Just so you don’t think I’ve been resting on my laurels and skipped off having fun, I’m still writing blog posts, I’ve just taken up residence in other places.
The Greenbelt Blog generously allow me to write stuff that connects up the creative and spiritual dots in my life.
I recently wrote about a slow crafts exhibition in Birmingham that connects neatly with the theme from the festival this year. I’m going to pop along & take some photos & blog about it.
I’ve also done a number of posts for Birmingham It’s Not Shit. Which is an awesome honour to do as it’s a great website.
I started by asking people to “give me hell” and told the story of how I got to Birmingham. (Ish)
It’s one of those really familiar cliché images in a hospital drama, doctor giving CPR as others around them look on wondering at what point the doctor is going to join the rest of us and realise the body on the slab is no longer a person.
I’ve reached that point of realising the idea I’m trying to pump life into is just that, an idea. Not a living breathing thing but just a clever idea, a nice idea, an idea with energy to it and one that inspires but it’s not something I can keep giving heart massages to.
I’ve got to climb down off the stretcher, quietly say “shit” to myself and walk away.
I’m walking away from organising Fail Camp. Doesn’t mean it’s dead, it’s not a new idea, it’s a nice idea and someone else can pick up leading it.
It’s hard to face your own failure in this regard, it’s hard to fail so publicly, part of me wishes I’d failed on a huge scale, this is a bit of a damp squib- a blog post late at night, sneaked out. The fail camp blog & twitter stream will still exist, the expectation of my peers strangely met and missed. The energy and enthusiasm misdirected.
So, for the fail camp purists out there who advocated moving the venue at the last moment and not telling anyone, I’ve just gone one better: I’ve failed at making fail camp happen.
Conceptually it’s beautiful, personally it’s a tad frightening.
Part of me would prefer we all pretended the idea never bubbled out into the ether. That same part has an instinct to run away and hide. That same pretending hiding part would also like you to never mention it to me.
But there’s another bit of me, a bolder, brassier bit that wants to examine these feelings from all sides, walk round the shape of failure, feel it up close, press my nose against it’s glassy surface and huff on it to see if I fog it.
Yes, I’m sad to let go, yes, it does feel a bit of a waste.
But I’ve grown through the process (as you’d hoped I would). I had a number of really beautiful moments I cherish with Pete Ashton. He’s a genius, a do-er and a great guy to work with. Don’t worry, Pete, cakes are coming your way. I’ve made sure this one is dead before I walk away.
Only it wasn’t, you know, a secret. Last year I was visiting my brother’s church in Basingstoke and a lovely lady with curly hair got up to talk about herself & share a bit of her journey. Someone leaned over and said “She’s Blind” and then added “She’s an MBE”. I think I pulled one of those “Oh ok” faces I pull when I’m never really sure what to respond with.
What came next was five minutes of deeply entertaining, inspirational kick arse story. Little gems of great business sense dropped alongside an interesting personal story. No advance education, kicked off a business at 25 with no money and progressively failing sight from reitnitis pigmentosa and now employs over 100 people at her telemarketing company Great Guns Marketing.
Liz Jackson MBE is appearing on the first programme in the new series of The Secret Millionaire. (Wednesday 16th September 2009 at 21:00 on Channel 4.)
Liz is a Christian and I’m interested to see how that is put across in the show- having seen Liz in action I know that she won’t be able to get through the show without mentioning the importance of her faith to her. It’ll also be interesting to see how people around her react to her as a disabled person, the usual secret millionaire formula will have to be tweaked a little I imagine.
(As a total aside- My brother has managed to convince me to refer to his job as being a “dot joiner” rather than a “war monger” and I’m sure Mum would say he “works in computers” but he’s still calling me a “tofu eating, Guardian reading liberal”. Some things never change, eh?)
Liz got sent to Lewisham to live in a flat and make contact with several charities before revealing her true identity and giving away thousands on pounds. I love the show normally, inspiring stuff, with someone as interesting as Liz will make this a ‘must see’ programme.
I desperately need to thin down my collection of books.
I can’t look for a new place to live & forever wonder “Will there be enough room for my books?”.
I’m also a bit loathed to just dump a few hundred books onto a charity shop, so here’s the idea:
How about I open up my flat to you, my lovely friends, and you can come & take a book or two you like & you make a fitting cash donation to a charity of my choosing. That way I know my babies are going to a loving home & I know people will be curious about what’s on my bookshelf.
Maybe have some nibbles, wine, that sort of thing. Cake can be served on the balcony.
Of course, my signed books and first editions won’t be up for grabs. They’ll be hidden away somewhere very very safe so no one gets confused & helps themselves to those.
I got an email yesterday reminding me I’d not written on my blog about my experiences of Greenbelt this year.
It’s me chatting as part of a panel discussion coordinated by the lovely people at Shipoffools.com
It was a real honour to be asked to join two other wonderful panelists trying to talk honestly/funnily about some of the difficult bits in the Bible. It wasn’t easy.
From this picture you wouldn’t think I was slowly coming down with festivalistis, was quite badly sunburned & had been on my feet most of the weekend beavering away with the Literature programme. I was tired, I was all talked out but put a mic in my hand and I’ll happily share my thoughts with whoever will turn up and look like I’m enjoying it. (You can see that my mouth is going but the eyes show I’m not quite sure where it’ll end up)
I must confess I was really scared in the run up to the festival. Anxiety dreams scared. Wake up screaming scared. I know that probably sounds a little over the top but it’s what I felt, it was authentic to the moment I found myself in and bears little relationship to the relaxed looking, chatty guy bathed in pink light at the top of this post.
I walked a lot of steps during the festival- I did a massive (for me) 81,492 steps during my time at the festival which averages out at 11,641 steps a day. Yikes!
I met lots of really switched on and interesting people. I kept being overwhelmed by the willingness for punters to stop and chat to me about the literature programme, gather their responses to this year and their brains ticking over to next year.
I’ve learned all the little things I need to be sure to remember for next year.
Stuff like: if we’ve got a projector, make sure there’s a laptop or that everyone knows to bring their own rather than just bringing a data stick. Making sure I’ve got every phone number possible for contributors in my phone and the phone is charged to the max.
This post is being written in a stolen moment, relative quiet in the hub, literature & visual arts venue for the festival.
My festival is the same festival as yours but I see it a little differently. I get pairs of very attentive eyes looking at me as I introduce wonderful authors & speakers. I feel the weight of responsibility of helping coordinate things I hope you’ll find interesting.
You, the festival goers, have always been essential to the success of the festival programme. This year you’ve not disappointed. You’ve questioned closely, been hugely generous with your time & been wonderful.
I’m currently being delighted by Flossie Paper Doll, performed by Animat’s The Only Michael & novelist/poet Linda Lee Welch. A fusion performace of poems, snippets of songs & ambient music. Dazzling linguistic leaps & beautiful music.
I was delighted at the response to Jon Bounds talks, particularly the moment when asking the audience how many had ridden the number 11 bus in Birmingham at least 75% of them had.
Rob Chidley blasted much received understanding about what it means to be a writer with quiet authority, he passionately unpacked his experience of being a new writer & getting from blank page to published novel.
The queues of questioners, the comments overheard as you leave a venue & the passion with which you assure me you’ve loved being in conversation with the creative people we’ve booked make it all worthwhile. I may not get to thank you personally for being curious & supporting literature at the festival but you’ve overwhelmed me in every session.
Born in Knowle, Warwickshire, he spent most of his childhood in Edgbaston.
The Birmingham Civic Society website says that he doesn’t have a blue plaque in the city to celebrate his connection to the city, which is pitiful.
There is already a short, stubby cul-de-sac named Wyndham Road in Birmingham. I know this because I’ve taken a photo of it at 4am as part of the 4am Project.
You’ve probably been scared by Wyndham at some point in your life. Either through his novels (The Kraken Wake, Day of the Triffids, The Chrysalids, The trouble with lichen) or those that have been adapted into films (Day of the triffids, Village of the Damned [both versions] and Quest for Love) or into TV series (Day of the Triffids, Choky, Random Quest and Consider her ways).
This isn’t a fitting tribute to a novelist as great as Wyndham. Arthur Conan Doyle gets a blue plaque, WH Auden has one too.
I’d like to see Wyndham get a star on the Birmingham Walk of Stars on Broad Street. So far the walk of fame has celebrated four football related stars (either for teams or individuals), three musicians, two comedians and a radio soap opera, a sports commentator, a radio actor and Julie Walters. All deserving in their ways but I’d like your help to get a well deserving novelist onto the walk of stars.
3) The pop your name and your email address (a fake email won’t help the campaign).
4) Click submit.
5) Bask in the knowledge that you’re helping get John Wyndham on the list of stars to be voted on. If enough people (informally it sounds like 200) support this campaign we’ll see his name appear on the voting list.
You may or may not have noticed my involvement with Greenbelt festival over the last few months. I’m their literature coordinator, and it’s a joy and a pleasure to be involved with a group of highly switched on and creative people.
As part of the literature programme I seem to have accidently coordinated a lot of content from, inspired by or about Birmingham. It wasn’t done on purpose, there’s not a plot to take over the festival with Brummies, there’s no conspiracy. (For there to be a conspiracy there’d have to be someone who knew what they’re doing at the top, I’m not and I don’t)
There’s three talks from the wonderful Jon Bounds one about Birmingham not being shit (it’s not), the power of memes (called “I’m from the internets” and should be a belter!) and, finally, one about the 11 bus project.
The lovely Luke Kennard writes angry, offensive, judgemental poetry and his faith as a Christian has nothing to do with being a poet. I can’t wait to meet him (and I’m going to be interviewing him which is a real treat!) He’s the youngest person to be nominated for the Forward poetry prize and lectures on creative writing at Birmingham University. (The city of Birmingham’s motto is “forward!”, d’you see what I did there…)
Rob Chidley studied at Birmingham university before doing a bit of a trek around the country to find somewhere to live. He’s the author of The Third Tribe and I’ll be interviewing him too. He’s an interesting soul, we’ve had some interesting conversations and I can’t wait to see what we get to talk about.
There’s other Brummies across the programme, volunteering, working and involved with the festival. We’ll strike when you least expect it and we’ll all end up talking like Brummies.
It seems simple to state but needs stating: as death spread among all of us silence followed closely.
Big cities fell quiet first. Solitary figures cut down mid-stride on arterial roads heading to the country.
No warning, no war, no newsflash, no time for a jingle and special intro, just cameras refocussed on the floor and silence from the anchor. In time the power would fail.
Order would return to everything.Cows nudged at limp hands. Dogs took an experimental nip. The breeze remained unchanged. This was just something that new that happened quickly to all of us, sparing no one.
Rackim Wonn worked quietly and happily in his bookshop. He was never happier than stacking and restacking the shelves.
Each week he would completely reassign the order of the books he sold. This week would be the order in which the books came into the shop, next week the emotional impact he felt the book would have on the reader- the further from the door the more devastating the punch.
He would quietly bustle around the shop, sweeping, weighing books in his hands, listening to their gentle whispers. He was content with his lot, he wanted no more or less.
Douglas Coupland has a new book coming out. Last one came out two years ago & I bought the hardcover signed special edition box set version. Very nice, very sexy.
Generation A sounds like my kind of book. Apocalyptic, satirical with a big healthy dollop of storytelling. (And we all know what a huge fan of storytelling I am. Plus I’m a huge fan of Coupland’s)
So here’s my dilemma. (And if only all my problems were this delicious)
(You can see that my mouth is going but the eyes show I’m not quite sure where it’ll end up)
