Sparks is tonight, and I will be reading (gulp) along with Jo Horsman, Melissa Mann, Steve Finbow, and Martin Reed. Stories by Joel Willans and Anna Britten will also be read. This all takes place Upstairs at the Three and Ten, Steine Street, Brighton.
Category: me
Inadequacy!
The post-person delivered another book for me to review today. I always open review books hopefully, but a little nervously. Ploughing through something I hate and then having to write a review is tedious, and I resent the time it takes, but the lovely feeling that accompanies reading a fresh voice, a good writer, is brilliant. Plus, of course, I am ever so delighted by FREE books, to be paid to read fiction and give an opinion is a (mini) dream come true.
Anyway, these proofs always come with a publishers blurb which attempt to sell both the novel and the author. I have never read a blurb with such…I’m not sure, gob smacked envy? My goodness, this woman seems to have lived a life I didn’t know really could exist out of the pages of a novel. She may well be a wonderful person, so I don’t want to name her, but to give a flavour of the bio:
Ms Posh Name is 27. She is very beautiful, her lovely face adorns the blurb. She is an actress, and a prize winning classical musician, she is also a journalist who writes for all the decent newspapers one can think of. Did I mention her double first at Cambridge? Her Masters at Harvard? She is married, does a lot of charity work, and wrote this debut novel in-between filming scenes whilst on location. I have no idea what the book will be like, but cripes, sitting here, fat, old, with a cold and aches and holding my very own pity party, I just feel so inadequate.
blah to the max
I feel blah.
I feel a little as if I want to hibernate and not mix with people, and not sub work, and not talk much, and not put myself “out there” for a while. I think it would be good to settle on the sofa and read some absorbing books. I would like to not worry about deadlines and writing the novel. I bought wii fit on Friday, i’d like to read, and write for pleasure (not to deadlines or for subbing,) and go on the wii fit, and talk to my lovely boys.
I’m on the Waterstone’s New Voices committee or whatever they call it, and I got sent a bunch of books today. I looked them over and it seems I got a couple of cool ones. Last year I think I must have got the dregs because there was nothing I liked at all.
I miss Matt.
So much.
If you go on wikipedia there’s a section of “recent deaths”. I started scouring the ages of people who died this month, looking at their ages, hoping everyone was way older than me.
elimae, happy day, hip hip hurray!
I have a small thing up in this months elimae.
I love elimae. Really, really love it. I love the way it looks, the way it’s set out, the words, the way the editor responds to submissions, the care that goes into it. I am so chuffed to be there again.
Highs, lows, blah di blah
I felt fairly chipper yesterday. A couple of things happened that made me feel a bit happy. Writing related things that made me feel part of something, as if I’m not being delusional about wanting to be a writer. That’s one of my big fears, deluding myself. I try to be honest with myself, you know, pat on the back when I think I’ve done well, slap round the chops when I’m slacking off. When I was young everyone I knew was in a band. My best friend is an amazing singer, my husband is a mega talented drummer, my other buddies included the worlds greatest bass player, a lot of guitarists, some keyboardists, and a fair smattering of vocalists too. And I was always the audience. I never wanted to be up there on stage with them, always knew that writing was my thing. Lots of them were really talented. Others were tragic. Really, truly shit, but they thought they were awesome, strutting about bloated with self importance. I would look at them, and tell myself that I was never ever to start to think I was something I am not.
I still check myself now. Am I any good? I dunno. Sometimes I think yes, other times I’m very fragile and think I’m just another one of those foolish wannabes.
Anyway, last night, I was fairly whoo hoo. Then today I got a reject. I hate the whole subbing, hoping, judging process. When a piece is out it can be a wonderful time. It feels buzzy because I have been proactive enough to get off my fat butt and sub. There is hope in the air. Dreams. And an acceptance is a beautiful validating thing. It says, yes, you do have something, yes this is good. Then come the rejections. Sometimes they are nothing more than a moments disappointment. Sometimes they sting a little. The one I got today shook me though. The writing I sent is good. It has been judged highly in the past. It is my best. People have said very positive things about it. It didn’t even make a long shortlist. There weren’t that many entries, and it didn’t make the grade. I feel stupid, embarrassed, and to be truthful, I guess a tiny voice inside is asking if I am like one of those kids with my guitar, making a public fool of myself.
Brand new Flash Fiction night in Brighton
Jo Horsman is setting up a new Flash Fiction evening, “Sparks”, at Upstairs at Three and Ten in Brighton.
The very first event will take place on October 14th. I will be there, attempting to read a tiny flash that made me bawl when I wrote it, so lots of fun eh?
Jo is looking for submissions from people who are available to read on the night. She invites subs of 500 words or less, on any theme. Please send to :
jo horsman@hot mail.co.uk (remove the spaces)
for her consideration.
Or, if you wish to attend, tickets will be available from Other Place Productions nearer the time, at a cost of £5. Places are limited, as this very cool venue has a limited capacity of 46. (It is in a room above a good pub, and drinks can be taken into the venue. Hurray. I may need several!)
A tiny string of words at Ink Sweat and Tears
See You Next Tuesday – The second coming
I have a story in this new anthology published by Better Non Sequitur. These are fifty 1,000 word stories with a sex theme. (Mine is definitely not erotica) – in the words of the publisher:
Not only are people all around the world having lots of sex, but they are also writing about it. See You Next Tuesday: The Second Coming is the second compilation of 50 sex-riddled (first-published) short fictions that try to transcend perhaps the most universal subject in existence.
Writing from across the globe, each 1,000-word text promises to evoke and provoke the existential and thoughtful corners of your most erotic of organs (namely the one in your head). In other words, the rumors are true, the waiting has ended: The Second Coming is here!
Awesome new literary journal (with me in) – CEllA’S Round Trip
Today sees the launch of a fantastic new literary and visionary journal. CEllA’S Round Trip has been created and edited by Rachel Hartley-Smith. Please check it out, I know that you’ll be blown away by the visuals and the writing.
It includes two stories by me. Hurrah!
Fire Words and Steak and Beer – (Steak and Beer is my attempt at a Bukowski pastiche!)
It is a real delight to be in such a stunning journal.
Given away free with Time Out!
I have subscribed to Time Out for years and years. Today my weekly copy arrived, and squee, I’m in it! Or rather, Porn Mallow, a story of mine, is in it. Or to be more exact, my story is in Litro, which is being given away free with Time Out.
Anyway, I am delighted to be one of three authors in this edition of Litro. Funnily enough one of the other writers is Vanessa Gebbie which is rather ace.
Big thanks to lovely Litro!
Sara Crowley 