In Person
Monday, September 29, 2003
First I cut my foot on a shard of glass in a bed and breakfast in King's Lynn. I was about to do a poetry reading, but the glass splinter was embedded in my sole, so I had to get the pale faced proprietress to help me, and she didn't look very keen. But I got out the glass with her old darning needle and limped on to recite poems in a beautiful hall right next to the Great Ooze River, while a russian trawler did a three point turn. But still my foot throbs. Perhaps it is infected.
Then I was running a workshop in County Durham, and on the way there got crashed into by a young man from Spennymoor. I wasn't driving...my friend Maggie was. The noise was incredible. Her car is a write off and our necks are very stiff. But luckily, we are unhurt. In the squealing moment before the crash I thought...how ironic, to die in a car crash after all that cancer treatment! But we are not at all dead, even though I felt my brain shoot forwards in my head, as if it had come loose from its stalks, and later felt a bit delirious. I still carried on with the course. I enjoyed it. It was only later that I felt a bit peculiar. I would probably carry on even if my leg dropped off. I have the most intense work ethic. I can't bear to be late, or to be ill. This is a good and a bad thing. Good, because it makes me quite positive, and I don't tend to lie around much. Bad, because it's often stupid, and shows how much I live in my head, not my body.
The novel races on. I'm writing about Brazil now. Yet I am still deciding what it's really about.
Posted by julia @ 02:26 PM GMT
Wednesday, September 17, 2003
Oh well, I wasn't on the Booker shortlist, but never mind. It was very tense waiting for the announcement....almost impossible not to care. When I heard I felt great relief which was peculiar. I can go back to writing and stop worrying. Still, I think the list is quite an interesting one, although I am sorry that the Curious Incident of the Dog at Night time isn't there. I am enjoying the Good Doctor by Damon Galgut. But I miss the fluttery feeling I had, and I feel as if I have forgotten something.
Now I am back in my room, trying to write 1000 words a day. Actually that's not so much, but it can feel like a mountain. If I go away on a retreat it's easy to write much more than that. I have also realised that I far prefer writing longhand, then typing it up. It's as if the distance from brain to paper isn't so huge than from brain to type.
I have also started research for my play about Red Spot Babies. I have interviewed a 90 yr old home visitor, and been reading through books about the study of 1000 families. There is alot of stuff about mothering, less about fathers. The main result of the research was that poverty killed babies, not ineffectual mothers. It's interesting stuff...but I have no idea yet what the story will be.
This afternoon I am going up the coast with Emma H...she is going to paint, while I scribble notes. It's such incredible, warm weather it seems mad not to get out of the city.Posted by julia @ 11:46 AM GMT
Tuesday, September 9, 2003
Last night was the event at APARTMENT, with paintings by Emma Holliday and poems by me. It was a great place, very swanky, with low sofas and cushions. I particularly like venues where I can lie down if necessary! There were hundreds of lovely people there...everywhere you looked. Then at about eight o clock, it suddenly became a night club and all the lights dimmed. I find Emma's paintings very exciting and alive. I hope we can do some more collaborating...I would like to tag along when she takes her easel somewhere, and sit on the grass/sand/a nearby bench with my notebook. I find the best thing about working with artists is that it creates a whole new seam of work that wouldn't happen without the inspiration of another's visual eye.
I am working on the new novel again now, and also beginning the research for a new play for Live Theatre next year about Red Spot Babies. In the forties health authorities realised there were more infant deaths in the North east than anywhere else, so they set up a health survey, taking a thousand babies in the area and following their lives and environments closely right up until today. So there is masses of data and information about all these people. The play could be about so many things. Anyway, next week I am visiting a 90 yr old who was a home visitor/nurse for the project. It's all very interesting, and I have no idea yet what the play will be about.
I'm reading Brick Lane by Monica Ali. It's a marvelous book. I long to return to it. The only thing I don't like about it is that large parts of it are in italics. I really dislike italics when I am reading, as they get in the way of being 'inside' the story...you are always thinking 'Here I am reading italics.'
I have had a cheerful thought about the booker longlist. The writers who do not make the shortlist will be wonderful company as there are so many good books on the list.
I am all over the place this Autumn: Kings Lynn, Derby, Ilkley, Cheltenham, Belfast, Hebden Bridge, Cockermouth, Warwick, Hull and York. Many complimentary soaps, English breakfasts and hand shakes.
Posted by julia @ 11:41 AM GMT
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