Chris Ord's Blog, page 2

What's it all about?

They say you should never discuss politics or religion, but we do and we should. They deal with big questions, the most important ones - who we are, why we are here, how are we to live. Those of you who have read my books will know that religion is a key part of them, particularly its place in the community, how it shapes and influences us. I am not religious. I would love to have the strength and courage to make the leap of faith and I deeply admire those who are able to. Unfortunately, that magic has gone for me, I have had to look for my magic elsewhere. I grew up in a Christian family and society. It has influenced my life and thinking in many views. Christianity, Judaism, and Islam are all born of the same God, the God of Abraham. However, being a Christian is more than just a belief in God. It is a belief in a religious doctrine. It is the fundamental belief that Jesus Christ existed, that he is the son of God and all that flows from that. This is where my faith ends, but my respect remains.I love the Dalai Lama, and almost met him when I lived and travelled in India in my twenties. I've always found something appealing about Buddhism. I've never been comfortable following rules, but we all have a philosophy or approach to life. I pick and mix from many, and I'm aware of the tensions and contradictions between them. It works for me. I’m a contradictory person. Buddhism, writing, running, music, vegetarianism. They provide me with structure and the mental stability I need to cope. I seek the simple, pure, uncomplicated - for me, it’s as life should be. The most important thing I ever learned was perspective.When I was in India we spent some time in Varanasi, the holy city on the Ganges. The river is filthy. People defecate in it, and there are dead cows floating in it. The river is an open sewer. Yet, everyday people purify themselves in this holiest of water. While we were there we met a doctor in a cafe one morning. We got chatting and he told us of his pilgrimage to Varanasi every year to spiritually cleanse himself, He did this by bathing in the river, and drinking the water. He did this every day. I was horrified and dumbstruck that a doctor, a man of science would go anywhere near such filth let alone drink it. I asked him whether he had a problem with this given the state of the water. He looked at me, puzzled and replied, 'But it is holy water.' At that moment I understood something I was missing in my understanding of faith. In India they can hold two apparently contradictory positions at the same time without any problem. Science can sit alongside religion, they embrace both. Unfortunately, the rationalism v religion debate here in the West is so often presented as a schism with unresolvable tensions. The religious accept an absolute truth through faith, the rationalists seek answers through scientific method. Religion and rationalism, faith and proof, the unstoppable force and the immovable object. This seemingly unresolvable contradiction is unfortunate as we seem to have lost something very important in the conflict - spirituality. Some might even say tolerance, compassion, and understanding are casualties too.Faith is at the core of the spiritual experience, and its importance is something the rationalists fail to grasp as fully as they might. Without proof, the literal veracity of religious texts can be challenged and undermined, but faith in the doctrine and philosophy of religion is even stronger. Without proof can we ever know God exists? I don’t believe so, not in the scientific sense, but nor do I think we need to. We can come to know God or truth in other ways. We all seek and find our own answers, our own truth. The more we seek evidence, the more faith is undermined, and faith is the very essence of the spiritual experience. What if we had irrefutable scientific proof that God exists, what would we have left? Belief would simply be an ideology, a framework on how to live our lives. The spiritual journey would be stripped of its real power. The whole point of spiritual engagement is this journey, the test of faith and all the beauty that this brings. This is something my Indian doctor friend understood, and is why in India they embrace the duality of science and religion, something we seem unable to do.So why am I writing this on a sunny morning of a Bank holiday weekend. Well, I read this quote by the Dalai Lama and it got me thinking. I’ve been doing a lot of that lately. I’m getting older and enjoying it. Not the slow dying, but the growing self knowledge and sense of perspective. But with each passing year I find myself asking - have I made a difference? do I matter? Of course, we all do. To friends, family, maybe even in our work. I have my words, my music, my boys, and the love of my life. At the core of all the Dalai Lama’s thinking is one important thing - love. What more faith and spirituality do you need? For me, whether it’s through religion or science, this is the meaning and truth we are all searching for.

'There's no success like failure...'

They say writers should throw nothing away. Keep everything, even the pieces they don’t like. Maybe, they don’t say that, perhaps it’s just me. I never know when I might return to discarded passages and breathe new life into once, seemingly limp and lacklustre words. Sometimes an idea works but runs out of momentum. Sometimes a story will take me in a direction I didn’t plan. This can be exciting, but can also lead to dead ends. My style is not to plan, but to let the ideas develop and evolve. The story should have a life of its own. My job is to paint the pictures in my head. I don’t create the stories, my imagination does. I’m just the scribe, the conduit, the thesaurus. I find the right conditions for the words to emerge, and then capture the story as it unfolds. The story should be as exciting for me to write as it is for others to read. For a few days now I’ve had an idea that has kept returning. It came from a dream, but has merged with a story I wrote a couple of years ago. It was one of my first serious attempts at writing a novel. 65,000 words I abandoned and locked in the cupboard called experience. Believe me that is difficult. No-one wants to admit months of hard work hasn’t gone the way it should, that it’s time to move on and try something new. I think you have to be hard on yourself sometimes, listen to advice from others and yourself. Discipline is important as a writer, but so are courage and humility.Realising that old, discarded work might still have potential I’ve spent the morning playing around with it. Editing and reshaping passages, culling chapters, steering it in this new direction. The words are exciting again. I can see their lost potential. Who knows? Maybe this new direction will take me somewhere. Perhaps it will lead to another dead-end. This is the risk writers have to take. But it’s important to take those risks. Comfort is the enemy of creativity. I know many of you believe you have a story inside you, but the nagging voice of indecision and self-doubt will be gnawing away inside. Ignore it. Have the courage to take the risk, the discipline to see it through, and where necessary, the humility to accept it didn’t work. Move on. Failure isn’t about not getting to where you want to be. Failure is not even trying to get there. Take the risk and enjoy it.

The Death of the Author

The band is working hard on our test piece for the Area finals at the moment. The process is a tried and tested one, you pull it apart, and put it back together, piece by piece. With every reading you familiarise yourself with the notes, the spaces in between, the phrasing and dynamics. The aim is to find the music within, our own interpretation, guided by the expert hand of our Musical Director. Music may look the same on paper, but each reading can sound very different. One of our strengths in the past couple of years is being able to find the music and play as a unit creating a strong, blended sound. It’s been the cornerstone of our success.Last year one of our rehearsals was led by the composer of the Area test piece, Alan Fernie. Alan is a wonderful character, and a talented and inspiring musician. His input at a time when the band had lost its confidence was invaluable. He was an important catalyst and we owe him a great deal. Andy picked up where he left off and has grown into the brilliant conductor he was always destined to be. These are exciting times and we are looking forward to the future. Alan’s rehearsal was a great session, but at several points he said, 'Don't ask me why I wrote it or what it's about. I’ve no idea. It's just how it came out.' As a writer I was fascinated by this revelation. It reminded me of my own writing process. I often get asked why I wrote certain passages, or what particular sections are about. The truth is I don't always know. The words and ideas just come out that way. If I am working on a novel the story is always floating around in my head. When I'm out running or walking often ideas are being tossed around. I try different scenarios and plot twists. It’s important to try to think like a writer and always be on the lookout for inspiration and ideas. There’s a scene in ‘Becoming’ with some crows that murder another bird. This was inspired by a similar scene when I was walking the boys to school. It was a beautiful morning, but the silence was broken by the desperate shrieks of a sparrow looking on as two crows slaughtered its newly hatched young. I was struck by the brutality of these intelligent creatures. They were clinical in their attack and merciless. Perhaps with intelligence comes both creativity and cruelty. It reminded me of humanity. As soon as I got home I wrote the scene into the book. It was just a fragment, a short scene within the overall arc of the story, but it was symbolic of something more important I wanted to say. This is an example of where I had a very clear idea of what I wanted to say, of my purpose for writing the scene. This isn’t always true. Not everything in life makes sense or has meaning and purpose. Things just happen. Writing is the same. I discussed this with my eldest son recently. He asked me about a passage in ‘The Storm.’ He had read it in a very different way from my original intention, if I ever had one. I couldn’t recall the scene itself, let alone why I’d written it! We seemed to be drawn towards finding the ‘right’ interpretation, but realised it didn’t matter. There was no right or wrong. Once you've written a story it's the reader that matters not the writer. As in music, every individual reading may be different, each with a unique perspective, and emotional response. Art is more mirror than picture, reflecting not the artist but their audience. Through that mirror the artist lives on, their own vision of the world remaining as a gift for others to breathe new life into. I find that thought exhilarating. Perhaps it’s why we do what we do, our quest to survive. The author dies, but with each reading your work lives on, again and again. Forever.

The lost art of letter writing

A few weeks ago I was rummaging through some boxes in the loft and I found a letter my dad had written to me when I was living in India. When my dad died I found a stack of letters he'd kept that I'd sent him when I was travelling. It was moving to discover these reminders of our past, distant moments we'd shared, much of which I had forgotten. Time and distance are no match for love. Reading back through those pages it was like looking back into a moment of our lives captured not just in words, but in the distinctive style and character of his hand writing and language. I could hear his voice again, as though he had never gone. This was in the world before emails, texts and social media. My dad never sent an email in his life, struggled with texts and was banned from Facebook more than anyone I know. I wonder how we will capture memories and moments in the future? I’m no Luddite and embrace new technology with as much as enthusiasm as anyone. I see the many advantages of electronic systems, but the volume and immediacy gives them a fleeting, transient nature. They are discarded as easily as they are written and read. Have we sacrificed convenience for quality and value? Imagine my joy all those years ago when I arrived in some remote part of India and rushed to the village post office to find a letter from my dad, his neat, considered hand writing staring at me from the envelope. It was a special kind of feeling, something we have lost. Those letters have survived long after he has gone. They will remain alongside the memories and the love. Where will those shared treasures of the future lie? Are we eroding important pieces of our personal history? My thought for the day is this. Write someone you love a letter.

Bunch of Fives

NARC magazine invited me to talk about five writers and novels that inspired 'The Storm.' You can read the article here.

Who are the true heroes?

Someone sent me some lovely feedback on 'The Storm' last night. They asked why I decided to write something so different to 'Becoming.' It's an interesting question. I knew when I started writing 'The Storm' the logical step was to write 'Awakening', the follow up to 'Becoming.' But when you write you're never sure where it's going to take you, and I felt I wanted to try something new and different. It was important for me in trying to develop my writing. I'm also a bit contrary. One of the questions that I kept asking when I was writing 'The Storm' was - who are the real heroes? History is filled with tales of kings and queens, leaders and generals. This is the history they teach us at school. But the true heroes are all around us. They are the people who built our communities, lived and died for our families, friends, and neighbours. What remains of those heroes is love and memories, and it’s vital we keep those alive. At the centre of 'The Storm' is the story of a rescue, of a lifeboat. I grew up hearing the bang of the rockets announcing the launch of the lifeboat. There was a mystery and intrigue every time you heard it. There was danger and fear. You knew that people’s lives were at risk, and we heard stories of many that never returned. Of course, the story is about more than just a boat. The important people are the ones who risked their lives in it. How many people are alive today thanks to the heroism of those people? How many of us wouldn’t be alive today, if it wasn’t for them? This thought fascinated me, and in a way I wanted to help ensure their story was heard.Writers, historians, musicians, artists and all creatives play an important role in keeping our heroes alive. I hope my books are more than just stories, but also make people think and reflect on the world. Love is a key theme that underpins ‘The Storm.’ Love of family and community, and the lengths people will go to in order to protect that love. ‘The Storm’ is also about love and strangers, how we view and treat them, especially when we think the people and things we love are being threatened.‘The Storm’ is inspired by a historical event but it isn’t a history book. It is pieces of history filtered through my imagination. The beauty of being a writer is you can take fragments of truth and turn them into new and different versions of the truth. It’s one of the many joys of writing. I hope I have done those heroes justice, especially Philip Jefferson. He strikes me as a hero in its truest sense, a remarkable man. His story deserves to be heard.

My Festive 25 - Albums of 2017

I love writing lists, and there are few I look forward to more than my favourite albums of the year. I usually say in no particular order, as each of these has entertained and enchanted me in different ways. There were some surprises for me this year. The War on Drugs are a band I have mixed feelings on, but their latest album has refused to go away, dominating the airplay on the car CD for some weeks. The new U2 album is excellent. Granted, they’re not the most popular of choices these days, tarnished by the emergence of their business practices and approach to taxes. Yet, they’re a fantastic set of musicians and the chemistry and understanding you build over a forty year period has to be respected.Julie has spent a lot of time listening to the latest album by Hurray for the Riff Raff, ‘The Navigator.’ I recall loving their last album, and the snippets I was hearing around the house hooked me again. I downloaded ‘The Navigator’ a good while ago and listened to little else for some time afterwards. Essentially, the band is the creative vehicle for lead singer, Alynda Segarra. Of Puerto Rican descent, the album has a strong latin flavour. The songs and lyrics are exceptional, but it’s the rhythms and mood that I love most. I’m into drums at the minute and love to hear them used in inventive ways. The standout track is ‘Pa’lante’ which contains the lines, ‘I just wanna prove my worth, on the planet Earth, and be something.’ Those words resonated with me. It’s a sentiment that connects most creatives. I think we all want to leave our mark, and if it doesn’t happen in your lifetime die hoping it will someday. Who knows? Maybe our time is yet to come. I'm writing another list at the moment. My plans for 2018. I have lots of exciting things planned for my writing, not least the release of my second novel ‘The Storm’ on the 6th January. I’ve also had an extension to my contract at work confirmed. Finding the time to write after a busy day managing contracts is going to be a challenge, but one I’ll need to meet if I’m to finish ‘Awakening’, the follow up to ‘Becoming’ and get some of these new ideas going. Of course, music is my first love. It always will be. I need to get thinking about some new challenges in this area. It’s time to be creative. So, as I like to say, in no particular order:1. The National - Sleep Well Beast2. Courtney Barnett and Kurt Vile - Lotta Sea Lice3. The War on Drugs - A Deeper Understanding4. Father John Misty - Pure Comedy5. LCD Soundsystem - American Dream6. Hurray for the Riff Raff - The Navigator7. St Vincent - Masseduction8. Richard Dawson - Peasant9. U2 - Songs of Experience10. The Young’uns - Strangers11. Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit - The Nashville Sound12. Lorde - Melodrama13. Iron & Wine - Beast Epic14. Laura Marling - Semper Femina15. Fionn Regan - The Meetings of the Waters16. Robert Plant - Carry Fire17. Grandaddy - Last Place18. Aimee Mann - Mental Illness19. Elbow - Little Fictions20. Michael Head & The Red Elastic Band - Adios Señor Pussycat21. Queens of the Stone Age - Villains22. Everything Everything - A Fever Dream23. Sparks - Hippopotamus24. Billy Bragg - Bridges Not Walls25. The Unthanks - Diversions, Vol 4. The Songs and Poems of Molly Drake

When will we see the next book Chris?

It's been a strange few months. I started a new job in the summer, managing youth projects for the National Citizen Service. It’s rewarding work and I’m loving being involved in the development of young people again. It’s an opportunity to give something back and put the skills and experience I gained in my previous roles to positive use. Writing is still my passion, but passion doesn’t pay the bills, at least not enough of them yet. I was determined that my next role would be the right one for me. I want to feel as though I am making a difference. I’ve made a good choice.Project management can be a dry job if you let it. The focus is so often contracts, plans, spreadsheets, and targets. It’s easy to lose sight of the purpose, of what you really do, and why you do it. In our case the purpose is to change the lives of young people. It sounds lofty and trite, but it really is as simple as that. One of the joys of the role is I’ve been visiting the programmes and seeing the young people in action. Working with their peers, making new friends and developing new skills. A key part of the programme is to inspire young people, to challenge, and push them beyond what they thought they could do. Every day they astound me. It has reminded me of the immense creativity and resilience in our young people. They all have so many gifts and talents, if only given the chance to discover and nurture them. The ideas they have developed to support social action in their communities are inspiring. The commitment they show to delivering these projects is humbling. Like many of in our society, young people are portrayed in a negative way. Our media is sensationalist, seeking to highlight all that is wrong not right. Drama, tension, suffering. They sell. They are the hook to draw the viewers in. The truth is millions of people deliver simple and extraordinary acts of giving and compassion every day. The world is full of love and kindness, but for editors this is too mundane to report. We need to keep reminding ourselves of this reality. Look for it and you will find it. Every day I am being reminded that much of this love and compassion comes from our young people. Given the right focus and steer they are capable of making a huge difference to the lives of those around them. They are intelligent, passionate, inquisitive, critical and constructive. They care.In recent years I have been smothered by the dark clouds of the media, becoming convinced the future was bleak. Every day now I see the seeds of hope. Young people are planting them all around. The future is being imagined and created through the actions of today. Simple acts of love and compassion. The future is in good hands and is much brighter than we think.    One of the problems with contractual work is it leaves less time to do the things you love. In my case music and writing. My music hasn’t suffered. It always takes priority. I can’t imagine my life without it. My writing is done in bursts, snatching moments when I have the inspiration, time and energy to put down the words. I still get huge bursts of creative energy. The ideas still flow and pictures still flood my head. It’s timing the flow and flood right that is the problem. They seldom come in the evening when I have the time to focus. More often weariness has taken hold and my brain is beginning to unwind. I am experiencing the struggle of most writers, juggling the need to pay the bills with the compulsion to write. And it is a compulsion. Ask any writer. We don’t write for money or fame. We write because we have to. It is a need, a bug, a passion. If others enjoy what you create that is a bonus. Few writers have the privilege of writing as a full time job. Those that do, most often take years to reach that position. Some get lucky, and the stars align for them. Take nothing away though. Those writers work as hard as any of us. They are talented and committed, but you need a bit of luck. You also need a bit of nouse. I read somewhere that the successful authors of today are as good at business as they are writing. This makes sense. It is something I am learning. Publishing has changed, presenting challenges to traditional routes and exposing the risks. At the same time the changes have brought new opportunities, especially for the indie with with a bit of business savvy. Traditional publishers often promise the earth and deliver little but small advances and much disappoint. The new wave of writers are prepared to take control of their own destinies and manage the process themselves. The returns may be more modest, but the rewards are far greater. We don’t all want to be Harry Potter. Some of us would rather be Joy Division. Writing is a creative compulsion, being a full time author is a business. Like any business you need to be patient, work hard at it, and never give up.  So onto the question everyone asks me - when will we see the next book? The good news is my second novel ‘The Storm’ is almost complete. Believe me these things take time, something I have had much of less of recently. Writing the book is only the start. I have a week off soon, and I will spend the time preparing those last few touches, readying it for the final push. It will be done soon. Whilst my first novel ‘Becoming’ was dark and twisted dystopian. In contrast, ‘The Storm’ is twisted and dark supernatural thriller. It is set in Northumberland in the mid nineteenth century. I am proud of it, and I enjoyed creating it. The few that have read ‘The Storm’ have loved it. The feedback has me tingling with excitement and anticipation. I can’t wait to let you all read it. Be patient my friends. Without you the book is nothing. I wrote it, but you give it life and meaning. Thanks again for all your support. It means everything.    

Musical Memories

In the drawer by my bed is a bundle. Bound by a bootlace, a collection of concert tickets, musical memories, most of the gigs I’ve ever been to. I’ve never counted them, but there are hundreds. Too many. Sometimes I shuffle through them and one catches my eye, ‘did I go to that?’ I have little recollection of some, others I will never forget. I thought I’d have a go at reconstructing some of those memories, creating a written record of the gigs that still stand out. This will be the theme of my blog posts in the coming weeks. Some of you shared these experiences, you were there with me. Please feel free to engage, and send me your memories. Music plays such a special part in my life, as I know it does for so many of us. In a consumerist world obsessed with the accumulation of things, some of us prefer to gather experiences. Music is the best of those. Here are some of mine. My first is Jane's Addiction at the Riverside in Newcastle. I don’t recall the year. 1990 I reckon, but no doubt someone will correct me. I could have googled it, to check. It’s what you do now. I didn’t though, thinking it might somehow tarnish the memory. Perhaps that’s the problem these days. Once we would imagine and reconstruct faded memories in our heads. They would be fluid and evolve, you were never sure what was real. Now the internet allows us to check the facts, to corroborate and establish a different truth. I prefer my own truths, however loose and imprecise. We live as we dream, alone, and my memories are my own. I reserve the right to create and recreate them as I choose.  I’ve seen Jane’s Addiction a few times over the years, the most recent a couple of years ago at Manchester Apollo. They are exhilarating to watch, energetic, edgy, tight, visceral. Perry Farrell is one rock’s most compelling frontmen, Dave Navarro the scariest of guitarists. Like all the best partnerships there is a tension, a friction that drives the performance. This first Riverside gig was the best, many of my friends still talk about it. I’m sure it would make the top five of many lists. It was one of those gigs where far more claim to have been there than the venue could allow. You had to have been there, so you were. The truth of memory.It was the Nothing's Shocking tour, and though there was a buzz around the band they hadn’t taken off yet. They emerged way before grunge and the Seattle sound took over rock and sidelined the hair metal that dominated the eighties. They were rare quality in a sea of mediocrity. They stood the test of time, and those early albums are classics of rock. They offered something fresh and different. They sang about sex, sociopaths, and serial killers. Of summertime and shoplifting. Of the sea and showering. Of power, and pissing on yourself.The gig was sold out, but the Riverside was a small venue with a feel of exclusivity many of us enjoyed. We were still locked in the mentality of ownership, of secrets, and discoveries. Popularity was not an indication of success, it was the end, a sign band’s had sold out. When the world discovered the music, the band and us lost it. This was a time when Jane’s Addiction were still ours and that night belonged to us. The performance was stunning. Perry was there, but elsewhere. Draped in coloured dreadlocks, a stoned half smile, jumping from manic dancing to dreamy swaying. I recall him stripping naked. Others have confirmed this. A glorious collective fabrication, not a lie, a memory we have reimagined together. Our different truth. The band encored ‘Jane Says.’ According to indie rock folklore this was a rare occurrence in those early days, a gift reserved for the few, the chosen. We left knowing we had shared something special. When I listen to Jane’s Addiction it always takes me back to this time, wishing I was young again, sharing these moments with friends. It was a time of freedom and endless possibility. The time before we fragmented and drifted into our own worlds of careers and responsibilities. It was the time when we had so much time, and never realised what a precious thing it was. It was the time when I still thought I could change the world. The time before the world tamed me. Each one of those tickets is a time machine, whisking me back to those special moments. The images are so vivid, the truth of those memories, our memories. I can feel those times, the emotions can still overcome me. We all have those gigs, the experiences we share through music. These are threads that bind us forever.

Northumberland

I had a drive up to Ford Castle in the summer. I’m going there again next week. I’m looking forward to the journey, and soaking up the dramatic scenery of North Northumberland. It reminds me so much of writing 'Becoming' as many of the scenes were inspired by time spent there in my youth. Memories flooded back of a school trip to the castle in the 1980s, of messing about with mates, chasing girls and running from teachers, of a large group of us playing Ouija board in a cold, dark hall. Memories of a lifetime. Special ones. You meet many people as you meander through life. You make many friends. Yet, there is something deeper and more enduring about the friendships forged in youth. Perhaps it is those shared formative experiences. Or the hours spent together when time was plentiful and responsibilities few. Some bonds are different, they last a lifetime, and will never be broken. Many were forged on those trips, in that landscape. I miss them.The other thing I cherish about the journey is the scenery. I have always found the beauty of my home county overwhelming. Most of all I love the isolation. In a world of infinite interaction I long for places to lose myself, the space and time to be alone. My favourites are the beaches, with their miles of golden wilderness shared with only the few. Then there are the rivers, fields, hills and woods all offering so much joy, so many surprises.The trip reminded me of something we Northumbrians take for granted. The North is often looked down upon or forgotten, particularly by the scurrying commuter classes of the capital. We know something they don’t. We are the fortunate, we are the chosen. We have found the secret of the true treasury of life. That it is not found in money, property or possessions. Our wealth lies in the fruits of our community, of love and beauty, of joy and experience. Our wealth lies all around us. To my mind this makes us the richest people on Earth.