Snowy start to spring

Pics of the great house at Annamakerrig, otherwise known as the Tyrone Guthrie Centre for Writers and Artists, and the lake in front of it from the far side - a bit mucky but worth the walk.

So, there we were in March, and we thought spring had finally arrived, but it turned out that winter still had a sting in its tail to deliver.Still, I've had a great time sorting out my poems, writing a few more and letting some air into the cobwebbed spaces that were my mind. I feel refreshed, recharged and ready to face the next few weeks...!

The snow is now melting here and the sun is quite warm - and it's April.

Annamakerrig Awaits

I'll be off writing for a whole week, undisturbed (sans hub, sans kids, sans everything - bar the sense), at the Tyrone Guthrie Centre for Artists and Writers.

Tyrone Guthrie, playwright, was a rare spirit. He gifted his estate, deep in the drumlins of Co. Monaghan, to the Irish state upon his death in 1971, as a place to be developed for giving artists a space to work in.

I've already received a couple of bursary residencies to this magical place, last year (one lot from Dundalk Town Council, another from the centre itself), and by the Goddess did I make the most of those three weeks.

This coming week is my last gifted week there, making the most of Tyrone Guthrie's far-sighted hospitality, which is continued through the friendly staff who mind the place on his behalf, for us writers and artists: Guests of the Nation, indeed!

Thanks TG.

Meeting Roddy Doyle

It's always nice when you can get work and your own interests together in the same room, and it didn't come any better than this afternoon, when the long-awaited 'One Author, One Community' initiative finally came to fruition in Navan, and Roddy Doyle sailed into our midst for a totally spellbound two-hour visit.

We had chosen to read and work on one of his lesser known novels, 'Mad Weekend,' written in 2006, the year after Liverpool had won the European silverware (after a dramatic match: first half - no score, second half, score 3 - 0... remember...?). Anyhoo, the plot of this novella, saw three 20 something Dub male mates organise to go to a match in Liverpool on the night they are watching the European final. When they eventually get to Liverpool, they spend a great deal of time in The Beehive pub chatting up girls and losing one of their number - as well as seeing a Chelsea v Liverpool match... and the rest - well, you'd have to read it :)

Featuring Roddy's trademark snappy Dub (and Liverpudlian) dialogue, all the groups of learners involved really got into appreciating Roddy's work in the lead-up to today: some wrote him letters, some wrote him reviews, and some thought up some fiendishly difficult questions, which Roddy answered with generosity and aplomb - heck, even panache.

Well, he won a definite fan in me - not that that was ever in doubt. I still fondly remember going to see The Committments in Camden Town in London, back in 1991 with my mates and feeling very proud of being Irish afterwards, even we were all eejits. I was so proud today to see how well everyone acquitted themselves - and I think I won a few fans over to the cause of reading and writing - not bad for a few weeks work :)

Word up: Roddy's own favourite book is actually The Snapper; he told us a great story about how he was in the Rotunda, waiting for his own wife to give birth, and while there the camera crew turned up to film the pregnant girl arriving to the hospital - talk about life imitating art.

Excellent day - deadly buzz man!

Teaching and Writing - do they mix?

I've been super-duper busy since the beginning of September - the observant among you can't have failed to notice the dearth of posts here. Why? Well, I got hours teaching for Navan VEC, as well as getting my own Saturday Creative Writing classes back up and running again (in a lovely new venue, DKIT).

So something had to give; the writing. And there's the rub. If I don't write, I don't have material to work on or send out. If I don't write, I don't develop all the ideas I have percolating away. If I don't write, I start to feel a little bit nuts.

I have just been coming back to the idea of writing this last few days - that must mean that I'm getting used to the teaching - thank goodness. And I still have one unused week from my residential bursary coming up: on the mid-term break. I should feel a little guilty about going off to write for a week at Annaghmakerrig and abandoning my husband to the six mini-monsters (okay, kids), but the truth is, I don't have time to feel guilty about it.

In that magical place I'll have the space to think, walk, eat, write and fool around with words, but more importantly I'll have the space to get three mini-projects nailed that have been rocketing around my brain for the last three weeks. The best thing about having to drive to Navan from Dundalk is the head space it allows for me to think. No time wasted, eh?

I can't bloody wait!

The Great Outdoors

I have a story in Indieoma's latest feature: The Great Outdoors.

It's called Jacob's Ladder. Have a look see and discover why rock-climbing is something of a passion of mine.

Where I am this week

Feminism - where's it at?

Indieoma are running a week's worth of articles, essays and all sorts of commentaries on the new feminism, by female writers. Go and read, and if you enjoy it, do leave a comment!

There's some intelligent and lively writing there, from some intelligent and lively writers (and that's not just because I'm one of them ;) ) - what are you waiting for!

Taking Stock and Leaving a Barrel

I am making the annual pilgrimage to Kerry, with seven kids, two cars, lots of clothes, assorted amusements and another adult for a week.

What chance do you think of me getting some writing done there, with all the distractions?

Sun, sand, barbeques and some sea air. Then there's the view from our sitting room window. Ever changing, it's better than TV! There's a lot to be said about being half way up a mountain looking down over Dingle bay.

I get to read in Tralee on Monday 4th August, with many poets, new, old and young... and chat about the future of books...

See you all when I get back, and feel free to party in the comments box, a wee tradition that started over at Minx/Debi/Pundy's house. I think.

How not to do NaPo

Oh dear: I've stalled on NaPo around about 17 poems in. Not because I've nothing to write about, but because I suddenly realised that I had a lot of work to do on the pieces that I need to submit for the end of this semester. No-one said it was going to be easy!

NaPo hasn't been a waste of time though: I've written 17 poems, which is 17 more than I had, and I can use about six or so for the major submission. They tie in nicely with the (hopefully)emerging theme of time and memory, so nothing wasted - ever.

I've three assigments on the go: one a set of ten poems about 19thc Victorian attitudes towards sex; a set of twenty as yet unrelated poems (but I'm working on that you can hear the thumping and banging from where you are, I bet) as well as 2000 words of commentary about process, development, themes etc. and finally a review/critique of a poetry collection or collection. That last one sounds simple enough, but I'm having difficulty in sourcing previous collections of the writer whose book I'd like to review for this assignment. I'd like to be able to give a very rounded review and that means researching the previous three... odds bodkins!

The Joys of...

..writing! O, but spring has sprung here, even if it is cold and I am enjoying my return to college: full as this year's semester is going to be.

On Wednesdays, I attend a class on Life Writing, facilitated by the bould Ian Sansom. I have come across his writing in The Dublin Review (great round-up of the great and good in Irish (and beyond) writing) and The Yellow Nib (journal of the Queen's Seamus Heaney Centre). I believe he also writes for the Guardian (of a Saturday) and he organised a poetry appreciation class last semester, which alas I was unable to attend. You might get a flavour for his writing here, on his well-organised, informative and amusing website.

Yes, I'm gushing, aren't I? It's hard not to gush when you've attended one of Ian's classes: the sheer energy of his delivery; his enthusiasm for books and book recommendations; the simplicity with which he sets sparks blazing in you and the good sound advice he gives on the subject of writing alone, have been worth the fees for the MA alone (not to mention Sinead Morrissey, Medbh McGuckian, Daragh Carville - but enough name-dropping already!).

So, the subject is Life Writing, and the various forms thereof: biographical; essays - whatever you want to explore - it's all there. And the reading list alone is throwing up some wonderful books that I'd never come across: Jack Barzun's Simple and Direct: A Rhetoric for Writers is a lucid example. This book will serve either the beginner writer, or the writer who's ready for a brush-up. It's full of great examples of how not to write and contains exercises for helping you re-appraise how you use your words.

Last week's opening salvo was a twenty point 'Things Writers ought to Know:' otherwise billed as an undergraduate's course in Creative Writing Techniques. Now, I know that some might say that that is terribly reductive - but there is a sense in having it all there; simple and direct, I guess. That's just fifteen minutes from the class!

Anyway. I must go and do my homework while I still have some finger-stumps left to work with: An Essay of 1000 words on a subject from a list I made earlier of 'Things That I Would Like to Write About Before I Die.' When you look at it like that you really don't want to mess about in what's left of your writing career, do you?

Shh! Writer at Work!

I wish I could find one of those amusing red triangle road signs to accompany this post and to park outside the bedroom door - it's bedlam here as I try to work on one of the many projects I'm supposed to hand up in about three weeks.

There were some kids hanging out of light fittings (voluntarily, I add) a few moments ago - at least that's what it sounded like. And I also heard some crashing a while back. Good job I have some cover-all music going in the background, or I might hear more things I don't want to hear!

See, I had this idea about objects, a big mountain and, well, snow and cold and wind - a bit like it was outside earlier, only way colder - anyhow, I thought I'd throw in the extra handicap of writing all of these things into sonnets.

Oh yes. If you're going to do something, may as well make it real hard. Real hard. So why not set yourself a goal - say, ten sonnets? Five down, and five to go... by Sunday!

Oh - and make them rhyme as well - why not the whole kit and kiboodle, while you're at it... I know - I should really write them with handcuffed wrists behind my back whilst whistling Dixie... hasn't someone done that before...?

Creative Writing Classes

Today, I began facilitating the first of a series of eight Creative Writing classes. I must admit that I felt like I fell into the whole thing by accident. I didn't allow myself to believe that they were going to happen, because I thought that no-one would come. Imagine my pleasure and surprise to read about them in the local paper (once again) and then be told yesterday that the classes were actually over-subscribed by participants!

So today we set off down the writing road, beginning at the beginning - with basic CW techniques of clustering and freewriting, to free up the mind and imagination and then ending with homework of creating a character and then 'taking them for a walk.' Next week we'll get stuck into critiquing techniques and how to improve writing through criticism.

It's fantastic to be at the other end of a period of learning, where I'm now translating all the learning into facilitating other people's writing development. There were times when I was in the midst of the Literature degree, when I wondered what the hell I was doing it for.

How I smiled inwardly today as a class participant advocated for a plot first, character second, type of approach. Rather than get tied in knots, I cited Henry James as an example of an author with a character in search of a novel: The Portrait of a Lady, as opposed to an author with a novel plot in search of characters: Wilkie Collins and The Woman in White. It brought back many memories of the same conversation on the OU conferences and I must say that it is nice to know now, what all that study and endless essay writing was for. Ginnie Woolf - eat your heart out :)

Rob and The Guardian Challenge

Rob from Surroundings has pointed up the latest Guardian Poetry Challenge, which is to take opening lines from the poet, W. S. Graham and use them as opening lines for new poems.

Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I'm going to try this out too!

The first line in the list, is Imagine a forest. How could you pass a line like that?

Rob suggests taking all the lines and drafting a poem a day and posting it for C&C. Now doesn't that sound like a plan?

Peculiar Happenings in Western Ireland

A man who was found dressed in latex and handcuffs brought a donkey to his room in a Galway city centre hotel, because he was advised "to get out and meet people," the local court heard last week... read more here!

This story has done the rounds of the world, apparently, and demonstrates how the maxim, 'Never let the truth get in the way of a good story', still holds true!

Anthology Launch Invite

Next Tuesday, I've been invited to attend a launch for an anthology called Drogheda Writes, an anthology being published in my old home town, which is about thirty miles away from where I live.

I say home town, because I spent a good eleven years living there and felt like part of the town. It was quite unnerving moving back to Dundalk in 2005 after not having lived here for almost sixteen years. But I got used to it.

Anyway, Roger Hudson, one of the co-runners of Drogheda Creative Writers invited me to submit poetry to the journal, so I did! And next week I'll get me grubby mitts on my contributor copy :)

The launch is being presented by Catherine Brophy, an Irish novelist, short story writer, and also a scriptwriter for the long running soap, Fair City, on RTE 1 (think Coronation Street, but with Dublin accents).

I will be rounding up relatives and friends to come along and buy lots of copies to show support for the project. As ever, my camera will be in tow!

T-I-R-E-D!

R-e-s-p-e-c-t! Find out what it means to me!

Sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me...

This is one very tired girl reporting in from Ireland! Just started new job with the PGA Irish region in the local Golf Club - before you start thinking, 'Ooooh,' it sounds more exciting than it actually is. My job is my first real love - accounts, which I only discovered about five years ago.

Being one of those in school that thought 'Maths! Yeuch!', it came as some surprise to find that accounting for things is something that I really enjoy. Well, it shouldn't have been a surprise, really, I do organised quite well - sometimes - and to me accounting is something that is an extension of that. It's just organising on paper, and computer, and in boxes, and in folders. And that's the thing really, I do like putting order on things.

Now, if only I could apply the same method to my words and get a handle on form..?

This is my next mission. As I'm currently tackling a Creative Writing course that involves challenging my notions of what constitutes methods and forms of writing, poetic form is on my list of things to do this year. We are going to be tackling the nebulous area of form and how to overcome the jitters . I can't wait until that section of the course - but - there's the fiction part to get through first, and surprisingly for me, I am enjoying that part tremendously, stretching wee 'fictional' muscles that haven't seen the light of day since way back when.

Oh, and I've been invited to a launch of a collection of writing that includes mine! More news soon!

A Happy New Year to all!

It's almost a year since I began blogging as one of my New Year Resolutions last year. Strange to think that I began it as a record of my giving up smoking. The blogging lasted longer though!

This last few days have been ones of appraisal and wondering about what to do this year. I'm researching whether a university in Belfast will take me in this autumn to do a Masters, or whether I'll have to wait until the honours component is completely sewn up and the degree awarded in full - which would take until April twelvemonth. Decisions, decisions!

In the meantime, there is the delicious news that a submission I made in November has been taken for an Irish journal, Revival born out of a weekly reading series in Limerick. Thanks to a lot of hard work and courage, this series has grown from strength to strength, over three years and features the best that Irish poetry has to offer in a live setting.

It just goes to show you what can happen if you stick around long enough, whether on a small scale, as in blogging, or in having courage and belief in something wider.

I think the same could be said about a lot of bloggers out there too - I'm thinking of skint, Inner Minx, Apprentice, BB Rob MacKenzie, Chief Biscuit, Debi Alper, Hedgie, Julie Carter, Dick Jones, Eloise, Shameless, and probably so many more other bloggers that I haven't thought of, that have all demonstrated the ease and talent of their writing.

I wish everyone a Happy New Year, and to be one step closer to their writing heart's desire.

The difference between 'it's' and 'its'

I always know before opening the envelope of a returned submission, whether I've been successful or not. It's the thickness you see: the thicker ones generally indicate failure and the thinner ones, a degree or two of success.

Today's return was a failure - and the briefest of notes on the typed letter pointing out the difference between it's - it is, and the commonly confused its - the possessive, which it seems my internal editor never quite got the hang of. And tucked behind the refusal were the poems, first of which included the offending piece.

My guess is that the editor read this one, and probably didn't read the rest. I'm not sure whether re-submitting other poems to the journal will prove productive, as I've probably tarnished myself with that particular editor - forever to remain 'the person with the problem with grammar.'

Even with my trusty Strunk and White, Elements of Style for reference, there will always be that time that I make boo-boos. For this I blame, if there should be such a thing, my imperfect English on the cross-cultures in our house: two languages in circulation seem to have made for a poorer grasp of both sets of rules!