A while back I tackled the ticklish problem of how we present ourselves at readings, festivals, author visits - any time we are obliged to get out of our pjs and face the public.  That post focused on women writers and their clothes dilemmas.  With men writers, there are fewer versions of shirt/trousers, sweater/trousers, jacket/trousers to get wrong.  But there is one thing - one vital decision - that I would like to address today - and that is ...

Nobody said being a writer was going to be easy - here's wishing you luck in your decision.


P.S. Apropos of nothing writerly, I'm a big fan of this video too - Yo Mama.


Joan Lennon's website.
Joan Lennon's blog.

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Last autumn Andrew Motion published an article titled Top 10 tips on being a successful poet - and this week I've been trying (unsuccessfully) to tidy up (i.e. cull) my file of "Oh - this is good - I might want to refer to this some time" and found it again.  And you know, the article is good, and though I don't remember particularly noticing number 4 the first time round, it's the one that speaks specially to me just now -

Honour the miraculousness of the ordinary. What we very badly need to remember is that the things right under our noses are extraordinary, fascinating, irreplaceable, profound and just kind of marvellous.

Look at the things in the foreground and relish stuff that can lose its glow by being familiar. In fact, re-estranging ourselves to familiar things seems to be a very important part of what poetry can do. 

I would change the words "poet" and "poetry" to "writer" and "writing".  And then I would say, "Yes."

Joan Lennon's website.
Joan Lennon's blog.

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I know you're busy.  I expect you're stressed.  So here's a tiny gift to you.  Take a few moments to forget the faff and just look.  And breathe.  (Always a good idea but sometimes neglected at this time of year.)

Joan Lennon's website.
Joan Lennon's blog.


Thank you, Joan, for such wonderfully wintry pictures to close the Awfully Big Blog Adventure posts for 2014.

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I admit it - until now, I'd never read The Picture of Dorian Gray.  Oh, I knew, more or less, the plot.  But when I needed to read Oscar Wilde's horror story for a novel I'm just starting to write, there wasn't a handy copy in the house, so I got it (for free) as part of a kindle Penny Dreadful multi-pack - including The Horrors of Zindorf Castle AND Jack Harkaway and His Son's Adventures in Australia, which, co-incidentally, I also didn't own.

But did you know The Picture of Dorian Gray was first published in this magazine in 1890?  

In full.  Plus a Preface.  Plus a whole bunch of other fiction and articles and biography and - I'd love to read this bit - 8 pages With the Wits (illustrated by leading artists).  How's that for 25 cents?  

But here's what I want to post about.  What Oscar Wilde said, in his Preface, about critics and criticism, because it is both a witticism and a balm.  He said:

"... the lowest form of criticism is a mode of autobiography.  Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming.  This is a fault."

Is it merely an elegant way of saying, "Aw, poop, they're just jealous"?  I don't care.  Next bad review any of us gets, I recommend this as our mantra.  All together now ...

This is a fault.  

Joan Lennon's website.
Joan Lennon's blog.

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I love writing, but I can’t do it for long.

I do it in quick bursts (30 or 40 minutes is usually enough) then I need a break, partly to recover emotionally from the fight or chase or argument I’ve just written, partly to get up from the chair and keyboard to give my body a change of posture, and partly to give my brain time to consider solutions to the questions and problems that particular burst of writing has thrown up.

So on the rare and wonderful days when I have all day to write, I don’t spend all day writing. I do a variety of things to take a break, at least once an hour. And over the years, I’ve discovered things which REALLY don’t work as breaks from writing:

Logging on to my email or twitter or facebook or even lovely blogs like this, because I get involved in conversations then feel rude if I break them off to get back to writing, and anyway it doesn’t give me a break from the screen and keyboard.

Reading a novel, because if the novel is any good, 10 minutes isn’t enough, and I risk getting sucked into that world, forgetting the time, forgetting the book I’m trying to write…

Doing a bit of housework, which usually annoys me more than it relaxes or inspires me, so I do as little housework as possible (this is a life rule, not just a writing day one!)

So this month, I made a new resolution (why make them in January? October can be a new start too) and I’m trying to find other things to give me a quick mental and physical break, then send me back into the story refreshed and possibly even inspired. And so far, these have worked:

Reading poetry, short stories or collections of art and photos. Much less likely to suck me in than a novel, and also a chance to widen my reading. So I’ve started a shelf of books specifically chosen for glancing at for 10 minutes (and yes, that is a book of Joan Lennon’s poetry…)

Stitching or sewing something. I’ve dug out a cushion cover I started to design decades ago, and now I’m working on it in very small sections. Working with wool is so different from working with words, that it seems like the perfect break.

Baking bread or cooking. It’s not housework, but it still makes me feel domestically useful, and kneading bread is particularly satisfying.

Going for a run. This is the best way to clear my head, and to deal with the dangers of a sitting down job. But it only works once a day, and only when I can be bothered! 

Sight reading a few of my daughter’s scales / exercises / pieces on the piano. (Not particularly well, but with a bit of verve!)

I’m sure if did all of these (run, bake, sew, play music, read poetry…) in one day, I’d probably not write any words of my own at all. But having all of those options certainly beats hanging socks between chapters…

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Many of us have done author events at the Wigtown Book Festival but if you're like me, you rarely leave the centre of town, where the action is fabulously, alluringly booky.  But the festival is over for another year and I'm here instead to house- and dog-sit.  And I'm seeing a whole different Wigtown, which I'd like to share with you.  From sunrises to sunsets, with some cows in-between - 

Joan Lennon's website.
Joan Lennon's blog.

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I've just finished reading a wonderful blog by Penny Dolan over on The History Girls, about a series of connections that lead her from a randomly-chosen book from her shelves, right through a whole string of 19th century names, fictional characters and relationships, all linked by a wooden-legged chap called W.E. Henley.  Which made me think of Charlotte Bronte.  Recently, she's been my W.E. Henley. 

It started with a Facebook post - which sent me to the Harvard Library online site where they have been working on restoring the tiny books Charlotte and Branwell Bronte made when they were children - which led to my own History Girl post Tiny Bronte Books.  (Please, if you go to have a look, scroll down to the bottom and watch the Brontesaurus video - you won't regret it.)

I'm in the midst of editing an anthology of East Perthshire writers called Place Settings and was delighted to read in one of the entries the author's interest in the Brontes, and how "... every night, the sisters paraded round the table reading aloud from their day's writings."

Then I got involved in a project run by 26, the writers' collective, in which writers were paired with design studios taking part in this year's London Design Show, and asked to write a response to one of their objects.  I was given Dare Studio who were putting forward, among other lovely things, a new design - the Bronte Alcove.




The alcove is meant to be a private space within public places, blocking out the surrounding bustle and noise.  Which made me think of bonnets.  Which led me back to the internet, which led me, by way of images of hats, to the passage below, written by Elizabeth Gaskell on her visit to Charlotte at the parsonage:

I asked her whether she had ever taken opium, as the description given of its effects in Villette was so exactly like what I had experienced, - vivid and exaggerated presence of objects, of which the outlines were indistinct, or lost in golden mist, etc. She replied, that she had never, to her knowledge, taken a grain of it in any shape, but that she had followed the process she always adopted when she had to describe anything which had not fallen within her own experience; she had thought intently on it for many and many a night before falling to sleep, - wondering what it was like, or how it would be, - till at length, sometimes after the progress of her story had been arrested at this one point for weeks, she wakened up in the morning with all clear before her, as if she had in reality gone through the experience, and then could describe it, word for word, as it had happened. I cannot account for this psychologically; I only am sure that it was so, because she said it.

Which led me to wonder ... my own practice has always been to try not to think about work when I'm courting sleep.  And I have rarely, if ever walked round my table of an evening, reading aloud from my day's work.  But have I been losing out here?  Do you do as Charlotte did?  I would be most interested to know.

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BY EMILY DICKINSON

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It's not as if I'm doing a lot of writing - well, I am, but not writing writing.  Not novels.  And it's no secret that a novel-writer who is between novels is not a pretty sight.  But I do have one, short piece of fiction writing to do, for an anthology.  I said I'd do it.  I want to do it.  And how's that going for me?  Well, look at the photo.  Says it all.

(Though, you'll notice, in the photo the passengers have helpfully disembarked, ready, no doubt, to give a shove if needed.  Catch my characters doing that.  Fat chance.)

Writing's like that sometimes.  A stalled bus on a virtually vertical hairpin turn.  You know that.  I know that.  And it'll get going again, some time, some how.  But in the meantime ...

... sigh.



[Photo is of the infamous Devil's Elbow in Glenshee, from Maurice Fleming's book More Old Blairgowrie and Rattray]


Joan Lennon's website.
Joan Lennon's blog.
and, for news of a bus of quite a different nature,
Patron of Reading for a Bus blog.

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Children's writers are a bit like fish in those shrinking ponds in a drought.  We're not yet at the stage of trying to breathe mud, but still, times are tight.  So, is competition good for us?

First, watch the video ...

Now, discuss!


Joan Lennon's website.
Joan Lennon's blog.

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I have no words for spring, except perhaps bravery.


Joan Lennon's website.
Joan Lennon's blog.

(Photos from in and around Ellenabeich, Seil Island, this time last year.)

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I've always found that there are certain characters in books of whom I get so fond that I don't want to say goodbye to them when the book ends. The hobbits were like that; when I finished The Lord of the Rings, I walked around in mourning for some days because I was no longer in a world where they were. Perhaps oddly, Horatio, in Hamlet, is another. There's something I really like about Horatio. He's on the edge of things, watching, but loyal and caring and clever. I picture him with a long scarf wound round his neck, glasses, a shock of dark hair, a wry smile. A bit like a French assistant we had when I was in the sixth form, as it happens!

And it's the same with the books I write. A few years ago, I wrote a book about Alfred the Great. It was called Warrior King. It's out of print now, but like Arnie, it'll be back. Soonish, I hope! There was a character in there called Cerys, a magic lady, a wise woman, with silver eyes. I really liked her.

She emerged from my imagination, but the other character from that book who stayed in my mind was real. She was Alfred's daughter, Aethelflaed (though in the book I called her Fleda - it made it less confusing, because there were so many other Aethel-whatnots hanging around). I discovered her when I was looking for a child who could be my point-of-view character when telling the story of Alfred - it was such a gift when I discovered that his oldest child was a daughter who would be just the right age at the time of the events in my story.

But Fleda became much more than that. I grew very fond of her. She was warm, impulsive, brave, and she could be defiant when she was defending something she believed in. I knew she must have been like that, because I knew that later, after the scope of my book, she married the Lord of the Mercians - and after his death, she became the Lady of the Mercians, Myrcna Hlaefdige, their de facto queen. She led them into battle and rebuilt their towns, and after her death, she was named in the Annals of Ulster as 'famosissima regina Saxonum', that most famous queen of the Saxons.

So when I got the chance to write a story for an anthology called Daughters of Time, a collection of stories about remarkable women from British history, written by contributors to the History Girls blog, it took no thinking at all to decide whom I would choose. I wrote about Aethelflaed at a time of transition for her, when she went from being princess of Wessex to wife of the Lord of the Mercians. It was an absolute joy to spend more time with her.

The only trouble is that the more I read about her, the more interesting she became. She had one daughter, Aelfwyn. She fostered her brother's oldest (but not quite legitimate) son, Aethelstan (who later became a great king of England): her brother was Edward, who succeeded Alfred. She fought alongside her brother; they must surely have been close. Yet after Aethelflaed's death, when Aelfwyn should have succeeded her, Edward rode in and carried Aelfwyn away into Wessex... and nothing more was heard of her. Edward became King then of Mercia as well as Wessex. Maybe she was put into a nunnery - or maybe not.

How much conflict and conniving, triumph and sadness, lie behind those few bare facts! I'd love to spend more time with Aethelflaed - and with Aethelstan and Aelfwyn. I'd love to explore their stories and try to understand their lives. One day, perhaps!

Daughters of Time is published this weekend. My story of the Lady of the Mercians is in there, but so are twelve other fascinating stories, many by writers who have blogged on An Awfully Big blog Adventure: Penny Dolan, for example, has written about Mary Wollstonecraft, Joan Lennon about Mary Anning, Catherine Johnson about Mary Seacole, Dianne Hofmeyr about Elizabeth Stuart. If you don't know much about any of these - as I didn't - you know what you need to do!

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Harriet Martineau's Household Education was published in 1848.  I don't always read raw history, but I'd been paired with this formidable lady as part of the 26 Norwich Writers project,* and needed to start somewhere.  Miss Martineau was astonishingly prolific - hugely influential in her time** - shockingly outspoken on the issues of her day - and clearly an all-round good egg.  But, to be honest, I wasn't exactly expecting to really enjoy her writing.  But I DID.  Household Education is fascinating.  It made me go YES!  It made me think.  And as this blog is the ramblings of a few scattered children's authors, I thought I'd share a few scattered Harrietisms on children and reading.

Such as -

"Children who read from the love of reading are usually supremely happy over their book.  A wise parent will indulge the love of reading, not only from kindness in permitting the child to do what it likes best, but because what is read with enjoyment has intense effect upon the intellect."

She didn't expect this enjoyment to be an immediate thing.

"The practice of reading for amusement must not begin too soon: and it must be permitted by very slow degrees, till the child is so practised in the art of reading as to have its whole mind at liberty for the subject, without having to think about the lines or the words.  Till he is is sufficiently practised for this, HE SHOULD BE READ TO ..." [my capitals]

She did not hold with the modern wisdom that it doesn't matter what children are reading, as long as they ARE reading.  As she went on to say,

"The parents' main business during this process is to look to the quality of the books read: - I mean merely to see that the child has the freest access to those of the best quality.  Nor do I mean only to such as the parent may think good for a child of such and such an age.  The child's own mind is a truer judge in this case than the parents' suppositions.  Let but noble books be on the shelf ... and the child will get nothing but good."

Her description of the best education of children - a far cry from so much that's called education in our day or hers - made me want to cheer, or possibly weep:  

"... the young creatures, having learned to use their own limbs and senses, and acquired the command of speech, begin to use their powers for the acquisition of materials for future thought.  They listen, they look about them, they inquire, they read; and, above all, they dream."

If only it were always so. 



* As part of the celebrations around Norwich becoming the first English UNESCO City of Literature, the writers' co-operative 26 has come up the project 26 Norwich Writers, in which 26 contemporary writers have been randomly paired with 26 writers from or associated with the city in its long history, and asked to write a response.  26 students from the University of East Anglia are doing the same.  That's a lot of 26s in 1 paragraph.  Unless it should be 26's ...

** People like Charles Babbage, Charlotte Bronte, Thomas Carlyle, Darwin, Dickens, George Eliot, Malthus, Florence Nightingale and William Wordsworth visited her, though not, we hope, all on the same day. 

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Vist Joan's website.
Visit Joan's blog.

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I feel bad.

Bad as in unhappy but also as in base, blameworthy, conscience-stricken, deleterious, delinquent ... my thesaurus goes on and on, but you get the idea.  Why do I feel this way?  Because I've arrived on the wrong side of a deadline without achieving what I'd planned.

Does it matter that the deadline was self-imposed?  Really rather ambitious?  Actually not all that likely?  Yes.  It does.  I'm serious about the book I'd hoped to have finished.  Committed.  Enthusiastic.  Passionate, even.  And yet, I am stopping working on this book because I need to be focusing on another (and, in case this other book should feel slighted, I'd like to put on record that I am serious, committed, enthusiastic and passionate about it too) - a book that also has a deadline - a deadline set by someone other than me.

Never missed one of those.* 

Then I went looking for the origin of the term deadline.  And found it in the American Civil War.  A line was drawn in the dirt 15-20 feet inside the stockade of prison camps.  Any prisoner who stepped over the line could be shot.

Blimey.

Those deadlines were definitely set by somebody else.  Those deadlines you definitely would not want to be on the wrong side of.

Think I'll stop wasting time feeling bad and knuckle down ...


* touch wood


Visit Joan's website.
Visit Joan's blog.
  

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There are some competitions you are never going to win, and sometimes even taking part is a bad idea.  Choose your battles, my friends.  Choose your battles.

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Visit Joan's blog.

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I'm a nice person. Nice, nice, nice. On the outside, anyway. Chances are, you are too. Which means we are well and truly cut off from the joy of insults. (Giving, of course, as opposed to receiving.) Think about it ... When was the last time you really enjoyed insulting someone - really savoured the syllables, letting them roll about your tongue, or flow down your arms to the quill clutched in your inkstained fingers? I wager it's been a while. I wager it's been too long, you frothy, beef-witted ratsbane ...

I'm here today to help. From the kit below, start with the word "You" (or "Thou" if you prefer) then choose one epithet from each column and put them together in the way that gives you the most satisfaction. Because we're nice, we don't have to tell who the insult is for - but WE'LL know. Oh yes.

Artless	Base-court	Apple-john
Bawdy	Beef-witted	Barnacle
Beslubbering	Beetle-headed	Bladder
Churlish	Boil-Brained	Boar-Pig
Cockered	Clapper-Clawed	Bugbear
Clouted	Clay-Brained	Bum-Bailey
Craven	Common-Kissing	Canker-Blossom
Currish	Crook-Pated	Clack-Dish
Dankish	Dismal-Dreaming	Clotpole
Dissembling	Dizzy-Eyed	Coxcomb
Droning	Doghearted	Codpiece
Errant	11 Comments on The Joy of Insults - Joan Lennon, last added: 3/15/2012 Display Comments madwippitt said, on 3/12/2012 2:26:00 AM You norty pribbling wagtail you! This is just so funny - I love it. Although I need to go look up most of these words ... And if you don't object I may draw on it as well for future works ... I remember the glee with which I discovered the speech in King Lear in which Kent roundly curses Oswald! Susan Price said, on 3/12/2012 2:29:00 AM You tardy, reeky moldwarp! It works! I feel - energised. Like madwippet, I shall be copying this for further use. Penny Dolan said, on 3/12/2012 2:40:00 AM Well, that's today used up already. Will start on my list of WHO before deciding WHAT then, hey! Just wonderful! Joan Lennon said, on 3/12/2012 2:50:00 AM Oh what a relief! There was an awful silence just after the post came up in which I pictured all sorts of frilly-lipping going on in the community ... Instead I'm going to picture sneakily satisfied grins on ABBA faces everywhere, this fine spring day! Linda Strachan said, on 3/12/2012 3:00:00 AM Ah! I reckon Thou's a Gleeking, Knotty-Pated,Flap-Dragon! Dianne Hofmeyr said, on 3/12/2012 7:30:00 AM You unmuzzled tickled-brained mumble-news you have given this pribbling motley-minded clotpole something to laugh about on this Monday morning. Some work just as they are: a villainous tardy-gaited strumpet Lynda Waterhouse said, on 3/12/2012 11:31:00 AM Today I have been railing against the pribbling pottle- deep puttocks with their datsardly deep cutting of benefits to Aged P's care plan. Thank you Joan for providing this She Wolf with the correct vocab. Lisa Shambrook said, on 3/12/2012 4:05:00 PM Ha ha, I wish some of the unmuzzled fool-born clotpoles out there would use this list instead of the boring, over-used, offensive terms they usually lace their conversation with! jongleuse said, on 3/13/2012 2:47:00 AM Lovely. Feeling very much like a reeky weather-bitten strumpet myself today. Abi Burlingham said, on 3/13/2012 5:42:00 AM You spleeny sheep-biting puttock you!... yes, you (not you of course, Joan!) My friend recently insulted someone who pinched the parking space we were waiting for and who proceded to be very abusive... my friend told her she was a Scutterbag! I thought that was wonderful! Lovely fun post Joan! Enid Richemont said, on 3/15/2012 11:48:00 AM From one puny milk-livered mammet - may I add to this list my daughter's reproach to one of her small children - "you mollusc"? Add a Comment More from this Blog | Email This | Add a Tag 20. Unbound - A Good Thing - Joan Lennon 2 Comments | Previous | Top | Next By: Joan Lennon, on 2/3/2012 Blog: An Awfully Big Blog Adventure (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap) JacketFlap tags:  Joan Lennon, publishers, reading for pleasure, Add a tag You may already know all about this imaginative venture, but if not, I'll let the Unbound people tell you about it in their own words ... Readers and Authors ... Maybe there's something here you'd like to read. Maybe there's something here you'd like to write! (Now, we are told that confession is good for the soul, so I will come clean and say that it isn't JUST my enthusiasm for all things Unbound that has prompted this post. There's a book on their books that is dear to my heart - 26 Treasures - The Book. This wonderfully creative project has had writers all over the country paired with objects in museums, then challenged them to share their responses in 62 words (a form now know as the sestude). Have a look at the link here to find out more, and if you like what you see, well, please join us in the pie chart wedge of excellence! As in, please subscribe ....) So there you have it. Unbound. A Good Thing. Don't you think? Joan Lennon's website. Joan Lennon's blog. 2 Comments on Unbound - A Good Thing - Joan Lennon, last added: 2/6/2012 Display Comments Penny Dolan said, on 2/5/2012 9:43:00 AM Great idea! Thanks for sharing this. A very different model of publishing although - remembering Berwicks "British Birds" - weren't books originally published by a subscription list? Stroppy Author said, on 2/6/2012 5:34:00 AM Indeed they were, Penny. It will be interesting to see how well Unbound works. Add a Comment More from this Blog | Email This | Add a Tag 21. A Common Dilemma - Joan Lennon 10 Comments | Previous | Top | Next By: Joan Lennon, on 11/20/2011 Blog: An Awfully Big Blog Adventure (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap) JacketFlap tags:  Joan Lennon, awards, a writer's life, For Fun, Add a tag Once upon a time, there were two poets. For the sake of anonymity, we will call one Emily and the other Sylvia. They were both extremely good writers - modern yet accessible, challenging yet mellifluous, edgy yet musical. They each kept a wary professional eye on the other’s successes and failures. Because they were decent human beings, they tried to rejoice at the former and not to rejoice at the latter. Sometimes they managed this better than other times, but still, they tried. For many years their areas of special interest did not overlap, so they did not tend to be up for the same awards or invited to the same festivals. Emily focussed largely on urban subjects; Sylvia’s work was strictly metaphysical. But then – an example of convergent evolution – both Sylvia and Emily became interested in birds. Perhaps they both received literature from the RSPB during the same mailing campaign. Perhaps they both were given bird feeders as Christmas presents by totally unrelated relatives. Whatever the reason, both writers began to produce reams of poems about our feathered friends … … until the inevitable happened. They were both short-listed for the RSPB Bird Poet of the Year Award. On learning that one has been short-listed for anything, a writer’s invariable first thought is, What shall I wear? This is because they are not normally dressy people. Pyjamas, baggy track tops, elderly jeans – these make up the usual uniform of work-from-home writers. The two poets hadn’t a thing in their wardrobes appropriate for such an occasion. So, after thinking, What shall I wear? Emily went out in search of an outfit that would be as beautiful as the subjects of her poems. Something feathery, colourful, suggestive of wings and flight. After thinking, What shall I wear? Sylvia also went out in search of an outfit that would be as beautiful as the subjects of her poems. Something suggestive of flight and wings, colourful, feathery ... On the fateful evening, they arrived at the award ceremony, both a little late, just in time to go onto the stage and be introduced to the audience. They were dressed identically. Sylvia turned to Emily. “Nice dress,” she said. “Thank you,” Emily replied. “So’s yours.” “Symbolic?” asked Sylvia. “Absolutely,” said Emily with a cautious smile. “The old form and content thing.” “Where would we be without metaphor, eh?” “Damn straight.” There was a short pause. Then Emily crooked her arm, inviting Sylvia to link up with her. “The grand entrance?” she murmured. “As if we’d planned it?” 10 Comments on A Common Dilemma - Joan Lennon, last added: 11/22/2011 Display Comments Sue Purkiss said, on 11/21/2011 1:46:00 AM Brilliant! I love it - and the headline is no less than a triumph! Penny Dolan said, on 11/21/2011 1:57:00 AM Thanks for making the day seem brighter! Katherine Langrish said, on 11/21/2011 2:20:00 AM I really love it. (And let sisterhood always prevail!) madwippitt said, on 11/21/2011 4:08:00 AM Brilliant! Is it true? adele said, on 11/21/2011 4:29:00 AM Very much hope this is true! Very funny! David said, on 11/21/2011 4:44:00 AM Ouch! Joan Lennon said, on 11/21/2011 5:01:00 AM Sadly not true, except in spirit. It's one of a collection of mangled proverbs/sayings I've been writing, and as this one relates to one of writers' perennial problems, I thought it was ABBA-appropriate. (If anyone remembers the radio programme My Word, the genre will be familiar!) Abi Burlingham said, on 11/21/2011 5:09:00 AM Joan, this is my favourite ABBA post yet (I think they're all great, I hasten to add.) Your sense of fun always comes across in your posts. This tale is pure genius. Even if it isn't true, you've made it seem so - I love it! Joan Lennon said, on 11/21/2011 2:32:00 PM Thank you all for kind comments, here and on Facebook! Savita Kalhan said, on 11/22/2011 10:07:00 AM Brilliant and funny! Thanks, Joan. Add a Comment More from this Blog | Email This | Add a Tag 22. Just Watch - Joan Lennon 12 Comments | Previous | Top | Next By: Joan Lennon, on 9/6/2011 Blog: An Awfully Big Blog Adventure (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap) JacketFlap tags:  Joan Lennon, Add a tag Times are tough. I know you're working as hard as you possibly can, and then some. And I think you need a tiny, perfectly-formed break. So, please, do yourself a favour. Forget your worry and your woe, turn up the sound and just watch ... Cheers, Joan. Joan Lennon's website Joan Lennon's blog 12 Comments on Just Watch - Joan Lennon, last added: 9/9/2011 Display Comments Stroppy Author said, on 9/7/2011 1:27:00 AM Ace! Linda Newbery said, on 9/7/2011 2:18:00 AM Oh, lovely! They don't do this on Strictly Come Dancing, do they? Elaine AM Smith said, on 9/7/2011 2:58:00 AM That is a farstep away from Riverdance ;) Penny Dolan said, on 9/7/2011 4:02:00 AM Tried copying it over here, but me writer's back fair inhibited me. Not ot metion me writers block. A highly cheering moment, Joan! Liz Kessler said, on 9/7/2011 4:13:00 AM Love it! Who is he? Brilliant dancer. Made me feel energised and smiley! Liz x Susan Price said, on 9/7/2011 4:24:00 AM Bloody marvellous, Joan! And a first for a writer's blog. adele said, on 9/7/2011 4:47:00 AM Super! Thanks, Joan! Emma Barnes said, on 9/7/2011 4:55:00 AM Not strictly to the point, but well done Joan on being short-listed for the Scottish Book Awards! Joan Lennon said, on 9/7/2011 6:29:00 AM I'm glad you're enjoying the lad - and thanks, Emma! Definitely something to dance about! Linda said, on 9/7/2011 8:08:00 AM What a wonderfully active lad - fair wore me out just watching! Congrats on the Scottish Book Trust shortlisting for 'Slightly'- well deserved! Joan Lennon said, on 9/7/2011 12:05:00 PM Thank you! Miriam Halahmy said, on 9/9/2011 7:39:00 AM How cool is that - wonderful dancing - excellent for the short list on the Scottish Book Award - it cheered me up!! Add a Comment More from this Blog | Email This | Add a Tag 23. St Jerome and the Sleeping Cat - Joan Lennon 10 Comments | Previous | Top | Next By: Joan Lennon, on 8/2/2011 Blog: An Awfully Big Blog Adventure (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap) JacketFlap tags:  Joan Lennon, Add a tag I'm adaptable ... ish. I can write in cafes and hotel rooms and in the quiet car on trains. I can even write with music, as long as it's classical, doesn't have lyrics and I have easy access to the off switch. I can write in a house full of people, as long as they're not, you know, in the same room. Or talking just outside the door. Or obviously having more fun than I am. But really, for me, there's always been a perfect place to write, and this is where it's always been. A room like this, with a sleeping cat (size doesn't matter), cushions, a comfy robe, good lighting (I'm willing to use a lamp - not everybody can produce their own) windows onto a view, a bit of birdsong offstage. And solitude. You can feel the serenity. You can practically touch the contentment - and the focus. How does Durer do that? I don't know. Art's a mystery. I wrote recently about how writers are like flamingos, how we need each other. And I still think that's true. But this is the other thing. This room, or as close to it as we can find. And a sleeping cat. Joan Lennon's website Joan Lennon's blog 10 Comments on St Jerome and the Sleeping Cat - Joan Lennon, last added: 8/5/2011 Display Comments catdownunder said, on 8/2/2011 1:46:00 AM Miaou! Purrup...purrup...purrup! :-) Lynda Waterhouse said, on 8/2/2011 2:12:00 AM serenity, contentment and focus will be my watchwords for today. The cat does have to be sleeping - not purring, rustling among the notebooks, weaving precariously around the objects on your desk, hovering by the keyboard..... serenity...contentment....focus The Time Sculptor’s Secret said, on 8/2/2011 3:02:00 AM I could stare into this picture for hours, thanks for sharing. I love the picture your words paint here... every word rings true for me! How wonderful to work in the warm, steady glow of creative contentment. Jane Gray hilary said, on 8/2/2011 3:25:00 AM How lovely (pause to stare at present work space which includes three teenagers, one hosepipe, one stepladder, the remains of some tents and a cat who never stops yowling until all the doors are open). Still, deadlines, deadlines, and the pot must be boiled. It is sometimes useful, for those of us without the comforts of St Jerome, to realise that hanging also concentrates the mind. Cathy Butler said, on 8/2/2011 5:57:00 AM Your Jerome reminds me of the Irish monk and his cat Pangur Ban, another productive writer/cat combo, although this cat is awake: http://homepages.wmich.edu/~cooneys/poems/pangur.ban.html Rosalie Warren said, on 8/2/2011 9:45:00 AM Mmm, picture of heaven. My choice of how to spend eternity, if I get the chance. (As long as my loved ones are somewhere not too far away... and the sea lapping just outside.) Dianne Hofmeyr said, on 8/3/2011 3:23:00 AM Lovely snippet Joan...Yes it looks blissful. I've written outside a safari tent watching elephants not so sure about a lion's presence though. In Jeromes's case I suppose he was docile and certainly looks very relaxed having had the thorn removed no doubt. But lions purr even louder than cats!!! Stroppy Author said, on 8/3/2011 11:35:00 AM Strangely, I have a friend who owns Durer's sketch of the lion in this picture and he has it in a study which is just as calm and focused as St Jerome's room. Maybe it's something about having a lion in your room. madwippitt said, on 8/4/2011 1:16:00 AM The reason for the dopey smile on the lion's face and calm serenity is in fact due to the proto-wippitt curled up on the floor to the left. They are the perfect writing companion as St. J has obviously discovered! Emma Barnes said, on 8/5/2011 11:44:00 AM Love the picture, love the thought. Even though I'm allergic to cats... (I always like that poem too - I and Pangur Ban my cat... Obviously there are affinities between writers and cats.) Add a Comment More from this Blog | Email This | Add a Tag 24. In Praise of Ruperts - Joan Lennon 6 Comments | Previous | Top | Next By: Joan Lennon, on 4/4/2011 Blog: An Awfully Big Blog Adventure (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap) JacketFlap tags:  Joan Lennon, Add a tag I have just returned from a remarkable experience. I spent March as the Jessie Kesson Fellow at Moniack Mhor Writers' Centre. I lived in a cottage on a hill (1000 feet up), with its very own micro-climate - everything from thigh-high snow, to sitting out in the sun watching the daftness of lambs, to the foggiest fogs I have ever seen - and I wrote. When I wasn't writing, I thought about writing. When I went to sleep, I dreamed about writing. I did a day a week in the schools talking about writing and getting the kids to write. I worked with the Highland Literary Salon on their Writers' Retreat Weekend. I was obsessed. I was, in fact, a deleriously happy Rupert. Let me explain. Rupert is a crow. He also lives at Moniack Mhor. He sees life differently from other crows. I know this because Rupert throws himself at buildings. Now, many birds will occasionally be confused by the glass in a window and bump into it. Having done so, they will either a) drop down dead or b) give themselves an embarrassed shake and fly away. Not Rupert. Rupert seeks out windows with intent, and when he finds them he throws himself at them like a feathery grenade, bounces off, and does it again. Bam. Bam. Bam. If you interrupt Rupert in mid-attack by, say, opening the door and yelling, he'll only go a little way off and then squat on a fence post and swear at you. You just know he's going to be back. He is on a mission - his tiny demented mind is full of conquest ... Bam. Bam. At first he specialised in subduing the windows of my cottage. By the time my residency was over, he had transferred his attention to the big house and was attacking that. There are A LOT of windows in the main building, but Rupert is a bird obsessed. I'm convinced he's happy in his work. I like to think we have things in common. So here's to Ruperts everywhere. Here's to slant vision, quixotic pursuits, perseverance and a hard head. Here's to obsession. Bam. Visit my website. Visit my blog. Visit Slightly Jones' Notebook. 6 Comments on In Praise of Ruperts - Joan Lennon, last added: 4/5/2011 Display Comments catdownunder said, on 4/5/2011 1:39:00 AM Ah yes. nothing like banging your head against a glass wall! :-) John Dougherty said, on 4/5/2011 1:54:00 AM I'm off to do that very thing at my desk right now! Lindsey Fraser said, on 4/5/2011 2:05:00 AM I must pack my cycle helmet for Pushkin Week in May! Rosalie Warren said, on 4/5/2011 10:09:00 AM Love the sound of Rupert and know the feeling! I bet he's working on a novel. Sue Purkiss said, on 4/5/2011 10:50:00 AM We used to have a mad blackbird who did the exact same thing on and off for several months - I suppose he finally divebombed some window or other one time too many. Bless... Sarah Taylor-Fergusson said, on 4/5/2011 11:48:00 AM Have heard that it's young male birds who are fathering for the first time who go a bit nuts with defending their patch. We've had a cock blackbird start a sustained attack on my dad's wing mirror - this began at the same time as his hen was sitting on the eggs. That was two years ago. It didn't happen last year, so there might be something in it. Add a Comment More from this Blog | Email This | Add a Tag 25. Unrealistic of Fife (aka Joan Lennon) 8 Comments | Previous | Top | By: Joan Lennon, on 2/27/2011 Blog: An Awfully Big Blog Adventure (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap) JacketFlap tags:  Joan Lennon, Add a tag I am an utterly lucky bunny. I've been awarded the Jessie Kesson Fellowship, which means I get to spend March in the cottage on the left, working in the schools one day a week, doing some adult workshops and writing my tiny socks off. Please don't worry that I am now going to continue with a But ... There ARE not Buts for a situation like that. The situation is perfect. I, however ... (See, a However is different from a But) ... have a tendency to be unrealistic. I've blogged about this before - the Bottom Syndrome - and what I'm suffering from at the moment is a version of that dread disease. "With that much time," I find myself saying to myself, "that much beautiful, inspiring scenery, that much peace, I should be able to write AT LEAST Paradise Lost and Lord of the Rings and 2 radio plays and a short story and a Science Fiction masterpiece. And hike 20 miles a day, like a demented hikey thing. And take award-winning photographs. And learn how to draw. Oh, and I wouldn't mind being a few inches taller." I lie for a living. But if I don't get a handle on THIS form of fiction, there is a good chance my head may explode, all over the beautiful scenery. Which must constitute some form of littering, and so I am against it. Realistic aims, then: I will write ... a moderate number of tons. I will walk ... weather permitting, and slowly, so that I can take photos. I will stand up straight ... which is the only way I'm likely to grow. And if you hear a dull boom in the distance, here's hoping it wasn't me. Visit my website. Visit my blog. Visit Slightly Jones' Notebook. P.S. Apologies - this post is meant to be on 28th Feb. but I can't get the delayed posting thing to work (sometimes it does, and sometimes it doesn't) and I need to pack up my computer now to take north with me ... Lucky bunny - I know! 8 Comments on Unrealistic of Fife (aka Joan Lennon), last added: 2/27/2011 Display Comments Katherine Langrish said, on 2/27/2011 4:00:00 AM Gosh - envy, envy! May you have a wonderful time and achieve most if not all of your goals! (PS GOAL is GAOL is written wrong - so don't let them imprison you!) Gillian Philip said, on 2/27/2011 4:11:00 AM Moniack Mhor! *Jealous jealous jealous*! How wonderful, Joan! frances thomas said, on 2/27/2011 5:04:00 AM Have a great tine and write wonderful things! Rosalie Warren said, on 2/27/2011 5:52:00 AM I'm envious too! Enjoy... Penny Dolan said, on 2/27/2011 7:06:00 AM Hope you've taken along one of those Biggles-y leathery flying-caps so you can strap your busy head in safely & tightly - just in case the "moderate" approach doesn't work. Happy working & walking to you, Joan. Book Maven said, on 2/27/2011 8:11:00 AM How lovely - congratulations! Mary catdownunder said, on 2/27/2011 2:03:00 PM Oh - did the screen just turn bright green? Sorry, that was me feeling envious! Sarah Allen said, on 2/27/2011 3:50:00 PM You can do it! And enjoy the wonderful things going on :) Sarah Allen (my creative writing blog) Add a Comment More from this Blog | Email This | Add a Tag View Next 10 Posts © 2017 Jacketflap.com                         About Us   FAQ   Advertise on JacketFlap   About our Widgets program for Publishers   Privacy   Terms