Tag Archives: writing

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 day of words, words and more words

Posted by Lynsey May on

When it comes to writing, there are times when months and months go by and it feels as though nothing is happening, nothing will ever happen. And then there are times when suddenly, everything happens at once – this is one of those times.

I feel as though I’m at the centre of a veritable flurry of literary things, and I’m loving it.

Today I read some stories as part of the InkyFingers Mini Fest and when I got home, my inbox had three nice surprises for me – a bunch of my writing all went live on the same day!

At IdeasTap, I’ve an article about financing a writing career without feeling as though you’re sacrificing the ability to write.

There’s a wee flash piece bout a women under siege called Edith’s Voice over at The Pygmy Giant.

And Metazen also published Yonica’s Beautiful Things, which just happens to be one of the stories I also read aloud today.

Whew, if only every day was as literary! Although to be honest, I’m about ready to curl up with a good book now. Maybe until Sunday, when I am super excited to be reading as part of the Edinburgh City of Lit Story Shop at the Book Festival – whew!

Sweet, messy July

Posted by Lynsey May on

This month has been a bit of a whirlwind, and in the ‘stuff getting blown about and messed up’ kind of way, rather than the ‘swept of your feet by the awesomeness’ kind of way. That’s not to say there hasn’t been some awesomeness in there!

And, to be honest, I’m certainly not in any position to complain – especially in light of all of the tragedies of recent days and months. It’s a sad old world sometimes, and I’m grateful to all the people who make mine a little nicer.

I had my birthday, which was lovely, and Flight of the Turtle was published, which just happens to have one of my stories in it.

Blowing out the candles on my TWO cakes

Work has been less lovely and can really only be described as quite stressful, which always makes me want to get over my fear (and desire to save money!) and jack in the towel and attempt freelance, but I’ve worked hard to get where I am and I’m not sure I’m ready to give it up. Also, I’m a scaredy cat!

I’m on the road to getting over one of my fears though: with two training sessions to give for work and three public readings coming up in the next couple of months, I’d better be able to finally vanquish the fear of reading aloud anyway!

Safeguarding the spark

Posted by Lynsey May on

Some people seem to rain sparks. Their ideas come thick and fast, characters emerge fully formed from the flames and entire fiery vistas open in front of them the second they close their eyes.

Not me. I’m a slow burner. Each new idea feels like a long struggle with a tinderbox, a soggy attempt with two stones or a slow alignment of a magnifying glass and the pages of my notebook. And when an idea does catch alight, it’s not guaranteed. It needs careful attendance and nurturing.

Source: http://scienceblogs.com/

I ignore the spark at my peril. If I leave it alone for long enough, I’ll come back to find a small scorch mark that smells of all the cigarettes I’ve decided not to smoke any more.

Feed the spark too much, and it is smothered. It dies off before it has the chance to take hold, and my head is full of smoke and regrets.

A few days, weeks, months of tending this little idea carefully, looking at it from behind shielded eyes, being careful not to let a cold rain of self-doubt touch it, and it might turn into something bigger. If I’m lucky.

Building a little workspace nest

Posted by Lynsey May on

Slowly, slowly, we are beginning to settle into our new home. For some reason, I’ve been feeling as though it’s taking far longer than normal, maybe because I know I won’t be moving out of this one again within the next month or so (unless something horrible I don’t want to even imagine happens) and so have been able to give it time to settle. Or maybe I’m just worried about messing up what it basically a flat full of potential.

Whatever the reason, I’ve finally managed to put it behind me a little and get a desk properly set up. At the moment, it’s still a little too plain and organised – you can see my past working conditions here! – but it’s getting there.

Lynsey May desk space, work space, writers desk

Hopefully I’ll get around to properly pimping it out soon, and I’m sure that when I do, I’ll enjoy every moment of it. There’s nothing like getting your own little space sorted out for making you feel warm and fuzzy, or I think so anyway.

Whether it’ll actually encourage any more work, well, that’s definitely another question.

Secret chocolate stash in old books

Posted by Lynsey May on

The Antiques Roadshow generally makes me think of that sad, Sunday feeling, but it does sometimes uncover a lovely story or two. The current favourite has to be that of Mr James, who was given some books by his schoolmaster back when he was 11 and, rather than giving them a read, he shoved them away unopened.

Skip forward a couple of decades, and his wife discovered that the inside of the books had been hollowed out and a variety of chocolate bars had been secreted inside.

Hollowed out book with sweets inside

Now, I disapprove of cutting up books in general (how can you deface those poor defenceless words, you monsters!) but this story did make me giggle. Just imagine the disappointment of that 11 year old, when he realised he’d passed up on the goods.

That said, I’d like to think that what you find in a decent book is even better than chocolate. It’s tends to last better, at least, but really, the ideal situation is a combination of both. Maybe with a bath and a glass of wine thrown in for good measure, mmm.

I did always want one of those fake books though, although I think the only thing I really wanted to hide at that age would be my diary, which would kind of defeat the purpose. Although I suppose it would be a grand way to hide my chocolate stash from Ink…

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.

Long live the typewriter

Posted by Lynsey May on

Last week a slew of reports claimed the typewriter had finally slipped away from us and that the last machine had been manufactured. Luckily, it turned out this was not the case, there are factory lines still producing and individuals still pounding the keys.

Still, the thought of it gave me – and word-lovers everywhere – a bit of a moment.

There are plenty of things to love about typewriters, the ponderous feeling of weighted keys, the satisfying clunk, clunk of your words appearing in the real world, but I have to admit that mine is an ornament rather than a piece of my office equipment.

I can’t give up the speed of my pen across the page or my fingers on the flat little keyboard of my computer. I’m sorry typewriters, I don’t want you to go – but I know I’ll do little to halt your demise. Instead, I drew you a picture.

A charcoal picture of a typewriter by Lynsey May

A picture of my typewriter by way of an apology

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.