Category: Personal Page 8 of 19

Big Issue Poetry Competition

My li’l sis has kindly pointed out to me that Big Issue In The North are running a poetry competition.

It seems like a pretty good competition – the winner is published in the magazine, interviewed, and you get books and CDs and a certificate too. There’s an entry fee, which is £2, but you can enter 7 poems for a tenner, and as all the money goes to charity anyway, I’d argue it’s all rather civilised. And before you ask, no, it doesn’t seem that you have to live in the North of England to enter.

I’m not sure if I’ll enter – I haven’t written much poetry since the inevitable teenage poems, and I’m wary of not doing anything overly purple or riddled with angst (which, if I’m honest, probably describes far too much of my poetry), but it’s for a good cause, so I am thinking about it…

Anyway, let me know if you have a go (and if you win or are a runner-up or anything like that), and thanks to my wee sis for the tip!

First With The News! Especially The Bad News! (May Contain Italics)

I’ve written before about how my then-boss was keen to be the first to tell us about the “50 planes that were unaccounted for” on 11 September 2001, and I noted then that it wasn’t true; I was interested, then, on holiday, to note how many time people seemed keen to be the first ones to share bad news, whether or not it turned out to be accurate.

An example was almost directly before we got onto the overnight train from Agra to Varanasi; the train station was pretty dirty and smelly, and the trains passing through looked packed with people (and don’t forget I’m used to the London Underground, which as we all know is often the worst transport system in the world*), and it was oppressively humid, when one of our party confidently stated that she’d been on the overnight sleeper before, and it was like a tin sweatbox on wheels. A groan went around the group, and even though another of our number said she’d been on the overnighter a couple of years ago and it hadn’t been that bad, it was as if the miserable possibility was inherently more plausible. It took root almost instantly… and was pretty quickly proven wrong.

Similarly, a couple of days before the total solar eclipse, someone from our party told us that they’d had a conversation with someone in the foyer of our hotel, and that he’d said the best place to view the eclipse wasn’t likely to be from the banks of the Ganges river, but instead from the roof of our hotel, in the city of Varanasi. I suggested that the middle of the city might not be ideal, as there might be some glare or other visual pollution from being in a built-up area, but the idea that we shouldn’t get up and go and watch the eclipse from the ghats in Varanasi seemed to seize people’s imaginations quite quickly – though it quickly fell by the wayside when someone actually went up onto the roof and reported back that it wasn’t so scenic – nothing against the HHI hotel, you understand, but being on a roof usually means walking round air-vents and ariel cables and the like.

I was struck, though, by how the people passing on these stories (and I use that word in its most ‘fictional’ meaning) seemed enormously keen to be the imparter of news – specifically, bad news. It was almost as if they had a schadenfreude-esque glee in being the first to be in the know (or, as it turned out to be, the ‘don’t know’), but particularly in relation to something grim. In a way, I think this is echoed in the general tone of newspaper headlines (and certainly of opinion columns) – there’s a general sense of being appalled or outraged, and if someone can point out a hitherto-unknown but ultimately grim proposition, or point to something current as being a sign that the barbarians are at the gate and that society’s fraying at the edges and young people nowadays no respect always on Spacebook and exams aren’t proper exams anymore it’s not like it was in my young days we’re all doomed don’t you see the end is nigh we’re all going to die –

You get the idea.

I think it was Douglas Adams who noted that the only thing that travels faster than light is bad news, and it does seem that people often take a strange pleasure in sharing the grimness, even if it applies to them – misery, as the saying goes, loves company.

Whilst I’m always keen and eager to be the first to make some devastatingly insightful remark and point out something which no-one else in the room seems to have spotted, I’m increasingly becoming wary of doing so from a reflexively negative angle, because my recent (and indeed not-so-recent) experience suggests rushing to be first with the bad news can mean that one overlooks little things like facts and accuracy.

And that genuinely is cause for concern.

*Okay, I exaggerate slightly, but given that all the tubes to and from East London have, for the last year or more, been as good as switched off all weekend, every weekend, I think my sense of grievance may not be entirely misplaced.

New – And Hopefully Improved – Website

Well, after a while of threatening it, and one blind alley of trying a Flash version, I’ve re-vamped my website.

Some people have previously commented that they couldn’t see anything on the site – that may have been a side-effect of me creating it in Word and then HTML-ifying it, I guess – but hopefully this one will be more accessible across different browsers. It’s a bit more professional than the previous incarnation, I think, but I still aim to add some more stuff to it (particularly pictures, it’s a bit text-heavy at the moment), and thankfully the freebie software I found online to do it makes that sort of thing pretty straightforward.

Anyway, I’d be interested to know if you think it’s nice or nasty (or somewhere between those poles), so please feel free to have a look, and let me know. Thanks!

“…Stating Point Of View: Indicate Precisely What You Mean To Say…”

So I’m on the brink of setting pen to paper with The Body Orchard, a novel I’ve been threatening to write since … well, probably around the time that Britain joined the Common Market, or perhaps even longer ago .

Anyway, as it’s a rather complex thriller (essentially a ‘locked room mystery’ on a highly-secure military base), I’ve spent a goodly amount of time planning it all out – the relationships between the characters, the events, the forensic and investigative stuff – to the extent that I now know about 75% of what happens in it. Whilst I appreciate that going into it with every detail nailed down would probably be wisest, I’ve found that being immersed in the story often means that new possibilities become clear – I guess this is what people mean by ‘characters doing things I didn’t expect them to do’.

So I know the structure of the book, the main events and the general tone of it, but I’m finding myself pausing before I actually start the physical writing of it, because of uncertainty about one thing: the point of view from which I’m going to write.

As it’s a murder mystery, I’d like to write in the first person, so that the reader has the same information – and the same chances of solving it – as the detectives; the alternative, of course, is to write it in standard third-person omniscient narrator fashion, which would frankly be easier as it allows me to do cutaways to a knife being sharpened in a dark room (not actually a scene which appears in the story) or similar, to add some sense of foreboding and the like. However, I’m very much up for the challenge of writing a whole novel in first-person mode (something I’ve never done before), and the only real obstacle to me doing so is one very simple thing…

My main character is female.

Now, this was obviously a deliberate choice on my part, so it’s not something I can whinge about – and indeed I wouldn’t, as I’m really looking forward to writing about this character – but there was something that I heard (no, make that I was told) repeatedly when doing English at school, and then talking to people who were studying English Literature at college level, which is that male writers can’t write female characters. Not that they’re not very good at it, or that they tend to stereotype or whatever, but that they simply can’t do it.

Yes, I’d argue that this is a nonsense generalisation – and as much a heap of festering horse manure as the suggestion that female writers can’t write male characters (something I never heard with the same degree of frequency) – but unfortunately it slightly colours my thinking about writing (or approaching writing) an intelligent, capable female character in a way that’s actually more irritating than anything else.

I’m aware there’s a danger of making her into some kind of Lara Croft-meets-VI Warshawski character, or going too far in a contrary direction and making her into a cross between Bridget Jones and a member of the No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency, but in all honesty my approach to writing women has always been the same as writing men, as quite frankly I don’t think I have any more insight into the behaviour of other men than I have into women. Granted, I have more details about the functioning (or otherwise) of the equipment, but that’s about it.

Hmm, I think I’ve actually talked myself into writing the book from her point of view, which is good, as I think it serves the story best; and if I can write from the viewpoint of Heather Watson in a way that doesn’t drag the reader out of the story to any extent (either because of an inaccurate representation of how women [or, indeed, people in general] think and behave, or due to writing which is shoddy in some other regard), then I’ll consider I’ve done what I set out to do.
Y’know, I often remember that this blog isn’t just here for the things-that-look-a-bit-like-other-things in life, it’s also here for other stuff, like stuff about writing – and, of course, me venting about the nonsense I used to hear back in college about writing (much of which, I have come to realise, bears about as much relation to creation as trying to re-create the delights of a fine meal by eating a recipe book).

So, as dull as this post may have been for you, for me it’s been very useful, as it’s helped me decide on something which was holding me back from starting on The Body Orchard. If I hadn’t tried to express this uncertainty, I suspect that the book wouldn’t be started for a while yet – though hopefully not, as the post title above alludes to, when I’m sixty-four -waiting that long would probably not be an ideal way to go about becoming a paperback writer, as much as Mary Wesley’s life and work suggests it can be done.

Indian Summer Holiday: Part Three Of Two*

All right, all right, I know I said that I wouldn’t post any more about our recent holiday (it’s mere footsteps away from blogging about what I had for lunch, I know)… but I forgot to share one picture.

What do you think this is ? Apart from what a policeman would call ‘probable cause’, I mean…

Well, yes, we all know what it looks like, but it’s far more innocently than it appears: as mad as it may seem, the above is how the HHI Hotel in Varanasi provides you with in-room powdered milk for making tea and coffee.

Whilst I’ve – ahem – been known to avail myself of the little shampoo and shower gel bottles you get in hotel bathrooms, I’d certainly think twice about nicking the HHI’s in-room powdered milk. I mean, imagine the reaction if customs search your luggage.

“And what’s this, sir?”
“Um, I think it’s Coffee-Mate, but it could be Marvel – some kind of powdered milk, anyway.”
“Of course, sir. Would you like to come into this back room for a humiliating strip search?”

*This numbering system is valid, by the way – both Douglas Adams and Mad magazine have used it, so it must be all right.

Indian Summer Holiday: Part Two Of Two

Previously in the blog: on their rather belated honeymoon, Mr and Mrs Soanes have arrived in the Indian holy city of Varanasi, in time for the 2009 total eclipse of the sun. Now read on…

Varanasi – also known as Benares – is one of the holiest cities to followers of Hinduism. The belief is that if you die in Varanasi, you’ll be released from the wheel of life, and instead of being reincarnated, you head on to … well, a better place.

The River Ganges runs through the heart of the city, and the faithful come to bathe in it from many miles around, as you can see:

Just a little further along the river from these pictures, on what are known as the ghats, cremations are held; the bodies are wrapped in white burial shrouds and a fire is lit (accelerated with large amounts of clarified butter), and the deceased is cremated. It’s seen as disrespectful to take pictures of the cremations, so we didn’t – but I was particularly interested to find out that the cremations are supervised by one family, who make a considerable amount of money from this, but because of their bottom-rung status in the very strict caste system, are seen as ‘untouchables’. I can’t imagine people of such obvious wealth being social pariahs in the same way in the west, and a part of me almost prefers the fact that money, rarely, isn’t the yardstick of a person’s standing… I said almost.

Every night in Varanasi, they hold a ceremony to honour the sunset – and, I suspect, to seek its rise the following morning – on the banks of the Ganges. We were able to attend this the night before the eclipse, and had really rather good seats, as you can see…


But we were up early the next morning to see the solar eclipse. The sun was due to start being obscured around 5.30am, and so we were up at stupid o’clock to see it, but I have to say it was worth it. And many other people clearly thought this, too – there were thousands of people on the banks of the Ganges to watch it:

As I say, it was well worth seeing, and being where we were for one of the longest eclipses expected in the next century or so was pretty startling. By now you’ve probably seen the footage of the eclipse (most of which was filmed where we were, as many other areas had cloud cover spoiling the event), but in case you haven’t, here are a couple of snaps…

One just before –

– and a couple during the eclipse itself (slightly distorted by the effect of the camera, I think, but you get the general idea):



It was, in a very real sense of the word, amazing to behold, and at the moment the moon completed obscured the sun, a gasp-stroke-cheer went up from the crowd, myself included. It was genuinely startling to see, and I have to admit there was a tiny part of me that wondered if the sun was going to come back out… and I wasn’t alone; Varanasi is one of the cities devoted to the god Shiva, who’s linked with the sun, and so when the sun started to emerge once again, the cheer that went up made it like being at a football ground when the home team has just scored; people were very happy indeed.

The path of the moon over the sun was pretty much from NNE to SSW, but oddly enough the local papers reported it with the following pictures:


Hmm. Looks like the press are pretty much the same the world over, eh ?

That’s probably enough self-indulgent posting for today, so I’ll stop taking up bandwidth; if you get the opportunity to visit India, though, I heartily recommend it – there’s something overwhelming to all the senses about the immensely busy cities, but the way religion is such a strong part of daily life is almost refreshing, and I found the history and scenery really interesting. It’s very apparent that there’s an enormous amount of poverty – oddly counterpointed by adverts by expensive consumer durables, both on TV and in the teeming streets – so I was kind of mindful of being a ‘poverty tourist’, if you know what I mean. That said, it is, from the admittedly small section of the north of the country we saw, quite fascinating, and we plan to go back.

Okay, I’ll shut up about India now. The usual self-absorption and snark will return tomorrow.

Indian Summer Holiday: Day One Of Two

Well, like a character from a 1970s sitcom, I’m now going to inflict my holiday pictures on you.

However, as they’re not only my holiday, but the rather belated honeymoon of myself and Mrs S, and furthermore they include a total eclipse of the Sun in addition to lots of other sights in India, I hope you’ll indulge me… and if not, well, this shameless use of bandwidth will be over by Monday. Honest.

Okay, so we started off in Delhi, where they have a long tradition of blowing into a Butternut Squash to charm cobras:

A-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Comedy.

But seriously ladies and gents, one thing which came over very strongly was just how strongly interwoven religious belief is with Indian life – as you can see from the following, which we spotted on the landing in our hotel:
No vase of flowers in the Hotel Gautam in Delhi, they instead have a statue of the deity Ganesh. Newly adorned with flowers and saffron too – Ganesh is the god to whom you traditionally make requests and/or offerings at the start of an endeavour, so I like to think that the hotel had started the day off by freshening up the accoutrements around Ganesh.

After a day or two looking at temples in Delhi, we moved on to Agra, where you can see the Taj Mahal (as evinced in this post). The thing about the Taj Mahal is, it was built by the Shah Jahan as a monument to the memory of his favourite wife Mumtaz Mahal, but he was never actually able to set foot in it while he was alive; his third-eldest son, keen to become king, killed his elder siblings and imprisoned his father in a fort in Agra. No, I know, not the most persuasive approach to get Dad to let you take over the family business, and just to make it even worse, the rogue son imprisoned Shah Jahan where he could see the Taj Mahal being completed – here’s the view from Shah Jahan’s quarters in the Agra Fort:

Kids can be so ungrateful, can’t they? Tch.

After Agra, we travelled by overnight sleeper train (mercifully air conditioned – I haven’t mentioned it, but apart from the occasional bursts of monsoon-style rain, it was very hot) to Varanasi, the holy city on the Ganges where we planned to watch the eclipse – a full solar eclipse was predicted for 22 July, with five minutes or so of totality. One of the best for the next hundred years or so, they suggested… and on that almost cliffhangery notes of built anticipation, I’ll leave you.

Second and final part of this brief summary tomorrow.!

Mind You, Which Of Us Hasn’t Wondered What Our Teenage Selves Would Make Of Who We Are Now ?

For reasons far too obscure to mention, I was trading silly e-mails with m’colleague when Feargal Sharkey was mentioned, specifically his hit A Good Heart. Feargal, as you may know, is now a spokesperson for the UK record industry, often quoted in debates about piracy and the like.

Of course he’s not the only person from an entertainment background to have taken an interesting career turn – bestselling science writer Michael White used to be a member of the 80s group Thompson Twins (leaving before their success), and if you’ve ever wondered where Bob ‘Spit The Dog’ Carolgees is now… well, I don’t know about you, but I didn’t expect him to be “just off the B5152 from Frodsham to Delamere”.

Life, I feel, often takes us strange places, to do things we could never have guessed at. Not that I’d ever have it any other way, of course.

He’s Back… And You Never Even Noticed He Was Gone

Well, the ongoing updates here should have meant that you didn’t even know I was on holiday – that’s a professional level of service, I know – but I have been, and now I’m back.

Where was I, you ask? I’m glad you asked…

That’s right, Mrs Soanes and I went on a rather belated honeymoon to India. I’ll post more pictures, and some simply gripping travellers’ tales, over the next few days.

In the meantime, you may have seen about the longest total solar eclipse of the sun this century which took place this week. We were there, and it was awe-inspiring; our view of it, over the Ganges in Varanasi, was as you can see at about 0’29” in this BBC video:

Because, y’know, nothing says ‘romantic honeymoon’ better than the sun turning black and darkness cloaking the face of the earth.

Online – As In Reality – My Housekeeping Comes In Fits And Starts

I’m painfully aware that there’s little so self-indulgent as blogging about blogging, and the following skates perilously close to it, so I’ll keep this short:

E-Mail
If you’ve sent me an e-mail in the last couple of days and not had any kind of reply, sorry about that, but I’m having some problems with my e-mail settings. Remember kids, don’t try to reset your e-mail account if you don’t know what you’re doing. The world of POP3 and SMTP is not for the dilettante.

Website
I’ve set up a revised, Flash-based, version of my website, which can be seen here. I quite like the look of it – it’s obviously more professional – but I’m not entirely sure that the Flash-based nature of it is a good idea (I know not all machines can access such sites). If you’d care to have a look at it, and let me know what you think, I’ll see if the general consensus is that it should replace my site, or if I should get on with updating it in some other fashion. Thanks.

This blog
I’ll probably be doing a bit of tidying up round here this weekend, including removing links to sites which are infrequently updated, that kind of thing. I’m also inclined to remove the Followers section from the sidebar, as it looks – as M’colleague has said in the past – a bit like the sort of ‘people collecting’ that Facebook, Myspace and Twitter seem to encourage, and I’m not at all comfortable with that. I genuinely appreciate people being kind enough to follow the updates to this blog, but I’ll probably hide that section in future, much as I appreciate your support. Unless, of course, there are violent objections. Do let me know.

And now, before I start telling you about the oh-so-funny thing my cat was doing this morning, I’m off. Proper update tomorrow, honest.

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