The Wit and Wisdom of Margaret Atwood

The best thing I can do for today's blog is to point you in the direction of yesterday's mini-interview of Margaret Atwood in The Guardian. Every Saturday, they run a Q&A where they ask the same 25 questions. Her answers are the best I've ever seen. My favourites are to the questions: What is your favourite word? and What is the most important lesson life has taught you? Although the joke at the end is pretty great, too. Enjoy!

Fiction, Poetry, Science, Wine and Brownies

If that doesn't make for the perfect 24 hours, then I don't know what does. Wednesday evening I sat on a panel for Cambridge's Festival of Ideas discussing such questions as what gives a writer or scientist credibility? Do facts exist? What is the responsibility of a creative writer to the science he/she is responding to? Is plausibility enough? The poet Kelley Swain, who is also the Writer-in-Residence of Cambridge University's Whipple Museum, moderated while I duked it out in front of a vocal and appreciative audience with Richard Barnett, Wellcome Trust Public Engagement Fellow; Marek Kukula, the Royal Observatory Public Astronomer and Laura Dietz, novelist, science writer and lecturer at Anglia Ruskin University. Quite a stellar panel to be a part of. And if that wasn't enough, Kelley even made up bookmarks with each of our names, photos and affiliations on it. I'm a bookmark! I had really been looking forward to this event and it didn't disappoint -- nor did the group dinner afterwards, where we continued the discussion with the help of a couple bottles of wine and, yes, brownies for dessert.

Then today, I spent the morning playing tourist in Cambridge, ambling in and out of the colleges. I even went punting on the Cam. It was a lovely way to spend a few hours and prepare myself for helping to lead a writing workshop with Kelley and Laura on finding the stories in science. This was held in the Whipple Museum which is a quirky and wonderful place dedicated to the history of science. Surrounded by old telescopes, models of  body parts, wooden models of the solar system, we spoke with new writers about turning science into fiction, finding inspiration in objects, tweaking out the story behind a concept.

All in all, a great trip to Cambridge, and I even sold a copy of Tangled Roots.

Cambridge Festival of !deas

Now this is an event I'm really thrilled to be a part of.

The Cambridge Festival of !deas is in the midst of it's third year as the only free arts, humanities and social sciences festival in the UK. Last year it attracted over 9,000 visitors to over 180 events, and this year is well on it's way to topping that.

I have been asked by the poet and Cambridge's Whipple Museum Writer-in-Residence, Kelley Swain, to sit on a panel she is moderating called "INcredible Stories in Science." Along with my fellow panelists Dr. Marek Kukula, Public Astronomer from the Royal Observatory in Greenwich; novelist and science writer Laura Dietz from Anglia Ruskin University; and Dr. Richard Barnett, Wellcome Trust Public Engagement Fellow, we will be discussing the idea of reputation and credibility in science and art inspired by science. I'm thrilled to be thinking and talking about the connection between science and art once again. Although my last novel was more politically and geographically inspired, my first one, Tangled Roots, portrayed the life and mind of a theoretical physicist and required a year's-worth of reading about cosmology. The novel I am writing now is combining my two interests in SE Asia and science by portraying the lives of Western doctors who come to Cambodia to set up a Women's Health Clinic. While I'm writing this book I've also been thinking a lot about the connection between medicine and music. The interface between science and art is fascinating, and I know this discussion will bring up all sorts of new ideas for all of us.

If you can, do come by. It's free and bound to be something special.

Wednesday 26 October, 6:00PM - 7:00PM

Anglia Ruskin University

East Road

Cambridge

A Connecticut Yankee

I lived in Connecticut over thirty years ago. I have lots of good associations with the State, but it actually has seemed very far away over the past years. I associate Connecticut with leafy suburbs and sensible lifestyles - a far cry from the ultra-urban life I've been living. But it was wonderful spending two days there, looking at the autumn foliage along the highway (when I wasn't driving through incredible rains), and catching up with friends, new and old.

A Clash of Innocents in the window
of Bank Square Books

My first stop was a marvellous independent bookstore in Mystic called Bank Square Books. This is a large, well-stocked bookstore, just like the good old days. The fact that it isn't squeezed between buildings in a big city means it has space for shelves full of interesting and unusual finds, and parking. They are known for their author series and I was thrilled to be given the opportunity to appear there. But alas, the weather gods were against me. My talk came in the middle of flooding rains and ominous skies so no one was in the shop at all, except the staff. As I drove up from New York, I had imagined that this would be the case. But despite that, actually, it was still great. I talked and read to the staff who loved the work -- even the poetry collection. And they then went on to buy six copies of A Clash of Innocents and set it up as one of their Staff Picks.  They also bought two copies of Her Life Collected, and these were all really purchased, not just taken on consignment. This is a bookshop that promotes independent publishers and I know they are interested in all the authors published by Ward Wood, so despite my lack of audience, I still have to believe that this was an event worth doing.

That evening I stayed overnight with an old friend from college days. His wife is the journalist and writer Abby Sullivan Moore, who writes non-fiction about parenting issues, and specifically the role of technology in the lives of University students and their parents. Fascinating stuff, not only because of the content of her work and interests, but also because although our work is very different, our experiences as jobbing writers are very similar -- setting up gigs, self-promoting, pounding the pavement .... it's all the same these days no matter what you write or who publishes you.  It was a real treat getting to spend some time with them.

And then in the morning I addressed a class of teenagers at a private school which has a separate arts certificate that the kids can earn alongside their usual college prep diploma. These kids are creating their own art, whether it's in writing or painting or music or dance, and they're thinking about the role of art in their society. The school also has an annual service trip to Cambodia and so my own work fit it very well with their interests. I ran a "Master Class" for them where I read from the novel and also talked about the life of a writer as I am finding it. Plus I spoke a bit about the topic which is becoming more and more important to me and my work, namely using art for social change. I do love talking to kids so this was a real treat for me.

And now the working part of this trip is over. I'm in the airport waiting for my flight to Washington DC where I'll be going to a wedding. Then it's back to London on Monday, back to writing and of course more events. Look out for Sunday's blog all about the first one of these -- me at the Cambridge Festival of Ideas.

Different Sorts of Book Signings

It's been a busy couple of days.
Two book signings. Two books to be signed. Two very different venues and very different audiences.

At the Grolier Poetry Bookshop

Friday afternoon at The Grolier Poetry Bookshop in Harvard Square. This is a wonderful, old-style bookshop. Shelves full of books. That's it. No coffee. No computers. No comfy chairs. Just walls full of bookshelves and three people who own and run the place, poets and poetry lovers all. I was set up in a corner by the door, with copies of my poetry book, Her Life Collected, on display and a black music stand. By the cash register was a shelf full of cookies, plastic cups, a jug of cider and a bottle of wine. The idea was that when people  happened to come in, I would talk to them and read a poem or two, "as the spirit moved." A little free form for an A-type compulsive like me. But it was fabulous. There was a lot going on in Harvard Square that afternoon between the University's 375 Anniversary celebrations, parents weekend and alumni events. And a place like the Grolier doesn't necessarily get a lot of foot traffic. But over the course of a couple of hours I was able to meet plenty of poetry lovers and read about a dozen poems. Here's how it worked. Someone would happen to find themselves in the shop, either because they knew about the event or, more likely, because they knew the shop or were intrigued by the window. I then introduced myself to them and chatted. If they were amenable, and most of the time they were, I would ask them a bit about themselves and then choose a poem from the book to read to them, for them. Now really -- how often does a real, live poet stand there and read a poem to you, chosen especially for you? Not very often. And what a terrific connection it created with the listener who then, more often than not (I'm happy to say) became a buyer. It's a great model for a reading, I think. I believe everyone who passed through those doors that afternoon had a positive experience.  I met loads of readers/poetry lovers I wouldn't have met otherwise, I sold lots of books, the bookstore was happy. Thank you, Grolier, for having me. I can't wait to come back!

At the Boston Book Festival

And then onto Saturday and the Boston Book Festival. A completely different, though equally rewarding kettle of fish. All day long at various venues around Boston's Copley Square were workshops, lectures and book readings, mostly by very famous writers, mostly of non-fiction -- one of the truths about publishing today, but that's another discussion for another time. And then ringing the area were dozens of booths run by everything from bookshops to pr firms to non-profit writing groups to arts programs and schools. I was stationed in the booth of the book promotion company, Authoright, who has been helping me make some inroads into the US market. I was their "Example A" and I was thrilled to be. It gave me the opportunity to meet and talk to literally hundreds of people who came out on a sunny Boston afternoon to wander around and discover whatever they could about books and their writers. I sat there behind a table full of my books from 9 am to 5 pm and I talked...and talked...and talked.  And I sold books and connected with readers. Most people were interested in talking to a "real live writer" and ask how do you do it, is it hard to get published, when do you write, how long have you been writing. And although most were interested in my novel, A Clash of Innocents, there were poetry lovers there, too. It was exhausting but fascinating and it gave me yet a different way to connect with readers and even create some new fans. The other interesting point was to see how many people said they couldn't afford to buy books right now. The economy in the States is as bad as anywhere and many people are un- or underemployed. Alas, book buying is a luxury for them. It was worse on the streets than I had realised. But nonetheless, I sold lots of copies of both books and gave away about a hundred postcards showing the novel's cover and purchasing information. Yes, by the end of the day I was exhausted and cold. But I was happy and, to be honest, rather moved by the reception I received.

And now it's Sunday, a day to rest up before I head out to New York City to see family for a couple of days before my two events in Connecticut. I'll let you know how they go. Wish me luck -- and hope I don't get lost on the backroads and interstates.

Your Itinerant Writer, signing off for now.

Breaking into the States, Again

Here I am, back in Boston. I'm here to see my beloved Number 2 Son and hang around with The Big D while he goes to some meetings. Then next weekend, I'm off to Washington D.C. to go to the wedding of my friend's daughter. So given that schedule, I have done what an self-respecting self-promoting writer will do -- I've set up events. Over the coming week, I'll be presenting my work at four different venues in Boston and Connecticut, each one very different, each one exciting. To all my Bostonian and Connecticuter (?) friends out there, please do come along if you can, say hi and lend some support.

Boston

Friday, 14 October: I will be giving an informal reading and book signing of my new poetry collection, Her Life Collected, at The Grolier Poetry Bookshop, 6 Plympton Street Harvard Square from 1-3 pm.  Drop in at any time. If you don't know the bookstore, it's a gem — crammed to overflowing with books stacked on tables and shelves, delightfully quirky people who work there. It's worth checking out whether I'm there or not.

Saturday, 15 October:  I will be hanging around, chatting about my novel, A Clash of Innocents, all day at the Boston Book Fest, Copley Plaza. From 10 am to 5 pm or so, I'll be found standing at the table of the pr firm called Authoright. This has turned into a huge annual event for book lovers of all sorts. Again, you might want to go in any case.

Connecticut

Wednesday, 19 October: I'll be giving a formal sit-down presentation of my novel, A Clash of Innocents, including a talk about present day Cambodia and how I am using the novel to help effect social change there now. This will be at The Bank Square Bookstore, 53 West Main Street, Mystic, from 5-7. I hear this is a wonderful, very independent bookstore with a great speaker series. I'm thrilled to be able to be included in it.

I'll also be talking to the students at the Watkinson School in Hartford the following day, but that of course is closed to the public.

Last summer, I held several events on Martha's Vineyard, but these events now are really a way of testing the waters beyond the Cape Cod Canal. Sure, I grew up in America, but my adult life and my writing career has been spent in the UK. Will the States be interested in the work of one of its wandering daughters? Fingers crossed.

Teaching Writing

When people generally think about how writing is taught they tend to think of workshops, small rooms filled with large handfuls of students sitting around tables doing exercises suggested by a tutor. I often teach that way as well. But the teaching I'm now beginning to do in my capacity as Writer-in-Residence at SOAS is going to be different, I think.  Yes, there will be the occasional workshop where I'm going to surprise a group of unsuspecting undergraduates into writing poetry. But mostly the teaching I'll be doing will fall under the heading of mentoring, and that's something very different.

Friday was my first day. I am lucky to be able to use the office of one of the faculty members who will be on sabbatical all year. I put a sign on the door and although it simply says my name, my title and a hand-written "Just Knock and Enter," what it really means is "The Doctor is In," because as a mentor I am only part writer. Mostly, I am psychologist, trusted listener, even mechanic. My students at SOAS will be anyone stuck, undergraduates, post-grads, faculty. People about to start writing, people mystified at where their essays have gone wrong, people who find themselves staring at a title for three hours and not being able to write a word. Basically, I ask questions and let them talk.

So, what are you writing about? How well can they explain their topic to me? Are they energised when they're discussing it or are they already bored to tears? Do they say they are writing about one thing when actually they start talking about another topic entirely?

What is getting you stuck? Is it the structure? Overwhelmed by too much research? Nothing makes sense when you write it down? Or are you already worried about the dissertation defence two years away and paralysed because  you don't really believe you can do it in the first place?

I have already had two discussions of this type with my first two students. The talks last an hour -- once they start talking, they can't stop. And clearly I become a sort of Mother Confessor. And I'm thrilled because this is exactly what they need. They need someone not embroiled in academic writing to be able to step back, look at what they are doing and listen to what they are saying. Yes, I then also give all sorts of handy tips I've picked up along the way, like my index card method which I wrote about here. I talk about setting an egg timer to an hour to force them to get away from their desk, make a cup of tea or comb their hair whether their brain is in mid-flow or not. I talk about engaging one side of your brain by doing something with your hands so that the other side of your brain can be quietly left alone to come up with writing solutions. I write about all the little psychological tricks you can play on yourself to make your writing time seem special, even self-indulgent.

 But basically, I'm playing shrink and I think that's fine. Because let's face it, most writers are fairly neurotic, overly introspective people. It's part of the personality type, alas. The more we write, the more we have had to figure out how to write. And most people actually find that very comforting to hear because it gives them permission to be as crazy and obsessive and self-flagellating as I am myself. And it shows them that they, too, can get past it and actually get those words down on paper. And it does something wonderful to me, too. Talking to them, I am talking to myself, reminding myself of all the lessons I have learned from other writers over the years and am always in danger of forgetting myself. It's so true -- misery does love company. Or as  Firesign Theatre once said, "We're all bozos on this bus."

What's So Great About Being a Writer?

This week I had my first official event as Writer-in -Residence at SOAS. I hosted a public reading by the Malaysian fiction writer and poet, Shivani Sivagurunathan. Shivani read from her recently published short story collection, Wildlife on Coal Island. I loved this collection. While Shivani claimed she never had any intention of writing in the style of the South American magical realists, for me the stories were full of extra-natural  happenings. People talk to animals, trees have curative powers, magic is everywhere. While I knew nothing about Malay culture, her stories landed me right in the middle of their beliefs, their dreams, with humour and heart. I can highly recommend this collection.

In my new role at the University, I was also able to chat with her before the reading, and a bit after at dinner. My trip to SE Asia in the Spring will take me through Kuala Lumpur, and so I hope to  be able to see her there and give a reading of my own at the University Putra Malaysia where she is a Senior Lecturer of Comparative Literature. It really is rather amazing to be in this position now of being able to connect we Western writers with our Eastern colleagues. Who knew that there was such a group of Malaysian writers writing in English? Well, now we do. I wonder if this connection will change our writing in some ways, will influence our own perspectives and use of language. Certainly our worlds will be expanded, and that in itself is an important thing, don't you think? Plus, I have a new friend. Fantastic.
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And this just in. The next installment of the round table discussion about writing on Lauri Kubuitsile's column on The Voice is here.  The question is what's the best and the worst thing about being a writer. I think my post above helps add to my answer.....

What's on the Radio?

I have lived in the UK for over twenty years now, and still I'm occasionally caught out by subtle differences between my adopted country and the country of my birth -- or even more to the point here, my adolescence -- the US. Growing up in the States  and specifically in NY when I did, radio was very closely linked to youth culture. It was all about listening to rock n roll either with the transistor hidden under your pillow on a school night or the car radio blaring out through open windows. Sure, sometimes adults listened to classical music or the news, but I don't remember being particularly aware of what is now called, I think, talk radio.

But in the UK, everyone listens to the radio and always has. Radio is not the less beautiful, often ignored younger sister of television. It is an important and unique part of the entertainment industry. The British listen to all sorts of radio programs and most  interestingly to me, all sorts of spoken word programs: short stories, radio plays and -- oh my God, can it be true? -- poetry.

Friday evening I had the pleasure of being the invited guest of the poet, Susan Richardson, at a live taping of BBC Radio 4 Extra's special program in honour of Thursday's National Poetry Day called Saturday Live Poetry Pop-Up. I have been a big fan of Susan's work for several years now, ever since I stumbled upon her blog and  her first collection, Creatures of the Intertidal Zone. We first met at the Polyverse Poetry Festival held in Loughborough a few years back. So I was thrilled to bop along over to Broadcasting House to watch her strut her stuff up on stage alongside...and now here really is the point...seven other poets who have clearly become BBC radio's go-to poets (Salena Godden, Mr. G, Luke Wright, Elvis McGonagall, Aoife Mannix,Kate Fox and Murray Lachlan Young). These are poets who regularly are asked onto the shows to perform their work. The key word here is "perform," because that is what this was, an hour of performance poetry. Don't get me wrong. I love performance poetry. I love the musicality and humour of it. I love the way it is the precursor to rap, the way it wriggles its subversive ways into your consciousness. Susan's work is not really performance poetry in this way. Hers, like Aoife's, is a sort of crossroads between two camps of poetry, i.e. the kind that you sit with while you read it slowly in a book, and the poetry that pulses along up on stage. I am aware that I am choosing my words very carefully here. I expect to get bombarded by comments of people saying that these poetic approaches are not mutually exclusive (of course they aren't), nor is one necessarily more crafted than the other (of course not, again). But I will say that the taping session gave me a look into a part of the poetry world that I know little of, about the poets who make their living performing their work in pubs and coffee houses and theatres around the country. These are the poets on "the circuit," touring the way stand-up comedians tour. I might be wrong, but you will most likely not see them teaching in Arvon courses or reviewing new collections for Poetry Review.  But...and now for the Real Point (thanks for hanging in there with me)...this is the poetry that the nation listens to on the BBC. And since this is a  nation of radio lovers and BBC 4 is the King, then performance poetry is the poetry of record for the nation. And that I found to be amazing, not shocking, but unexpected.

Flip back the calendar pages to the incredible hoopla over the past months at The Poetry Society. Now think about an audience of a hundred people, most of whom were not themselves poets (unlike the audiences of ten or twenty that you find at most poetry readings). Imagine them hooping and hollering, applauding loudly, giggling and sighing through an hour of verse and you'll realise that poetry is a very vital part of this culture.  We may not buy many poetry books. We may not be able to name more than one or two poets writing today. But there are enough of us willing to turn on the radio and listen to words  spoken in verse, often but not only in rhyme, sometimes with musical accompaniment sometimes not, that the BBC willingly devotes airtime and money to the art form. Watching it all, I felt like Alice through the looking glass. I was watching and listening to something I always knew was there, but I was seeing and hearing it in a different way. I think we non-performance poets need to be more aware of the performance poets and their work. And I dare say, they probably need to be more aware of the rest of us.

(okay, comment writers. Have a go at me and tell me about my mistaken assumptions...)