I’ve just spent the last couple of days making sure that the Creative Writing Expo went smoothly – a chance for editors, agents and the general public to hear some of the great writing coming out of Scotland. We had a delicious lunch reception to give the writers and publishers time to mingle – thank you Appetite for the spicy prawns and strawberry tarts. All involved seemed to have a good time, and the high quality of the writing got as many compliments as the food.
The event reminded me of my very first Book Festival launch party, five years ago. Itchy Coo were launching their Scots picture book Katie’s Coo (delicious free ice-cream) and had a life-sized cow that moo-ed for the children to play with. ‘Secret service’-style bodyguards swooped in to check out the Party Pavilion before First Minister Jack McConnell arrived to launch the book. The most memorable line from them – “The First Minister will pat the cow; the First Minister will not milk the cow.” Not even the hint of a smile…
Thursday, 27 August 2009
Wednesday, 26 August 2009
Parmesan and poetry
Yesterday, day 11 in Charlotte Square and a list! To the gardens, to the press pod (spotted en route: Russell Brand teetering on cowboy boot heels surrounded by massive entourage; heart-shaped balloon scudding along South Bridge): banana and chocolate chip cupcakes, courtesy of freelance journalist (and domestic goddess?) Senay Boztas. Good start! 6.30pm; sun; then rain, suddenly; vast, snaking queues for Shirley Williams' event, then poet Tim Turnbull, met on the walkway, drinking coffee in preparation for the long drive north and home, having just performed his most unutterably sad sack routine at Utter, had one punter tell him that the sky still in place was reason to be happy, following that. To the Studio Theatre for the 2nd Edwin Morgan International Poetry Competition ceremony - and how fab to see poetry competitions given such a platform: 2 runners up - Kiwi Laura Solomon and Edinburgh-based Diana Hendry, 3rd: Sheenagh Pugh; 2nd: Emily Hasler; 1st: Paul Batchelor, for the very lovely 'Comeuppance', a poem about his grandmother's superstitions (there's now more about the winners on the Vital Synz website). Speaking of grandparents, in the middle of the post-event reception, a quick call to my grandfather on his 83rd birthday - he requested a few bars of the Fields of Athenry - I obliged: if you witnessed this, I wasn't being Irish, drunk and maudlin - just singing a birthday present down the phone, as you do. Meanwhile, back at t'party: Valvona and Crolla goodies - we applauded the parmesan on retro sticks and mini pizzas, nice red and fine chat from Emma Turnbull and Nat Edwards, prize-winning poets Paul (and brilliantly be-striped partner Rachael of Inpress Books) and Diana (and partner Hamish Whyte) and Emily Hasler and judge Polly Clark. To the Yurt, to warm our hands by the fireside, to admire David Bishop's shoes and Sam Kelly's dress, to muse upon the question, can writing really be taught? and to congratulate Loïs 'Logocop' Wolffe on the many lovely parties. A phone call: press pod's Claudia: come to Bramble! 'Mint 500'. 'Gin and Jam'. Something with bananas and liquor, all in stemmed china cups. So it was that the night ended as poetical and bananas and lovely as it had begun.
Tuesday, 25 August 2009
Across The Footlights
As an author or chairperson you seldom really see your audience. The house lights are down during the first part of the event, and when they come up for questions, you can usually only single out the person speaking from the surrounding sea of faces. But as a musician in the Spiegeltent, it’s quite different. The lights remain up, and in the café-style intimacy of the place, you have plenty of time to study your audience as you play.
Last night we (the Birnam Quartet: two fiddles, mandolin and piano) began our set at 9.00 and by 9.30 the tables were filling up with exactly the kind of cross-section of people one would expect to find at the Book Festival. Young, old and middle-aged, couples, singles and small groups of friends, some Scottish (judging from the nods of recognition as we worked through our repertoire of the tunes Robert Burns set his songs to), some visitors I guessed from appearances, and also from the looks of intrigue at this perhaps unfamiliar music.
People came and went. By the second set, as we moved onto some more up-tempo sets of tunes, the Spiegeltent, or maybe it was Charlotte Square itself, was really working its magic and (happily for us) there were smiles and looks of appreciation. Feet tapped, fingers drummed table tops. A well-known broadcaster sprang from her booth and twirled her partner in the aisle. The place felt relaxed, warm, womb-like almost, and I imagined that all the literary experiences of the day were being released by the members of our audience to mingle with the music we were making, words and notes swirling around inside the softly lit, mirrored, wooden panelled tent.
It was just one of the many moments that make August in Charlotte Square so extraordinarily special.
More Audio Events Online
We've just added another 7 audio events featuring 10 authors from the first half of the Festival for you to download.
New authors featured are Tom Parker Bowles, Griff Rhys Jones, Arthur Smith, Martin Stannard (author of Muriel Spark's biography), Irish authors Patrick McCabe and Colm Tóibín, and two sets of Scottish authors - Alex Gray and Denise Mina, and Alan Bissett and Ewan Morrison.
Web stats say Alan Bissett and Ewan Morrison are the most popular so far today!
New authors featured are Tom Parker Bowles, Griff Rhys Jones, Arthur Smith, Martin Stannard (author of Muriel Spark's biography), Irish authors Patrick McCabe and Colm Tóibín, and two sets of Scottish authors - Alex Gray and Denise Mina, and Alan Bissett and Ewan Morrison.
Web stats say Alan Bissett and Ewan Morrison are the most popular so far today!
Feet and inches.
Being part of a book festival, we are often asked to measure things: how full are our theatres? How long is the signing queue? What is the total height of the participants of each event if they stood on each others shoulders? (Answer: results vary wildly. Frank Skinner, suprisingly diminutive, and Will Self who, armed with tiny dog, is a towering specimen of manhood, are living proof). Often we try to measure things well in advance, and to predict exactly what each measurement will mean.
But there are some things which, until they happen, you simply cannot predict: how many inches of rain will it take until the infamous EIBF ducks can be seen floating merrily in the puddles? How many hours of sunshine until the mud turns into lawn again, and becomes picnicable on? (Answer: not many. Book festival go-ers are very brave, and will picnic on even the swampiest lawns.)
And there are some things which it is most delightful not to measure. The joy, wisdom, and twinklings of genius which shine through in the portraits of authors hung around the site. The rapture of a happy audience member who has finally met an author. It is always magical for a reader to meet someone whose fictional worlds they enjoy. The laughter of the seemingly endless seas of children who pour through the doors. The amount of ice cream and cake you can eat in a day.
So while we might know how many tickets we've sold, and how many authors we've given sandwiches to, we don't know the details of every nice experience, every happy coincidence, every joyful picnic on our swampy lawn.
So do tell us. We are curious to know, even if we cannot ever truly measure it.
But there are some things which, until they happen, you simply cannot predict: how many inches of rain will it take until the infamous EIBF ducks can be seen floating merrily in the puddles? How many hours of sunshine until the mud turns into lawn again, and becomes picnicable on? (Answer: not many. Book festival go-ers are very brave, and will picnic on even the swampiest lawns.)
And there are some things which it is most delightful not to measure. The joy, wisdom, and twinklings of genius which shine through in the portraits of authors hung around the site. The rapture of a happy audience member who has finally met an author. It is always magical for a reader to meet someone whose fictional worlds they enjoy. The laughter of the seemingly endless seas of children who pour through the doors. The amount of ice cream and cake you can eat in a day.
So while we might know how many tickets we've sold, and how many authors we've given sandwiches to, we don't know the details of every nice experience, every happy coincidence, every joyful picnic on our swampy lawn.
So do tell us. We are curious to know, even if we cannot ever truly measure it.
Monday, 24 August 2009
Moths in the Spiegeltent
Saturday night in the Spiegeltent…
The wine was poured and all seats taken. It was finally about to happen: one of the events in this year’s programme that the staff were especially excited about. The Moth. Live storytelling. All the way from New York. European premiere. That’s the basic information, but if you haven’t heard of The Moth then a quick Google search will provide you with no less than 2,690,000 hits (although admittedly, some of them may refer to the insect).
Novelist George Dawes Green, who recently published his thriller Ravens, founded this cult gathering back in 1997. The idea is simple and all of us will have done it in one way or another: a cosy night with friends, sitting around a fire for example (or in George’s case, perching on a porch in the deep south of Georgia) telling each other (more or less) spellbinding stories.
Having relocated to New York, George missed these moments. So he decided to organise regular storytelling get-togethers which soon became so popular that George was forced to move them from his living room to a much larger venue. Since then, hundreds of storytellers – ranging from Moby and Ethan Hawke to Richard Price (one of the genius heads behind The Wire, due to appear in Charlotte Square this Friday night) – have shared their stories. There are only two rules: the stories must be no longer than ten minutes and must be true(ish).
Opening storyteller Jessi Klein recalled a trip to Disney World, when she nearly ended up bedding a person (man or woman?) dressed as a chipmunk at her sister’s wedding. Very much like stand-up comedy, it seemed a good warm up for George’s own story from his early adulthood spent in the Deep South. Next up the audience laughed at Jeff Solomon’s hilarious story of his Bar Mitzvah, complicated by his rowing divorced parents being forced into the same room.
Last, but for me the stand out performer of the night, was Edgar Oliver with a story from his remarkable childhood which constantly ranged from highly comic to deeply tragic. Sitting close to the stage I could see the genuine emotion in his face. He had perhaps the most amazing voice I have ever heard, deep yet gentle with exaggerated prolonged vowel sounds, and I was truly mesmerized by his performance. You can imagine how disappointed I was to discover the next day that his play at The Traverse had already finished its run. If you missed The Moth there is however some consolation. You can subscribe to their podcast at www.themoth.org/podcast. Happy listening!
The wine was poured and all seats taken. It was finally about to happen: one of the events in this year’s programme that the staff were especially excited about. The Moth. Live storytelling. All the way from New York. European premiere. That’s the basic information, but if you haven’t heard of The Moth then a quick Google search will provide you with no less than 2,690,000 hits (although admittedly, some of them may refer to the insect).
Novelist George Dawes Green, who recently published his thriller Ravens, founded this cult gathering back in 1997. The idea is simple and all of us will have done it in one way or another: a cosy night with friends, sitting around a fire for example (or in George’s case, perching on a porch in the deep south of Georgia) telling each other (more or less) spellbinding stories.
Having relocated to New York, George missed these moments. So he decided to organise regular storytelling get-togethers which soon became so popular that George was forced to move them from his living room to a much larger venue. Since then, hundreds of storytellers – ranging from Moby and Ethan Hawke to Richard Price (one of the genius heads behind The Wire, due to appear in Charlotte Square this Friday night) – have shared their stories. There are only two rules: the stories must be no longer than ten minutes and must be true(ish).
Opening storyteller Jessi Klein recalled a trip to Disney World, when she nearly ended up bedding a person (man or woman?) dressed as a chipmunk at her sister’s wedding. Very much like stand-up comedy, it seemed a good warm up for George’s own story from his early adulthood spent in the Deep South. Next up the audience laughed at Jeff Solomon’s hilarious story of his Bar Mitzvah, complicated by his rowing divorced parents being forced into the same room.
Last, but for me the stand out performer of the night, was Edgar Oliver with a story from his remarkable childhood which constantly ranged from highly comic to deeply tragic. Sitting close to the stage I could see the genuine emotion in his face. He had perhaps the most amazing voice I have ever heard, deep yet gentle with exaggerated prolonged vowel sounds, and I was truly mesmerized by his performance. You can imagine how disappointed I was to discover the next day that his play at The Traverse had already finished its run. If you missed The Moth there is however some consolation. You can subscribe to their podcast at www.themoth.org/podcast. Happy listening!
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