Alex Nye's Blog: Life Through A Window, page 4

How to Alleviate Writer's Block #2

In FIVE easy bullet points, very personal to me.

Like all writers, I love language and words, but when the pressure is on, writer's block can strike, drying up the wells of inspiration at their source.

These are my tips, proven to work for me.

1. Cast aside (dramatically, with a thespian-type gesture) all your modern technology and hand-held gadgetry! Personally, I find staring at an unattractive lap-top screen, as it stares back at you defiantly from the desk, is not the best way to alleviate writer's block.

2. Pick up instead favourite pen and posh fat linen notebook, purchased as an indulgence at great expense - but with very little guilt because writers after all deserve one or two luxuries.

3. Change your location.Take the dog for a long country walk, somewhere different. If you don't have a dog, then just walk - but it's not as much fun.

4. I wrote my novel THE COLOUR OF BIRDS last summer in the graveyard of an abandoned chapel out in the countryside where no one goes. I sat on the step, my back leaning against the padlocked door, surrounded by mossy graves, and wrote my heart out. Then I stuffed the notebook back in my basket and cycled home again - refreshed. (THE COLOUR OF BIRDS isn't published yet. I'm still nursing it!)

(Point number 4 is just reinforcing point number 3 really, but you see where I am going with this!)

5.Drink one coffee in the morning, liberally spiced with honey - enough to make you pretty optimistic, but not a nervous jangling wreck by mid-afternoon. Coffee makes me very talkative, but instead of talking, channel all that stuff onto the page. Your family will thank you for it!

Reflections on Feminism

The Little Coffee Shop of Kabul by Deborah Rodriguez

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


I am currently reading The little Coffee Shop of Kabul by Deborah Rodriquez and thoroughly enjoying it. The author has managed to take one of the most dangerous places on the planet - Afghanistan - and present it in a positive light despite the horrors regularly unfolding.

What I like about this book so far is its unequivocal and honest spotlight onto the issues of women's rights, but in such a down-to-earth manner that all she does is tell the facts, portray it as it is. I haven't read far into it yet, but I'm not reading it out of any earnest high-minded impulse, but because it's a sheer pleasure to read.

It does something very rare - it remains positive in the light of such horror - and it portrays Afghan society with affection and warmth.

Feminism has become a bit of a dirty word nowadays - 'what are women complaining about, surely we sorted that one out back in the Seventies or Eighties?'

But human rights are not something that you tick the box for, and then move on. It requires an ongoing effort. It will always be current, because human-beings will always be unfair to one another.

So - definitely a book to recommend!



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Selkie Reflections

The Selkie myth is a traditional Scottish tale which has haunted me ever since I first moved to Scotland in 1995. When my children were little we spent family holidays on remote Scottish islands, often renting tiny whitewashed cottages next to wild windswept beaches, covered in white sand. Often, from the rocks, we could glimpse the sleek heads of seals bobbing above the waves. For me - having recently arrived from London - I found this deeply romantic, and I used to re-tell the Selkie myth to my children often; it was a favourite bedtime story.

I loved the idea of the woman who was tragically split between two families, feeling like a stranger in one and in exile from the other. I also loved the idea of the sealskin being stolen from her and hidden by her fearful and jealous husband - the fact that one object can grant so much power to straddle two worlds.

I have two books published by Floris in the Kelpies Imprint, the first of which won a Scottish Children's Book Award. (CHILL).

Ideas for SELKIE GIRL swam around in my head for a while, (along with shopping lists, recipes for soup which no-one eats, and other things).

I actually wrote the book by long-hand in a good linen notebook, sitting by the stove in the mornings before I went to work. (Some of it anyway!)

It is a slightly shorter read than CHILL and SHIVER, the intention being to give young readers the satisfaction of finishing a novel. It is still well-written and deep or thought-provoking,but is not a mammoth task to read - as I believe passionately in encouraging youngsters to feel positive about their reading experience.

It's about orphans and friendship, beach-combing and sorrow, island landscapes and absent mothers.

The Selkie myth is and will always remain one of my favourites.http://www.amazon.co.uk/Selkie-Girl-A...

A Bleak Day for Scotland

Well, I've been up all night at the house of friends and neighbours. I went home at 6am, as dawn nudged its way over the rooftops. I heard the first bird sing as I walked down the street. I knew that when I got home, my 20 year old son and my 17 year old daughter who voted for the first time, would wake to disappointment.

When I was a teenager, I raged inside against the Thatcherism of the Eighties, and it fired my passion for justice and change. In 1997 - the year my daughter was born - I thought that change had come. But of course it hadn't.

A few months ago I began to follow the debate about that word- The Referendum. And I realised what had to be done. And I just hoped that Scotland would have the courage to do it.

That first bird of the morning, on the rooftop of a quiet street in Dunblane knew something that I didn't.

I just still haven't worked out what it is yet...

An Englishwoman living in Scotland

As an Englishwoman living in Scotland for the last 20 years, I've decided I shall be voting Yes. I don't see it as an anti-English vote at all, but a vote against Westminster, and in addition to this, a vote for opportunity.

When looking at people's arguments and reasons for voting - Yes voters seem to come out with more positive reasons, they seem able to back up their opinion. In contrast, the impression I get is that those who are voting No often provide no clear reason for their vote other than 'because I just am.' In other words, it seems to be an entrenched position rather than a thought-out one that has been reflected upon.

When looking into the facts, it seems clear to me that Scotland has been deceived and cheated of its own resources and potential in the last 40 or so years. The Scottish population has been been made to feel like a poor dependent relative, and this brainwashing mind-set has largely worked. Many young people in Scotland really believe that Westminster is subsidising Scotland, when in fact - if we looked at the facts - it is actually the other way around, cleverly concealed.

To see Scotland and its people honestly reflecting on its destiny is very exciting. Those who complain that it's boring are usually No voters, who just wish it wasn't happening in the first place.

I am confident that I am using my vote in the most positive way possible, and doing what is fair and right for Scotland.

Taster excerpt from new title: SELKIE GIRL

That night Sophie could not sleep. The wind had died down, and there was no breeze to speak of. A huge moon rose in the sky, and shone down on the island, on all the rocks and the sand dunes and the grasses, and the graves in the little cemetery on the hill.

Sophie sat up in bed, and listened.

There was no sound from Aunt Julia’s box-bed in the main room, so Sophie slipped out of bed and went towards her desk under the window. She opened her mother’s wooden box and took out the sealskin. It rippled and shone like a living thing beneath her hands.

She took it with her as she left the cottage. The night was very still, and the sea below the cottage was calm. It breathed in and out across the sand, sighing with each breath it took.

The whole island glowed in the moonlight.

Sophie stood there, all alone on the beach, with the soft sealskin in her hands. Her bare feet were studded with grains of sand, and she felt the shock of the first wave hitting her ankles, hissing very softly. It was so quiet, that was all the noise it made. But she felt the power and the strength of the sea before her.

Then, through the silence, she heard those familiar voices calling to her, a high-pitched note that hung on the air, peaceful and pure.

How to Alleviate Writer's Block #1

Astonished GP: What appears to be the trouble?

Writer: I have a blockage.

GP: Dear me, that sounds painful. Can you point to where it hurts?

Writer: Everywhere.

GP: Can you be a little more specific? Is it your stomach, your chest, your head?

Writer: All of the above. It's my creative streak, you see.

GP: Oh... right. Well I can see it looks very sore. We could amputate.

Writer: What would that involve?

GP: Well, we'd starve it of oxygen and cut off its blood supply until it eventually drops off.

Writer: Will that cure it?

GP: Oh definitely. You'll starting talking about your pension plan and sensible things like statistics within no time at all. And you'll never have a creative thought inside your head again. You'll be back to normal.

Writer: Mmm...have you got any other suggestions?

GP: Well... you could become a teacher. It's just more of the same, really.I understand you'll be forced to spend a lot of time ticking boxes and expected to understand strange equations involving lists of numbers, that sort of thing. Oh, and you'll have to be super-organized, as if you're running an entire planet. That ought to cure you.

Writer: I've tried that already.

GP: And did you grow up a bit and become conventional and talk about your pension plan?

Writer: Not really...

GP: Well I'm afraid I can't help you then. You're absolutely incurable.

Writer: Is that good or bad?

GP: You tell me! And next time come here with a proper disease, would you, and stop wasting everybody's time?

Writer: Right-oh!

Indian Summer and Independence

Scotland is blessed with an Indian summer this September. I'm not telling anyone my views on the above, partly because this isn't the place for it and partly because I believe we should all tolerate one another in spite of our differences, even if we realise someone else is on the other side of the debate.

It's only natural that passions should rise on the subject, and it is actually quite good to see people getting passionate about the fate of a country at a time of general political apathy.

I gave this post the above title not because I wanted to engage with the debate (I think it's probably all been said already), but because I'm a sucker for alliteration! Human beings are as varied and multi-faceted as they come. It's a strange feeling when you realise that someone you really like is expressing views that you know are so different from your own. But the bottom line is - you still really like them.

That's my human take on it all.

It's the first time in history that a country has considered independence via a democratic vote, rather than through rebellion or uprising or whatever. Whatever happens, that's worth noting.

Anyway, I'm kicking the golden leaves underfoot this September, while walking the dog and working on The Colour of Birds.

I'm also finishing and tidying up a small novel for younger readers called Selkie Girl, which will be published in the next couple of months.

Wuthering Heights - a perfect end

Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


If we're talking about 'best book endings' then Wuthering Heights has to be one of my favourites. I read it first when I was 14 years old, in secondary school - I still have my much-marked and annotated copy. The ending is so beautiful, a description of the quiet graveyard on the edge of the moor where all the tempestuous Greek drama of human passions and monumental errors has been acted out. All three headstones are described, one of them 'half buried in heath', one of them 'only harmonized by the turf, and moss creeping up its foot,' then one of them completely bare. Heathcliff's.

Then that lovely ironic last line as the narrator Lockwood wonders 'how anyone could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet earth.'

Sorry to be so specific, but the juxtaposition of 'unquiet' with 'quiet' is so perfect! Need I say more?



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Why I love to write books set in winter

Ever since I lived in a remote cottage on Sheriffmuir during a winter of terrible blizzards, snowed in without electricity, power, phone reception, and even water at one point, I have always been inspired by the idea of writing stories with a wintery setting. Not all of my stories are set in winter, but some are - in particular of course CHILL and SHIVER. It was the winter of 1995/6, and I had just moved up from London with my small family - our son was a year old at the time. I spent my childhood living in the country, and breathing in the drama of Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte (I still have my old-fashioned annotated school copy, with its smell of nostalgia); so when I saw the cottage to rent up on Sheriffmuir 'far from the madding crowd', I thought "yes, that's a place where things might happen." Things did happen, and those things inspired me to write.

I have never forgotten the beauty of the landscape that winter, the mesmerizing silence, the stillness, all the trees transformed into glass sculptures. It reminded me of that scene in the old Doctor Chivago movie, where they find a frozen house in the middle of nowhere, completely covered in ice like a white sculpture.

The opportunities for atmospheric and descriptive writing are immense with a winter setting, particularly for ghost stories. Automatically you have an atmosphere of mystery.

Having said that, I've just spent a long summer sitting under the trees in my garden with a thick (quite expensive) notebook on my lap, and wrote 50,000 words of a wartime adventure story. Even Scotland was hot... and it didn't affect my inspiration. In fact I wrote more than I usually do. I kept up a good rhythm of 2,000 words a day.

Another good habit I've got into lately is cycling into the countryside with same notebook, and writing on the steps of a little abandoned chapel I know. Secret location. Prime inspiration. Bit spooky as well... once or twice I was scribbling away in a world of my own, glanced up and suddenly felt watched. Expected to see a figure looking at me. So...