Whitstable Women Writers

Contact us

2012-01-08T13:02:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year. We are starting 2012 at a new, trial venue. For further details, please ring Jill on the number in our previous post, as we do not have a permanent address at present. As soon as we have one we will post it here. In the meantime, get writing! We look forward to hearing from you and exchanging ideas and work.

September 2011

2011-09-07T05:03:00.000-07:00

Our blog has been neglected this year but in the real world, we've been active. The highlight of the year was a visit from Jean Binta Breeze during the Oyster Festival. Outstanding work was done by Cassie, who ran an oversubscribed workshop for children at the Horsebridge and is now continuing with workshops for kids on a regular basis. Our numbers have gone down but quality has been maintained. So, for the moment, we have a few spaces for women writers who would like to join us.

We meet at 8pm on the first Monday of the month (but check before turning up in case of any unforeseen change of plan), at Argyle Road Church Hall.

Ring 01227 771126 for further information.

August 8th Canterbury Event

2010-07-25T04:09:00.000-07:00

Whitstable Women Writers’ Press Release 25/7/10

Well-established local group, Whitstable Women Writers, hosts ‘Canterbury Tells,’ the Canterbury Literature Laureate Scheme’s bi-monthly showcase, on Sunday 8 August, 6.30 pm, at The Jolly Sailor, 75 Northgate, Canterbury.

Members of the group, several of whom who have been short-listed for the Canterbury Festival Poet of the Year poetry booklet and the Margate 2010 poetry competition, and had work accepted for publication, will be reading. There will also be an open mic session accessible to all. All are welcome and admission is free.

The evening of poetry and short fiction readings will also feature a special guest, prize-winning novelist, poet, and dramatist, Caroline Gilfillan. Winner of the 2000 North West Poetry competition, Norfolk-based Caroline has published two poetry collections, ‘Drowned in Overspill’ and ‘Yes.’ In 2007/2008 she was a winner of Channel 4’s The Radio Play’s the Thing competition and she’s won several national short story competitions, with her poems and short stories appearing recently in The London Magazine, Poetry News and Mslexia. In 2007 she was awarded an Arts Council grant to develop her forthcoming novel, ‘Petal,’ set in the Second World War, before going on to win the 2008 Jarrolds Prize for the best poem in the Norwich Cafewriters competition and first prize in the 2009 Fakenham Open Poetry Competition. Also a singer-songwriter, Caroline played drums in feminist rock bands in a former life.

Whitstable Women Writers meet monthly to offer encouragement, ideas and information and support members’ creative development, performance and publishing projects. New members are welcome - info from 01227 771126

May 10th meeting and reminders

2010-05-14T02:57:00.001-07:00

On Monday evening we started a great meeting with Fiona reading the brilliant poem for which she has been shortlisted for the Margate Poetry Prize - congratulations! The homework on 'Dimension' produced a variety of takes on the subject - ranging from teenagers arguing over who saw a film in 4D (Diane), to the perspective of Google Man as he ranges over the face of the Earth reviving memories of former homes (Amanda O'), a row over food, uptightness and class (Fiona) and an elegant aunt with dementia whose mind had wandered into another dimension (Lesley), while Kerry produced a fresh slice of her novel which fitted neatly into the category of 'dimension' as two departed souls watch in consternation as their niece pays over the odds to a medium who botches the job of contacting them.

Our writing exercise on the night was to produce a piece based on a metaphor representing our relationship with our own writing, so there were references to swimming, climbing, a beloved dog, and to manufacturing a perfect spliff.

The homework for next time - Monday 7th June - is The Neurotic Therapist. Don't ask!

Any lovers of the great outdoors?

Check out this event nr Lewes , link

http://sussexhouseparty.ning.com/events/summer-camp-writers-retreat

Kitchen Table Collaboration w/shop and Write that Novel sound especially interesting. Let us know soon if you want to go.

Finally, a couple of reminders:

East Kent Live Lit presents Tongue Tide: an evening of performances and readings

with Canterbury Laureate PATIENCE AGBABI - Not to be missed - and award-winning local poet MAGGGIE HARRIS and others.

Saturday 22nd May - doors 7.00pm, start 7.30pm, £8/£6

The Horsebridge Arts Centre,

Whitstable,

Box Office 01227 281174

An event supported by Apples and Snakes.

Some of WWW are going along so do join us if you fancy it! See you there!

August: Saturday the 7th is our Creative Writing Workshop with Caroline Gilfillan - contact Fiona to book a place.

WWW reading event in Canterbury with Caroline on Sunday the 8th August will be open for all members who'd like to read or perform pieces - and anyone who doesn't is welcome to come along, bring friends and enjoy the evening! We could have a chat in the next couple of months to see who's interested.

2010-04-19T01:13:00.000-07:00

May's Whitstable Women Writers' meeting will be on the second Monday of the month, the 10th, as the first Monday is a Bank Holiday. The 'homework' exercise topic is 'Another Dimension' - or, bring along a piece of writing in progress for feedback. 8pm, Argyle Road Church Hall~ for more information, please phone 01227 771126

Roll Up, Roll Up, Margate 2010

2010-04-02T08:39:00.000-07:00

The harbour arm beckons us with a chorus line of lights. A rainbow flag unfurls from a crane. Now let the show begin!

Candy pink limo stretches round sweeping sands. Clubbers who carry a condom jump the queue while a barman juggles sunrise sling and sheets.

From the wings fly para gliders in to a sky of shimmering light Turner may have stroked. Kite surfers spin glimpsing the whites of the wind farm.

Christians raise their voices in the heat of the afternoon and their amen harmonises with a horny saxophone playing with the people sipping chilled wine in the square.

A seashell lady gives you the nod when a fresh batch of fish is frying or tea is being served at the Walpole Bay Hotel on the geranium terrace at the top of the hill.

Backstage in the old town, local artists hum. Staining glass moulding clay wiring wrapping wreaths bouquets.

Beyond sandcastles she’s preparing to unveil her house of installations and oils hoping high speeding trains will then draw art lovers and the curious.

Curtains now on a flood of gold, streaky pinks, the old hugging couple on a bench. He whispers in Polish of her beautiful eyes and they let the next bus go by.

Fiona Thomson

31 March 2010

SPRING 2010

2010-03-31T07:27:00.000-07:00

Forthcoming events:

Saturday 10 April ~ Open Day at the Horsebridge Center: information and writing fun ~ ideal for potential members to find out about WWW

Sunday 18 April ~ 12 to 5 at the Horsebridge. Workshopping longer pieces: an opportunity for those writing novels, poetry or short story collections, TV scripts etc to share in-depth feedback. £5 approx

Saturday 7 August ~ a creative writing workshop with guest tutor Caroline Gilfillan http://www.carolinegilfillan.co.uk

Sunday 8 August ~ WWW event in Canterbury featuring group members, guest reader Caroline Gilfillan and open mic slots.

watch this space for more event details!

Our regular meetings continue on the first Monday of the month, 8pm at Argyle Road church hall. (2nd Monday April due to bank hol)

New members always welcome ~ phone 01227 771126 for more info

‘Dreamboat,’ a first novel by WWW member Frankie Green, (ISBN978-1-4452-9806-1) is published this month. Contact dreamboat@meteorites.plus.com http://www.lulu.com/product/paperback/dreamboat/6520991

Strictly

2009-11-25T04:44:00.000-08:00

by Diane Langford

Oh sea, last week you moved so beautifully

Your kicks and flicks impressed at first

But in reality it was your partner, Wind,

Who was doing all the work

I see that now

You need to lift up more

And show us your wild side

Especially in the jive

From me you get a five

Sky, I notice you are overdressed again

The lightness you exhibited last time has gone

You really must stay clear to look your best

Focus, dear, for heaven’s sake

Your Latin was appalling

All over the place

You were close to falling down

A four is all I can award

Moon, what an improvement you have made

I loved your beaming smile

You were exhuberant, You radiate

You went the extra mile

Produced a stunning foxtrot

For which I give you eight

Stars, you disappoint

Where was your twinkle?

We thought we could rely on you

To bring a bit of glamour to the show

Buck up, don’t hide your glow

Come out and show the others how

I’ll give you four for now

Trees, your new outfit is nice

But I’m not sure that orange is your colour

The green was more becoming in my view

The same old problem, trees, still needs more work

You are too wooden

Is that a bird’s nest in your hair?

You just stand there

while Breeze dances all round you

Trying to please

You cannot fool the judges, trees,

A two

Sun, Moon totally eclipsed you on the night

You’ll have to brighten up your act

To get another nine

You’ve got to rise and shine, Sun

Last week your Tango was divine

What happened to your warmth and passion?

After such a weak rendition you get five

And now it’s down to folks at home

Will it be Sea, or Sky, or Moon, or Stars?

Will Trees rise up the leader board?

Will Sun be in or out?

It’s up to you

We hope you liked our little show

Pick up the phone and let us know

Belonging by Fiona Thomson

2009-07-17T07:06:00.000-07:00

Belonging

LGB

LGBTQ

LGBTQU

Everyone But Heterosexuals, EBH, that’s better.

Fiona Thomson

July 17 2009

Grief by Fiona Thomson

2009-07-15T07:27:00.000-07:00

GRIEF

Droplets of ink not tears fall in pools around.
I wade to the shimmering bank, scramble up, drop down into the sand.

When I awake at first light a gentle breeze is dusting the clouds and I shiver with someone walking over my grave.

I tread the beach towards the place I call home and am scooped up with the first flight of swallows swooping and arcing, tempting summer from under hedgerows, through cobwebs.

I look back at my inky trail, the blot moulded in the landscape.
A big fat baby seagull pads alongside bearing witness to my tattooed grains of truth.

Yet blank page expression.

Sheets of white blowing in the wind not a trace or stain of anything that might have been, that was, that is.

Scrunched up as small as small can be tight in the bottom of the cupboard.
Sssshhh, don’t make a sound, don’t breathe a word.
How long will it be before they come looking for me?

Inhale exhale to the place you can breathe out no more.
That place is a space, a church for lost souls, harbour for storm beaten sailors, where children play and are touched through love.

Cheer up hen it might never happen.
It already has.

Fiona Thomson, 23May, 2009

A poem in memory of a much-missed group member and friend

2009-04-09T14:49:00.000-07:00

Disembarkation ~ Frankie Green
(for Jackey)

I return to the place
you gave me
and walk the stony shore alone.
Along the bone-bleak beach
beads fall through my fingers,
clicking like shingle under the waves
worrying at the water’s edge.
How quickly the birds vanish
over the jade sea,
and a life ebbs away on the outgoing tide.

Like all deaths,
it takes and gives
and cannot be borne
and somehow is.

But now here you are coming up the road on your bicycle
in a bright blue waterproof, old leather shopping bag
slung over the handlebars.
Just off up the high street to do your messages.
We’ll have a coffee then,
sit on the sea wall
reminiscing about the Red Spider Café,
talking about learning

how presence and absence, joy
and grief, come no longer to be
two sides of the proverbial coin
but the coin itself wears as thin
as a fabric whose warp and weft combine.
The line between dissolves so
wakes and weddings, birthing and dying,
sand and rock, bone and ash,
fresh water and salt
running into each other
with life’s long alchemy
might be one
and the same, the same.

May Homework

2009-04-09T07:29:00.000-07:00

Homework for May, as its a Bank Holiday, we'll meet on the second Monday - at Church Hall in Argyle Road, Whitstable

Title - Waitress Service - 500 words max

Writing Exercises and notes

2009-03-31T11:49:00.000-07:00

Don’t be intimidated by text.

Text is text is text…some people think all text is just stuff - words – that are there for our enjoyment – it doesn’t matter whether it’s Proust, Mills and Boon or a Sun headline.

Be alert to language –it’s all around you…

Signs around Whitstable -Trendy Fascias – notice on a dilapidated boarded up wall -– Naturism will not be condoned on this beach – Note the context – A stranger may be puzzled by ‘off licence’ and ‘free house.’ -

Creative headlines – Gotcha – Beeb man sits on Lesbian –

Local headlines – Vicar Gives Birth, Picture

LESS IS MORE

Condensed ideas? Single words and phrases:

Telling stories, describing, labelling, listing, explaining

Metaphors – images – conveying emotions – loneliness – conveyed in words, poetry, or in a piece of art such as the work of Edward Hopper – desolate scenes, angst.

Words are at your command like any other ‘material’ – twisted, changed, cut, shaped.

Representation of concrete materials or vague thoughts --Jargon or cliché can be used creatively too – IRONY – eg. Sadie’s postcards,

‘Russell Brand – Wanna see some Cellulite?’

Using quotes: Elizabeth Jolley, Self Portrait: A Child Went Forth.

There was a child went forth every day

And the first object he looked upon and

Received with wonder or pity

Or love or dread, that object he became…Whitman

Her opening sentence:

When I was seventeen I sold my doll and all her little frocks and coloured knitted things.

Paula Fox’s memoir, Borrowed Finery.

“After so long grief, such nativity!` – The Comedy of Errors.

Def: nativity: birth, esp. place, conditions, circumstances of birth.

Her first sentence:

When I was seventeen, I found a job in what was then downtown Los Angeles in a store where dresses were sold for a dollar each.

Fact or Fiction?

AUTOBIOGRAPHY – the fiction – what is ‘true’? Dramatising and shaping material. Writing from the self – ‘I only use material that can be imaginatively transformed’ Elizabeth Jolly said. ==Self Portrait; Writing from the Self; Life Writing. Similar language to painting and drawing ‘from life.’

Universal experience; something others can relate to. Making something private into something universally understood and recognisable.

POINT OF VIEW - Third person – omnipotent view – as seen through the eye of God, - Diane went here and there. She did this, she did that…

First person, I went there and there, I did this or that

WRITERS VOICE – the inner voice -

Distancing – thinking of yourself as a character in a story

Finding ‘The other’ within yourself – you at different ages –

Reading old letters or diaries – it’s as if they were written by a different person.

SUPER OBJECTIVE – ‘What’s my motivation, Mr De Mille?’

Stanislavsky – over-riding compulsion or desire – finding peace of mind --

Or perhaps a burning ambition of some kind – or protecting your child – getting recognition of some kind…

Exercises:

Try to keep writing. If you can, keep your pen on the page, don’t look up…if you get stuck, try repeating the same word or phrase until you’re unstuck.

Finding your own writing voice:

Write down your earliest memories of learning writing and reading. Take a couple of minutes to reflect. [10 mins]

Finding ‘the other’ inside yourself. Thinking of yourself as a character in a story.

Write about yourself at different ages – don’t forget it doesn’t have to be ‘true’ – imagine you are a character in a story.

at 5 yrs; 15 yrs; 35 yrs – these are arbitrary ages at intervals, you can choose different ones if you like, e.g. 35 – 45 - 65

What did you feel intensely about? What was your super-objective?

Who did you talk to most? An imaginery friend?

Describe a place where you felt comfortable and safe? List all the things in the room, the light and colour, smells and sounds.

[5 mins for each segment = 15 mins]

Take a part of the body of interst at the moment and make a list of random

Associations - e.g. eyes - windows; lashes tears. [5 mins]

Write a short piece about this body part has changed over the years. [5 mins]

Write a love letter or poem to a despised or unsatisfactory body part?

Sometimes it helps to start by making a list.

[10 mins]

Point of View

Things that happened to you or your family – ‘The time when…’ e.g. The man upstairs died on New Years Eve when we were having a racous party….

Make a shortlist of stories, choose your favourite. Get into pairs.

Tell it to your neighbour. Relate the story you have been told by your neighbour in the first person, as if it happened to you.

If you found this exercise useful you could follow it up,in your own time by inventing a character to tell the story.

Tribute to Tillie Olsen

2009-03-23T07:44:00.000-07:00

Nine Eleven 2007 -

Remembering Tillie Olsen - Date of a celebration of her life and work hosted by the Feminist Press in New York after she died a few days short of her 95^th Birthday

You gave out flyers on the streets

The Universal Declaration

Of Human Rights

Your credo

Your work made art out of our lives

YONNONDIO

Broke the silence

You raged at all Official lies

Pretend Parental Guidance

‘How to survive a nuclear attack’

No child would walk home after that!

Your working class attire placed you - outside the pack

What could you wear - among the capped and gowned?

You were the only one

Confronting pompous polymath - John Kenneth Galbraith

Who told a seminar, Lord of the Flies confirms

human cruelty is innate

You’re wrong Sir,

Young kids are caring, that’s their natural state

He glowered but you were resolute

Your manuscript was in the trash

Consigned by learned schmucks

‘Who wants to read about a woman ironing?’

Retrieved, by chance, and published to acclaim -

You said, No writer’s work should have to trust to luck

The tragedy of everyday existence, Your spur to write and rage and agitate

When you felt dementia loom, you struggled to make sense

A slip of paper later turned up in the mail

A long howl to your dead parents

Help! Please come and find me, I’m in jail

Still you clung to your identity

Telling others losing memory

Never forget You’re a human being, that’s the truth

Your daughter placed your books upon your knee

And held you in her arms tenderly

She sang the songs you taught her in her youth

We shall overcome, I dreamt I saw Joe Hill last night

Recited Whitman Our beloved Dead

Moira Hyde ~ Disguise

2008-09-21T07:33:00.000-07:00

Disguise

It’s not too much to ask, is it?

A kiss that means it,

A kiss that starts soft and quite still

Then tantalises, teases, tingles,

Lingers, leaves moments of stillness,

Soars back , searches,

Sends shockwaves down the spine.

I found that kiss with a man at a fancy dress party.

Dracula wanted to do things to me

urgently, wildly.

But he had a girlfriend

and I was dressed as some strange nun.

Exactly a year later, at the same house,

a satanic pop star lifted a widow’s veil.

It was the same lips,

disarming, urgent, wanting more!

The shed was suggested

But moral rectitude raised its armour

yet again

Sending me home like a thief in the night

without a prize.

Would I even recognise the man

at the Somerfield check-out?

Or will we pass each other in the street, unrecognised

into our sixties and seventies,

Perhaps meeting again at a fancy dress party

for octogenarians?

Moira Hyde, November 2004

Sue Grogan ~ New Year CCTV

2008-09-21T07:29:00.000-07:00

New Year ~ CCTV

Superman and Lois Lane

Argue for their future

His new mobile

Pierced by her stiletto

Too many kisses on a text message.

Elvis spews across the pavement

Clutching his blow up guitar

Rhinestones ruined.

A cowboy in a passionate embrace

With a kerbstone,

Wakes sleepy streets

As he slurs his lament

To a flowerpot.

Snow White waits

As Prince charming multitasks –

Scoffing his kebab

Whilst pissing in a doorway.

Two Lieutenant Uhurus

Walk in a straight line

Looking nearly sober

Save their wonky wigs

And smeared make up.

A gorilla hails a cab

Gives it the finger

Then runs when the cop car slows.

Little pixies cling to pushchairs

More stable than their fairy tale folk.

Lois throws her final punch

At Superman.

A dog has his first crap

Of 2008.

Sue Grogan

Diane Langford ~ Breathing

2008-09-19T03:39:00.003-07:00

The kids woke to snow drifting past their bedroom window. It was so cold they could see their breath coming out, even inside the house. They bounded out of bed and found their mother already moving round the kitchen in her dressing gown and thick socks. Cigarette smoke curled to the ceiling as she one-handedly lit the gas and put the kettle on for tea, transferring the butt to her mouth before cracking eggs for omelettes.

‘Mum,’ the kids screamed, ‘look at Meanie.’

Meanie, the cat, so named for his habit of pulverising the ducklings that lived in the stream at the bottom of the garden, was sitting on the windowsill with his face pressed against the glass. His ginger fur was radiating like sparklers around his head, spikes of frost forming an icy collar. His tail stood upright, a furry popsicle.

‘Is he breathing?’ yelled the girl, jumping up and down. ‘Of course, he’s breathing. Why wouldn’t he be?’ said their mother, blowing out smoke.

‘Open the window, open the window,’ they demanded.

‘And let the cold air in? Are you crazy? Do you wanna freeze to death? He’s perfectly OK. He’s a cat. Cat’s survive. It’s what they do.’

‘He’s not breathing,’ snivelled the boy.

‘He is so too,’ said their mother and rapped on the window.

‘Bugger off, duckie-killer,’ she shouted.

Meanie swayed like a tenpin about to fall. Then he did fall.

Diane’s homework, 4^th June 2007

More of Diane's prose at http://talkingcompetition.blogspot.com/

Diane Langford ~ Apology

2008-09-19T03:39:00.002-07:00

Apology

Sorry for the leg irons, sorry for the chains, sorry for the aches and pains

Sorry for the slave ships, sorry for the plague, sorry for the bodies in the sea

Sorry for plantations, sorry for the whips, sorry for Simon Legree

Sorry for lynchings, sorry for the stocks,

missionaries

And fast-loading flint…locks.

Thank you for the diamonds, thank you for the gold, thank you for the sugar and the rum

Deepest condolences for your very sad loss

Was it sixty million souls or sixty one?

Introduction to the Whitstable Women Writers' Group

2008-09-19T03:39:00.000-07:00

This blog has been set up as a platform for members of the Whitstable Women Writers' Group to showcase our work for invited visitors to the site as well as for casual surfers and fellow writers.

We meet once a month in Whitstable to exchange work, provide creative, constructive criticism and praise, and to plan public events and projects. We are poets, writers of fiction and non-fiction, screenwriters and magazine contributors, published and unpublished.

At our meetings, we set targets, exchange news of competitions and events, suggest homework topics and do writing exercises. We have a small collection of books about creative writing available for loan. Our members have participated in local readings in aid of a Tsunami charity.

Currently we have a membership of around 18, though not everyone attends every meeting. We will shortly post a contact number for women writers interested in joining us. As we are approaching our maximum in terms of membership numbers, we are considering setting up a second group which may be for men and women.