=share_page&utm_term=des-lg-share_petition-custom_msg

Also check out Bolton’s Palais De Danse information page https://www.facebook.com/BoltonPalais/?fref=nf

The following is an extract from House of Grace on the night she visits the Palais and meets Jack. Enjoy.

Extract taken from House of Grace – Part I –  Chapter 4.

I looked up at the sign. ‘Astoria Palais de Danse.’

‘Yes,’ Katy answered, ‘only we Boltonians call it the Palais. Come on, let’s go in.’

We waved goodbye to James. He promised to come and pick us up when the dance finished. The foyer was just inside the door and Katy handed over the banknote to the uniformed cashier who returned six shillings. Katy took my arm and led me towards a door on the left. As we entered, I took in the plush powder room. Big white mirrors hung either side of the wall, above swish red and gold chairs. We checked our hair and make-up then descended more stairs to a large cloakroom where we left our coats.

Katy said we needed to meet Jack and Eddie at eight o’clock under the clock in the ballroom. It was nearly time, so we headed that way. Lots of young couples waltzed around the dance floor, the men, dressed in plain suits with shirts and ties. Red, blue and spotted dresses twirled in direct contrast to tight black pencil skirts. We headed towards the clock situated by the left of the balcony. There was quite a crowd waiting. Two young men swaggered through the door in long brown draped jackets and narrow legged trousers. As they drew closer I noticed frayed hems and shiny patches on their coats.

‘Close your mouth,’ Katy said, ‘you look like you’re catching flies.’

I put my hand over it to stop me sniggering and signalled towards what was making me laugh.

Katy was horrified. ‘You’re such a snob, Grace Granville.’ She waved to the new arrivals.

I realised it must be Jack and Eddie. Shame consumed me.

The young men smiled as they approached.

‘Jack. Eddie.’ Katy pointed and then reached out to Jack to give him a brotherly hug. She kissed Eddie on the lips.

‘This is Grace,’ Katy said.

Jack took my hand, lifted it to his face and kissed it gently. ‘Pleased to meet you, Grace,’ he said.

Eddie finally took his eyes off Katy to say hello to me. When no one was looking she scowled in my direction. I mouthed I was sorry and sensed her softness returning.

Jack was tall and slim. Although his draped suit was ragged, I could tell the Venetian silk mohair was good quality fabric. Once he started chatting and I looked up into his grey blue eyes, the clothes didn’t matter. Blonde curls flicked across his forehead.

‘Come on, let’s dance,’ he said. ‘It’s The Fat Man, by Fats Domino.’

 He led me to the centre of the floor. Before long he was swinging me under his arms and making me twirl. I hadn’t expected a coal miner to have such immaculate timing. After a while we went up to the balcony for coffee and a pastry. There was no sign of Eddie and Katy but she’d given me three shillings from the change earlier.

‘I’ll get them,’ I told Jack, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He marched up to the counter and ordered cake and two coffees at sixpence each.

We sat down. Jack lifted the cup to his mouth. ‘Mmm,’ he said, ‘sugar, unusual these days.’ He smiled. ‘I don’t know, the war’s been over for five years, you’d think sugar rationing would be lifted by now.’

We laughed together. I was having a wonderful time. My heart beat fast, my tummy had more butterflies than a buddleia in bloom. We were so engrossed with each other’s company that we didn’t notice Katy and Eddie arrive at the table sipping coffees. It was only when I recognised her laugh, I looked up.

‘Ah, Gracie,’ she said, ‘having a good time?’

I smiled, pleased she’d forgiven me.

‘Shall we go back downstairs and do a bit more dancing?’ Jack asked.

Excited, we all headed back down. I was Cinderella at the ball. I’d only ever danced with girls at school. Yet here I was, gliding around the ballroom with Jack.

We must have danced every Waltz, Foxtrot, Quick Step, Rumba and of course the famous Jive. My feet had never moved so much. The clock struck twelve and the band went silent. Everyone rushed to the cloakroom to collect coats and outdoor shoes. When we walked out of the building, James was ready with the car. We all squashed up on the back seat, leaving me very close to Jack. My heart pounded, I was sure he could hear it and tried hard to silence it, to no avail.

*

 

And don’t forget HELP SAVE THIS PALAIS DE DANSE – SIGN THE PETITION

Also check out Bolton’s Palais De Danse information page https://www.facebook.com/BoltonPalais/?fref=nf

 

Today is National Poetry day so I thought I would share a couple of poems. Unfortunately I haven’t quite sussed out how to do the formatting but hopefully it comes out okay. Enjoy.

 Rapture  


I stand on a wooden footbridge
            look down
                         at the wrinkled stream
            flying fish dive
                        among lilies    burnt-red reeds.
Wild amber browns    forest greens
                        enfold me
            under the clear blue.



First published by Reach Magazine Issue 214 

 

Eclipse




Set in slow motion
the moon’s silhouette
cloaks the plate of the sun.

The moon grazes
the sweltering star,
            a solitaire band emerges,
                         black,
                                  broken beams chase the dark. 
Blackbirds,
             magpies,
                        crows,
                                    loom in circles,
                                                dance in formation,
                                                            shriek erratic screams.
Atmosphere chills.
The moon's shadow slithers away
–to reveal a daylight sky.

(first published in Reach Magazine Issue 212) 

I’ve neglected you all and I apologise for that, been busy with youngest home from uni and I don’t appear to have got much writing done other than a few poems. However, lots of other things have been happening and I’ve now got a writing residency which is a necessity for my next and final module for the MA. I’ll tell you all about it once I get back from Swanwick but there are lots of events being lined up for me already. The first September 10th.

Well for the first time ever I’m off to Swanwick Summer School and I shall come back and tell you all about it. I believe it’s the longest running Writing School but don’t quote me on that as I haven’t had a chance to check my facts.

I best get my skates on and finish the packing so I can catch the train to Derby. Fingers crossed the trains behave themselves and I reach my destination in time to pick up the school bus from the station.

 

 

 

Well university has finished for the summer, results are in and I’m happy with my grade. I have no more modules until February 2017 when I begin my final one, following with a dissertation, and in return I will have completed my MA in Creative Writing.

This summer and the autumn will be spent working on the Coal Miner’s Son, finding an agent or publisher for House of Grace and seeking a suitable placement as a Writer in Residence for Communities of Practice. Of course in between I shall be writing lots of poetry.

Today I am going to share one of my favourite poems  which has  been published by Reach, Indigo Dreams Publishing, Issue 209. This is part of a collection using a theme of Lost Identity, which I began after losing my mum two years ago. I’m sure many of you who have lost a parent have experienced this feeling, questioning who you are. Feeling Lost. The poems are fiction.

Here is Recognition. I hope you enjoy it. I’m afraid I don’t know why the format has messed up and given the poem double spacing. I hope it doesn’t defer your enjoyment.

Recognition

Black and white prints

cover creased hands.

Eyes narrow, dazed,

not seeing…

 

We slung satchels over knitted cardigans,

slammed the door,

grey pleated skirts hitched high above the knee.

 

We stood to attention at the bell,

split from my look-a-like,

a whistle insisted we march

into separate classrooms.

 

In the sixties we explored

Brighton Laines,

rummaged antique stores,

picked up gold leafed books,

bought treasure boxes

to hide shared secrets.

 

We sank into striped deckchairs,

flipped off our tops to reveal

psychedelic swimsuits-

plastic sunglasses concealed our faces.

We lazed by gull-grey waves,

pebbles chattered at our feet.

 

We sniffed salt from the sea,

cardboard cones on our noses,

read Jackie in the sun.

A transistor radio blurred Cathy’s

Clown, from the Top Ten charts.

 

I sit by the iron framed bed,

wait for a flicker of recognition.

 

Chubby Checker

blasts from the box

high on the wall

 

Lillie looks up,

whispers my name.

 

‘Freddie – The Twist.

you and me that day

 down in Brighton.’

 

 

 

There was no seminar for Week 6, instead we had a tutorial. Mine was at 3:25pm. It was no ordinary day as it was my birthday but I’m not going to tell you how young. To celebrate my friend and I shared a yummy chocolate muffin from the Student Union cafe after the predictable jacket potato of course. We know how to live.

I was very nervous about my tutorial as I wasn’t sure how my tutor would take to George and writing as a child narrator is quite different as to when I wrote House of Grace. However, I did not need to be nervous my tutor was lovely. She liked George and pointed out the good sensory bits and where I had shown well. She gave me some great feedback on how to improve it. For instance I was writing in past tense as I had with House of Grace but she pointed out as it was a child it worked better in present. She recommended I read Paul McVeigh’s, The Good Son, also written as a child narrator but in present tense. I have indeed read this novel and would recommend it as a very good read.

I’m  looking forward to an event in April, Amongst the Grown-ups, which is all about child narrators and I’m hoping this will help me too.

We’ve now broken up for the Easter break and the next meeting isn’t until April 12^th, on this session we are lucky to have a Masterclass with Nye Wright which I believe is on graphic novels.

 

I’m a bit behind it seems and can I remember much about week 5? That’s debatable. I do remember that I did my normal walk to the station and normal lunch at the Student Union cafe with my friend and ate the normal jacket potato and drank the normal black coffee. Predictable or what?

On to the seminar.

What we covered:

1. Conveying the world as seen through the subjective filter of a particular character’s viewpoint rather than as something in itself.

2. Using imagery, symbolism, sentence length and rhythm, and pace to create an atmosphere that conveys the character’s inner world through the description of the outer.

3. Experimenting with distance – close up, mid-shot, long shot.

Today we looked at the inner characterisation. When looking at a person from different distances, what can you tell about their character.

The first exercise we completed was to think of a character and place them in a natural setting. They could be sitting or standing in an environment such as sea or garden. Describe their surroundings, mood, using sensory detail, flow of sentences to create mood and atmosphere.

Writing exercise 1:

Stage 1: Write a subjective description of place including the particular sensory perceptions and mood of this individual character.

This is what I came up with: Please remember this is a free write without any edits.

Hints of heat stroke the back of my neck as I stroll around the rain-kissed lake. Silence except for ripples of water as flying fish do acrobats. Gulls fall like tissue turning the water white. My nose itches from the scent of grass. Moorhens chug boasting red beaks. I wipe drips from my face, tasting the drizzle that threatens a shower.  A cocktail of colours arches against the blue. Quacks emerge from the surrounding greenery, breaking the silence. A helicopter hovers overhead, an aeroplane hums in the distance, a mother with a screaming toddler and a crying baby in a pram passes me by. A hooded man cycles by almost knocking me over making me roar as I stumble. The promised rain becomes torrential.

We then swapped with our partners who gave feedback to what the story may be about.

Stage 2: After getting feedback expand on the description at a chosen point.

(Revised version also unedited)

Hints of heat stroke the back of my neck as I storm around the rain-kissed lake. How dare she speak to me that way? Silence except for ripples of water as flying fish do acrobats. The bloody cow, I’m sick to death of her coming around and telling me what to do. The gulls fall like tissue upon the water matching the tissue I use to wipe away my tears.

Moorhens chug along making me chuckle. A drip falls to my face, drizzle threatens a shower. A cocktail of colour arches the blue sky as the dark clouds begin to evaporate. Quacks emerge from the surrounding greenery as a family of ducks dive into the water.

A helicopter hovers overhead, an aeroplane with a screaming toddle and crying baby brushes past reminding me of the rage inside my stomach. A hooded man cycles by almost knocking me over, making me roar as I stumble. The promised rain becomes torrential reminding me that the storm is still within.

Feedback from my neighbour was to make more of the moorhens to adjust mood. Describe the screaming toddler and use more interior monologue.

No seminar next week but instead tutorials. I handed in the first 2000 words of George: The Heir of Granville to be given feedback at the tutorial session.

 

Well a funny start to this week’s Prose/Fiction.My journey to the station started as usual, but I had the additional bargain of getting soaked. Completely lost in thought, thinking about my characters, I discovered I was venturing up the wrong road. On auto route it seemed, off to the shops. I quickly turned around and was back on my way, luckily still in time for the train.

Once arriving at my destination,  I pulled out the soggy train ticket from my pocket. I knew it was going to be trouble. I managed to insert it into the slot and lo and behold, it was chewed up, leaving an amber light, barriers still closed, and me without a ticket. All this and still pouring with rain. I pressed the button on the tannoy, a female voice answered. The barriers  went up and I was through them in a flash. Next obstacle, the steps  were closed off. I stood lost for a few seconds until I noticed there was a disabled access, with a longer route, slightly further up I might add, more hindrance, and more time for me to get a bit wetter. Finally I’m in the dry and meet my friend.

On to Prose / Fiction Session

Well it was a strange one today, it appeared I was having a strange day. Unlike our normal small numbers, we were invaded by at least a dozen prospective MA Creative Writing students. They came to join in with the first part of our seminar. The room was very crowded and I have to admit, although I had no personal grudge against the students being there, I did find it a tad claustrophobic especially when I realised I was pinned behind a desk with no easy way out.

The session today was on Narrative Time.

We discussed:

1:         The difference between story time and narrative time.

Story Time = real time

Narrative Time = length of time it takes to tell.

2:         Dramatised scenes and summary and jumps

Mimesis          real time

Diagesis          condensing time

Elepsis             jumps in time

Focus on the scene – what moves the plot forward

Slow motion technique or suspension

3:         Pace

We looked at pace and how it is used in a ninety minute film – every minute focuses on the story – slowed down for important scenes. The same approach is applied to novel writing. Long vowels such as unfold – luxurious, slows the scene down whereas short vowels provide action.

A writing exercise was given:

Describe a scene in which something violent happens. Create a shift in pace.

I’m not going to post mine but why not have a go yourself and see what you come up with?

4:         Timelines and Structure: We looked at timelines in novels and we were referred to E.M. Forster’s, Aspects of a Novel— definitions of story, plot and mystery: the highest form of plot. (Example: Oedipus story – theme changes according to the order the story is told in.)

This followed with a second writing exercise:

Write a piece in three tenses.

Subject: Someone in deep trouble contemplating their situation. Paragraph one in present tense and real time. Thoughts and feelings may be included but nothing that reveals the cause of their situation or its consequences.

Part 2 should be written in past tense and summary: describe how they ended up here (CAUSE) (Make it interesting by using montage, adding sensory detail and emotion.)

Part 3: Thinking about the future consequences (EFFECT). Need not be written in future or present continuous tenses, but needs to be future focussed.

Again, I’m not going to post mine as I wasn’t happy with it but there’s nothing stopping you having a go.

***

The prospective students  left the room and the remainder of us discussed The Time Traveller’s Wife. The story sets up a mystery and the summaries are very visual as Audrey Niffenegger uses sensory material.

On page 10, she makes use of an ellipsis (jump) ‘later that evening’ and follows with a montage.

Following this discussion we moved into our small groups to listen to each other’s interior monologues from the assignment last week and feedback was given. I was pleased the way mine went down and the tutor suggested it would make a good radio play. Food for thought. When I have more time I shall re-visit the structure of a radio play and have a go.

Well that’s all really except to say – Things to do by next week:

Write 2000 words or a synopsis of expected end of module writing, so tutor can see writing before tutorial on the 15^th.

Write 1000 words on given subject for this week’s homework assignment.

Read Seamus Deane’s Reading in the Dark which I was sure I’d purchased but now I can’t find anywhere. Fingers crossed I can get on Kindle.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was a sunny but cold walk to the station this week. Thankfully the trains behaved and I got to uni in time for the usual jacket potato and beans with a black coffee. Sue and I discussed our creative writing as well as catching up on personal goings on.

Today’s Session – Plot, Narrative arc including premise and dramatic structure.

I was very excited about this session as our university course leader, Dr Jess Moriarty, had organised a treat for her MA Creative Writing students. A Masterclass run by Beth Miller. Beth is an inspiring author, journalist and teacher. Her enthusiasm bubbled and was very infectious.

(What is Plot, Narrative arc and what makes a good story, provided by Beth Miller.)

What is Plot?

Plot equals cause and effects– what happens?

A plot needs character and conflict.

What is Narrative arc?

Narrative arc is how the characters move from A to B. Each main character should have one and even minor characters should have a small one.

What makes a good story?

Starts with a bang

Quickly accelerates to level action

Moments of drama and suspense

Sustains a high pitch

Levels off and gradually comes down to earth                                                                                             

Story Endings 

Jeanette Winterson says this about endings:

‘There are only three possible endings to a story – if you put aside And They All Lived Happily Ever After, which isn’t an ending, but a coda.

The three possible endings are:

Revenge          Tragedy          Forgiveness

Shakespeare knew all about revenge and tragedy.’

You can find Winterson’s full essay at:

 http://www.jeanettewinterson.com/book/the-gap-of-time/essay/    

Beth favoured ‘Forgiveness’ as an ending, which is the route I normally take. How about you? What sort of ending do you like?

As part of our preparation for the class we were asked to bring along a plot for our piece of writing. I chose The Heir of Granville. I haven’t quite decided everything that life has in store for our poor George but I took what I’d done so far. Beth gave me the thumbs that it worked, she also offered some suggestions for ‘What happens next?’

We looked at Premise. What is Premise?

Premise is summing up what your story is about in one sentence. It isn’t that easy. With the help of student feedback, I was able to come up with a premise for The Heir of Granville. Beth was satisfied it worked.

Fifteen year old George, raised by unaffectionate noble grandparents, pines for the loving home of his earlier years when he discovers his life has been a lie and begins a long slow process to rebuild a relationship with his mother.

If you’re writing a novel or a long piece of writing and you haven’t already completed a premise, why not give it a go?

We are fortunate enough to see Beth again in April and she has offered to give feedback on 1000 words of any writing. At the moment I’m intending on producing the first 1000 words of The Heir of Granville. I will post that up in the future.

I’ve a lot of reading to catch up on to bring me up to date. I’ve almost finished Doris Lessing’s, The Grass is Singing, half way through The Writer’s Voice by Al Alvarez and need to re-read Audrey Niffenegger’s, Time Traveller’s Wife. I read this many years ago with my reading group and thoroughly enjoyed it. Have you read it?

This week I’ve been working on the interior monologue which needs to be ready for Tuesday. It’s been quite liberating. Once I’ve had feedback and had it confirmed that I’ve completed this exercise correctly I’ll post it up on the blog. You’ll have to excuse the language though as one of the characters does need his mouth washing out with soap!

Other creative writing activities this week were:

I visited Southbank’s to see David Mitchell and Kazuo Ishiguro come together to discuss the writing process. Readers will probably know Ishiguro best through The Remains of the Day and Never Let Me Go. I’ve read both of these through my reading group and have to say that Never Let Me Go still haunts me today. If you haven’t read it then do so. The Remains of the Day is an excellent read too. Through my reading group we are about to embark on Ishiguro’s brand new novel, The Buried Giant.

David Mitchell is best known for The Bone Clocks and Cloud Atlas. I haven’t read any of these yet but I did watch the film Cloud Atlas and it was one of the best I’ve ever seen. A friend has lent me a copy of Mitchell’s, Number 9 Dream and I am looking forward to getting better acquainted with his writing. Has anyone read it?

What I found very interesting with this duo was their answers to the following questions.

‘Do you know the endings of your book before you start writing?’

Mitchell answered that he didn’t know his endings but Ishiguro said he couldn’t write a book without knowing. When I wrote House of Grace, I knew exactly what the ending was going to be before I started, even if I wasn’t quite sure of the in-between, however as I said earlier, I’m still unsure as to exactly what will happen at the ending in The Heir of Granville.

Which is the right way I wonder? Is there a right or wrong way? How do you tackle your stories?

The other question that was answered that stuck in my head was about music.

Did you like to listen to music when writing?

Here Mitchell answered yes as long as it was instrumental or in another language. A clash again because Ishiguro said he needed silence, if he listened to music he’d be listening out for chords and cadences. Personally I like classical music in the background, it’s just there and doesn’t interfere with my writing at all, in fact I’d go as far as to say it inspires me. However, I do know other writers that like complete silence.

What kind of writer are you? Do you like music in the background or do you need that absolute quiet?

Another novel I’m looking forward to getting stuck into is Paul McVeigh’s, The Good Son. As McVeigh uses a child narrator, I’m hoping it will help me in writing The Heir of Granville. Later this year I intend to attend an event ‘Amongst the Grownups’ which looks at novels written using a child narrator.

Well I think that will do for this week’s blog. I hope you’ve enjoyed it and do some of the exercises yourself at home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I stepped out of the house to a gorgeous blue sky with fragments of fluffy white clouds. Cherry trees boasted early blossom, the sun shielded my face and ears from the wind’s bite. Everywhere was calm, in fact, almost silent, except for birds tweeting and chirping amongst the trees. A stationery car engine rumbled, an occasional motor vehicle hummed as it drove by. An aeroplane flew over, it’s drone joined  the orchestra— the birds, definitely the solo, soprano part.

I divided my walk to the station into six legs as I listened to my character’s voices chatting in my head. I’d just passed leg three when I came to an old tubby red Royal Mail post box. We don’t see many like this these days. When I think of the changes in the past fifty years it seems a tremendous jump. I wonder what my grandparents would have made of it all. The days  when we had tin baths and outside toilets like featured in House of Grace. Of course a home such as Granville Hall where Grace lived before marrying Jack, had luxury bathrooms and inside toilets. What a struggle it must have been for Grace to come to terms with her new life when she became a coalminer’s wife, yet she never complained.

After having lunch with my student friend, we began this week’s Prose/Fiction seminar. First a freewrite, followed by looking at Voice and Style, starting with Alvatrez’s, The Writer’s Voice. When I read through this at home it brought up old familiar names like Ezra Pound, prompting me to think of Hilda Doolittle, or H.D. Imagiste as otherwise known. H.D. was a big inspiration to me when I studied poetry last year. Henry James jumped out and I thought of my friend and fellow student, Sue, who draws from him in her gothic work.

We moved on to discuss readings from various writers. Out of this we drew on the effects created from using nouns, verbs and adjectives. For instance: strong verbs create a sense of movement so ideal for an action scene and adjectives can form a dream like quality.

After looking at interior monologue and free indirect style we were given a writing challenge to produce small passages on both. I failed miserably. However, for our homework we were  given a 1000 word assignment to write using an interior monologue or free indirect style. Having started this work, I think perhaps I’ve grasped it. Or as Henry Higgins from My Fair Lady would say, ‘I think she’s got it.’ Let’s hope so.

The second half of the session we split up into two groups and read our writing homework assignments given last week. We offered feedback to each other. I re-wrote a scene from my current novel, The Heir of Granville. The feedback was very encouraging. I enjoyed listening to the work of the other members in my group and impressed by the overall quality.

Here is the scene when George first arrives at Granville Hall: 

Martha wiped her hands down her pinny before hauling me up the winding staircase. Grey hair hung down from the cap that circled her lined face. 

            ‘Stop pulling me,’ I said.

             The batty old hag took no notice, just kept tugging and then pushed me into a large bathroom. She turned on the gold taps, they were really posh. The bath was clean and white, unlike our old tinnie that had to be dragged in from the backyard. Mam had to boil buckets of water on the stove to fill it. 

            The patterned window reminded me of church and shiny green tiles and pictures covered the walls. We had flowery wallpaper in our house which Da decorated before I was even born. Martha took a bottle of brown liquid off the shelf and added some to the running water. The smell reminded me of school when I mopped up Smelly Susie’s wee. I wished I was home in Wigan and at school with Miss Jones.  

             Martha turned the taps off. ‘Get undressed.’ 

            ‘Not with you looking.’ 

            ‘Do as you’re told, lad.’ 

            I just stood there, so she ripped off me clothes, even me underpants. I put me hands over me privates and squeezed me eyes shut so she couldn’t see me cry. 

            ‘Get in. I haven’t got all day.’ 

            I climbed into the smelly warm water. Big boys shouldn’t cry but I couldn’t help it. I turned my head towards the door, a girl dressed like Martha stood in the doorway. She waved to me. I wanted to wave back because she seemed nice but I couldn’t because I was in the nuddie. What would Da have said if he saw me like this? 

            ‘Annie, don’t stand there gawking.’ Martha pointed. ‘Pass that carbolic soap.’ 

            She grabbed the slab of soap off Annie and started to scrub me like Mam scrubs the floor. Me skin was going raw like Smelly Susie’s face. Martha’s hands moved lower so I quickly covered up me willie but she wasn’t having any of that, she shoved me hands out of the way and sank hers down into the water to scrub. 

            ‘Stop it,’ I said, ‘You’re hurting me.’ 

            Annie bit her lip. 

            ‘What’s your problem?’ Martha said to the girl. ‘Lady Granville wants him deloused. This is the best way.’ She tutted. ‘Make yourself useful, get his clean clothes.’ 

            I looked up into the old witch’s face. ‘I don’t have louses.’ 

            Annie winked at me before she left the room. Maybe I’d made a new friend.

            The witch slapped me. ‘Of course you do, all poor people do. Now shut that bawling, you’ll have her Ladyship up here.’ 

            ‘I don’t, I don’t. Mam checks me hair every week after bath night.’ I pointed down in the water. ‘I don’t have any down there either.’ 

            Annie dashed in and plonked me clothes on a stool. 

            Martha finally stopped scrubbing. ‘Girl, pass that nit rake, will you?’ She snatched the metal comb from Annie and tugged it through me hair. ‘Now go and get his room ready.’ 

            The girl dashed out. 

            Once the witch was happy I didn’t have louses, she threw a white towel on top of me clothes. ‘I’ll be back in five minutes.’ She left the room huffing and puffing. 

            Me skin was stinging, and red like a cooked lobster. Miss Jones taught me what happens to lobsters when they’ve been cooked. I drained the bath and the water whizzed down the plughole and made a rude noise. Mam would like a bath like this instead of having to heave the tinnie out into the yard to empty it. Sometimes I helped now that Da had died. What was Mam going to do without me? Who would help to feed Betty and cook the sausage and mash? I wrapped the massive towel around me belly, it was soft on me sore skin and I dabbed meself dry. I was climbing into the clean shorts just as Martha and Annie wandered back in. 

            ‘Good God, look at those rags,’ Martha said to Annie, ‘he can’t possibly meet his Lordship like that. Miss Elizabeth better take him to town in the morning to buy new clothes.’ 

            I lowered me head. There was nothing wrong with me clothes, why did she say that? She sounded just like Grandma. 

            ‘Is his room ready?’ she added. 

            ‘Yes, I’ll take him. George, if you’d like to follow me?’ Annie smiled before marching along the landing making me run to keep up. 

             ‘This is your room. Cook will prepare your dinner and just for tonight you can eat it in here.’ In the morning come down to the kitchen and meet her, she’ll make you breakfast and make a big fuss of you. Martha’s not that bad either once you get to know her. Chin up Chicken.’ 

            Left alone, I explored the huge room, running me fingers over the silky blue cover on the bed. In the mirror of the tall wardrobe I could see the matching chest of drawers. I remembered Mam sitting at her dressing table putting on lippie for Da’s funeral. She just sat staring in the mirror. She didn’t even know I was there. 

            I stomped over to the other side of the room to look out of the wide window. Bees were buzzing over gorgeous purple and pink flowers. A pigeon plodded around on the grass, he must be hunting for worms. I hunted for worms when we used to go to the park with Da, Mam was too sick to come when she was expecting our Betty. I sank me fingers into the gold curtain and brought it up to me face to wipe me eyes. 

            The door opened, I quickly jumped away from the curtain. What was the old witch going to do now? I shivered. Mam, I want me mam.