Julia Darling
In memory

A poem I wrote when I was in Julia's creative writing group in Gateshead twelve years ago. Julia taught me a lot back then.

This is hopefully a fitting and humorous tribute to Julia although we only occasionally bumped into each other over recent years.

Julia, darling you were absolutely right.

With thanks

Rachel Cunniffe

Julia was creative generosity personified. Whenever I spent even a moment in her company, I came away renewed, bestowed with precious gifts - optimism, energy, humour and encouragement. Julia's capacity to do this was unstoppable - her memory, her influence spurs me still. To read or hear her work is to have your senses undulled. She could render the grimmest, most unpromising, experience fascinating and so accurately truthful, it could be hilarious. She had, in the words of one her poems, "the kind of light that electrified the ordinary." I shall be forever grateful to her for taking me seriously from the very start as a writer - lending me her writing room in Charlotte Square, in the many workshops she led or participated in, on a trip to a Women's Playwriting Conference in Galway where we rode hired bikes and drank Guinness with Martin McDonagh. Although increasingly successful, she never lorded it. She always wanted to bring others on. It was encouragement through example - continue with generous awareness, her warmth and humour seemed to say. She not only shared her vulnerability but laughed at it too. As part of the acting company for Live Theatre's NE1, I never ever tired of hearing Madeline Moffat's delivery over the dressing room tannoy of Julia's brilliantly moving and wittily polemical monologue Venetia Love Goes Netting - laughing and crying every time. It was an honour to serve her words in Appointments - who could fail to love the line "St Peter's Basin's got no plug." Julia - thank you for your words, your wisdom and your friendship. I dearly wish you could have stayed with us and shall never stop missing you, but as one of the ones you encouraged, I'll try to do justice to that.

Carol McGuigan

I was lucky enough to see Julia performing her Manifesto for Tyneside Upon England - and this month in Hexham the Manifesto for a New City. In her honour and in celebration of her beautiful spirit I intend to observe the Lesbian Happy Hour (an idea greeted with laughter and applause in Newcastle, but which went down like a lead balloon in Hexham).

Frances Gapper

The obituary for this extraordinary person, with the extract from her poem, was in the Guardian today.

Thank you.
Polly Skerratt

I met Julia as 17 year old kid who wanted to write and she was someone who told me I could do it, which I emailed her about last year, to let her know I was doing it.

I'm sure I'm not the only one who benefited from her support or from her marvelously touching and funny stories.

She will be missed

Natalie Boxall

There were the meetings at Julia's in the early 90s when we were trying to promote theatre by and for women in the North East. The Next Stage didn't last but my memories of the good fun and good food, the laughter and debate and optimism, the warmth, a lot of it coming from Julia, are clear as anything.

At Hallgarth School on Teesside we ran poetry and drama workshops for Year 8 pupils. The work they produced for Julia was sensual and witty, which makes sense, because she was.

Julia gave me a lift to some writing weekend. She was going through a difficult time, was protesting about the load she was carrying, but although she had a right to be angry, she never quite managed it: there was no rancour, no bitterness in her.

Recently, we've had less contact, when we met we chatted about the band her daughter and my stepson sang and played in. I found it difficult to read her on-line journal, I've lost too many people in the past few years, but Rik did, and was tremendously moved. I have the sense that she was as alive and awake and productive as it is possible to be, seeing and hearing beauty, as her world began to shrink. She leaves us with the powerful notion that we can choose. My heart goes out to Bev and the girls.

Kathleen McCreery

After dark vapours have oppress'd our plains
For a long dreary season, comes a day
Born of the gentle South, and clears away
From the sick heavens all unseemly stains.
The anxious month, relieved of its pains,
Takes as a long-lost right the feel of May;
The eyelids with the passing coolness play
Like rose leaves with the drip of Summer rains.
The calmest thoughts come round us; as of leaves
Budding - fruit ripening in stillness - Autumn suns
Smiling at eve upon the quiet sheaves -
Sweet Sappho's cheek - a smiling infant's breath -
The gradual sand that through an hour-glass runs -
A woodland rivulet - a Poet's death. - -

That's actually Keats, but it'll do for me too. I think Julia would have liked it; it carries that same gently elegiac tone that she found in her own later work, and perhaps in her later life also. I was listening to the radio in the bath tonight, thinking about Julia, and heard this; and I'm not sure how many times I e-mailed Julia to say 'Hey, I was listening to the radio in the bath, and I heard you,' or some piece of hers, or something that would have interested or amused her. It doesn't stop, because she goes away; you only lose the chance to tell her so. One last time, then...

Chaz Brenchley

Words are so important .....

.... and they matter so much more when you never met a person. I only knew Julia through her words - she provided the nine things to do on a bench script for our Grainger Town Street Furniture ..... and she captured the spirit of life beyond an inanimate object so well.

Sadly my Mum died of breast cancer too. I always remember how so many people said so many nice things about her. Too many nice words just made me cry. It's nice and sunny today so, important though they are, instead of more words I am just going to sit on a bench in memory of Julia (and my Mum).

Peter McGuckin

I feel so lucky to have had Julia in my life for the last dozen years. She had more energy, enthusiasm and beauty in her than almost anyone I have ever known. She was a great writer, with a highly intelligent and contrary view of the world, who had a special talent for visual word magic. She was a wonderful companion, who was interested in everyone, and made all her friends and audiences and readers feel valued and privileged, even when she herself felt weary and frustrated.

Julia was before everything, a very giving person. In 1997, when I spent six months bed bound, she visited me more than any one, knowing what it's like to be trapped in a failing body: when she asked me to be the first reader of the manuscript of Crocodile Soup, it made me feel special and useful, not forgotten and isolated. Over and over again, she listened to me talking about my writing, and was full of encouragement, and the fact that she had faith in me gave me the best reason to believe in myself. Dozens of others benefited from the same generosity.

So, thank you Julia Darling: for giving us stories, and plays, and especially your marvellous poems. Thank you for letting so many of us become a part of your extended family (and thank you Bev and Scarlet and Florrie for welcoming us too, and for sharing your Julia with so many others so graciously). Thank you, Julia, for showing us how to live better, and for helping us understand how to die well. Thank you for giving us yourself.

Good bye dear Jools.

Tom Shakespeare

A wonderful, extraordinary writer and human being.
The words and spirit live on....for ever.

Colin Sharp

I first became aware of Julia through her novel Crocodile Soup which I read whilst lying on a sunbed on Gran Canaria. The weather was wonderful but the high point of the holiday was Julia's book. It was so quirky, totally original and I was knocked-out by her use of metaphor. It seemed to me a seminal book for writers.

A few months later, I met Julia herself. She had been asked to judge a short story competition organised by a local writing group and had chosen my story as the winner. Her encouraging comments were the catalyst which led to me leaving the comfort-blanket of the writing group, and beginning to think of myself as a writer, not a hobbyist.

I saw Julia occasionally at writing events after that, and she was unmistakable for her wide smile and sense of fun. I didn't manage to attend every launch — Julia was so prolific a writer that there seemed so many — but shortly after the launch of Sudden Collapses in Public Places I decided to run the 'Race for Life' inspired by Julia's battle with cancer.

When I e mailed to tell her I'd managed to persuade seven other women to run round Gosforth Racecourse with me, Julia publicised this on the website. We were all stars, she told us, and wished us well. I was touched that she had taken the time to tell us.

I'm planning to run 'Race for Life' again this year. Anyone like to join me?

Noreen Rees

When I called to tell her I had been diagnosed, Julia managed to make me laugh and give me hope with just one great line.

"Don't worry," she said. "The residential homes are full of single-breasted old women."

I wish Julia could have been one of them.

Ann Coburn

I didn't think it was possible for one person to be such an inspiration, and have so much to offer to everyone they came into contact with. Julia was living proof that it is possible! Thank you Julia for all your words, they have and will always mean a lot. I'm sure you're shining bright, wherever you are.

Love, Emma

I only heard about Julia's death yesterday - due to the Guardian obituary by Jackie Kay. I am deeply saddened to hear about her death. A few years ago, I went on one of the Arvon Foundation courses on creative writing. I chose the one that Julia was teaching on because her novel Crocodile Soup had made such an impact on me. She was a wonderful tutor: both encouraging and helpfully critical, and a really nice person to spend time with. Her books have inspired me, and she inspired me as a person and a writer. Thank you, and goodbye. xx

Alison Faulkner

Dear Julia

This is for the short period that I came to know you (trip to Mauritius on creative writing workshop Aug 2004).

You brought inspiration and enthusiasm to Mauritian writers

You charmed by your simplicity

You cheered by your hilarious humour

You delighted with your eye for detail

Your poetry has a great impact on me

I feel privileged to have known you

And will remember you for being a great person

Cheers!

Jaysing

I met Julia on an Arvon Foundation writing course last July. Although she sometimes looked tired I didn't know she was ill till after the course had ended. I was amazed at her generosity, the time she gave to us, her thoughtful and encouraging comments. I felt she really cared about us struggling beginners. Two months after that course I was diagnosed with breast cancer myself. I started reading Julia's weblog and like so many others, found her writing inspiring, funny, and just so readable!

I wanted to write to her, send her a poem I'd written about radiotherapy, but I never did. I'm so sorry. I feel very sad, and also happy that I met her. A true inspiration, in writing and living.

Sonia Markham

Julia — you left a wonderful legacy — not only your literary work, which we admired, but the memory of your unfailing warmth and vitality. You will be deeply missed by many.

Margaret and Peter Lewis,
Flambard Press

Julia Darling's poetry really normalised serious illness and, in an age where films and TV soap operas portray sickness and death as melancholy- or drama-ridden experiences, she let us know that it is possible to deal with real-life illness with humour. I can't put into words how much that helped me come to terms with my Mum's illness and the death of both my grandfathers from cancer.

It will always be one of my treasured memories that Julia Darling selected and read something of mine for the Guardian's poetry workshop in January. It was the first poem I had the confidence to send off, and that confidence came largely from knowing that the commentary would be constructive and generous, because everything I have ever seen Julia Darling write has been so. She and her writing will continue to be a great inspiration to me, and I am sure, to countless others.

Many, many thanks.

Anne Bailey

Julia Darling was the warmest most generous of people, traits which she carried through into her writing career. She has left us a treasure trove of writing that will only grow in value as more and more people relate to her terrifyingly beautiful poems that twinkled with humour and defiance. I can't think of anyone who will not miss her.

Here is a call to arms that only Julia, Brendan Cleary, Linda France and I will understand, 'Up North Combine!'

Fly girl, fly.

Kevin Cadwallender

I barely knew you but you were always so warm and friendly that I feel like I did.

The writing world will be slightly darker without you.

Jule Wilson
Reporter, Shropshire Star

Julia and I first met, I think, about 15 years ago. I can't remember how long exactly but I know I had bleached hair cut in a lovely tennis ball design and was wearing cerise court shoes. All I can remember of her that day was her lovely smile. She was the first woman I'd met who wasn't like all the other women in our street. I reckoned she might be a lesbian but I knew she was a writer and back then that was the only thing going on in my own private stratosphere. She was the first person I ever showed my poems to. She was kind, professional, warm and encouraging. Not too pushy either, she made me feel I hadn't done a mad thing by bringing her poems about electricians, plumb-lines and dove-tail joints. What a blessing for me that she should wander through Kenton that year. What a blessing for us all that she wandered north-wards in the first place. I'm not sure what I'd be doing now if it weren't for that life defining moment. I haven't told anyone this, ever, but I remember secretly watching her walking up Hazelwood Avenue after that first meeting and thinking, "I have to change the way I live my life". And that's her all over.

I've loved working with her on proudWORDS, playing mad songs with The Tulips, her vision and support to me, writer-to-writer, all the work she sent my way and all the lovely smiley cups of coffee and chance-meetings in corridors and on stairs. She and Ellen published my first collection and validated years of piled up bits of paper beneath my bed.

There is a big Julia-sized hole in Newcastle now and to say I will miss her friendship terribly is the most stupidly-inaccurate thing I've ever written. I wish we'd holidayed together on the Isle of Wight but I'll think of her now every time I'm on the Downs. In every grain of sand on Alum Bay, in all the stitches in Tennyson cape, in every ice cream and wayward OAP on the pier. I'm sure you're having a ball and have already got a writing workshop together wherever you are now and if you happen to bump into my granny tell her that I now know that painting your NHS glasses with bright pink nail varnish is an amazing thing to do. I never got the chance. You helped me open my eyes. It's been a long journey, we've lost an awful lot of writers and friends in the last few years and there's so much still to learn and do, but in a way you've helped me be less afraid. I hope there's wheelie bins in heaven, I'll be watching for you putting yours out...

Lisa Matthews

I will never forget Julia's kindness and compassion when I too was diagnosed with breast cancer. She had so many worries of her own but made the time to come and visit me before I went to hospital. She became my Guardian Angel throughout that period and made me laugh about something that was and is so truly terrifying. I will miss her smile, her laughter and her warmth and feel so very privileged to have known her.

Cinzia Hardy

Crocodile Soup was such a warm, funny and uplifting book that from the first few pages of the typescript, I had pretty much decided I wanted to publish it. It was I think some time in 1997 and I was publisher of a new literary list, Anchor, and Julia's writing — slightly left of field, but so fresh, engaging and individual — seemed exactly the right thing for us to be publishing. I can't remember if there was much of an auction or not, but it took a pretty hefty offer to acquire it.

Once the deal was done I asked her agent, Jane Bradish Ellames, if I could have her phone number as I wanted to make contact with this wonderful new author of mine. 'She's in hospital', Jane said. 'Anything serious?' I asked unprepared for the answer. 'Well yes actually, she has breast cancer and she's been in having another operation'. I must have sounded shocked and surprised, because I remember Jane telling me not to worry, Julia would be fine, she'd be out over the weekend and I'd be able to talk to her on the Monday. Monday came and indeed I did talk to her, and in fact learned that the further operation had been a second mastectomy to combat her cancer's return. But despite her very recent release from hospital after such a serious operation and the terrible news she had just given me, I don't remember experiencing any worry at all about finding the right words to express my sympathy. I simply didn't get the chance. Even though this was our first encounter, Julia's extraordinary exuberance and charm engulfed me even over the phone. I remember her joking that she was probably unconscious on the operating table when the final deal was struck. She just had a way of diverting people from the difficult questions and putting them at their ease.

In the background there was clearly a party going on. 'There's some friends round and we're having some champagne to celebrate the deal,' she explained. Her excitement was so totally infectious that the question of her illness was completely forgotten and we launched off into one of those mutually admiring conversations authors and editors have when they're starting up a new relationship and everything looks rosy and hopeful. But I knew then what I still know now, that Julia was a very special person – someone rare, life-enhancing and courageous. I saw this again at the launch party for Crocodile Soup which was held in a Newcastle nightclub. It was easily the best party of its kind I have ever attended. There was not a hint of pretension or self-pity in the whole event, just enormous affection and fun radiating from Julia herself and from the large audience of friends, relatives and admirers who had come to wish her well.

Sadly the closure of the Anchor list in 2000 meant a parting of the ways for Julia and I, but her writing and publishing went on successfully with other publishers and I would occasionally log onto her website to find that her courage and spirit in the face of the return of her illness remained undaunted. The last conversation I had with her was a couple of years ago, in which she was characteristically enthusing about the many new authors she had been working with in the writers' groups she helped organise in the North East. It's wretched that this cancer she fought so bravely has taken from her family and friends when she was still so young and still had so much to give. But I have no doubt that the legacy she leaves behind with everyone who knew her is an extraordinary one. She was simply unforgettable and inspiring, and I am proud to have published her and feel much the richer for the brief acquaintance that being her publisher allowed me.

John Saddler
Curtis Brown Group Ltd

A small poem for an immensely-hearted person:

With Julia, where do you begin? I worked with her for a while with the RLF, where we ran some workshops for the Advisory Fellows. Meeting her was always something to look forward to. A first-class mind, and a warm and loving woman. And always, always, a laugh or two.

I'm so sad she's left us. I really did feel that her work had blossomed and burgeoned — I don't know how she managed to work so hard at such a consistent level. It's just great that she got those last books out, but you do feel she had much more to give. In the end, Julia is one of those writers you want around in person. She did good. I'll miss her.

Mario Petrucci

I remember Julia in the early 1980s leading a drama session with an 'Intermediate Treatment' group. She was showing six wild Sunderland boys how to be trees . Never had I seen this bunch of 15 year olds so concentrated in their attention, so determined to be the best trees that they could for her.

Julia made us sing and laugh and speak poetry when we never intended to. She made each one of us feel special, but she was the special one.

Love to you as always — I shall think of you sliding on a double rainbow.

Jean Spence

Another member of Julia's creative writers' group for 'tired and busy people,' I have spent the last few years working on a novel that is about to be published. Julia inspired me to begin; she encouraged me along the way while asking challenging questions about character and plot; she made me feel special for having produced a first draft ('hardly anyone even gets to this stage!') and she insisted that all agents are 'terribly interested' in unknown first novelists. When my magnum opus was soon rejected by agent after agent, Julia nodded sagely and said 'oh I know, it's terribly difficult for unknown first novelists to find an agent and publisher.' Thank goodness she didn't tell me that at the beginning - when I would surely have given up! That was Julia to me - so warm and encouraging, and generous with her attention and time.

Sean O'Brien wrote in his obituary that Julia inspired a sense of possibility - in writing and in life - among the many who encountered her. How true that has been in my case. I would only add that the way Julia lived her dying has been an inspiration as well.

Wherever you are Julia, I hope you're at peace. I can well imagine you organising a writers' group in Heaven's waiting room.

Kate Manzo

The publishers of Sudden Collapses gave me a copy after my own breast cancer surgery. It inspired me so much I e-mailed Julia to thank her. I never expected a reply, yet there it was, within a very short time the same day. She said she hoped we'd meet some day. I know we shall. Then I can thank her for the inspiration and hope and positivity which have helped me and so many others. Goodnight, Julia. I'll meet you one day.

Ann B.

I represented Julia and her prose writing for the last year of her life. She sent me the typescript of The Cure for Dying, her most recent, unfinished novel, last January. I read it and her previous novel, The Taxi Driver's Daughter, and, like so many other of her readers, fell in love with Julia's beguilingly humorous and humane narrative voice. I loved her curious eye for the surprising in the every day and her ability to find lyricism in (supposedly) ordinary events and lives. I also loved her hopefulness, her resilience and her great sense of faith in humanity's potential for good: these personal qualities infused her writing style and the portrayal of her characters and the atmosphere of her novels. She was as uplifting a writer to read as she was to meet in person; and her writing had a confiding quality that made you feel special - just as when you met her, you felt singled out and charmed by her warmth and sweetness of personality, her intelligence and humour, and her sheer zest for life.

I was so impressed by the incredible range and richness of her creative work — including short stories, novels, poetry, plays, her weblog and her teaching of creative writing. What amazing energy and enthusiasm and generosity of spirit she had. She was a wonderful, inspiring writer and a truly lovely woman. I was very proud to be her agent, albeit sadly for so short a time, and I miss her very much.

Judith Murray
Greene & Heaton Ltd