Yorkshire Writers' Lunch

  In prose, I constantly admire a writer who is able to drop poetic sentences like jewels. Sometimes these aren’t entirely appropriate and may even slow plot momentum but they are no less beautiful for it. It’s the literary equivalent of stopping to smell the roses.             However I’m not particularly adept at writing such stunning imagery, at least not for longer stories. When it comes to my more plot-focused fiction, each sentence serves to keep things moving. They’re often short, simple and riddled with inoffensive cliché.             It’s in my character-focused fiction where I find the time to make a moment pretty and quotable. However this doesn’t always work, usually because I’m trying too hard to catch the eye.             My most egregious offences include drawn-out metaphors that don’t comfortably a...

He sat down at the carved antique desk and looked out of the window at the long drive ahead.  On the desk before him lay smooth vellum writing paper, coloured inks and an array of beautiful writing implements.  A familiar sight and one which normally centred him and made him feel calm.  But not this time.  He looked out at the carefully manicured lawns and the rows of poplar trees standing to attention in the warm sun.  What would it be like to lose all of this? His hands shook as he lifted his favourite fountain pen and began to fill it with purple ink.  He gripped the chunky barrel of the pen and held it, poised over the paper, as he considered how to start what might be the most important letter of his life. Suddenly, the door opened so violently that it made him jump and a tiny blob of purple ink escaped from the pen and fell onto the paper. 'Damn,' he uttered as the ink slowly spread outwards, as if it were acid, eroding the paper. 'How can you...

Five years ago today the first Writers’ Lunch blog post appeared. 261 posts and over 125,000 words later, it is still going strong. The first post, by Emma Harding, was a simple manifesto which has served the lunchers and contributors well. I recommend reading the post, but the essence lies in this quote - ‘we have found that it helps to help each other.’ Over the five years the numbers for the weekly lunch, in a café in Huddersfield, have expanded, contracted and expanded again. There is no quorum, no constitution, no membership, no fees and no requirement to post. Over 20 different writers have contributed with a range of stories, poems, and creative non-fiction. With regard to fiction, there must some genres we have not covered, but writers have used the blog opportunity to experiment with their style and try something different. All contributors are taking steps in the process that makes a writer – building up a body of work, distinctive to that individual. A number of co...

New York 1971. Alex Cameron, a New York Times Best Selling author and top feature writer, was pacing the floor of her writing room in a state of agitation, her face looked stressed which spoilt her good looks. Another magazine assignment stared at her from under a large paperweight that sat on the desk, as if daring her to write it. She lit a cigarette and drew deeply, feeling the initial dizziness of the first nicotine hit of the day, poured a drink from the hot coffee jug and took a draught, straight down in one.   Outside it was getting lighter with every second; she took a look at her watch, twice, not believing what she saw the first time. “My god, four hours?” Her 5’10” frame sagged, feeling the pressure. She ran her hand through her long auburn hair, lips pursed.   She couldn’t afford not to deliver on this one; there was a new guy at the top and she got the impression he didn’t like her. Reluctantly she walked out of her room to the landing and shouted down the ...

Most of us have heard of National Novel Writing Month, but how many have actually tried it? The first time I did it, I was writing on my own – didn’t belong to any groups – so I just got my head down and went for it. I had the sense to try a fantasy, which wasn’t really my ‘thing’ but I’ve found it’s certainly the easiest way to reach that target of 50,000 words in 30 days. This year I’ve done a second novel to follow on from my first ‘turn-of-the-century (nineteenth) detective novel. Lots of encouragement to put it all together, but difficult to sustain over 30 days because of the minor detail of historical accuracy and the need for continual research. In one chapter, my heroine went into town on half-day closing. Except that as soon as I typed it, I realised that half-day closing didn’t become general until the 1912 law was passed – my book is set in 1899. Think again! This time round I do belong to writing groups and others in those groups are also tackling NaNoWriMo. We sup...

“As you know from our website Madam we pride ourselves in doing things differently here. You are free to move around the hotel and browse the interesting layout and décor of unoccupied rooms as we leave these open for people to take pictures of and talk about on social media. We are extremely proud of being the most Instagrammed hotel in the UK.” His demeanour changed as he leant forwards on to the desk and whispered in my ear “Of course there is one stipulation we insist that our guests obey which is that you must not enter Room 27 . It is kept unlocked but we must insist that you do not open the door .” At this I burst out laughing! “Really?! I thought this hotel was called ‘The Pavilion,’ not ‘Castle Dracula!”’ In response, he leant back and grew stony faced. “You may laugh Madam but enter that room at your own peril. Here is your room key.” I looked down in to my hand and saw that the key he had handed me was to Room 26. Was this a subtle form of revenge I thought, but said noth...

“I am perfectly imperfect.”   That is my new mantra.  It has taken me 41 years to reach this point of being.  It is so enlightening and uplifting and is helping me feel happier and more confident in every aspect of my life, including my writing. I always enjoyed writing stories and poems from an early age, and in those early days without any fear of whether I was “good enough” to call myself a writer.  It is what I did and what I loved.  I always dreamed of being like Jo from Little Women.  Why then did I change my original path and pursue a career in law instead?   At some point in my childhood I remember my Dad saying “Nothing is worth doing if you don’t do it well.”  To put it in context, he was talking about cleaning the wooden floor in our living room.  He was dissatisfied with what he called my “port hole cleaning”.  As is the way with children, I took that on board as a message for how I should be in everything I did....

There are days, like today, when there is nothing there at all.  This is what it would have been like for Lucy, if, pushing through the moth-ball scented fur coats, she found only the wooden back of the wardrobe. This is how it would have been for Cinderella, if the pumpkin stayed vegetable and the mice stayed rodent. This is how it would have been if Alice had not fallen down the rabbit hole, or if Harry had stayed in the cupboard under the stairs.  If Aladdin rubbed the lamp, and it just got shinier, he would have felt like this. Domestically satisfied, possibly, at a job done efficiently. But imaginatively, an empty vessel. Washing done, ironing done, spellings tested, reading books laboured over. Words – unwritten. Not just unwritten – unthought, undreamt, unscribbled on a receipt in the bottom of my bag, un-tapped into my smartphone.  There are plenty of words, washing around my head like socks in the suds, but they are the wr...