Showing posts with label road. Show all posts
Showing posts with label road. Show all posts

Friday, May 4, 2012

Book an escape


Whilst traveling I wanted the crib notes about each country. Not just to ascertain key landmarks (a quick search on wikitravel can do that) I wanted to sit in the shoes of someone - be fictional or nonfictional - and experience the country through before landing it’s doorstep.

In fact nearly everyone on the truck felt the same. Most of these books went on high rotation, passed along to whoever had dibbed it next.

China - Wild Swans
Thailand - The Beach
Australia - Down Under

After travelling through India I read 'A Fine Balance'. Even though I was in subzero temperatures in China, each time I flicked open the book I was transported me back to the bustling streets of Delhi. I could feel the hot slap of humidity on my skin and hear the story unfold to a sensory symphony of sights, smells and sounds.


It was a wonderful reading experience! Though I literally had to take breaks from the novel, as at times it became a sensory overland. From the jarring symphony of high-pitched car horns to the soft drag of handmade dry grass brooms on pavements. The angry spit of hot oil from street stalls frying Samoa to the heady perfume of cooked mustard seeds. The sickly sweet chai to the retched stench of faeces from open sewers. The kaleidoscope of colourful saris from roadsides to harvesting in fields. The crush of thousands of people passing under the stern gaze of policemen barricaded by sandbag walls at train stations.

I became conscious of recording the true essence of each country I visited. As I want each country in my novel to be a thumping beast of a character. To leap off the page, to curse, groan, moan or laugh, leap and pulsate with energy. Each country, city and region had its one vibe, it's own personality. Bucharest was crumbling, Delhi bureaucratic, Singapore a slick shoppers paradise, Berlin a bohemian playground and Jakarta a series of sweeping, traffic laden boulevards.

I don't want my novel to be all about me - that would the dullest book written. I didn't travel just to think about myself. I set on the road to see, feel and grasp the globe. I want to ensure I capture the character of each place. I want the reader to feel like they were on the road with me. 


Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Writing Exercise #3 Dropped Dead

Mountains of Rubbish, Glastonbury 2011




I think that this writing prompt from 'Naked, drunk and writing' is particularly poignant given my inability to find things in the roaring rumble and rift-raft that is my room. 


"You dropped dead suddenly and your house is cleared out. What do they find?"


I almost miss just having all my possessions fit into a backpack.But then again I am and always will be a book hoarder. Well that's a half-truth, I hoard many things. From mountains of clothes to broken yo-yo's, christmas cards and CD's that are scratched beyond play. After travelling I have also learnt that I've got quite a penchant for objects of stone or exceptionally fine fragility...

Thursday, April 5, 2012

Exercise #1 Home


I’ve been reading Carmel Bird’s writing book ‘Writing the story of your life’ with keen delight. It sounds awfully dull, but she has such a gentle turn of phrase that she makes everything sound so lovely, lively and achievable. Interspersed are quotes from a range of people who have written memoirs, as well as tips and advice.

Inspired by the following discussion of a quote

“Colette, in her autobiography, Earthly Paradise, wrote of returning to her childhood home out of a ‘desire to observe the exact relation of memory to sites which shaped it.’ And she found many things still ‘fitted faithfully beneath the tracing which I always carry with me’. “

I came to the swift realization that I hadn’t made any real mention of my home for the last six months. So this week’s writing exercise has been writing about my beloved fluorescent green tent. I'll post up what I came up with.

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