Dreamy Island Day - Eloise Williams

I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again, and probably again after that – sometimes the endless online business of being a writer becomes too much and I have got to take a break.

I’ve done it again. I’ve taken ANOTHER day off.

I know, I know… slovenly, slack, and absolutely needed.

After chasing up the addresses for books I have already posted, forgetting my father is having an operation, and many fitful nights filled with little sleep and lots of nightmares which mostly consisted of filling in forms, I decided my brain was too addled to be able to create anything.

My husband, who sleeps / doesn’t sleep next to me when I’m like this, suggested a day on Skomer Island and it was exactly the right tonic.

I forget, when I’m sat in front of my laptop all day, that to write well it is actually quite important to experience life well too.

We set off at stupid o’clock this morning, sausage baps in hand (than you Linda McCartney) and furrowed brow beneath a floppy brimmed sunhat in hope of turning my frown upside down. It isn’t all that far from where we live to Martin’s Haven where you catch the boat and as we were there early – because you have to be to actually get a space – we wandered about amongst cows and bumble bees waiting for our turn to board. I managed to keep the frown this far.

I worried about rain. I hadn’t brought a coat of any kind which is an almost deadly option here in west Wales. I hadn’t had enough caffeine before our stupid o’clock leaving time. Thankfully, there is a helpful coffee machine to hand. I would have to do this, that, and about fifteen other things when I got home. Lists ran through my head like Mo Farah on a roundabout. I was careful I didn’t walk too close to the cliff edge in case lovely husband, Guy, decided to put me out of my misery once and for all.

Finally, we boarded. The sun came out. The sea was a clear turquoise blue. A seal swam past us and I cried. It was the seal, for sure. Nature has always been my first love and it moves me beyond measure, but it was also remembering that I am a human and humans need to have a brain break now and again.

We spent several hours wandering around Skomer. Laughing and doing impressions of puffins – I used to be an actor so mine were very much better than spouse’s efforts. Snoozing and snoring (Guy, not me) on the salty, sun-soaked grass. Smiling, laughing, breathing all the air out from our lungs to take a whole new fresh peaceful lot in. Eating apples and ginger biscuits and slugging water back as if it was the most magical liquid in the world – which of course, it is.

And then something happened which I wasn’t expecting to happen. I took out a notebook and started to write a completely new story.

It’s not one I’d been thinking about and I won’t bore you with it here but it was remarkable to me that after only a few hours of what I am now calling a ‘Brian break’ instead of a brain break, my creativity would come back to me.

I’ve spoken about this in previous blogs but I am so quick to forget the importance of getting away from the screen and getting out there, wherever that may be, instead of typing away till my hands are gnarled hooks which I can’t even use to rub at my own square-shaped eyes.

And on that note…  

Eloise Williams

www.eloisewilliams.com

Ty Newydd Writers' Centre - Eloise Williams

I FINALLY made it to  Ty Newydd Writers' Centre!

This isn’t a joke about the lack of trains from the South-West of Wales to the North of Wales and the circuitous route I had to take to get there at all. Honestly…

It is more about my becoming a writer at the tender age of (age has been deleted for vanity reasons) and embarking upon a completely new career. 

Ha! What an idiot!

Or was I?

Well yes, I was. But it turned out alright in the end. Well, so far anyway…

First I had to write deep poetry – some of which is so far beyond abysmal that I believe if I go to Hell it will be an ongoing reading of my own odious odes.

Then I wrote some short stories – these weren’t too bad, there’s one about a cardigan that’s passable.

A few pantos. Oh no you didn’t… oh yes I…. they were even worse than this. So I said to the horse ‘Why the long face?’ etc.

Then I tried my hand at some Adult Fiction. Not the erotic stuff. Just the everyday novel stuff. But no, no it wasn’t for me.

Eventually, on a long walk on a cliff path, literally on the edge, I had an epiphany of sorts. I should write for children! YES. That was not only where my heart really belonged it was also one of the only options left!

 

Since pulling myself back from the brink (I wasn’t suicidal, I’m just trying to write dramatically) I have gone on to have my book for 7-9s, ‘Elen’s Island’ published by Firefly Press in 2015 and next April I have a Middle Grade called ‘Gaslight’ coming out. It’s set in Victorian Cardiff and is a dark and scary mystery, also published by Firefly Press and supported by a Writers’ Bursary from Literature Wales. I also have a MG ghost story called ‘Seaglass’ which has been shortlisted for the Wells Festival of Literature Children’s Story Competition this year.

So that’s me…. until Ty Newydd.

 

You can look at the photo of the house to see how stunning it is. What that doesn’t tell you is that you can see the mountains from the garden. The sea is a glittering necklace beyond.  There is birdsong in the air, history in the walls, quirkiness all around and comfort, laughter (lots of) and other writers.  

 

I sat in an attic room with the skylight ajar watching the gentle rain falling softly outside the window. Apparently there was a heatwave on the other side of the country but as far as I was concerned they could keep it. This was just perfect.

 

Our tutors for the week were the immensely talented Lucy Christopher – I’ve just finished reading ‘The Killing Woods’, completely gripping and like Barry Cunningham, I didn’t guess either! – and the equally immensely talented Marcus Sedgwick.

‘The Book of Dead Days’ is my current reading material and I already have a favourite line, ‘He felt old and tired and fat, because he was’. Ha!

 

Both tutors were thoroughly delightful. So approachable and friendly and phew! To all of it. I didn’t feel like a spanner or a plank as I still so often do. I just felt comfy. For people who know me this is an unusual state of being for me as I tend to be an accomplished worrier.

There is something about the place that seeps into your bones. It welcomes you with its labyrinthine stairs and turrets. It cwtches you in.

 

It taught me a lot of things. That it is okay to switch off from ‘real life’ to dedicate time to my writing. That I am not all that weird for wanting to do just that. That I still have a huge amount to learn (thank God!). That North Wales could very definitely take on South-West Wales for beauty, inspiration and charm (have booked a holiday there already). That I need to learn Welsh (have finally taken myself onto a fast-track course – wish me luck). That we are all story-tellers and that stories are one of the most important components of my life. That Tony, the chef, should have his own television series. That I need to go on another course at Ty Newydd! My only regret is that I didn’t go sooner.

The whole career change has been a huge learning experience for me. And I mean HUGE. But it is with the support of Ty Newydd and Literature Wales, the lovely tutors and staff, the time and space and energy there that has really made me realise what an important path I’ve chosen. It’s a place where Literature is respected in all its forms. It’s a very special place. Very special.

Highly recommended. So, so highly recommended. Did I say I highly recommend it?

And there’s one more thing (she says like Columbo) …

 

 

GO THERE! GO! REALLY! GO!

What's in your head? by Eve Ainsworth

I had the pleasure of attending The Hampstead and Highgate Literary Festival 2015 recently, where I met fellow authors Lisa Heathfield (SEED) and Jon Walter (Close to the Wind & My Name’s not Friday).

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Me with the lovely Lisa Heathfield)

 

 

 

After our events finished, we had an opportunity chat in the green room and consume a few lovely pastries (well, I certainly did – oops!). Whilst talking about the usual authory things, the subject of school visits came up - and what was the best question we had been asked by the students .

On this occasion Jon won hands down.

For Jon was once asked, by some young bright spark – “What does the inside of your head look like when you’re writing?”

What a wonderful question! And it really got us thinking.

Jon said that after careful consideration, he felt his was like a cinema reel, playing a film version of his book on continuous loop.  Lisa joked that hers was probably totally blank initially, and then a swirl of colours. And as for me, I couldn't answer straight away.

But the question stayed with me.

What did the inside of my head look like when I was writing?

To be frank, mine is probably not a place you’d like to go! It starts off quite bleak and confused, full of jumbled images and words. I picture it a bit like a snow globe that has just been shaken: there is a central idea somewhere between the snowflakes, but it is disguised at first.

Once the snow begins to settle I can see a little clearer. Depending on the book, it might be the character or the setting I can see. For my current book it is the character; she is there, waiting for me, sitting in my mind waiting to be written. But if I get distracted or despondent it is like the snowglobe has been shaken again - the view becomes blurry and I might lose my way. And once the snow has settled I often see a new scene, or a better way of doing things.

So I guess the inside of my head while writing is a changeable, exciting but very frustrating place. I’m not sure I’d like to exist within it - but I’m thankful for it.

So I guess the question is - what does the inside of your head look like when writing?

 

(My daughter's snow globe is more sparkle than snow but you get the idea....)