Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Inspiring stuff!

“There is a place beyond silence and it is a pale, cold shade of blue”.

That line - from Alison Jameson’s atmospheric 2006 novel ‘This Man and Me’ - jumped out at me, and has loitered at the edge of my consciousness long since I finished the book. Sometimes, a phrase, or an expression, or even just a single word has that affect on me. Most of the stories in Dan Rhodes’ ‘Anthropology’ stayed with me for a year after I read it. Scott Heim’s ‘Mysterious Skin’ was so profoundly influential on my writing life that I fully admit to attempting outright plagiarism in several short stories since. The same goes for Donna Tartt’s ‘The Secret History’, and pretty much everything written by Dave Eggers (particularly the short story collection ‘How We Are Hungry’).

Sometimes, though, my creative heroes du jour are much closer to home. Me fella started his blog at roughly the same time as I started scribbling here, and - while the themes that he’s driven to offer an opinion on may have caused the odd spot of domestic turbulence at the Animal Disco - he’s already proved himself to be, to me, the thoughtful, considered, intelligent journalistic firecracker I saw the initial flickers of when we first met (proud of him? You bet I am!). My best friend says he’s exhausted and fresh out of inspiration or motivation to do anything, let alone write. Then, while the rest of the city sleeps, he writes a review of a Rufus Wainwright gig for publication in a national broadsheet; when it appears in print just a few short hours later, the piece is so effervescent it practically leaps off the page. At a time when the whole of the world’s ‘lifestyle’ media seems to be saturated with jaded, know-it-all food critics who try to out-ponce each other on a regular basis, Doc - the food editor at the magazine I work for - writes restaurant reviews that are fresher than Hugh Fearney-Whittingstall’s supper.

And beyond what others have already written, ‘writerly inspirations’ are everywhere. The one and only time I bought a copy of Bath’s local newspaper, the chronic Chronicle, I noticed that the vendor’s dog - a terrier cross not too far removed from the traditional Punch and Judy dog - was suffering from severe, cloudy cataracts; that sad little dog became the inspiration for an essay (‘Today’s Smile’) that I intend to publish here soon. I wrote ‘Charity’ (also set to join the fun at the Animal Disco any day now) after finding an original copy of the late, great Divine’s single ‘Walk Like a Man’ in my local Oxfam shop. The sentence that sparked off the whole theme for a collection of short stories that I’ve set myself up for derision for already by grouping them together under the title ‘Perfect’ (which won’t be appearing here unless - or until? - they’ve returned from their latest trip around the desktops of various literary agents) was uttered over 25 years ago by my then best friend, the late, great Brian (Brenda) King. Weather, taste, a TV advert, a delayed bus, a throwaway comment made by a school kid in the corner shop - everything and anything that grabs my attention makes me want to grab my notebook and start creating a whole new world.

I write, therefore I am? No, I’m fine with why I am who I am. I write because I have to.

No comments: