A socially distanced dozen queued on the screen to share their creations and learn from the comments of those listening. That’s the strength of our Readaround sessions, whether in person or on Zoom, we can all benefit, no matter what our genre or style.
So, what scribbles from my pad can I look back on and bear in mind when next tapping the keyboard?
Tony’s poignant Empty Shelves revealed that the distinction between poetic social comment and political satire is not always clear. No matter how kind-hearted gestures might have been, arthritic hands couldn’t open the tinned Fray Bentos pie, with fatal consequences. However, humour found its way into his following Drabble-like party invitation with the instruction to Bring Your Own Boris, finding balance between satire and cutting observation.
The premature ending of Maggie B’s Flights of Fancy taught us to think outside the box and be imaginative. Fed up with trips to Rothesay and Wymss Bay a family were off to Iceland, the trip booked by a long-suffering mother. Departure day drew near ….. and Maggie wanted ideas about what might happen next. Mad adventures, ash clouds, the culinary appeal of puffins and, the elephant in the room, that shop?
Linda H took us to watch Ladies Dancing, triggering a debate about the darkness of suspected motives or simply the appreciation of unfettered movement. The interpretation of clues given by the language used meant we fell into one camp or the other; but what did our author really intend? The mystery remained but it made us think about how we choose our words.
Following an earlier outing, John revisited the first chapter of his fantasy novel, previously struggling with being too busy and with too many characters. This time, we knew Giva far better through a tense and dramatic episode involving swords, hissing rage and a collapse like a broken marionette. With a face hidden in the shadow of his hood, we were left wanting to know more about the next emerging character.
Jeanette exemplified the potential of our back-files. She had dusted-off a piece shared and submitted to a Flash Fiction competition. We laughed at a Prestwick pensioner convicted of accumulating two hundred Argos pens, and then discussed how, what might be seen as imperfect grammar, can also be a unique voice critical to our character.
From Coll, Jean invited us to share in verse a batch of Mince Pies, brought and inspired by a visitor. Ingredients elevated one batch above the other, meeting the tastes and outlook of each consumer. I’m sure we were left inclining towards those that were “not healthy, but nice.” On a gloomier, more thought-provoking note, we were then introduced to “Janus-faced” January, with choices, errors and promises made at a time when we look both forward and back.
Sail Away With Me was Hazel’s debut to our Readarounds. The fictional piece fooled many of us with the realism of her writing about a relationship-bonding sailing trip. Moods and emotions were embedded within a rich use of all the senses, that left us hungry for the garlic, fish and bread eaten on board. Starting and ending with the same phrases showed how, whatever we write, circularity gives a satisfying close.
Yet again, Damaris showed us the power of writing about what you know. In The White Track she treated us to another Umbrian visit and the experience of evading the authorities by rewilding a pathway that was destined never to be used. Detail, observation and pace had us anxiously looking upwards for the spotter plane and hoping she would escape censure.
Carrie, with her children’s fantasy, took us down with the Pookies into Spookledom. Together, we learned a lesson in determination as she described the mammoth task she is undertaking: changing her whole novel into the first person. We met the moss weevils, the hole chiselers and many more as she wrestled with making the experience of her protagonist more immediate.
Carey took us for a coffee. From a hotel bedroom in Edinburgh, she had been inspired by characters meeting at the tiniest of coffee kiosks. With a drip, drip, drip of observation and information, and finally amidst the tray-bakes and empire biscuits, Robert meets Eve.
A Kind of Magic was a letter, written by Matt, supposedly in 1591. In the guise of one whose practice is threatened by the 16th century witch trials, the letter is to James VI. In a language and tone that echoed the era, its menace grew with each sentence. Did any of us have a comfortable night after his final salutation, “sleep well sire.”?
Our evening came to an end with Thomas’ Astrologer’s Wife, a two-part piece that played with our expectations, our sympathies and our intrigue about astrological influences on historical characters through time. Then, in Part 2, apps and algorithms come to the fore and the balance of power between our couple appears to switch, and dotcom opportunities beckon.
As ever, at the end of such an evening, your blogger is left wondering, hoping, suspiciously unconfident, that he has done such skillful contributors justice. Suffice to say, I always leave a Readaround inspired and informed.
Nigel Ward