My SF Influences and Hopes: Part Two

Hi Everyone

Given that the Speculate Festival is on this Saturday (28 April 2018), here is the next instalment of the current series of blog posts on my interview questions. This post explains the background to the questions, while my previous post explores the first question asked during my interview:

What science fiction/fantasy first made an impression on you?

Below is the second question I was asked:

Why do you continue to write science fiction/fantasy?

An interesting question with a complicated answer that starts with a little personal history.

Image from here

As is evident from my previous post, I was an avid reader from an early age. Adventure and War stories. Science Fiction. Fantasy. Some Historical Fiction. Etc. I didn’t read much poetry, though I do remember memorising Blake’s ‘The Tyger’ for a school assignment. I didn’t, however, hanker to be a writer when I was young, unlike many of my later heroes such as W B Yeats, Robert Graves, Ted Hughes, J R R Tolkien, Alan Garner, Roger Zelazny, amongst many others. I suppose I didn’t even realise such an occupation existed. Somehow I thought writers were magical beings ‘out there’ somewhere and books appeared from nowhere.

Image from a Melbourne TV Guide

Still, in my early teens, I started to write an SF spy story about aliens under Ayers Rock. The hero was prompted by a local TV show (Hunter). He rode a motorcycle called Black Bess (inspired by the Disney show The Legend of Young Dick Turpin and my father’s riding when a youth) and lived on a sailing boat (as did a favourite aunt and uncle). After four action-packed pages, during which the boat was blown up and the hero swam to shore to jump on his motorbike and chase the villain, I stopped. Not sure why, though I think it had to do with a sense of shame in doing something that would be seen as self-indulgent.

Image from here

Over the next few years, I developed an interest in music, taught myself the guitar, and tried writing song lyrics. I also started writing love poems to girlfriends, bad ones (in retrospect) based on half-remembered structures learned at school.

Image from here

After finishing a science degree, I found myself working in the research department of Telecom Australia. One day, surrounded by banks of magnetic tapes and electronic gear, I began writing, on a teleprinter, a report on some computer networking research I had completed. I suddenly had the eyes-wide, nostrils-flaring, bolt-upright epiphany that I could communicate what was inside my head to other people. That I could be a writer. Soon after, I started to write short stories, science fiction, fantasy, and horror, and I have been writing in those genres, to a greater or lesser degree, ever since. Yet, this is when things became complicated.

Several years after that moment at Telecom, I went to a workshop on putting fantasy in your writing and discovered it was being run by one of Australia’s top poets and wasn’t about fantasy writing at all. I ended up attempting to write poetry, though all I could come up with was a chant to Lovecraft’s Old Ones and something else that I don’t remember. Yet, because of that workshop, I was invited, along with other attendees, to form a critique group at the Council of Adult Education (CAE). And here I met a real-life poet and suddenly I began to develop an interest in writing poetry.

Over the next decade or so, I moved into the poetry world more and more. I wrote poetry. Studied it at university. Edited it. Published it. Read at poetry readings. Developed a profile as a poet. Yet, the narrative urge wouldn’t leave me. I wrote literary fiction along with the odd speculative story. Eventually, I did a PhD in Creative Writing, the creative component being a fantasy verse novel called The Silence Inside the World, which featured the main character from one of those early fantasy novel drafts. Full circle.

Image from here

All of the above is a roundabout way of saying that I don’t only write science fiction and fantasy, but also speculative poetry, literary fiction, and literary/mainstream poetry. And I continue to write in these areas because they enable me to cover different aspects of my life experience, especially personal relationships, science, nature, myths and the sacred, using the best option available to me. As Ted Hughes once remarked after he was made Poet Laureate and a reporter asked him what he would write during his tenure, ‘I write what the muse tells me to write’.

Image from here

So, to finally answer the second interview question, I still write science fiction and fantasy because, unlike the literary mode, I am able to explore deep imagination and different worlds from our own, and also evoke the wonder that lies within and beneath life. And because of these concerns, more and more I am looking to mythopoeic literature as the home for my own work.

If you are interested in attending Speculate, which is being held at the Gasworks Arts Park, 21 Graham St, Albert Park, Victoria, this Saturday, there are still tickets available. For further information, visit the website (www.SpecFic.com.au).

I hope you enjoyed this post. As always, I welcome your comments. 

Best Wishes

Earl

Gwaith 14: Jodrell Bank and Alan Garner (14 Oct 2016)

Helo Pawb

After a rest day, during which I transcribed notes from my research of the last couple of weeks, Grevel and I drive to Macclesfield for what would prove to be one of the highlights of my trip. Grevel had been in contact with Griselda Garner, wife of Alan Garner, whose talk I attended last year (see this post) and whose books I greatly admired. She kindly offered to take us on a tour of The Old Medicine House. We then would have afternoon tea, during which Alan might put in an appearance, if his hectic schedule allowed it. I was thrilled at the possibility of meeting one of my literary heroes, but first Grevel and I were going to visit Jodrell Bank, which is only two fields and a railway line away from where Alan and Griselda live.

The Lovell Telescope

Jodrell Bank is the home of the Lovell Telescope, a huge white radio dish the size of Big Ben. It started listening to the universe in 1957, the same year  Alan Garner started living at Toad Hall, which he restored and which now comprises, along with The Old Medicine House, one half of their current residence.

Scanning the heavens

The telescope scans galaxies, listens to and tracks pulsars and quasars. Grevel and I wandered through the Planet Pavilion, the exhibition room in the nearby visitor complex, and read the latest information about black holes, dark matter and dark energy, our minds boggling at the numbers involved when looking at the mathematics of the space-time continuum and the masses and sizes of the far-flung entities the universe has created.

Another view of the telescope, as tall as Big Ben

After playing with the various experiments into and reconstructions of astronomical insights in another building, the Space Pavilion, we walked around the telescope itself, a magnificent structure, with beautiful curves and a spider-web structure of girders supporting it.  Flights of jackdaws dove off the top lip of the dish and swooped and wheeled using the updraught created inside it.

Jackdaws wheeling above the dish

We continued our own exploration of science by playing with the various exhibits ranged around the telescope. One of them involved rolling balls down an incline and arranging bells so they rang at equal time spans, not as easy as it sounds. Our favourite was using the whispering dishes that feature in Alan Garner’s last novel, Boneland. They are about 100 yards apart, but when you whisper into the focal point of one dish a person standing at the other one can hear you. We were also fortunate to watch the radio dish in action, this enormous achievement of 1950s British engineering (parts of it were made from naval gun turrets) slowly and steadily moving to a new position to explore the heavens.

A school group playing with the whispering dishes

A close up of one of the whispering dishes

Then it was time for lunch at the Planet Pavilion cafe, with its wall-mural timeline of events from the big bang to the present day and a great view of the telescope. After a quick walk through the amazing nearby aboreum (which contains the Sorbus Collection, a display of all the different varieties of rowan and whitebeam trees), we headed off for our visit to The Medicine House.

Display board at the arboreum

A whitebeam tree

A Rowan tree, with unusual pinkish flowers

With much clanking of old locks, Griselda greeted us—‘Welcome to Fort Knox’—and then took us on a two-hour tour of the sixteenth century timber-frame house, once thought to be an apothecary’s abode but now known to have been a factory for making patented medicines (Samuel Johnston/Johnston Brothers). The Old Medicine House, which Alan and Griselda acquired in 1970 and attached to Toad Hall, is the heart of the Blackden Trust, the educational charity Alan and Griselda set up to protect the buildings, the land surrounding them, and the history discovered there. And what an amazing history there is. My favourite exhibit was the display case that contained over 10,000 years of artefacts found on the property itself, from the Mesolithic to the twentieth century, flint blades to musket balls. Another fascinating aspect of the house was the apotropaic marks made in corners of rooms or near chimneys, doors and windows. Such marks, generally double Vs (Virgin of Virgins), were meant to ward off evil. Then there was my delight in seeing the original owl service that served as inspiration for Alan Garner’s famous work, The Owl Service, which used the story of Blodeuwedd in the Fourth Branch of The Mabinogion.

The Old Medicine House

Part way through the tour, while we were in the Blackden office area, Alan Garner pop his head in to discuss some matter and said hello to Grevel and me. Later, when Griselda sat us down for tea and what looked like and tasted like giant Anzac Biscuits, Alan joined us for a wide-ranging discussion about everything from his recent projects (including a wonderful book called The Beauty Things, of which I bought a copy), to his approach to archival research and research in general (‘Always look to the anomaly’), to Griselda’s education approaches at Blackden. Entertaining banter and stimulating insights absorbed us for an hour or two, until it started to get dark and it was time for Grevel and I to leave. I am thankful to Griselda and Alan for being so generous with their time.

Cover of the First Edition (source)

A plate from the Owl Service (source)

On the wayback to Manchester, Grevel stopped off near Wilmslow to show me Lindow Common, which is near Lindow Moss, the site of the famous Lindow Man, a body discovered in the peat bog in 1984. The body belonged to a healthy male in his mid-20's who may have been a victim of a ritual sometime between 2 BC and 119 AD: after a last meal of charred bread, Lindow Man was strangled, hit on the head, and his throat cut. Memorial benches line the trail around the Black Lake in the middle of the common, a tradition that doesn’t seem to occur elsewhere and may have something to do with the area being a ‘thin’ place (a phrase I recently discovered through a friend of mine). Intriguing idea.

We arrived when it was dark, so this photo of the Black Lake might give you a sense of the place (source)

As always, I welcome your comments.

Cofion Cynnes
Earl

Gwaith 13: Exploring Three Sites in Cheshire (12 Oct 2016)

Helo Pawb

After my research on Ynys Môn, I left for Manchester, to enjoy for a few days the gracious hospitality of my friend Grevel Lindop and his wife, Amanda. The day after my arrival, he took me to visit two megalithic sites neither of us had seen before and to return to a favourite.

For some unfathomable reason, at each of the sites we were greeted by ravens, which hovered nearby as if checking us out and were still there when we left the site.

The first site was the Bullstones (sometimes known as Bullstrang), one of the best-preserved stone circle and burial sites in Cheshire, which is situated near the town of Macclesfield. A circle of millstone grit cobbles surrounds a single monolith. Excavations at the site revealed a cremation burial with an urn, a flint knife and a flint arrowhead. Apparently, there is evidence that a Bronze Age settlement existed close to the Bullstones. The setting itself gives amazing views of the surrounding countryside, including that of Shutlingsloe, which features in Alan Garner’s The Weirdstone of Brisingamen. The Bullstones are aligned with Shutlingsloe at approximately 50 degrees, which apparently is the angle of the summer full moon-rise nearest the solstice. Intriguing.

The centre monolith and some of its cobbls

A close up of the centre monolith, as a bed of smaller cobble stones than those in the circle around it

The monolith with Shutlingsloe in the background

The second site we visited was a relatively unknown one, the Allgreave Menhir, which was discovered partially buried on land belong to Burnt House Farm and re-erected close to where it was found. It is about one mile south-east of the Bullstones and bears a resemblance to the great standing stones at the Bridestone Burial Chamber some 4.6 miles to the south-west (which we were to visit another day). The stone is on a north-south axis, with a flat face on the south side, a sun-face, and a tapering body of feminine curves to the north. On the west side we found a niche that contained carved indentations that fitted our hands. The reasons for the flat face and the niche are obviously lost to time, but I can think of a possible use, which I may include in my book and so won’t reveal at the moment.

The east side of the Allgreave Menhir, showing its tapering curves

The south side 'sun-face' of the menhir

My hand in the niche with its curved indentations and guidance protusion

Our third stop was to the site that overwhelmed me with awe the last time I visited it, Lud’s Church. We had our lunch at Castle Rock and Grevel pointed out that the Allgreave Menhir seemed to be made from the same water-eroded sandstone as the massive stone blocks we later climbed for the superb views of the surrounding areas.

The trail to Castle Rock

One section of Castle Rock

Another section

To the accompaniment of robins, crows, jackdaws and ravens, we then walked past birch, oak and rowan, the masses of bracken still green under the thick canopy. At the end of the trail, which was smothered with autumn leaf litter, we climbed down into the hallowed place that actually featured in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.

Grevel descending into Lud's Church

 To our right as we entered we discovered a section of the chasm we didn’t remember from before. As Grevel said, the site plays tricks with time and place and memory. The deep chasm itself is always damp, and so is rich in ferns, moss, lichens, fungus, and tufts of long blades of grass. Oak, rowan and birch lined the tops of the jagged walls. As I did last time, I felt awe at this site that had existed for over ten thousand years and had seen peoples of different tribes and times standing here as I did and possibly worshipping the dripping silence. There is a presence I can’t explain, especially at the deepest, widest section of the chasm. The shadows, the quiet, the wet massive rock walls and overhanging rocks covered in many shades and textures of green, all combine to slow one down, ground one in the moment. As we made our way towards the exit. Grevel spotted, at the end of a small moss leaf, a drop of water filled with emerald light. Then another drop. And another. Magical.

View of the bend in the chasm which is at the widest, deepest part

View to one end, from the bend

View to the other end

When we emerged into the brightness of the day, the silence and awe stayed with us.

As always, I welcome your comments.

Cofion Cynnes
Earl

NB: I had inserted a video of the view from the top of Castle Rock, but it doesn't seem to work on some devices, so have had to delete it. Sorry about that.

Gwaith 3: Residency Update

Helo Pawb

Yesterday (Saturday, 17 Sep 16) marked two weeks I have been at my Stiwdio Maelor residency, so I thought it time to post an update on my various activities.

My major aims for my time in Wales are writing, language and landscape. ‘Writing’, obviously, means my dark ages novel, though that doesn’t mean I won’t respond to other prompts from the muse. ‘Language’, again just as obviously, refers to my attempts at learning Welsh and finding opportunities for practicing it. Finally, ‘landscape’ means my desire to observe and absorb as much of the Welsh landscape as I can, for my soul and for the book. These first two weeks, I would say, have been successful on all counts.

My studio (Stiwdio Chwech)

Writing

Since leaving Australia, I’ve averaged 3.5 hours of writing per day. This may not seem much, but it doesn’t take into account flight days and days spent staying with friends before my residency, as well my time on Helfa Gelf and traipsing the countryside. I want to build this to four to five hours per day, though when I finish this first five weeks of my residency and go travelling for five weeks, my average is bound to drop. Anyway, in my two weeks at Stiwdio Maelor I have managed to accomplish the following:

Interdraft work (structural editing and conceptual re-jigging): 19.971 words

Draft 3 of the novel: 1,428 words

Blog posts and other writing: 3,197 words

Blog posts (including this one): 3

Haiku drafts: 11

Poem drafts: 1

And, unexpectedly, short story drafts: 1

I am quite happy with this output, though of course my focus, now that I’ve essentially finished the Interdraft work, is on continuing the novel redrafting.

My working space

The view from my desk this morning

My Ancient Britain and Roman Britain maps

Language

Last year I went to hear Alan Garner talk about his work, which you can read about here. On the way there, I suddenly felt a little disconcerted, a little weird. I wasn’t sure why, then I realised I had entered England and let behind the dual-language signage of Wales.

Traffic lights in Corris, because of water works

In Welsh, the adjective comes after the noun

While I am still a long way from fluency, my brain is used to seeing and, to some degree, comprehending Welsh words and signs. Since my arrival at Maelor, I have been to the Tuesday Welsh Discussion Group at the Corris Institute twice and am starting a Welsh class in Dolgellau tomorrow (Monday, 19 Sep). And on Friday I will be attending a Noson Siarad Cymraeg, a night of talking Welsh. No Saesneg (English) allowed. I think I might be listening more than speaking. I have also been practising Duolingo Welsh, an online course, and listening to my downloaded Say Something In Welsh sound files. I’m hoping that I can have half-decent conversations with shopkeepers and people around Corris by the time I leave here.

Landscape

As my previous postings (here and here) can testify, I’ve been out and about in the Welsh landscape, even if my fitness level meant I haven’t quite been bounding through the land. In the two weeks I’ve been here I have had four walks in total and, once my knees recover from the Cadair Idris climb, I intend to walk three to four times a week, weather permitting. I feel quite at home in the landscape and become so absorbed in it that I sometimes forget to take notes of trees, bird sounds, colours of moss and stone for my book. I’ll manage better the more walks I do.

Below are photographs from a walk I took along Afon Dulas late in the day:

The start of the path along Afon Dulas. For some reason my camera was on a Soft Focus.

Night haze above the river

View downstream

That’s it for now. I hope your own works and days are going well. As always, I welcome any comments.

And more jackdaws, for those who remember my fascination with them last year. Photo was taken this morning.

The mist on the hills behind my bedroom

Cofion Cynnes

Earl

Cyfaredd 21: Research on Ynys Môn: Day Four

Haia Pawb

Today I was to leave Ynys Môn and drive up to Scotland for the next stage of my research trip. However, before leaving the island, I planned to visit the complex at Lligwy, which comprised a prehistoric burial chamber, a Roman-British farmstead (Din Lligwy) and the remains of a medieval chapel, Capel Lligwy. I planned to focus on the farmstead, as it might help me with some scenes set in a similar environment, though at a later stage than the Roman occupation of Ynys Môn.

Path to the settlement, with wildflowers

Information board

Video of the site

Artist impression of the settlement

I enjoyed my time, largely on my own, wandering around the farmstead. I measured out and sketched the layout of the site and its various buildings, something I hadn’t done at other sites and now kicked myself for not doing those times. As I did this, under a cloudy sky and in a coolness that refreshed, I felt quite grounded and content, the place and the work being what I was meant to do.

One of the roundhouses

Another video

I might be able to use the layout as a foundation for the plan for the Iron Age village in the beginning of my novel. I quite like the idea of a pentagon-shape for the village, five being one of the sacred numbers of the Celts.

Layout of the settlement

Given that my central character is connected to blacksmithing, the artist’s impression of the smithy in the site gave me a few ideas about structure, size, etc. The smithy itself was set in the ground, as if one is stepping into the earth, towards the darkness of the forge, towards the Otherworld, when engaging in the magical work of creating tools from molten iron.

The artist impression of the smithy

The smithy

Another view of the smithy

The site itself is a perfect example of the prospect-refuge theory Alan Garner mentioned in the talk I wrote about some time ago. Although the photos show trees blocking the view of the surrounding areas, this apparently wasn’t the case during the time of the farmstead’s use.

View of surrounding area taken during the walk to the settlement

I then moved onto the tomb. The small structure, made from quite large rocks, is set deep into the ground. After a moment’s meditation, I crawled inside and sat silently on the packed dirt floor contemplating my novel and listening to the whispers of the Atlantic wind.

Information board at the site

The tomb

View of the tomb from the other side

Inside the tomb

My reveries was cut short by a plane overhead:

Fuzzy shot of RAF planes on their training run

inside the ancient tomb

dirt and silence

scream of fighter jet

As my novel is set centuries before the medieval period, and time was running out, I didn’t investigate the chapel, except for taking some distant photos.

Capel Lligwy

That’s it for now. As always, I hope you’re enjoying these posts and I welcome any comments.

Cofion Cymes
Earl