Ayr Writers' Club Blog

Well, haven’t we have had some excellent club nights in recent weeks, from Maggie’s Children’s workshop to Sheila Templeton’s poetry, so last night’s fiction workshop had some talent to live up to. Well, I for one think Janice Johnston maintained this high standard in leaps and bounds.

The frame of the evening was character creation and Janice started us off with a crib sheet of questions you’d commonly see in many varied magazines and newspapers.

This was swiftly followed by the presentation of various clothing props to get our creative juices flowing - from a nice, but apparently uncool, boiler suit to a rather saucy, red basque of which Janice assured us belonged to her son’s friend Andie, which I’m quick to reassure everyone that it’s not mine!

Stories came forth of characters such as Dave, formerly Davina - a clearly confused man who desired to be a boiler suit wearing Formula One test driver - to a Slipknot-hoody-wearing disgruntled youth who liked to rap Wordsworth.

It seemed that many of our members’ imaginations were caught by the sexy basque, which following on from  an apparently lengthy and hilarious previous night’s discussion about an Alien’s ‘drooples’, begs me to wonder just quite where the group’s imagination runs riot of an evening!

The second task set was to combine various characters we’d created into the beginning of a story and, as usual, we were not disappointed by a wide array of wonderful and imaginative tales.

Yet another fine class lead on this occasion by Janice Johnston, which has given me a lot of useful inspiration and I’m sure so the whole group.

No pressure on future speakers.

Andrew Leslie

Last night’s evening with accomplished poet, Sheila Templeton, was a rare treat. Reciting in both Scots dialect and English, Sheila entertained us with poems covering a diverse array of subjects. “Last train to Ayr”, inspired by the singing of triumphant Scottish football fans, was a stoater of an opening poem whilst “Hot chick” summed up the menopause. “A little sleeve”, a celebration of “bingo wings”, had us roaring with laughter.  The very sensual “Beeswax” was a treasure box of memory and sensation – although Sheila’s brother might have disagreed with the memory of King Edward tatties. What’s a little poetic licence amongst siblings?

All was silent apart from the odd sniffle and the rastling in bags and pockets for hankies as Sheila followed with the much requested “A Bonnie Fechter”, a beautiful tribute to the dignity of the Stag. This was followed by “Wolfman”, a recollection of a son’s tender childhood and a mother’s sense of loss, epitomized by an old werewolf costume.  
Not only were Sheila’s poems a delight, she also gave us would-be makars some invaluable advice and encouragement. Sheila outlined the different kinds of verse she writes - “bubble up” poems are within us just waiting to be written whilst “memory” poems, often from childhood, result in vivid verse based on the five senses.  As well as reading as much poetry as we can get our hands on and revising our poetry, Sheila urged us to listen to and trust our unconscious mind and to “let rip"!

From New Writing Scotland, to “Bards in the Bog” to the McCash, Sheila has enjoyed much well deserved acclaim.  I’m sure I speak for us all at Ayr Writer’s Club when I say a big thanks to this “Silver haired Fox” for ignoring the advice given to her as a child to “never draw attention to yourself” and sharing herself and her wonderful poems with us.

Tracy Harvey

Maggie Bolton was at the helm last night and, no less than expected, did a sterling job tapping the creative juices of the group, beginning with a 20 minute writing frenzy continuing 4 snippets of stories that she began.

The first story started; “We crept to the very edge and peered down” which elicited some very fertile ideas. The next was Nade the alien who “stared longingly out the viewing port at the young Earthlings”. Quickly, in Nade’s footsteps, (or should I say drooplesteps?) the treacle bomb exploded, followed by the story of the vast, unbelievably bigger than a big thing. Finally, there was the boy who “took a deep breath and ...”

The read back was inspirational on every level. There is probably absolutely no cause for alarm, having a fertile imagination is good. No, really it is.

The story that piqued most imaginations was Nade the Alien with his drooples. So, after tea break, Maggie encouraged some brain-storming, building a storyboard on Nade’s character, his situation, and location, but most poignant was the enthusiastic discussion on what his “drooples” might be. This caused much hilarity and, as might be predicted, plunged down into depths of depravity which was summed up by the incredulous voice from the cheap seats stating “a group of adults sitting indoors on a bitterly cold night are discussing the Mongolian word for penis”.

Every day we learn something new and one never knows when that knowledge might come in handy.

Linda Jones

At the end of the evening, I asked Ann if she always carried props such as an entire archive of family snapshots. The reply was, ‘Of course'.

Blitz and W.W.2 spirit have nothing on A.W.C and Ann Burnett. With our speaker stranded in Paisley, it was decided, without any further to-do, that we were to invent for each of ourselves a history of great exaggeration and bravado based on a tissue - nay blanket - of lies. Then came the difficult part, we had to add three truths. When the revelations came we seemed to be in somewhat confusion (and I should think always will be for the rest of our lives) as to who was really or not the best beauty contest winner, scuba diver (or indeed married to one), the cutest little whorehouse madam in Melbourne, Fiat 500 fiend or even attic fanatic, to name but a few claims or disclaims. Sorely suffering delusions of grandeur, we took our tea break - or was it for champagne and caviar?

Suitably stimulated and refreshed, we continued. Four groups of novelists went to work on Ann's eclectic photograph collection to pull family members and friends from all over the world from their pictures, reassemble their situations and send them on more travels than Marco Polo. There were caravans, trailers, campers, and ships of the desert, tales of daring-do, skulduggery, genealogy, romance and crocodiles sighted in Carntyne - or was it Kelvin?

For those who braved the elements, I am sure that disappointment over the lack of the promised event was short lived, thanks to Ann and all who turned up. Thoughts and sympathies go to colleagues who were not able to make it through bad weather and ill-health, not least to our joint president, Sheila, who valiantly appeared only to beat a hasty retreat, feeling too sick to stay - hope you are feeling a whole lot better.  The good news is that Sheila Templeton has been rescheduled to the 8th of February, the bad, absentees on the 25th missed an enjoyable session.

Simon Kekewich

Five two minute challenges with distinct opening lines
Encouraging us to avoid working within usual confines
To be free with our thoughts and free with our pen
An unexpected announcement just happened when...
“Two, three, four! And again to the left, one, two, three, four!”
The contents of our room exploded with laughter and uproar

Our speaker, ever professional, carried on with her session
And once again was rudely interrupted by an aerobics lesson
“Lift that leg higher; that’s right, we all want a firm bum!”
We were just about to cover “Ta tee ta tee tum!”
A man was fetched whilst we all sat and grinned
He twiddled some knobs and we then talked about wind

With the wireless radio waves now starting to behave
Our poet gave encouraging feedback about being brave
Some read out their work and the standard was high
I reminisced about flying dusters and my chalk marked thigh
A wishbone was the subject that put a lump in my throat
I pondered and explored why I wrote what I wrote

With embryos of work we now have to put away
I am finding it difficult to keep it that way
Those incomplete lines are shouting from my book
Carried on a whispering wind for me to have a look
The excellent information we were given last night, by the way
Was truly from a talented lady –  Not that one from the PTA!

Lorraine Johnston