Pressed Leaves in print

Pressed leaf cr Judy DarleyI’m very excited this week because my short story (actually an extract from a novel-in-progress), Pressed Leaves, has made its way into the pages of gorgeous ‘love life’ magazine The Simple Things, issue 18. The magazine goes on sale today and is packed with delicious ideas for relishing each day, plus, of course, my very short story.

‘Pressed Leaves’ is a moment in time, in which a young girl, Anna, helps her mother clear out the artist’s studio of the grandfather she’s never met. See a midweek writing prompt about creative spaces here.

If you head to any WHSmiths or look online you’ll be able to get a copy of The Simply Things 18, and if you do, make sure you turn to page 77 where my story nestles, waiting to be read.

Word art at Spike Island

I recently attended an outdoor writing workshop led by Spike Island’s writer-in-residence Holly Corfield Carr.

Judy Darley cr Holly Corfield Carr

The workshop was one in a series taking place each Sunday from 2pm until December 6th, exploring the area around the Spike Island art gallery. They’re part of a collaborative literature project called Spike Archipelago.

On the day I went along, the air was bright and uncommonly warm. We strolled down past to Lockside to an area where we could see both the Floating Harbour and the Avon Gorge with Clifton Suspension Bridge hanging across it. We gazed up at the colourful stacked houses of Clifton and down at the river sucking at its mud. Holly had brought extracts from works including Dart by Alice Oswald, and other pieces on rivers and that day’s theme, circles.

Wheel and river mud cr Judy Darley

As we walked and paused and looked about, and talked about our lives, hot air balloons rose into the blue sky. Not quite circles, but close enough.

Our wanderings resulted in a collaborative piece of writing called Concentric, which Holly describes as “a lyric narrative for two voices”, adding: “We wrote around each other, leaping from one circular frame to the next, producing this pleated poem of first loves, last loves, a guilty city and coffee-rings.”

A wonderful experience. You can see the outcome here, and find out about future workshops (which are free to attend) here.

Short story readings for November

Art trails in Bristol have developed to include musicians and others performers, which is great – especially as I now seem to fall under the category ‘other performers’!

Totterdown Front Room Art Trail artworkI and a couple of writer friends will be reading short stories and novel extracts as part of Totterdown Front Room Arts Trail, 15-17 November 2013. It’s aimed at grown ups (though children won’t be scarred too badly if you bring them along). After all, why should kids be the only ones to get to enjoy being read to?

That’s us, just above. I’m the one on the far left.

Remember-Me-To-The-Bees-cover-smlWe have two performance slots at the Cinema on the Green, Higham Street, in Totterdown, from 1-2.30pm on the Saturday and from 1-1.45pm on the Sunday. Find out more. I’ll be reading stories from my collect Remember Me To The Bees, which will be fresh off the presses!

I hope to see you there!

Halloween may have passed, just, but there’s still a chance to be creeped out. I’m taking part in a night of eerie readings on Wednesday 06 November at The Thunderbolt’s Word of Mouth event.

Word of Mouth is a monthly literary event, and for November Bristol Fiction Writers’ Group (that’s us, pictured below – I’m the blue-tinged one, bottom row, second from the left), will be hijacking it to read tales from our anthology A Dark Imagined Bristol.

Doors open at 7.30am, and I’m going on first (eeps!), reading my short story Untrue Blue. It’s a strange story set in and around Bristol’s Cabot Tower, as well as in the skies over the city. It’s a free event, so why not come along to see what you think of it?

Getting people writing!

Tomorrow I’m taking part in an event as part of Bristol Festival of Literature aimed at encouraging aspiring writers. 

Southville Writers will be staging an ‘instant flash fiction’ workshop, while writers, including me, will be sharing their experiences and advice on getting started, maintaining motivation and sending your words out into the world.

We’ll also be performing a few stories – I’ll be reading a short tale from my soon-to-see-the-light-of-day collection, Remember Me To The Bees.

I’m really excited to be part of this event with such a great group of talented writers.

It’s all taking place at Hooper House Café from 1.30-4pm. If if you make it along, please come and say hi!

hooper-house-illustration

A fairytale and a ghost story

Mossy tree cr Judy DarleyThis week I received the exciting news that one of my short stories has been chosen to appear on the Enchanted Conversations websites, a fabulous hub of original fairytales and homages to traditional ones.

You can read my story, Sapling, here. The atmospheric image selected by editor & Publisher Kate Wolford is by artist Richard Doyle.

My story begins like this:

I was the only one who saw him. Everyone else, even my mother, it seems, only saw the tree. I lay in the long grass playing with my soldiers who were using the lawn as a jungle. Sunlight fell thick and heavy through the strands of grass, darkness falling briefly as my mother passed. I glanced up to see where she was going – saw her reach the tree, climb the trunk and disappear into the leaves. I gazed, amazed. My mother had never climbed a tree in my life, that I knew of. I stared at the old oak, then heard a rustling, a sharp gasp, and my mother fell. By the time she hit the ground, my father was halfway down the lawn, running full tilt. Yet only I saw the man in the branches, his skin the color and texture of bark, eyes like two bright spaces between the leaves where light leached through.

Read on…

Find out how to write fairytales here.

We’re already into October, and the run up to Halloween. Britain never celebrates this most gruesome of fiestas with as much fervour as I’d like, but this is also the time of year when ghost stories are most successful, so I’m really pleased to have one of mine published by the wonderful Origami Journal.

My tale, Unwanted Guests, was inspired by a rental property I moved into where the cellar was filled with the previous tenant’s possessions – everything from old pots and pans to gymkhana ribbons and old teddy bears – seriously eerie! Why on earth would anyone leave those kinds of things behind? That was the seed – read the result here.

A candid chat with author Candida Lycett Green

Candida Lycett Green portraitThis interview was originally published by the New Writer magazine.

As the daughter of legendary poet Sir John Betjeman and travel writer the Hon. Penelope Valentine Hester Betjeman, Candida Lycett Green had an imposing literary legacy to live up to, but it doesn’t seem to have daunted her one bit. Now in her sixties, she’s the author of over a dozen books, has written and presented a clutch of television documentaries, is a contributing editor to Vogue and a member of the Performing Rights Society. Since 1992 she has been writing a regular column for the Oldie, and her latest book is a compilation of 100 of her columns. She says that  writing seemed to be a logical career path.

“I needed to get a job and earn my living, and as I was quite good at English at school and writing was part of my parents’ trade it seemed obvious,” she says. “I saw it as a craft I could do rather than being inspiration-driven. I think people can be very airy-fairy about writing – I’ve only ever seen it as a method of earning a living. There’s a terrific mystique about writing that to me seems completely unfounded.” Continue reading

First glimpse – Remember Me To The Bees

So, the proofs are back, changes have been made, a few more minor corrections may be needed, but it exists! My debut short story collection Remember Me To The Bees, nestled in my hands with its heart beating like a live thing.

Remember Me To The Bees first glimpse

And here’s the front cover for you to gaze at, featuring bespoke artwork by the talent Louise Boulter.

Remember Me To The Bees spine

And here’s the spine…

Not long at all now till it will be available to buy. What do you think?

Escape to Penzance for the lit fest

Penzance shore cr Judy DarleyPenzance Literary Festival begins tomorrow, running from Wed 17th till Sunday 21st July.

On Thursday 18 July I’ll be enjoying the glorious train line that runs from Bristol to Penzance, hugging the Devon and Cornish coasts wherever possible. Then, that evening, I’ll be reading one of my stories as part of the Telltales night at Admiral Benbow from 8.30 – buy tickets here.

The festival organisers invite you to “Come and meet a galaxy of prize-winning and up-and-coming authors, poets and playwrights, from West Cornwall and ‘up-country’ too.” And most of the events only cost a couple of quid.

Literary happenings that have caught my eye include a talk from artist, author, photographer, film-maker, maker of books, and ‘out-of-the-box thinker’ Andrew Lanyon, sharing details of “his latest explorations into the worlds of creativity, imagination and logic.”

On Sunday there’s be a chance to hear local poets Angela Stoner & Susan Taylor, in a performance called ‘Overlapping Steps: Poems that speak to each other‘.

The festival programme says they will “explore the connections they have uncovered in their separate voices by reading poems from their works that interact with one another.  There will be visual (and possibly musical) accompaniment.

There are also drop-in sessions for writers at the delightfully named Lost and Found café, guided walks around the Lamorna Valley, and much more. I’m really excited to be a part of it!

Different mediums for short fiction

Published storiesThis week I received two rather exciting packages in the post, each one containing a small bundle of words. The first to arrive, ’16 Single Sentence Stories’, is a gorgeous little book that does what it says on the tin, and one of the 16 single sentence stories is by me!

I’ve so happy to have my tale ‘A Hushed Space’ included in this very original mini-anthology, and to see my words illustrated by artist K. Sekelsky. ’16 Single Sentence Stories’ is available to buy from http://thechairparade.com/OneSentenceStories/.

The second is issue two of new literary title The Germ Magazine, and features my story ‘Little Blessings’. It’s available to buy from www.germ-magazine.com/issues.html

In other news, my very strange, very short story ‘The Bid’ was published by an online magazine called Cease, Cows. Take a look if you have a mo (or should that be a moo?)! ceasecows.com/2013/07/17/the-bid-by-judy-darley/

It’s always to good to get your work out there, and when that culminates in seeing your words in print, it’s thoroughly satisfying, not to mention motivating!

Quench

Tea cr Judy DarleyThis piece of flash fiction by Judy Darley was originally published in Scrapsan anthology of flash-fictions released to coincide with National Flash Fiction Day 2013. It is posted here with the editor’s permission.

Dressed in her winter coat and winter boots, Amma feels over-warm in the art gallery, so much so that she considers peeling off a layer, leaving some woollen aspect of her clothing pushed beneath a bench to retrieve before she leaves. The heat is making her contact lenses feel dry and her tongue is quietly, uncomfortably, cleaving to the roof of her mouth.

If she is quick, speeds through the exhibition fast, she’ll be able to escape into the fresh air outside, maybe go somewhere for a quick cuppa before heading home. The thought makes her smile to herself as she strides past most of the displays, giving them only the most cursory of looks.

The central piece of the exhibition is a gigantic block of tea, made from countless leaves pressed together – a full ton, according to the literature pinned to one wall. The block is as high as her breasts; its corners are as sharp as teacups are round.

Amma holds her face close to it to see if she can inhale the fragrance of tea, believes she may have caught the faintest whiff of tannin, but then realises her receptors are most likely simply telling her what she hopes to smell. The life has been squeezed right out of this tea, she thinks. For all its glossy solidity, it may well be as dry and flavourless as dirt.

Amma glances round quickly, checks that the security guard is absorbed in watching a gaggle of art students in the far corner. She leans in towards the block of tea, sticking her tongue out as far as she can, for one sly, secretive, inquiring lick.