Blog - Wordstruck

Setting goals

I believe you can set goals at any time. It doesn’t have to be a significant day or moment to start to change things or to resolve to do something differently from how you’ve done it before. And yet, traditionally this is a time of year when we set ourselves resolutions, goals and aims.

Like many, I’ll be making an effort to be more active after the festive break and a bit more mindful of what I eat. But really my focus in 2016 is more about using my creative and writing skills to help businesses enjoy a more successful future.

That means spreading the word about Word Struck and the services I offer. I’m here to help you express what it is that makes your business special, and to help you tell customers about your products and services. I’ll be reaching out and connecting to as many people as I can to find out how I can help you.

I’m already very thankful to businesses like Swallow Barn Weddings at Masson Farm and The Christmas Farm who have trusted me to write content for their websites. And I’m really excited to connect with new businesses and find out what your goals and aims are for the coming year and beyond.

When I set myself a goal to get fitter and healthier in 2008, I don’t remember the specific day of the week that I started, but I do know that since then I’ve done things I never thought possible – like running a half marathon, or completing several triathlons.

The beginning of a year, a month or a week feels like a good time to start things, but that doesn’t mean you can’t do something special for your business on a random Tuesday, Thursday or any other day.

So, if you’re looking for help to talk about your business and want someone to write emails, newsletters, blog posts, social media updates or something else, then please get in touch.

My reads of 2015

By Michelle on in books, reading

I always think I have too little time for reading, but this year I’ve really made an effort to make time for more books as well as blog posts and articles. I’ve fallen back into the good habit of always carrying a book in my bag, whether digital or paper, and enjoy escaping into some good reads. Here’s a small selection of my favourites from 2015.

The Shepherd’s Crown – Terry Pratchett

I’ve enjoyed reading this author’s work since I was 16 years old, so starting this book was a bittersweet experience, knowing there wouldn’t be another. Although widely known for his Discworld novels for grown ups, Pratchett’s work for younger readers is to my mind, some of his very best, so it was fitting that Tiffany Aching, his young witch should be the protagonist of his last book.

The sense of loss, coloured by the events of the first couple of chapters, is both beautiful and sad. I wanted to know what happened and at the same time never wanted the story to end.

I Let You Go – Claire Macintosh

I met Claire by chance at a BBC Women in Radio event before this book was published, and remember being hugely excited by the idea of this former police officer writing a crime thriller. I was delighted when it became a success, and I saw it at bookshops all over the place from railway stations to airports.

I often find thrillers to be formulaic or and dislike the modern tendency to focus on something deliberately shocking. Claire’s novel draws on her background, so presents itself as very realistic, drawing you in through some well realised characters. There’s a sense of mystery, and something being just out of joint from the first page, and even when it comes, the twist is a clever surprise that makes you challenge what you’ve already read.

A Monster Calls – Patrick Ness

I’ve actually read two Patrick Ness novels this year, this one, and his most recent publication The Rest of Us Just Live Here. Both books proving that Young Adult fiction at its best is just as suitable for us older adults too.

A Monster Calls, is a gut-wrenching story of a boy coming to terms with loss, framed in the fantasy of a night time monster. The twist being that this boy isn’t afraid of the monster who breaks into his room and turns his world upside down. With an opening chapter that defies you not to read on, Patrick Ness is a master storyteller. Having recently seen him at Seven Stories, he’s just as charming, funny and self-deprecating in person.

An Astronaut’s Guide to Life on Earth – Chris Hadfield

The astronaut who brought us “Space Oddity’ from the International Space Station and who has done perhaps more than any other traveller to take us all with us on his amazing journey tells a series of compelling stories in this book. Not content with just relating the incredible hard work and fair portion of good luck that it took to actually become an astronaut, Chris Hadfield offers observations on life from the perspective of a man who has seen earth from space.

Plenty for the space and science experts to enjoy, without getting bogged down in technical detail – that is what Chris Hadfield does so well. A natural communicator and storyteller with an out of this world story to tell.

Here to Listen – Toni Stuart

My final choice isn’t actually a book, but I hope it could be one day. Here to Listen is a collection of poetry being written and published online by Toni Stuart. I heard Toni perform with Jacob Sam-La Rose at the 2014 Wordstock event and follow her on twitter. For Here to Listen, she invites people to share a story or a question, or whatever they choose to, while she listens in silence, and responds once they’ve left with a poem.

It’s a simple and stunning idea. The poems break through the clutter of instant communication, forcing a stop to the dash of the everyday through a glimpse into another life. As someone coming to appreciate the value of listening and really being listened to, I love this collection of work and hope it finds a wider audience.

I’ve read a more electronic books than physical paper ones this year. The convenience of being able to dip into a story when I have a few minutes spare and the instant availability of something new to read, make it easy. In all I reckon I’ve read 51 books this year, some have been re-reads of old favourites, but most have been new to me and I reckon I can make at least 52 or one a week before the end of the year.

I’m still reading wildly and have a small pile of suggested titles to work through, but I welcome your suggestions for things I should read in 2016.

A gift behind door number six

By Michelle on in 26, creative, words, writing

As I mentioned last week, I’m very proud to have a piece of my creative writing featured as part of the 26 Children’s Winters exhibition at Edinburgh’s Museum of Childhood. Today’s the day it appears in the online advent calendar.

Open up door number 6 and you can read my sestude inspired by a nativity scene. A sestude is simply a piece of writing, poetry or prose that’s 62 words exactly. It’s a condensed form, but I really enjoy the challenge of putting thoughts and themes into such a short piece. Making every word count makes each one the richer.

I was also asked to write the story behind the piece, how I was inspired by the object and what directions my thoughts took as I was writing. Even here I was restricted to just 100 words.

But constraints offer a freedom. Often with writing, the possibilities can become overwhelming. Prose or poem? Reality or fantasy? Voiced by a character or first person? Historical or contemporary? What kind of genre? Science fiction, murder mystery, fairy tale, gothic horror… The choices are endless, and that in itself can become a barrier to writing anything at all.

So constraints become a way in, offering a framework to start the writing process. The constraint may be to write about an object, as I did in my winter sestude, or to adopt a point of view. A constraint can be a word count, or a format, or starting with a specific letter of the alphabet. The key is to give the writer a starting point.

In my professional life, the constraints are to write for a specific audience, usually with a clear brief to share information or encourage them to consider a particular product or service. But even there I’ll have fun, trying out different forms of language.

If I’m looking for a headline I might try a heap of alliteration, putting word after word that starts with same letter together to find a pleasing combination.

Or if I think something is dull and cliched, something I’ve heard before, I might try writing it in the form of a poem, or a haiku.

The daft and demented drafts and the potty, pretentious poems will rarely bear any resemblance to the final polished piece, but they will contribute a thought, a phrase, a connection that leads me there.

My 26 Winters piece began when I overheard part of a conversation when I was visiting the exhibition. That put the thought in my head that it should be a dialogue. A real challenge for me, as it’s something I don’t write very often. But the constraint of 62 words gave me the confidence to try it.

The dialogue form gave me characters – who was talking and what is their relationship? What are they doing here, looking at a nativity scene? Suddenly there’s a whole back story and just 62 words to give a sense of it.

My piece changed as I was writing. The characters began as a mother and unspecified child. But as I settled on a title, and thoughts of special occasions and limited time, they became a father and son. A couple of nudges and suggestions from my editor, Neil Baker, helped make this clearer.

I loved having an editor on this project. It’s a privilege to have constructive feedback from someone I trust and admire.

I don’t want to explain exactly what I was thinking when I wrote, or what it means to me. A published piece of writing always has an audience, and I believe you, the unseen readers, contribute just as much to the creative process as the writer.

You bring your thoughts, experiences, memories and imaginations to the words I chose, and you may read them very differently. But I hope you will read them and consider them my small Christmas gift to you.

The 26 Children’s Winters calendar will display a new object and sestude every day until 26 December (that’s at least one day more than you get from your typical advent calendar. With the exhibition and online calendar, all 26 writers and the museum are helping to support It’s Good 2 Give, a charity that supports young people and their families affected by cancer.

26 Children’s Winters

By Michelle on in 26, creative, writing

Seeking out scarves, gloves and boots to go and play in the snow. Writing cards under twinkling lights, and covering everything with glitter. Hunkering down indoors, lights against the dark shortening of the days, or heading out dressed as though for an arctic adventure. Winter brings new behaviours and old traditions together.

It’s a season celebrated in 26 Children’s Winters, a new exhibition at Edinburgh’s Museum of Childhood, which uses objects from the museum’s collection that reflect the experience of winter.

It includes a wide range of old and new – from jigsaws and board games, to crackers, chocolates, woollen jumpers to ice skates and a spectacular wooden sleigh.

Each object is accompanied by a sestude – a piece of writing that explores the emotions, memories and stories they’ve inspired in exactly 62 words. Exploring the exhibition, these invoke a rich depth of feelings, from wistful to laugh out loud funny and cover a range of themes drawn from personal family history to flights of fantasy.

As a member of the writer’s group 26 I was invited to contribute my own 62 words to accompany a traditional nativity scene. I was delighted to see them both together at the exhibition’s launch event this week and to hear three of the writers read their pieces. From marbles and spinning tops, Halloween decorations to a range of children’s medicines, their inspirations were as diverse as their responses.

My eyes were drawn to the Christmas tree angels, so delicate yet beautifully preserved, their story brought to life by writer Sara Sheridan, who initiated the idea of the exhibition with the museum.

I also enjoyed the poem that accompanied the old leather skating boots, written in Scots vernacular, that captures the rush, the exhilaration, and the coming down to earth with a bump after gliding along a frozen surface.

The exhibition and the museum itself on the Royal Mile are well worth a visit if you’re in Edinburgh between now and January. And you can now see all the objects and sestudes in an online advent calendar.

The things that connect us

By Michelle on in words, writing

I was at a gig recently. Easily among the oldest people in a very small crowd. Less than 50 of us I’d estimate.

It didn’t matter that I wasn’t dressed like the emo kids who made up most of the audience. That I didn’t know the first two acts on the bill. I was there for the music. And so was everyone else.

A voice and a guitar and later a keyboard. Simple stuff. No lights and lasers or giant speaker stacks.

If you didn’t know the words, you caught the rhythm. If you didn’t sing along, you stood and smiled and clapped at the end.

For a couple of hours there was nowhere to be but the present. And the present was wrapped in a undiluted spirit of positivity.

Music can do that. Lighten your troubles. Focus in on the moment. Connect you to people you may not otherwise encounter.

When I was stirred from sleep in the early hours of Saturday morning to hear that people had been killed at a concert hall in Paris, I was pulled back to that gig, and all the other gigs I’ve ever been to.

And that’s why I’ve struggled to write a blog post this week. The stories I wanted to tell are framed by events in the wider world. Making my words and thoughts seem trite, insignificant.

But still I write. To try and make sense of how I feel and what I think in my own head. And to reach out for the things that connect us as human beings – like music.

Why be inspired to a greater love of words, in business and in life?

By Michelle on in 26, business, words, writing

Why? It’s always a good question to ask when you’re trying to understand something. Why do words matter? Why are they worthy of love, thought and respect?

As a member of 26 I was asked to provide my answer, which is now included along with the thoughts, wisdom and humour of other 26 writers in ‘The Book of Because.’ Here’s my contribution:

Because words connect.

Words we love roll round our mouths like
ice cream on a hot day.

Because words conduct business.
Words on stone tablets saying “Pay this
soldier a pig and four sacks of grain”.

Words that fly through the ether to appear
on a screen.
Words link to our past and shape our future.

Because words can be as sharp as a blow or
as near as a whisper.

Words are a gift our bright blue planet
bestows on only one species.
Because, above all, words are human.

Thanks to the editorial team at 26 Characters, Faye Sharpe, John Simmons and Neil Baker for bringing this project together and to Rodney Mylius for the elegant and tactile design.

Reading wildly

By Michelle on in books, reading

One of the sessions I attended at Wordstock last week was to hear Andy Miller speak about his year of reading dangerously. Picking up and actually finishing books he’d once claimed to read but hadn’t. Books that people consider difficult to read. Books like Moby Dick and Anna Karenina.

There was lots that struck me in his empassioned presentation, but one that chimed true is what he said about the books we have read recently. How they are limited, and for a large part, chosen for us.

Bookshelf full of classics

If you still have a bookshop, the fiction section is largely dominated by the top ten hardback or paperback titles, pushed forward by the major publishing companies. Unless it’s a very large, independent or particularly quirky place, there’s little space for anything outside the popular in all genres and the well known classics. And so, those of us who read, get a narrowing choice of the new, and we all pick up “We need to talk about Kevin” or “Wolf Hall’.

Ah, and there’s the other thing that Andy spoke about. If you start a book, you should finish it. And I haven’t finished Wolf Hall. It isn’t very often that I fail to finish a book, but Wolf Hall I put aside after giving it a really good try, with that standard excuse of “Life’s too short to read something I’m not enjoying.”

And yet where would I be if I hadn’t persisted with difficult books? As a student, I toughed it out through the Faerie Queene, various medieval texts and far more impenetrable stuff. I stuck with Dickens Our Mutual Friend, which, quite frankly, really takes some time to get going, but does pay off.

The Japanese have a word for a pile of books waiting to be read – it’s Tsundoku. I’ve managed to keep mine manageable this year, by virtue of not acquiring new books, until I’ve read the ones I already have. I currently have four in waiting, including two non-fiction titles, but I’m prepared to put them to one side a little longer to take up a challenge to read outside my usual range. To finish books I’ve started, to read some older stuff I may have missed.

I am starting with John Buchan’s 39 Steps, which I don’t expect to be a difficult read, but I prepared to be challenged. This is a rich time for my reading list, with a birthday and Christmas approaching. So I’m asking you to recommend some titles and until the end of January, I’ll read a little more dangerously.

Wordstock 2015 – a festival of words and creative fun

By Michelle on in 26, words, writing

Wordstock, the annual gathering of members of 26 is a place where words bubble up into a rich and fragrant stew; where the tick of time inspires the tock of activity. Where we celebrate creativity, learn, laugh and fire up new writing projects for the next 12 months.

I arrived a little late at the Free Word Centre in Farringdon, so missed the opening celebrations of projects that 26 writers have taken part in during 2015, including 26 Pairs of Eyes, 26 Under a Northern Sky and 26 Children’s Winters.

But I was there for the launch of the latest, which I’m also involved in. Over the next 26 weeks, 26 postcodes will reveal a sestude inspired by a postcode together with the story behind it. Gillian Colhoun kicked things off by reading her piece, based on the Gaelic football ground where Seamus Heaney played. My own contribution, based on Dove Cottage, the Lake District home of William and Dorothy Wordworth, will appear next year.

The day was split into a series of sessions, with a choice of workshops in the morning and afternoon. I first opted for Rishi Dastidar‘s session. As head of verbal identity at BrandPie and a published poet, he’s a mash up of Don Draper and Byron and showed us four ways to use poetry techniques in copywriting.

A packed session, full of useful content and some speedy writing. And I’ve already used one of the techniques to inspire a new brand name. Who says you can’t measure the value of inspiration?

Next up, more poetry from spoken word artist and Barnes’ answer to Eminem Charlie Du Pre. He serenaded us on ukulele, and left us wondering why we’ve never heard rhymes like: ‘I engage with lots of faces pretty much on a daily basis’, before. Fast-paced, funny and rapping genius.

I spent the afternoon session with independent copywriter, author and trainer, Roger Horberry who loves alliteration even more than I do. He demonstrated that the forms of rhetoric pack a punch in modern marketing. And, for this writer at least, brought back memories of studying Spenser, Donne and Pope at university.

Celebrating the best in writing at 26

Self-styled biblio-fundamentalist Andy Miller was next, sharing his experience of actually reading the books that he always wanted to and some he even pretended he had. He finished by ‘persuading’ a handful of 26ers to commit to reading their own choice of books. For my part, I’ve signed up to read John Buchan’s 39 Steps, spurred on by another conversation I had during the day.

The final session was a fascinating insight into storytelling from John Yorke, former Eastenders script editor and head of drama at BBC and Channel 4. I love a good bit of story-theory and this so much fired up my interest that I’ve been looking for the mid points and reversals of fortune in every TV drama I’ve watched since.

I learned something new too. Did you know that the acts in Shakespeare plays were determined by the length of time it took to burn a candle?

Last time I came to Wordstock, I was introduced to the music of Nick Drake and on the journey home, sparked the idea that became 26 Under A Northern Sky along with co-conspirator Sandy Wilkie. This time we collaborated again and have put forward another idea that we both hope will be adopted as another creative brief.

I really couldn’t have asked more from a packed day of words, writers and mind-blowing creativity. The train journey north wasn’t nearly enough time to process it all. And the pile of books on my reading list has grown by at least 3 volumes. If you can make it next year, I heartily recommend it.

Seeking inspiration

By Michelle on in books, writing

In the world of business writing you’ll find plenty of objectives, measures and rationale. Sometimes they even sit alongside insights, research and objectives. And they always come with deadlines. But I’ve rarely found much creative inspiration.

Little wonder really when you think about how hard it is to measure and quantify. What’s the ROI of a book? How much value did watching that film bring to the project? What’s the cost per idea ratio?

Creative inspiration can’t be easily quantified and defies attempts to render it into the boxes of a spreadsheet.

And yet, it’s that spark, that different way of looking at things, that new metaphor that my marketing customers are searching for and hope that creative teams will supply.

As a writer, its almost as hard for me to quantify its importance in terms of how it makes me feel or inspires me to think and write. Except to say that it is.

And that’s why I make an effort to seek it out, enjoy it and expect nothing from it. Yet it’s proved its worth beyond measure.

My yearly trips to the Edinburgh Book Festival are a liberal dousing of inspiration. The speakers, events and readings a rich seam, along with travelling there to take in the sights, sounds and general hullaballoo of the fringe – a huge outpouring of creative energy.

Art, theatre, cinema, music, travel, nature – these have all supplied inspiration in their time. And when all else fails I’ll read. Stories will never fail me.

On Sunday, I went to hear Simon Armitage at the Durham Book festival. He was talking about and reading from his latest prose work, based on walking part of the South West coast, relying on strangers for food and lodging and giving poetry readings at his stopping points. Themes of journey and return. Of language and experience. Of travelling in the landscape, encountering strangers. Of simultaneously craving company and wanting to be alone.

I filled a page of my notebook with phrases and filled my head with even more thoughts and ideas which may spark and grow. What will become of them, it’s too early to say. Even when I write I may not realise that’s where the idea came from.

But I was able to thank Simon Armitage for helping me find a way in to a piece of personal writing. I first encountered his poem ‘Not the Furniture Game’ http://www.simonarmitage.com/kid.html on a Dark Angels course. It’s a striking, harsh and rich piece in its own right, and when used as a loose framework for our own creative writing, produced deep, emotional responses. It’s an exercise I’ve repeated on subsequent courses, with different objects, and it’s always bubbled up beautiful, touching and expressive images.

It helped me find a way into a personal piece I was finding impossible to write. When draft after draft nothing fit, everything sounded trite and cliched, I used the structure and exercise to unlock a way in. Sometimes that’s all it takes – a nudge in the right direction.

This weekend I’m off to Wordstock for another dose of inspiration. A journey, the fellowship of fellow writers, and a chance to listen and enjoy a range of different talks and sessions. Last time, it inspired the amazing 26 Under a Northern Sky collection.

Where do you find your creative inspiration?

Indian summer

By Michelle on in words, writing

I’ve been pondering the Indian summer. What can I say? I’m British. The weather is practically an obsession. But where does the phrase come from? And which Indians does it refer to – Native Americans, or people of the vast land in South Asia?

As ever, that other British institution, the BBC, offers an excellent explanation of its meteorological and social history.

Walking barefoot on the beach

Indian summer refers to a spell of fine autumn weather. It seems to have been commonly used in the USA from the late 1700s, and gained popularity in the UK from the 1950s, presumably as we experienced some spells of warm autumn weather.

For me, it’s a phrase that conjures up memories of forcing my feet into stiff new school shoes after a summer of going barefoot, or wearing sandals and trainers, and never having to bother with insufferable socks. I saw no need to change my clothing while the sun still shone and would stubbornly stick out in short sleeves until I couldn’t escape the goosebumps and the dreaded cardigan any longer.

In searching for the meaning and etymology of Indian summer, I looked for its use in literature. First stop was a poem by William Wilfred Campbell that begins:

Along the line of smoky hills
The crimson forest stands,
And all the day the blue-jay calls
Throughout the autumn lands.

I’m not familiar with Campbell’s poems, but it seems nature, the seasons and landscape are common themes. I imagine Wordworth transplanted from the English Lakes to Canada.

Then, via Wikipedia I find a glimpse of an Indian poet Jayanta Mahapatra writing about an Indian summer:

Over the soughing of the sombre wind
Priests chant louder than ever.
The mouth of India opens:
Crocodiles move into deeper waters.

I’m intruiged, but can find little more than this excerpt and a reference to the poem’s theme of ‘suffering woman’.

Indian summer can also refer to a period of happiness, success and contentment later in life. Maybe that’s what pulls me to the phrase. Dorothy Parker gives this idea her own inimitable twist in her poem ‘Indian Summer’

In youth, it was a way I had
To do my best to please,
And change, with every passing lad,
To suit his theories.

But now I know the things I know,
And do the things I do;
And if you do not like me so,
To hell, my love, with you

Good old Dorothy Parker – always raising an eyebrow and a smile.

For me this year, an Indian summer has offered the simple pleasure of the sun on my face as I walk along the sand, seeking out a spot to sit with my book, or watch the waves. Barefoot, naturally.

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