Light Night at Nottingham Castle

Nottingham Light Night took place on Friday 28th February. The castle grounds heaved with hundreds of visitors who'd come to celebrate this year's event.

Many thanks to Debbie Moss who put together a programme for Nottingham Writers' Studio with the theme ‘War and Peace.’ The writers' studio was allocated a space in the atmospheric tunnel that leads from the courtyard into Nottingham Castle. War-time photographs were projected onto a screen at one end of tunnel, allowing visitors to watch the images whilst listening to poetry being read by Nottingham Writers' Studio members. The public were also invited to read poems and contribute to collaborative writing. Many children and their parents wrote words or sentences on the paper provided and these ideas will be used to write poetry which will be published in a few weeks time on Nottingham Writers' Studio website.

The tunnel which was lit with night lights for our readings.

Reading my poetry to a back-drop of war-time images.

Echoes After Dark was an atmospheric audio and visual experience in which projections of images from the city's archives were displayed on the castle walls. People paused to re-awaken past memories or to reflect on the haunting images. A moving reel of names of the soldiers who died for their country scrolled constantly throughout the night, highlighting the terrible loss of life.

Projections on the castle walls.

Eco-artist Sarah Turner worked with some of Nottingham's school children to create life-sized WW1 tank made entirely of re-cycled materials. When night fell, the tank was lit from within, creating a spectacular display.

There was also sing-a-long music to warm everyone up on the chilly winter's evening. A choir sang in the old bandstand and in the caves beneath the castle.

Nottingham Castle's caves.

Light Night also featured free activities and entertainment across Nottingham city centre, both inside and out. Galleries, churches and the city's cultural venues ran special night time programmes. Seely Primary School lit up the city’s statue of Robin Hood with special Light Night lanterns. There was an interactive pedal powered party with a shadow show, illuminated play bus and rickshaw rides. A procession with lanterns walked through St Ann’s and Sneinton with light sculptures illuminating the streets. In the Old Market Square, many locals and visitors played games whilst projections and light installations shone around them. It was a night for families - and remembering.

Two of my poems which I read on Light Night.

Dusk in Afghanistan

He looks for beauty in this brutal game
Amongst the bitter dust of Helmand;
And finds it in the sun’s splendour.
Its amber rays caressing the mountain range
As his army boots leave prints in the earth -
As barren as unanswered wishes.
He finds no flower to press against his face and smell
Memories of his wife’s perfume.
Waning daylight clings to rocks,
Holding back the invading night
Where silent terror lurks unseen.
And evil crouches, exhaling poison as it waits
Minute
By
Slow
Minute.
Squabbling insects dance and torment,
Biting and sucking his pink-parched skin.
He thinks of England’s gentle rain
Dimpling puddles under pewter skies,
And sighs.
Dusk creeps onwards darkening his thoughts
As the Reaper hides nearby,
Planning a repulsive requiem
Whilst searching for the next soul
To steal from loved-ones across the sea,
So
Many
Miles
Away.
The soldier wipes his furrowed brow
Wrinkled like the wind-blown dunes.
Eyes raised, he looks into the navy sky;
A shared constellation with home.
Moving onwards
Past peripheral shadows of outcrops,
Like broken teeth in a rotten mouth.
Tears roll down the hardest face each silent night
In this foreign land, where each man dreams
Of going home.


Sepia Memories

Touching your profile in sepia,
Tracing my finger
Around your smile.
Bundles of letters tied with ribbon,
Frayed and faded
It hugs your words.
A tear-stained message
Peppered with smudged pools
Of diluted ink,
Telling of your death in war.
Sixty years of tears,
Of believing you loved me.
That you held me in your heart
As you breathed your last.
Pages of memories
To read
And fold.
To mark for future return,
When dwelling and lingering
Stings like salt
Seeping into a suppurating wound.
And then, a voice whispers cruelly
Shredding those pages,
Tearing at the truth,
Erasing each word.
A chance remark reveals
You live!
You lied.
A hero in war; a coward in love.
I heard the angel who nursed you
Whilst I grieved,
Shared your three-score years,
Whilst I held in my arms
Your sepia bundle of words,
And the child you never knew.

Angela Barton

My holiday reads and some photographs too!

It's said that if you're writing a novel of a certain genre, you should read as many books as you can of that particular style. I'm currently writing a book called The Midday Moon, a dual narrative set in Limoges, France. It's a story about two women who are related but have never met. Rachel Blaise inherits a farmhouse in Limoges in 2014, left by her great-aunt Arlette. She takes a sabbatical from nursing in London to project manage the renovation. However, she makes a shocking discovery on her first visit there and sets out to find out what tragic events led to that discovery. She finds the answers as she unearths the secrets of what happened to her great-aunt Arlette Blaise, during World War II.

I've already immersed myself in many books, both fiction and non-fiction relating to Vichy France, but decided to take the following novels on our special anniversary holiday to The Maldives, just before Christmas. Although I have a Kindle and read one Kindle book to every two 'real' books, I took my holiday reads in paperback so I could high-light dates, facts, time-lines and anything else which would add to my knowledge of what life was like during the war in France.

My first holiday read was Citadel, the final volume of Kate Mosse's Languedoc trilogy. Thankfully I started this book at the hotel at Gatwick airport, the day before we flew. It's 1,000 pages long and took almost a week to finish having squeezed it in between dolphin spotting, sunset fishing, kayaking, big game fishing and a trip to a genuine deserted island. The focus of this story is the second world war in France, but the story of resistance fighters in Carcassonne is interwoven with that of a fourth-century monk secreting a Gnostic text in the mountains, where it stays hidden for centuries. Kate Mosse delves into the stark and bloody years of Vichy France, subjecting her mainly female cast to terrible pain and anguish. She has an unwavering sincerity of tone which lasts throughout the book, her scenes are vivid and when you eventually master the myriad of names of her characters, it's an enthralling and sometimes brutal mystery which makes you want to keep reading in the shade rather than lying in the sun!

My second holiday read was Fair Stood the Wind for France by H.E. Bates. It's a comparatively slow-paced novel to begin with as a British crew crash-lands their Wellington bomber in France, following a raid in Italy. They discover a farmhouse whose occupants agree to shelter them. The pilot is badly injured and a romance gently unfolds between him and the daughter of the family who nurses him back to health. The other airmen make their own way out of France but as the Germans advance ever closer to the pilot's hiding place, he must escape before it's too late. The storyline's pace increases along with the reader's heart-beat! The final chapters are nail-biting and culminate with a series of events which shocked me and left me with my mouth gaping at the unexpected turn of events.

My third book choice was Suite Française by Irène Némirovsky. Irène started this book in 1941 where she began to write of the magnitude of what it was like for ordinary families to live through the German invasion in France. Her book falls into two parts; the first being the incredible depiction of Parisian families fleeing the Nazis and the second telling of the struggles which the inhabitants of a small rural community have to face daily, under German occupation. You'll need time and peace to read this novel as it's teeming with characters with French names, (obviously!). It's painful to read because the reader knows it's based on the truth and the incredible cruelty mankind is capable of; but even in such extreme circumstances, love finds a place. What made this novel even more poignant, is that Irène Némirovsky was torn away from her husband and daughters in 1942, and died in Auschwitch without ever finishing her book. It's breathtakingly heart-breaking to read her own story at the end of the book. Incredibly moving and can't be read without a box of tissues close by.

My final holiday read was The Book Thief by Australian author Markus Zusak. The story is narrated by Death and is set in Nazi Germany, a place and time when the narrator notes he was extremely busy! It tells of a young girl's relationship with her foster parents, their neighbours and a young Jewish man who hides in her home during the escalation of World War II. I felt pretty shattered having read it. It was brutally beautiful, searingly painful, poignant, tender - wow, it was colossal. I gave it five stars on Goodreads and was literally dazed when I finally closed the back cover.

Despite the subject matter of my holiday reads being traumatic to say the least, I did have a wonderful holiday and also managed to write another 12,000 words of my novel. Here are a few photographs to prove that I had fun and enjoyed the hot sunshine in December!

Flying in a sea plane. Our first view of our island.

Dolphin spotting!

Our private beach.

Water bungalows. Ours was No.136.

Reading in the sun.

Our water bungalow's ocean view.

Every evening a beautiful sunset ended another perfect day.

Bromley House Library

'If you have a garden and a library, you have everything you need.'
Marcus Tullus Cicero (106-43 BC)

I've lived in Nottingham for most of my life. I thought I knew every park, every bookshop, every corner, every alleyway.
So it was with astonishment and delight that I was introduced to Bromley House Library last week by a friend and neighbour. Hidden away between two uninspiring shops stood the large wooden door to Bromley House, a Grade 2 listed town house, built in 1752.

As I climbed the stone stairs, over-looked by ornate cornices, I slid my hand along the polished curved banister wondering how many thousands of people had passed through this stairwell searching for escape into another world through the port hole of a book. I reached the library's door and what a treasure trove lay behind it! Rooms full of Georgian features, shelves groaning under the weight of books old and new, a reading room with armchairs ready to cushion weary thighs, an old spiral staircase leading to a gallery of more delicious bookshelves, a meridian line sparkling gold in the midday sun, welcoming resting places on which to relax and read whilst over-looking a hidden gem of an original walled garden.

Bromley House had an amazing atmosphere too; a sense of history, knowledge, friendships past and present, sanctuary, contemplation and peace. I took a few photographs so I can share with you all, this remarkable building.

The reading room full of books, oil paintings and comfortable furniture in which to relax and read, and a large table for studying at.

Oil paintings, a grandfather clock and a very old ornate wrought iron spiral staircase leading to a gallery and further rooms.

An operational meridian line which runs through one of the reading rooms.

The library has been operating continuously since 1816. It has a collection of 40,000 books with new acquisitions each month.

The library is a rich resource for research, whether you want to study history or just read a contemporary novel or non-fiction book.

There's also a room available for making refreshments where a variety of newspapers are available to read. Bromley House is also a venue for talks, book launches and exhibitions. It was here that the first photographic studio in Nottingham operated from 1841.



If you'd like to find out more about the library or arrange a visit, you'll find more information here.

RIP Elmore Leonard

Writer Elmore John Leonard passed away last Tuesday 20th August 2013. He died surrounded by his family after suffering a stroke at the age of 87. His funeral was held in the author's home town of Birmingham, Michigan, on Saturday. Elmore was an American novelist and screenwriter whose earliest novels, published in the 1950s, were Westerns. However he went on to specialize in crime fiction and suspense thrillers, many of which have been adapted into motion pictures. Remember Maximum Bob, Out of Sight and Get Shorty?

Elmore was renowned for his terse, no-nonsense style and sparse use of dialogue, his works inspired numerous screen adaptations. The author of 45 novels, Elmore had been in the process of writing his 46th. In an interview with Radio 4's Broadcasting House that was aired on Sunday, presenter Paddy O'Connell asked Elmore's son, Peter Leonard, whether he would finish the book.
"I would, I think so," he replied. "It's been discussed among family members and I've talked to Greg Sutter, Elmore's longtime researcher. "At the funeral, another son, Bill, told mourners, "Everyone knows that Elmore was a great writer. But only a few of us know that he was a great father - funny, patient and incredibly generous."

Following the service, Leonard, who served as a Navy seaman during World War II, was given military honours, which included the playing of taps and a flag-folding ceremony. As well as the order of service, attendees were given a small card listing Leonard's famous 10 Rules of Writing. Here are the 10 Rules.

1. Never open a book with weather. If it’s only to create atmosphere, and not create a character’s reaction to the weather, you don’t want to go on too long.

Notice how he immediately gets the focus where it belongs: on character. We read not to learn that it’s a glorious day but to understand how a character feels when the day of her lover’s funeral is the kind of sultry day they loved best.

2. Avoid prologues.

Here, Mr. Leonard immediately breaks his own rule, citing a prologue that serves a purpose: “There is a prologue in John Steinbeck’s Sweet Thursday, but it’s okay because a character in the book makes the point of what my rules are all about.”

3. Never use a verb other than “said” to carry dialogue. The line of dialogue belongs to the character; the verb is the writer sticking his nose in.

*note to self* Go and edit your dialogue Angela!

4. Never use an adverb to modify the verb “said” … he admonished gravely. To use an adverb this way (or almost any way) is a mortal sin.

*note to self* Go to confession!

5. Keep your exclamation marks under control. You are allowed no more than two or three per 100,000 words of prose.

*note to self* Eeek!!!!!

6. Never use the words “suddenly” or “all hell broke loose.”

7. Use regional dialect or patois sparingly.

8. Avoid detailed descriptions of characters.

In Ernest Hemingway’s Hills Like White Elephants, what do the “American and the girl with him” look like? “She had taken off her hat and put it on the table.” That’s the only reference to a physical description in the story, and yet we see the couple and know them by their tones of voice, with not one adverb in sight.

9. Don’t go into great detail describing places and things.

10. Try to leave out the part that readers tend to skip.

Elmore Leonard concluded his rules by citing his most important rule – the one that sums up all of the rules:

If it sounds like writing, I re-write it.


Rest In Peace Elmore Leonard.

Trapped Butterfly

I thought I'd share a poem I wrote for a writing competition. The theme was Turn Back The Clock and the poem had to include this phrase. It's a little dark, but I was absolutely thrilled to win first place.

Trembling behind gauze, like a trapped butterfly
Listening to the scrunch of rubber on gravel.
He’s home.
A door slams as headlights fade.
How can a lover become a stranger,
As swiftly as a once polished plum
Becomes covered in a delicate froth of fungi?
Turn back the clock to those heady fruitful days
When love blossomed.
Shared dreams divided by time
And split like parched wood.
Unnourished.
His footfall, once a welcoming tread,
Now splinter my calm with regret
As he strides on the polished parquet.
Turn back the clock to a time when our words tumbled
like a rushing brook in a spring thaw.
Before the wordless air ambushed me,
Squeezing my breath at his glance.
A look which once glowed with love,
Now glowers.
Loving praise decayed into mute criticism.
A curl of his lip.
Turn back the clock to a time when the sun shone
On entwined fingers, and a passionate embrace.
His kiss, once lingering and heartfelt is but a memory,
Bleached pale by time’s incessant race.
“Goodnights” unspoken.
An extinguished bulb
Signals the end of his day.

Angela Barton

Song of the Storm by Mariam Kobras

Welcome everyone! Please take a seat on the veranda, relax and help yourself to a glass of pink bubbles and a slice of celebration cake.

I joined twitter several years ago with a view to making friends with fellow writers. As I floundered around with lists, trending and re-tweets, Mariam Kobras found me and welcomed me with open arms. She has been an online friend ever since as we've shared advice, offered support, drunk coffee at the #writerscoffeebar or just chatted like friends do! It's been a delight to watch Mariam's writing flourish and her novels become published by Buddhapuss Ink - and no-one deserves her success more than she does. Please settle back and enjoy this blog hop interview about her latest novel, Song of the Storm.

Can you condense your novel into a few sentences for us?

Hmm... I’ll try. This is the conclusion of the Stone Trilogy, and it’s called Song of the Storm.
My protagonists, Jon and Naomi, have finally settled down in their house on the Brooklyn Promenade, and are expecting a baby. Life seems peaceful until they realize that their friend Sal—Jon’s manager—is having an affair with a girl, Maya, who he’s trying to turn into a copy of Naomi.
To test her assumption, she invites Sal and Maya to spend a few weeks at Jon’s house in Malibu.
I’m not going to tell you much more, except to say that not even the Stones, or their families and friends, are safe when terror strikes the heart of New York City.

How did you come up with the title?

Jon and Naomi are both creative people: Jon is a songwriter, Naomi a lyricist and novelist. They put into words and music what they encounter in life; be it love, beauty, yearning, pain, or disaster. For them, it will always be a song. This time, it’s the Song of the Storm.
The song of the ultimate storm in New York City.

What was the hardest part of writing your book?

Surprisingly, the part that made me write the book in the first place.
You may have guessed by now that part of this novel deals with what happened on September 11th, 2001.
I wasn’t there myself that day, but some people very close to my heart were. Even now, twelve years later, I can see what that day did to them. It was a very sobering experience to see one of them falter while trying to describe what happened to and around her that day. In part, this book is for them. They aren’t part of the book, but their stories are.
They told me their stories, and I worked them into the book, and that was harder than I thought. It was almost as if I was there myself, walking through those dead streets with them, feeling their terror. I told the stories of my friends in the voices of Jon, Jane, and Sal.
The book is also for those of us who weren’t there that day. I’ve told that story through the eyes of Naomi and her friends, who watch it unfold across the river and on TV, which was my perspective: far away.
It was hard, writing that part of the novel.

What's a typical day like for you? When and where do you write?

This question is about coffee, isn’t it?
I get up pretty late, normally around ten in the morning, make coffee, check my mail, twitter and Facebook (and yes, Pinterest!), then I read the last paragraphs I wrote the day before.
I spend most of the morning, until my family comes home for lunch, at my desk, writing, researching, editing—whatever needs to be done.
My guys come home around 2 pm and we eat. Then I move my laptop to the living room, where my husband will be sitting at the dining table, doing what teachers do after school: marking tests, writing report cards, all the usual stuff.
I write all day long. A sentence here, a sentence there… with my family around me.
In the evening, we watch TV and chat. My favorite shows are Criminal Minds, Law & Order, and, of course, The Closer. I’m also a Trekkie and Doctor Who fan! Oh, and Battlestar Galactica, and Serenity, and Stargate!

Are some experiences in your novel, based on events in your own life?

In Song of the Storm, not so much. Oh wait, yes!
That part where Jon and Sal drive up to Madison Square Garden and nearly run over Maya? THAT happened to me! It was in 2008, and my friend and I had tickets for a Neil Diamond concert. We went early to catch the band before the soundcheck and maybe score an autograph or two. I went to stand in the only shady spot, the roof over the backstage entrance. A silver van came speeding up and nearly hit me. I was just taking a deep breath to shout at the driver when Neil D. Got out of the van. We stood there, he and I, maybe two yards apart, and he looked at me as if he wanted to say, “Well? What do you want?” And all I could do was raise my hand and wave, pretty much like Donna waves at the “fat babies” in Doctor Who: stupidly.
It lasted only two seconds, then security was there and asked me to step back. But it was a nice enough experience to use it in a novel. Only this time it was Jon Stone in the car (who is NOT based on Neil Diamond, btw. If you need to think of a real person, think Bruce Springsteen, please).

What is your WIP? Another novel?

Well, apparently I’m not quite finished with Jon and Naomi even though the trilogy is complete.
I’ve written a new novel, The Rosewood Guitar, which I submitted to my publisher sometime in March, I think. It tells the story of the young Jon Stone(before Naomi)and how he makes his way from New York City to Hollywood and fame. It’s a lot lighter and more fun than Song of the Storm, and set in the early 80s.
After that, I began writing a sequel to the trilogy, set in the Canadian winter about six months after 9/11. It deals with the aftermath and repercussions of that day, and how the Carlsson and Stone families try to return to some sembelence of their old lives but I put it aside after about thirty-five thousand words to write the story of young Naomi before she meets Jon. The title is Waiting for a Song, and it will be a happy, flirty romp. Of course, in the end she’ll get to meet Jon, and run away with him.
So as you can see, there’s one unpublished and two unfinished books floating around, which hopefully will see the light of day sooner or later.

Thanks Angela, for interviewing me today. It’s been fun!
Happy reading everyone!

Thank you for coming and for entertaining us with such great answers Mariam. *tops us Mariam's glass* 'CONGRATULATIONS!'

Tomorrow Mariam will be visiting Wendy van Camp for another interview. You’ll want to check it out!

Unleashing Your Imagination

The definition of writing is that it's a language in a textual medium through the use of a set of signs or symbols.

That sums it up very neatly doesn't it? But that summary is just the stone which hits the water; there are so many more ripples to explore. Writing to me is about having my voice heard, unleashing my imagination, making new friends in my characters, boosting my confidence, a way of keeping me focused, a method of learning through research, increasing my organisational skills by accurately setting time-lines in my story and putting the chapters in the right place to help the story flow and most definitely - escapism.

What made me think of writing this blog post, was a critique I had to do for this month's fiction group at Nottingham Writers' Studio. I'd started by picking out the odd grammar mistake and highlighting beautiful similes, when I became more interested in what the writer was saying than any grammatical errors. Two sentences jolted me. I read them again. 'It occurs to me that writing can be a means of control which is lacking elsewhere in our lives. Writing is sometimes taken up when life itself fails, disappoints or falls short in some way.'

It occurred to me that I took up writing novels in 2007 just as a certain part of my life changed and I felt my control of life was, for the most part, out of my hands. Did my sub-concious lead me to start a novel that Sunday morning as a way of gaining some control back? I've often remarked that I love writing because I'm in charge of my characters' decisions and directions. I can tell them what to say, lead them out of danger and direct them to a happier life. I become lost in their lives and actually feel that my characters are my friends as I disappear into my writing. Is this a sort of therapy my mind led me to as a way of protecting me? Perhaps. Writing is known to help people with traumatic problems, so why shouldn't it help someone who has just lost their way?

Writing about traumatic and emotional events has been found to result in improvements in both physical and psychological well-being. As a way of healing affected people, they're asked to write about past stressful events. Those who do so, generally have significantly better physical and psychological outcomes compared with those who write about neutral topics. Writing is so much more than a textual medium. It can be used successfully as a therapeutic tool for survivors of trauma and in psychiatric settings and is associated with both short-term increases in physiological arousal and long-term decreases in health problems. Not bad for just putting pen to paper!

If you can’t change something about where you are in life then change it by writing. Go to the ocean in your mind and listen to the sound your footsteps make on the pebbles or feel your toes sink into the cool sand. Listen to the waves as they hush up and down the the beach, smell the salt-air and sweet seaweed. Write about the cherry blossom festivals in Japan by going there on the page. Can you smell the fragrant blossoms as they tumble to the floor in the mild breeze? How about indulging in the freedom of skiing. The skis are swishing from side to side as you glide down the hill, looking up at the blue shadows on the mountains and the sun glinting off the peaks. Go for it. Indulge in a little imagination. It's a fantastic tonic!







I read an interview in The Times last month by Rose Tremain, the Chancellor of the University of East Anglia. She said,
'My belief in the imagination is absolute. Part of the joy of writing is going on a journey somewhere outside my own life.'

And it does help to escape from time to time, if only in our imaginations. As the old cliche goes, a change is as good as a rest!