Category Archives: reading

You mean I can’t check my emails on holiday?

Posted by Lynsey May on

In recent years, Fin and I have noticed how difficult it is to have an actual holiday. You know, the kind where you just kick back and relax. We’re always thinking about, well, stuff. Emails to answer, stories to plot, articles to write, people to worry about: all those things, all the time. I’m especially guilty, I check messages on my phone compulsively, as though I could find an email there that will end the world if I don’t answer it immediately. Ridiculous.

So with this habit in mind, I wondered how well I would get on during our short holiday on the coast, staying in a fabulous cottage from The Creative Retreat folks that not only had no net connection, but also no mobile reception or even a landline. Surprisingly well, it turned out.

The cottage was lovely, the village beautiful, the weather rough but forgiving and the peace very welcome. Putting myself on call constantly doesn’t normally feel as though it’s bothering me, but I have this feeling that, maybe if I didn’t, I might just be a little bit happier and get a hell of a lot more writing done.

I can’t wait for our next holiday.

Where does your imagination reside?

Posted by Lynsey May on

Source: http://archann.deviantart.com/

This year, I am making a conscious effort to reawaken a sense of curiosity and do things that spark my imagination. It’s something I suppose I have been putting off for some time, because I guess I liked to think that I already possessed these qualities.

But now that I have more time to ponder and daydream, I’ve been forced to admit that they are not as strong as they once were and that I am more naturally inclined to think about, well, boring stuff when given half the chance.

Is this a symptom of getting older or does it have something to do with letting myself live a life that is ruled by deadlines and making enough money? I also wonder how much of it is just plain old laziness. Why imagine things when someone else could do it for me? (I do love it when someone else does it for me.)

As part of this project, I’m trying to work out exactly what it is that is most likely to persuade my imagination into a flight of fancy. I’m reading loads, going to exhibitions, restricting the watching of TV shows and generally trying to not check the emails on my phone every five minutes.

Me as a wee 'un

But am I missing something here? Is there anything you do to shake your mind out of the mundane?

I recently wrote a guest post for the lovely Kirsty Logan for her Thievery series – posts about the inspiration behind stories – and I enjoyed the process a lot, mainly because it encouraged me to recall some childhood holidays I hadn’t thought about for a long while.

What was I meant to be doing again?

Posted by Lynsey May on

Oh yeah, I was meant to be, like, you know, writing stuff. Except I haven’t been, even though I did my desk up all nice and everything.

Well, that’s not true, I have, it’s just been of the copy variety. That’s the thing about freelance isn’t it, you always want to say yes to every job, just in case it’s the last one that’s ever offered. Never fear though, I have lovely friend who already tuts and tells me off when I accept too many briefs and, get this, the other week I turned down a job for what was, I think, the first time ever.

So I’ve not been getting as much done as I wanted, but I did do some successful Christmas shopping today. Spying a million things I never realised I wanted along the way, of course – the dangers of going to the shops, something I don’t normally do.

And last week was grand, because we had the launch of the latest issue of the Edinburgh Review, with its lovely cover image from Fin, and the fabulous Gwendoline Riley and Ewan Morrison treated us to some top quality readings. Happy times. I also enjoyed the wine, maybe a little too much.

Overall, I’m pretty good and people even keep telling me I look refreshed. I think working from home (and sleeping for more than six hours a night) totally suits me.

My first foray into a slush pile

Posted by Lynsey May on

Slush is a dirty word

Ian Dawson: White Paper Pile

I used to hate the term slush pile, really hate it. The thought of all those words I’d tweaked and printed and lovingly posted ending up melting into some kind of inky, grey sludge made me feel not only sad, but also kind of resentful. Back then, the realities of the world of publishing were pretty fuzzy for me. Not so these days, and especially not now I’ve had my first foray into slush pile reading.

When the slush still sounded scary

Once, I had a quick fire attitude towards sending my work out there. Submissions would be done in a flurry and I’d be sending out work practically with my eyes closed, because I was too scared to find out too much and be disheartened. In a way, it was both an act of extreme confidence and extreme lack of it – which sounds like it could pretty much describe the whole writing condition. I suspected my stories would end up slushed, so I tried not to find out too much, so as not to be discouraged.

Clearing the slush from my windscreen

After seeing the kind of stuff that pour through the doors of the journal I’m part-timing for (as well as reading a few good articles on slush), I’ve got an even better idea of why blind submissions are a waste of time – and an invitation for rejection and minor heartbreak. It really is a slush pile, because not only are some of the stories that come in not very good, but lots just aren’t in any way suitable. Really, you’re sifting the slush for the things that fit, as well as the stories that shine.

To be truthful, I can’t say I’ve come to love the term slush pile, but when you look at those snowy white submissions heaped up, full of spelling mistakes and unsuitable material, you can just image the way the black type begins to bleed and your mound becomes slushier and slushier.

A bum note of a book

Posted by Lynsey May on

Most of the time, I try and avoid saying anything bad or mean on here. I’d find it hard to slag someone’s work off to their face, so it’s not something I want to do online. However, I do make one exception – celebrity books.

Not all celebrity books obviously, because some stars are just sickeningly talented, and if they want to make a foray into prose that’s a-ok with me. But not many of them fall into that category, so there’s generally plenty for me to be gnashing my teeth over. The latest offender is an upcoming offering from P. Diddy.

It’s a book about women’s bums, apparently. Pitched as something for your coffee table, he plans to collect pictures of ladies’ backsides and treat us to a few anecdotes and memories – whether the memories are about the bums or just about his life in general, I haven’t quite managed to figure out.

This makes me very sad.

I mean, I like bums. I might even like a book about bums, in the right hands. Somehow I suspect this book will not make me feel good about bums. Which is a shame, because I like the idea of feeling good about bums in general.

Book festival fun times

Posted by Lynsey May on

I’m kind of missing in action this week. On holiday from work and yet running around so much I feel as though I could sleep for a few days straight. And I probably would, if I didn’t already have a bunch of things to do on those days.

On Sunday I had an excellent time chatting away to some writery folk, getting some great tips for my next short story purchases and reading in the Book Festival Speigeltent. I was pretty nervous I have to admit, but a bunch of my lovely friends and family came along and it was amazing fun. These are the stories I read.

Lynsey May reading at Story Shop at Edinburgh Book Festival

Me reading at Edinburgh City of Literature Story Shop

Other book festival highlights so far have to be Gutter’s McHigh night which featured some amazing readings and a highly entertaining Neil Gaiman and Audrey Niffeneger event. Sigh, grand times, if only there could be a book festival every month? Although I suppose too much of a good thing is always a terrible idea.

A few short lessons on impatience

Posted by Lynsey May on

I want, I want, I want. I am of the instant gratification generation. All of my desires have a postscript: as soon as possible please. I don’t want to wait until I get home, I don’t want to put it off until the weekend, I don’t even want to look forward to it, I’d much rather have it all now.

Not a good mind set for an aspiring writer. Of all of the things the writing life is, it isn’t speedy. Writing takes time, getting writing until it’s somewhere near publishing takes even more, and getting it out there, yup , you guessed it, takes more still.

I’ve made (uneasy) peace with the process, but there’s one place my impatience is always waiting to trip me up: submissions. I’m constantly trying to fire things out there before they’re ready, even when I know they need one final going over with a fine tooth comb.

In an effort to remind myself to reconsider, I’ve compiled a short list of the things impatience has rewarded me with over the years:

  • Watery coffee – plunging a plunger prematurely.
  • A spoiled story – flicking forward to check the main character doesn’t die.
  • Indelible, online spelling mistake – hitting publish without thinking.
  • Blisters on heels – embarking on night out in un-broken in shoes.
  • A cold half hour walking back to the right bus stop – taking first bus instead of the right one.
  • Red cheeks and no job – submitting application before double checking job

And many hundreds more. You got any?

Mini adventures of the bookish kind

Posted by Lynsey May on

Recently I’ve had a bit more work-related travel than usual, and you know what that means – extra reading time! In the last few weeks I’ve read a whole bunch, including The Crimson Petal and the White – Michel Faber, Not so Perfect – Nik Perring and The Stars in the Bright Sky, which were a pretty ideal mix to be honest. All very different (and not just in length!) and great in their own ways.

But it’s not all been about reading quietly on the train, I also read a flash story out loud at the FlashMob event in Manchester. As always, a bit scary, but that’s the third time I’ve done it and I still haven’t burst into hysterical laughter or starting trying to scramble over the audience to escape, so I’ve chalking it up as a success.

All the folks were lovely, especially Nik Perring (the guest reader who read from the collection mentioned above) and the judges, especially Roland and Sarah-Clare and Tom, who made sure I ended my journey a bit tipsy and safe in the knowledge that girls who say ‘judge a man by his shoes and I don’t like politics’ are a little scary. All of the shortlisted stories are available to read online now, including my story Milk and honey and the worthy winners.

Another story of mine popped up on the web this week (always a flood or a drought eh?), and you get a squiz of Chewed Blankets in Spilling Ink Review number 5. In there you’ll also find Benjamin Judge, who happened to be one of the organizers of the FlashMob event. Almost like it was meant to happen… There’s also a nonfiction piece by the super Chelsea Cargill, who just happens to be in my writers group, hurrah.

It’s so nice to feel as though you are in good company, and that there are so many awesome and friendly writers out there – my faith in the community spirit of writing has been restored.

I assumed that one day I’d grow up and be good at this stuff

Posted by Lynsey May on

Me as a wee 'un

Look at me. I thought it was all going to fall into my lap didn’t I? I should have known better.

There were plenty of things I assumed I would be good at, as soon as I hit some magic age.

Silly me.

Things I assumed I’d be good at by the time I was an adult:

  • Meeting new people
  • Paying bills on time and knowing what all the charges are for
  • Understanding taxes
  • Voting for the best political party
  • Exercising twice a week
  • Effortlessly maintaining a loving relationship
  • Writing

Things I am good at:

  • Getting embarrassed, even when new people are very nice
  • Paying bills blindly, assuming companies know what they are doing
  • Ignoring taxes
  • Voting for the party I think sound nicest
  • Swimming when the mood takes me
  • Forgetting why it’s important to pay attention to your relationship sometimes
  • Wishing I was better at writing

It seems these things do not come automatically with age.

It seems I will have to work hard on them if I want to improve.

Bugger.

Writer’s envy: getting it back in the box

Posted by Lynsey May on

I hate to admit it, because I want to be able to pretend I am an all round good person, but there have been plenty of times I’ve been eaten up by envy. There are hundreds of thousands of writers out there and a good whack of them have turned me into a slinking, green eyed beast at some point.

But you know what? I think a little jealousy can be a good thing – as long as you’re not bitter about it and you know when to put a cap on it. After all, if I hadn’t read passages that made me think ‘shit, if only I could write like that,’ I doubt I’d have worked so hard on the writing I have done.

If I hadn’t ever opened a best seller and wondered what the writer had that I didn’t, I could have missed out on experimenting with a bunch of different styles until I found a few that fit. And if I hadn’t seen my contemporaries making names for themselves, I might not have dragged myself off my ass long enough to start trying to do the same for myself.

anti drama monkey

The Anti-Drama Monkey

The other thing is, the harder I’ve been working at all of these things, and the more writers I’ve been meeting, the less jealousy I’ve been experiencing. Why is that? It’s not down to any major massive best selling success on my part. Instead, I think it’s because I don’t feel frustrated as all hell most of the time and because the majority of writers I’ve met have been really very lovely people, who I want to see doing well.

I’m not going to lie and say I never feel just a teeny bit jealous every now and then, I hang around with a lot of very talented people after all, but I know when to put those feelings back in the box. Sometimes a little chocolate and a few drinks are needed to tempt it in there, but it’s all for the greater good!