Therapy in Creativity

Those sharp eyed followers of my blog have already contacted me to say they noticed my change of title heading.  Ruth Snell Creative Writing is now re-labelled as Ruth Snell Creative Arts. The simple reason being that painting has formed a large part of my life lately and I've found it easier to reach people through my painting than my writing.  Not that my book has fallen into the mire.  A lovely message came in only today to say how much someone enjoyed the story, so it is warming to know people out there are reading it.

When you create a painting and show it to a viewer, what you see is what you get.  When you write a book, people are aware the creative process is more of a two way street.  They have to acquire a copy of the book and then engage some of their spare time to read it. It may not be what they expect or it can give them a few surprises.  Paintings aren't like that. A split second of viewing will either draw someone in or they will walk on by.  Their appreciation is more instantaneous.

Perhaps then it is time to consider the importance of a book cover.  What sort of judgements do you make on browsing in a book shop? Do you have expectations of how a book cover should look or does it not worry you?  The official line from those who conduct studies into such observations say that the cover of a book will firstly make a browser pick it up. This can occupy some four to six seconds and if the 'blurb' on the back cover is attractively written, you have another hook in on a possible purchaser.

Is it all about hard sales? Well, the general idea in writing a book is that you want your 'message' to get out there. You have spent tremendous amounts of time writing the thing. Imagine if someone was paying you by the hour ...

For me the creative process must make me feel better about myself.  That is why for me, designing - and painting - the cover of my books is important to me. The reader will hopefully have 'more of me' in what they take from the bookshelf. The package must be more rounded.  I read several years ago that the singer/songwriter, Kate Bush, was very serious about record covers. Before she made it as a hit in the music world, as a young teenager, she would take a train into London on Saturday's to browse the shops.  If she bought a record (LP to us oldies) she would sit on the train back to Kent pouring over the record sleeve, absorbing the design.  At this point she didn't know what all the songs on the record sounded like, aside from the one perhaps she'd heard on the radio, but for her it was important to take in the cover design as it led her to understand more of what the music was portraying.  Occasionally there were surprises but more often than not, the design emphasised the audio effect.

So if you are a writer and plan to publish, think carefully about your book cover.  You may not be artistic but that doesn't matter.  The point is that you know what you want your cover to be like. And, painting is a very therapeutic occupation.  Writing can be extremely stressful. Even if you have the most perfect plot in the world and stunning characters, time for editing could be tight, your laptop may be playing up or even worse, crash losing your work. Painting (or drawing) may even help you understand what you are trying to say.  Art, in all its forms is highly enjoyable but it can help the mind to cross over to another discipline.  Think carefully about your book cover and make it intrinsic to the text. Make it ... you ...

Happy creativity!

http://www.devonartistnetwork.co.uk/artists/ruth-snell

New Book Release: Galene by Ruth Snell (ISBN: 978-1-5376-6225-1)

Many of you won't be expecting this new book Galene by Ruth Snell  (ISBN: 978-1-5376-6225-1).

     "Dartmoor is a shadowy, mist-shrouded frontier largely unknown to Isabella Cole, a young woman who resides in Plymouth and is employed as a valuations clerk to a local auctioneer.  It is 1898 and her occupation is uncommon for a woman.  Her employer is invited to a working weekend at Hazelwood Grange, the moorland country house of Sir Sholto Lelawne, a reclusive scientist and world traveller, who extends the invitation to Isabella.  Entering a world far different to the one she grew up in, Isabella encounters the elusive Galene, a beautiful young woman with spiritual powers who is introduced as Sir Sholto's sister.  Isabella begins to uncover a complex web of lies and mysteries.  Not all is as it seems.

     Meanwhile in Plymouth, under the foundations of his valuations business near Charles church, her employer, Thomas Northcott, while renovating the building, uncovers an extensive chamber filled with antiquities from Roman times.  Isabella finds herself wrapped up in an intrigue of both ancient and Victorian power struggles involving Freemasons and the churchmen, who will stop at nothing to claim the highest prize of all - and she is key to its discovery."


Why has this come out of the blue? Very few people knew I was writing it.  Was there any deliberate secrecy? Only to the point I do freeze if people ask what I'm writing, when I'm struggling to get a plot organized in my head. It can be hard to explain 'what I am writing' when even I don't know where it's going.  I gave up Writer's Group's a year ago when I became tangled in two necessary operations for breast cancer.  The good news on that front, is the prognosis is favourable and the surgeon seemed to catch it on time.  That does however, have a profound effect on your outlook to life.  You withdraw (and I've never been a hugely outgoing person).  Then you get your priorities in order.  Health is paramount.

Aside from the very small family unit I have, my next priority is my job.  Most people I know who write, either professionally or as a hobby, don't work full time.  I do work full time. Forty-two hours a week and sometimes more. I'll repeat that.  I work full time so my spare time is precious.  I have to work, I have no choice. What spare time I do have often involves the vacuum cleaner, washing machine, garden or DIY. My weekends are valuable. I discovered through detriment to my health that through throwing so much time and energy into helping others with their writing activities, my health took a bad knock. 

There is also an element of nastiness in the writing world in Plymouth (as the poet laureate Michael Sullivan discovered) and I don't want to be part of it.  I will occasionally run a Writing Workshop if requested but aside from that .... I also paint. I am not a good artist but I find working with colour hugely relaxing.  After two operations I re-aligned my scant spare time.  Yoga has been hugely beneficial and painting largely therapeutic.  I painted the front cover for Galene  (in fact I painted several different scenes) and my daughter Rebecca had the final choice of my painting 'Peacock on Dartmoor' to finish the book cover.  To create a work of art, inside and out, is the most rewarding thing.

Where did the idea from Galene come from?  A mixture of elements viz: a picture I passed in 1981 and a discussion with my grandmother who came from a very old Plymouth family, a couple of years before she died in 1984.  The outline of the book was written circa 2008, just before my father died but never left the computer due to the complexities of life at that time.  When you think your life is running out of time, you take remedial action and now the final result is out there.

Plymouth's Female Smugglers and a Personal Ballad

I am fairly lucky with my family history in that a great deal of information has been passed to me through various generations of my relations who have lived in Plymouth, south Devon and Cornwall since the 1700s. The following poem was written in tribute to a few girls in 1813 in Plymouth and is based on recorded fact ....

THE BALLAD OF PEGGY RIDER

Of course she was a Devon maid, from Plymouth town we're sure,

no contraband slipped Peggy's hands between the sea and moor.

From Cockside to Frankfort Gate, her patch was worth pure gold,

when the French became unstuck at night, Peggy sold their soul.

Where would the heart of Plymouth be without a Peggy Rider?

When watchmen melt into the darkness, that's enough to hide her.

Not that just the girl is hid, but sixty gallons of rum;

and with a few accomplices, distribution's done.

Look out for the Revenue men, from the Custom's House they'll hail,

every Janner is a suspect now but few end up in jail.

Turn a blind eye to the pilot boats moored up in Whitsand Bay,

It's European free trade, styled in a different way.

Farmer George, our wondrous king, is keen on enterprise,

so when Peggy Rider steps out, it's usually in disguise.

Now some snitch has written to the Mayor of Plymouth town,

our generous fiscal trading terms have been scaled right down.

Chase the French from Plymouth Sound but keep their brandy here,

Peggy is our saviour; we'll drink to her in beer.

Sing this to Napolean: va te faire foutre! each dusk,

as Peggy's girls can lift and shift a stash of elephants tusks.

Now who were Peggy's smugglers?  Let us know their names:

Mrs Weirs, Mrs Charks and Mrs Mary James.

Mary lived on Higher Street, overlooking Sutton's water,

I'm pleased to say, here today, I'm her three times great-grand-daughter.

(c)  Ruth Snell

Laira, Plymouth, 2016

So, where did this come from?  My grandmother, Rosetta James married my grandfather, Ernest Snell in St Matthias Church, North Hill, Plymouth in July 1920.  (She always told me her people were of the Charles Church parish 'back into time' and she wasn't far wrong with St Matthias being a sister church of Charles Church). On researching the James family tree I found John James, my great-great-great grandfather who was a Blacksmith on Higher Street (now part of Exeter Street) in 1813.  I discovered his wife was called Mary when I found the birth of their son (my great-great grandfather), also called John, who was baptised in Charles Church in 1813 by the infamous Rev. Hawker.  I found a few documents in the Plymouth & West Devon Record Office which describe more events of the age and then I discover more about my ancestors.  Mary in particular appears to have assisted a local female smuggler called Peggy Rider who was moving everything from ' ... sixty barrels of rum, tea, coffey, silk shawls, baccy and 'elefants teeth'.  Yeez ....... my granny carrying elephants tusks up Exeter Street .... shiver me timbers!!

Mary then appears in nearby Cawsand, Cornwall (a village famous for smuggling) in 1822.  It seems Edmund Lockyer, Mayor of Plymouth at that time, showed her leniency and was very kind to her so she wrote and thanked him.  Mmmmm .... was he involved too???  Apparently smuggling was, to the gentlemen (wealthier toffs of the era) an investment, just like stocks and shares.  I smile with such links to a wondrous Plymouth story. 

The above ballad was read out compliments of Wonder Zoo with Black Books and The Word at The China House in Sutton (where else?) Plymouth, on 30 March 2016. Thanks to Derek Shaw in Berkshire for taking my verse and putting it to music.  More to follow on the melody ...

Ruth

N.B.  A translation of va te faire foutre! is well .... 'Kiss my ass' ..... the sort of thing an English smuggler might have said to Napoleon and his French associates in 1813.

Words, Polysemes, Capitonyms and more ...

It is always an unknown factor with a blog as to whether you are writing purely for yourself or whether anyone will read your composition.  Therefore, I've been delighted to receive a few messages from people to say they are following my rambles with interest.  To them, I would like to say thank you and use this opportunity to say hello to Penny Taylor.

Penny is interested in the history of Plymouth and due to various activities on local walks and so on, became aware of my book, Inspeximus.  Amusingly, she referred to it in one message to me as 'Inspecsy-Mouse' which immediately set my mind to a wide range of images, mainly - that here was an excellent title for a children's detective character.

This in turn (as one thing always leads to another), generated my thoughts towards how words are interpreted and the challenges of the English language with all its foibles.  We could start by looking at Homonym's and Homophone's:

Homonym:  One of a group of words that share the same pronunciation but have different meanings.  One easy example is 'bow'.  This could refer to the bow in bow and arrow, to bow down to the king or queen, tie a bow in your hair or create music by putting a bow to a violin.

Homophone:  A word that has the same sound as another word but is spelled differently with a different meaning. for example, to/too/two and pray/prey.

However ..... the word Heterographs are also referred to as to, too, two and there, their.  Confused?  A breakdown of the word Heterograph means 'different writing' so technically this is correct. 

Consider this sentence:  The wind swirled up the leaves/I must wind up the clock today.

What about a Synophone then?  These are a little more slippery and can be identified with how a foreigner learning English, may make an easy mistake.  Think of spellings and sounds, for example ...

Methods of teaching English in our schools is quiet weak.

Did you see the Synophone above?  Yes, the word 'quiet' and 'quite' sound the same if said quickly.

We can grow even more adventurous with Polysemes.  These are words which are seen more in creative writing although we don't consciously use them.  For example, 'the strong arm of the law,' or 'the gaping mouth of the cave on the beach.'   The word 'arm' can be the physical limb, ammunition or used to describe a form of strength. the word mouth can again be a physical part of the body, an opening or description of where a river yawns ahead at its widest points. 

And it means that Capitonyms don't escape categorizations either.  Think of when you 'polish' the furniture or your neighbour has a 'Polish' student staying with them.

They say that English is one of the most difficult languages in the world to learn. Personally I think I would find Chinese a challenge.  Not that I'm looking to learn Chinese as I'm still trying to capture my knowledge of English.

So thank you Penny for your message on Inspecsy-Mouse.  I already have rich images in my mind of a little whiskered chap with a Sherlock Holmes hat and cap, sporting a curled pipe and speaking like the detective Columbo.  'Excuse me sir/ma'am .... Just one more thing ... When you rose from your bed this morning did you notice that dead body in your rose garden?'

Hidden Bookshops and their Treasures

I love exploring second hand bookshops.  They offer not just a fantastic range of books which are largely are out of print, but occasionally a glimpse of marginalia scribbled by an enthusiastic reader, the occasional lost postcard used as a bookmark or simply the name of a previous owner circa 1916 or earlier.  As someone with a reasonable imagination, pictures form in my mind quite quickly.

While visiting Oxburgh Hall in Norfolk last year, I encountered a little shop selling second hand books to raise a few funds for the National Trust.  Paying a small sum for a copy of:  Poetry and Appreciation by A. F. Scott (published in 1952), I remain intrigued that something so small and plain holds such a treasure of explanation to many poems and their techniques.

A tip here for example, on lyrical poetry:

'The total meaning of a poem consists of thought, feeling, attitude and intention.  It is conveyed by the words and their arrangement.  The rhythm produced welds the poem together and gives it a significance beyond any prose rendering.  It is only by a close scrutiny of all the qualities of the words (meaning, sound, associations), and also of the ordering of the rhythm, that the poem can be understood and in its value estimated.

Remember that you must judge the poet in accordance with what he is trying to do.  He may do anything he pleases, provided he can do it.'

I trust critics of Michael Sullivan, the first Poet Laureate in Plymouth will think about this before they criticise any further.  They reacted unprofessionally, to a letter sent to The Herald from a range of artists and writers in the Plymouth area who defended the Poet Laureate, commending him for his hard and unpaid work to promote literature in Plymouth.  The insults (mainly from academics and sycophants associated with them), still seem to flow.  They have pretty much started a death knell on Plymouth being taken seriously as a cultural and literary venue.  They have also quashed enthusiasm for many local writers to meet and discuss their work for fear of continued trouble and ridicule.  Some very big ego's have gone too far.

Overpopulation and Literature of the Future - Perhaps Coming to a Bookstand Near You.

The post Christmas spell has made me read more than usual.  January has that something about it where after the flurry of a Christmas run around, we retreat into the turn of the Winter Solstice and ponder what will come in the year ahead.  Every time we switch on the television or radio we are met with tenterhooks gloom and doom, from migrants wanting that 'better life' sinking on unstable boats in the Mediterranean to a volatile stock market which means we are under the boot of more austerity (according to our illustrious leaders in parliament).  Easy to say for those earning way above the minimum wage in the London power house.  Here in the West Country, jobs which equate London salaries are non-existent unless you are a Doctor or Lawyer.

So, all of this rather negative news throws my mind to future scenarios.  If someone approached me to commission a novel and then asked me what the suggested topic would be, I would say look to the overpopulation of the British Isles.  Something has to give.  The terrible floods in the north of England around Christmas echoed a similar situation to the Somerset Levels in more recent times where some of the residents have still not been compensated.  And the reason for much of this?  The weather causes the flooding - yes - and the meteorological merchants of gloom have been talking about global warming for a few years.  While they have been talking about it, what have the powers that be been doing about it?  Encouraging us to recycle waste products, use less plastic bags, car share where possible or use public transport ... yes, it all sounds nice, sensible and responsible but it isn't the root cause.  The root cause is the amount of people not just on the planet Earth but in the country as a whole.  And, like many stuck in the cycle of the Syrian war, they all want a 'better life'.  If we lay down any more concrete then like the Somerset Levels and Cumbria, the better life will become an unsustainable nightmare. 

Looking at how fit, athletic and energetic some of the young Middle Eastern men are, I would hope they could stand and fight against their oppressors.  They certainly have the enthusiasm to make hazardous journeys with expectations at the other end.  How does this impact into literature?  The stories here are massive.  Images of demanding migrant women with their fat faces pushed into severe headscarves, wailing with their crying babies pushed in front of television cameras for sympathy,  feeds the fuel of journalism, which in turn fuels the socialist echelons for more to be done while ignoring the needs of the indigenous population who are losing their jobs through austerity and often their homes.  Journalists can be very dangerous people.  Trouble keeps them employed so they want more of it.

Zoom forwards some forty years.  Britain - currently with a population of 60 million (and that is a conservative estimate) could see a population of 100 million quite easily.  Everyone will have to be housed, fed, educated, cared for through hospitals and expect transport links and green space.  It makes me think of a cinema with a certain seating capacity.  If you pile too many people in, few will be able to see or hear the film, arguments break out and a safety hazard ensues which leads to every man for himself and some injured or killed in a stampede for survival.  Yet everyone expects this 'better life'.  I cannot see anything getting better.  If anything it is already growing worse quite rapidly.

What is to be done?  Build more skyscrapers?  Throw anyone occupying a house where they have a spare bedroom out and force them to hand it over to a larger family?  Enforced euthanasia? A one child policy? Those answers are derivatives of Communism and would be quickly rejected but governments may try to force them in under their right of democracy.   Just look at the recent upheaval over the bedroom tax.  Food production?  If the land is chewed up with so many building and road projects, where will the food come from and surely we will need more reservoirs for vital water supplies?  Off the top of my head I see some terrifying consequences.  You only have to be in a supermarket the week before Christmas to see what tension can do for a mini-siege.  Read 'Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep' by Philip Dick or 'Rule Britannia' by Daphne Du Maurier for their view of the future.  Different angles on different places but oddly, they weren't far off the mark.

*Recent news of the Zika Virus just adds to the dangerous mix of how fast an illness can spread in overpopulated areas.

The future is full of literature.  Creativity can solve problems.  Start writing.

Acrostic Sonnet for Whitleigh

Acrostic Sonnet for Whitleigh


Wend through these ancient Whitleigh trees
Hiding blooms of Cuckoo Flower,
Infused with misted eau de vie
Time flows by on seasons showers.
Lancaster Gardens; bridle path
Encapsulating ghosts of old,
Indentured men grind plane and lathe
Gladdened nights wrap darkened folds.
Hewing five-bar farm gate and post

Guarding green fields of Budshead Road,
Ribboning west towards the coast;
Echoing Whitleigh Hall's abode.
Elegies sing of hearth and home,
Now here we rest, no more to roam.

(c)  Ruth Muttlebury
2015

Literary Festivals

Literary Festivals - there are lots of them around.  I've attended a few and generally, in terms of a popular adage, 'the oldest ones are the best'.  The new ones don't have that wonderfully worn patina about them which give grace to a cosy feeling of piles of books and fascinating writer's of all genres sharing their views.  That said, it needs a certain environment to make a festival work well and Kew Gardens is no exception. 

Details of Write On Kew are here:
http://www.kew.org/visit-kew-gardens/whats-on/write-on-kew

And while we are talking of the right environment for a literary festival, Whitleigh Words Festival Finale will take place on 3 October 2015 to the north of Plymouth.  For more details:
https://whitleigharts.wordpress.com/hiya-whitleigh-newsletter-autumn-2014/whitleigh-words-festival/

As some of you know, I don't involve myself with Open Mic, Performance Poetry or anything else which means I could (and would) bore people witless with my work. Nor do I sit in on endless performances either.  I am happy to be a silent poet, as they say.  However, I look forward to popping over to Whitleigh for a short spell on the day to say hello to Sandy Wager who has worked tirelessly in bringing everything together for the local residents.

Whitleigh has many things which some of the suburbs in Plymouth are without.  Several airy and light church halls for various functions, a selection of shops, some gentle ancient woodlands and a great pub - The Albermarle Inn - which gives a warm welcome and has been a great help to Sandy in the festival.  While many parts of Plymouth are losing their community hubs, Whitleigh is developing its own very well indeed.  Good luck to Whitleigh - and Sandy - for more future successes.

Pseudonyms

Is a pseudonym - or several pseudonyms worthwhile?  In my view yes, it is.  The reasons are various but many writer's like to feel their work stands alone from the day job.  For those fortunate enough not to have to work, a pseudonym is often still worthwhile as it allows an escape hatch into their ideas. 

At a Writer's Convention in Bristol, sat amongst other writer's I was surprised at how many people wrote under fictitious names.  The lady sat on my left hand side was a well known writer of romantic novels.  In the course of conversation it turned out she was also a fully qualified accountant working from home and her husband was a GP.  Living in a rural village in Cambridgeshire (I'll give no more away here!) she didn't want to be the focus of local gossip or bothered by people asking endless questions about her next book or plot.  She wanted to get on with her main day job (Accountant), her domestic life (wife to a GP and mother to two teenagers) and - oh - of course - a Writer too!

Behind me another lady - in a most resplendent hat - was a highly successful historical novelist.  Again, her 'writing' name was also a pseudonym and she is lucky enough to have a holiday cottage in Devon where she goes to write.  Her real home is several counties away.

Lots of writer's and poets adopt another name to free them up from any expectations.  After all, Jean Plaidy, Victoria Holt and Philippa Carr were one and the same person.  William Trevor is really William Trevor Cox.  Even Elena Ferrante is another author by another name but nobody knows who.  She (or he) has created a modern Italian mystery by hiding their real identity.

Am I Ruth Snell?  In some ways yes, although several of you will know me as someone else.

Creative Writing Workshop at Whitleigh Words Festival

A sincere thank you to everyone who came along to the Japanese Poetry Workshop on Saturday 4 July 2015 as part of the Whitleigh Words Festival.  A group of people who barely knew each other were blended and revitalized by studying some of the methods of Haiku, Tanka, Haibun and Renga.  This was just a brief introduction into the mysteries of Japanese poetry but one which was enjoyed by all.  We also took time to explore and discuss the history of Japanese literature and the ancient culture which supports it.  It is a complex subject and not one which can be fully analysed in a couple of hours but I trust the handouts helped.

Sincere thanks to Sandy Wager, Organizer of the Whitleigh Words Festival for her succinct administration of this event and other activities going on in Whitleigh.   Don't forget folks that Whitleigh has been a thriving suburb of Plymouth for 65 years.  In fact the key reason for the Festival was to celebrate that era of time from when the first foundation stones were laid.  Prior to that, Whitleigh was sprawling farmland consisting of many green acres and traditional farm buildings.

Sadly Whitleigh Hall was knocked down just after the war which is a pity because like most manor houses in Plymouth, it would have enhanced the currently desired City of Culture status very well. But in those immediate post-war years, like all the Plymouth based manors, it was seen as a sign of capitalist living and not emblematic of socialism, so down it came.  And now the Council want to apply for City of Culture status ... when the backbone of its history was wilfully destroyed .... by the .... Council ... while they keep the grotty Civic Centre Council House (circa late 1950s) standing as a listed building.  You couldn't make it up if you tried.

P.S.  I'm glad they don't work for me.

Plymouth Poetry - Past and Present

Poetry about Plymouth - Past and Present.  Well, I wonder who started the ball rolling on that one then?  It always makes me smile when someone 'borrows' an idea you have had (and published) by then masquerading it as their own.  When I published Inspeximus:  Poetry from the Manors of The Roborough Hundred I realised I was writing for a very niche market.  Not everyone likes history.  Few understand specific local history and even fewer people these days read poetry.  So, when I see a certain 'historic' institution in Plymouth deciding to have an open evening for people with 'Plymouth Poetry Past and Present' as a grand theme, I fall off my chair in laughter.

Remember.  You heard it here first.

Remember also that nepotism rules in some cities which have refused to unlock their minds but want all the benefits when things go right.  Truth is stranger than fiction in Plymouth.