Category: Uncategorized

HTML Giant, Ted Hughes, permission to write, privilege, education, commas.

Sara Crowley16 Comments

I read online publications and submit my own stories. The standard is high (so high that comparing the weaker books for sale at work in the bookshop leaves me baffled at how they are published in print and some of these online authors are not) and sometimes that is an exhilarating thing that inspires and pushes me, and other times it kinda makes me a wee bit anxious – am I good enough, how can I get better?

There are a wealth of do’s and don’t’s scattered thru the lit blogs; advice which can help but also hinder. HTML Giant has a lot of very good writers who say things authoritatively, persuasively and thoughtfully. (And other times they talk a load of bollox, but that’s not relevant right now.) I enjoy reading HTML Giant although occasionally I struggle with what I perceive as its American Academia “in club” vibe.

Recently I have been fretting about my lack of a formal writing education. I don’t think my A level English Lit counts for much! I have begun doubting my ability to compete with all the MFA/MA students out in the world. I am pretty much self taught, and what I know I have gleaned from reading. It has got me this far, wherever this far is. Now I worry that misplacing a comma and fucking up formatting is working against me when I submit to the same ‘zines these HTML people edit and inhabit.

I took Simon to Oxford for a birthday treat last weekend. We did the tourist bus tour and looked at University sites and beautiful old buildings. Part of me felt a familiar twist of resentment – I felt the same when we visited Cambridge – a tug of longing to immerse myself in study, an unpleasant envy of those who do. Anyway, I enjoyed myself in Blackwell’s. I bought a copy of Strunk and White’s “Elements of Style” which I hope may help me. I also bought a half price copy of “Letters of Ted Hughes”. I’m a huge cliche in that I adore the whole Ted and Sylvia *thing* and have for years. I love both of their poetry (and prose) and hold them in the highest literary regard. Their story began in Cambridge, and knowing that Sylvia Plath was a genius student I have always imagined that Ted was too. I began reading “Letters” last night and was delighted to read Christopher Reid (the editor) write in his introduction:

“A more pervasive problem has been what to do with Hughes’s spelling mistakes, which occur liberally in both manuscripts and typescripts, and with his idiosyncratic punctuation and sometimes wayward grammar and syntax.”

Yipee! He goes on:

“Oddities of punctuation are even more abundant, and most of these I have preserved…”

“…Missing commas and full stops, the pairing of single with double inverted commas, lists lacking their expected commas and such like.”

Now I am in no way comparing my writing self with that of Hughes, but ooh, how lovely to know that such a hero had fucksy commas too! Plus, he swapped his English course for Anthropology and only achieved a 2nd. Ha!

Onwards!

Best of the year with salt 2009

Sara Crowley5 Comments

I used to do this best of the year thing and then Matt died and nothing felt best. I suppose it’s a good sign that I feel a little like doing a sort of a best of the year thingybob. My main problem is that I can barely remember what happened this morning let alone twelve months ago, so it’s more a snapshot of things I think are rather splendid on the 30th December 2009.

Arms of the year award.

MELT!

Novel of the year

Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout was my most enjoyable read of the year. I loved the writing, the stories and the character of Olive. Such a beautiful book.

However my novel of the year is Lorrie Moore’s A Gate at the Stairs. It was an exciting event to have a new Moore book to read, and she did not disappoint with her hugely ambitious novel.

My WBQ review:

Tassie Keltjin leaves her rural home to study in liberal, artsy Troy. She takes a job as a part-time nanny for a white couple and their adopted ‘biracial’ daughter, then she falls in love and becomes increasingly distant from her own family.

Fans of Lorrie Moore should rest assured that this long-awaited novel is chock-full of her customary word play, the sugar with which she coats her biting social commentary. Her appraisal of post-9/11 America is engaging, witty and quietly devastating; this story follows characters who are distorted, as though in a house of mirrors, by the trials of life and time.

Short Story Collection of the year

My runner up is A.L Kennedy’s What Becomes which is an impeccable collection from one of the most talented writers around. These are stories that ache and resonate as Kennedy’s stylistic scalpel reveals the pain and truth inside each of her characters. Highly recommended. But not my winner.

You all can guess my winner right?

Janice Galloway’s Collected Stories brings together stories from “Blood” and “Where You Find It” and is a masterclass on writing. In my opinion there is no finer writer around. All this judgement, all these “best of’s” are nonsensical, it’s all subjective. And yet, for me, Galloway picks the perfect words each time. Bloody marvellous!

Album of the year

Jay-Z Blueprint 3

What a record! Empire State of Mind and Run This Town are both so, so, so fabulous.

Lesson of the year

You know that sometimes people say that writing is all about who you know. Cliques and in peeps, blah bah blah. I have observed some of that myself actually, occasionally. But sometimes you can write something and it will be good, and that’s all that is needed. Funny that, eh? All you actually need do is write good words!

So – here’s to good words.

Can I hear a woot woot for Anna Britten please?

Sara Crowley4 Comments

Bridport have published their list of prizewinners and shortlisted authors here. I have only read one of the stories – “On Creation” by Anna Britten. I can’t imagine the quality of those that beat this to the top three. I have read many, many short stories this year and On Creation is the one that stays with me, it is hugely ambitious, superbly controlled writing. Congratulations to all Bridporters – especially to Anna whose writing is inspiring and quite marvellous – I look forward to the anthology.

Gloomy news for Borders

Sara Crowley2 Comments

Gloom is a good descriptive word I think, and very apt for this mornings news from Reuters that Border’s UK are in administration. Over at The Bookseller employee’s of Borders were commenting that they hadn’t been told anything by their management and now Reuters have issued a follow up statement saying that Borders is “mulling administration” but is not yet “in” administration. Sigh.

How awful for all the employees.

And for all bookshops.

Love your bookshops people, support them, don’t just do that easy, online clicky thing!

Tired, bitchy, drunk…race, women, writers…

Sara Crowley5 Comments

I haven’t written here for a while, 2 and a half weeks ish – it’s hard to find time lately and it seems that when I do write I always seem to be tired, bitchy, or drunk (or as of right now, all three.) Oh, whatever, it’s not an exam, it’s just my blog. On with the blethering!

I am loving PANK right now. Love Roxane Gay, love some of the work she’s choosing, love her blog. She recently began a debate on “Awkward Stuff, Race, Women, Writers, Editors”
 which was fascinating. I rather wanted to join in but was ensconced in an Oxford hotel that deemed blogs, facebook and twitter as unacceptable!

I have been to a few literary events and found them to be uncomfortably chock full of white, middle class British people and then realised that actually I easily pass as just that. I can fit in there. I won a short story competition whose prize was complimentary tickets to a very expensive event held in grandiose halls and surrounded by lush countryside. There was only one black woman there; she came from my area (East London) and we struck up conversation. One very tweedy woman asked her where she came from, and when she replied “Leytonstone” the woman said “No, originally.” The response “Erm, West London” had me spluttering with mirth, embarrassment, anger, incredulity.

Not sure what this tells you.

I think writing should be about anyone, anywhere, communicating with words. And an editor can’t see if you are young, pretty, black, gay, dyspraxic, whatever – so if the words are what count then why aren’t there a more diverse group of people being published. Is it down to economics? Education? Expectations?

I helped out at my twins school for a while, trying to teach/encourage reading. I think reading is the foundation of everything else and yet many of the kids I sat with came from backgrounds where books weren’t part of day to day life. Seeing little children learn to sound out words and garner meaning from the bizarre mish mash of shapes on a page is a triumph. But it’s with practice that confidence comes.

Personally I get pissed at the whole cool boys club I see sometimes. I deliberately seek out fabulous women writers that I can aspire to, but also I just soak up good words which is how I am able to admire the work of some men who are sometimes utter twunts. I’m not sure if I am going to manage to make a point here (the whole bottle of wine thing) but I shall try. I like words, all words. I will use the word “cunt” as I enjoy its power to shock. It’s just a word, and I subscribe to the Germaine Greer idea that it is kinda quaint that one of the few remaining words with the power to shock is actually merely a vulgar word for a vagina. Who has the power now boys? Dick/cock etc just doesn’t pack the same punch! What I hate though is the mysoginistic “I’d like to stick a carrot in your vag” attempt at edgy literature that I have been seeing rather too frequently. Not edgy, clever, subversive at all guys, rather it’s tiresome, insulting, juvenile and lazy.

So, erm, the point I was making is…sigh, not sure, gonna go and sleep this off…

; )

Bobbins, short stories (and Janice Galloway)

Sara Crowley11 Comments

I love my job. I feel very lucky to work in such an amazingly gorgeous bookshop and to get to go in one day a week and soak up the fiction. Anyway, bobbins and short stories:

A woman came and asked if we had a copy of a specific book. Yes we do, it’s on the next floor up.
“Oh, forget it,” she said sounding disappointed and left.

Someone bought my all time favourite novel “The Trick is to Keep Breathing” by Janice Galloway and I couldn’t resist saying “Ooh, I love this book, it’s my favourite novel EVER.”
“Oh,” the customer replied. “I was looking at “Where You find It” too.”
“You MUST get that as well,” I said. “It’s amazing.”
“Okay. You know, I came in for “This is not about me” really but couldn’t find it.”
“Oh my goodness, also brilliant, it’s in biography, I can grab you a copy if you like?”
BEST CUSTOMER EVER! Oh, and for anyone who has followed my triumphant tale of selling the awesome “Where You FInd It” collection, that brings the total sold to 72. Not bad for a book we didn’t stock eh?
Exciting news is that a collection of Janice Galloway’s stories is forthcoming. How cool is that? I suppose I’ll replace my “Where You Find It”‘s with the new collection, but I’ll be sad in a way. I’m very fond of that book.

Controversially (or, erm, not) I put “Olive Kitteridge” in my short story display case. (If Annie Clarkson reads this please note that Brighton Waterstones has a gorgeous short story display case!)

In other short story news A. L Kennedy’s new collection “What Becomes” is out. I had the pleasure of reviewing it for Waterstone’s Books Quarterly: ( “What Becomes is an impeccable collection from one of the most talented writers around. These are stories that ache and resonate as Kennedy’s stylistic scalpel reveals the pain and truth inside each of her characters. Highly recommended.”)

Today a new online journal has been published. Fancy a read? Head over to The Collagist.