'It's like your gran... turned into Beyoncé'

This is a big week for Liverpool and for libraries. After a three years closure, the Liverpool Central Library has reopened following a £55million PFI-funded refurb.

(They probably want their Borrowers back, too. We inherited a few for a while, but as will all things library-related, they have to be returned.)

As the Daily Mail said:

'It's like going to meet your gran and finding she's turned into Beyoncé'.

It is indeed a breathtaking building: like a high-tech Hogwarts it has layers of floating walkways hovering above a central area which spirals upwards to a quirky out-of-kilter dome. The old-world splendour of the Picton Reading Room and Horny Library sit surprisingly comfortably alongside the chrome, glass and on-trend big letters/bright colours.

It's a building that lends itself to being a library (see what I did there?) and a very beautiful place to be and I could quite happily live there.  Ooh, I have library envy.

They even have books.

But while the media response to what the Liverpool Echo calls the city's 'new cathedral of knowledge' has been rapturous, these are times of austerity, and the money to run it has to come from somewhere.

Three Liverpool libraries have been closed, 76 jobs lost and opening hours reduced to help fund the City Council's commitment to the landmark building agreed by the previous LibDem administration.


It's very automated too - a subject I'll be coming back to. There are computers everywhere and free wifi throughout but it'll be interesting to see how many actual staff there are and how the borrowers react to space-age borrowing.

But with so many libraries are closing (give yourself a scare by checking out this map) it's good to see that so much has been invested in a new one - may it shine like a beacon of hope across the land!

Talking of beacons, the reopening last night as part of Light Night, where the city's arty farty smarties compete to lure the public to be dazzled by late-night shenanagins.

I managed to miss most of it, except for this rather groovy kaleidescope of light projected onto the Oratory of the Anglican Cathedral. The patterns were made by shards of stained glass.

(And that's the second time this week I've been forced to use the word 'shard'. I'll have the Poetry Police after me at this rate.)

A funny week... in a very 'literal' sense

Ian MacMillan welcomes everyone at the door

I don't get out much, but I've had four nights of laughter on the run!

First up was Eddie Izzard: Force Majeure at the Echo Arena. I've followed him since the 90's and he's one of my fave comedians. I love his surreal logic and improvisations. Genius!

Monday was my first time at Liver Bards - a rumbustious cornucopia of performance poetry. The co-hosts are a comedy double-act (but shhh ... don't tell them)- Steve rambles and disorganises while Dave attempts to keep accountant-style order. But you can't herd poets.

Next, as part of Liverpool City Council's poorly-advertised In Other Words literary festival, was an evening with Barnsley bard Ian MacMillan. With his BBC Radio 3 show and poetry aficionado credentials I thought he'd be more serious...and taller. But his gigs are inclusive (he met everyone at the door!), hilarious, fast-paced, anarchic and did I mention inclusive? This meant a lot of audience participation - singing and co-creating a unique epic poem to music. He's coming to Hoylake next year - you have been warned!

Last night was Flash in the Dark - the finals of a short horror competition run by Writing on the Wall . It wasn't supposed to be funny and much of it wasn't (my zombie mood piece 'Homecoming' had been shortlisted) - some truly gruesome offerings and well-deserved winners. But the guests, Les Malheureux, were even better than I expected - quirky short fiction performed by two of my flash heroes: David Gaffney and Sarah-Clare Conlon to a musical and visual landscape. Witty and unsettling.
*Note to self - MUST get them to Wirral!

What tickles your funny bone? Who are your favourite comedians?

Superdense

What's on the conveyer belt then?  My story Cuddly toy, fondue set was published on Flash Flood a couple of days ago and my single-sentence 100 worder 'Slather' was highly commended in the National Flash Fiction Day competition.

This flurry of short fiction prompted Benjamin Judge - a flash fictioneer from Manchester - to ask the question: Do we need a National Flash Fiction Day?  In particular, he worries about the term 'flash' implying something dashed off, instant and disposable... a poor cousin on longer fiction.

In fact good flash fiction takes more effort and editing than longer work - each word has to work harder. By focusing on the particular it, ideally, reveals something bigger. More like a flash of lightening or a camera exposing an essential truth.

I'd like to get all sciencey about it but I'm not trained. I want to say it's 'neutron' fiction - because I think neutron means tiny but superdense, but when I looked it up on Wikidpedia my eyes glazed over.  I think, yes, NFFD a good way to introduce readers to the form, promote excellence in it and create links between people who like writing it.

What does 'flash' fiction imply to you? Do you like your fiction superdense or would you rather linger? And what else would be a good name for it? Answers on a cyber postcard.

Incidentally, Benjamin writes excellent tiny stories about famous writers, called, appropriately enough Very Short Stories about Very Good Writers.  Benjamin lives in a curious world of his own creation where Saul Bellow gets all pie-charty, Wendy Cope does it Gangam Style and Agatha Christie is abducted by George Clooney.

p.s. My topsy-turvy little parable Sky/Sea is in Flash Frontier's April issue (you have to scroll down a bit to get to it)

Hungry Dogs

When I was a kid (and yes, I was weird then, too) I used to collect proverbs the way other kids collected... I don't know... what were they collecting?

I wrote my favourites down in an exercise book - and although I've only recently rediscovered the book, it turns out I've been using some of these lesser-known proverbs over the years even though no-one else has heard of them - just another reason why people look at me funny.

But it has always saddened me that people stick to the same old sayings when there are rich pickings:

• He who has a head of wax should not walk in the sun 

• Far fowls have fine feathers 

• You a lady, I a lady, who will milk the cow?

• Praise is not pudding

• He who speaks the truth must have one foot in the stirrup

• He that thatches his house with turds will have more teachers than reachers

• A cat in gloves catches no mice

• Random stomping seldom catches bugs

• He that lives in hope, dances without music

• Toasted cheese hath no master

I mention all this now because one of my favourites (because it is so very true and I really can't think of another that says the same thing so appositely) is:

• Hungry dogs will eat dirty puddings. 

It's a proper proverb... it says so here.

I mention this, because my very short story - Hungry dogs, dirty puddings - was featured last week on 3:AM Magazine. (Rated 'R' for adult content and obscenity - mum will be so proud!)

Btw, looking for an illustration for this post, I found the one above that would have done nicely for my Mousetrap post. Really, I'd have liked to use this from the Saatchi Galleries but am probably not allowed to.

Flash... aha!

'Tis the season to be flashy, with various contests around in the run-up to National Flash Fiction Day on June 21st.

I was chuffed to get one of my short, shorts if not exactly in Smokelong Quaterly, at least on the back of one of their giveaway candy cigarette boxes. I know: WTF?  The stories had to be under 40 words

Here's the story:

Hunter

All day he’d been hunting for that screwdriver, his grubby fingers blunt amongst the sharp things. Nothing.
At nightfall, he scattered a trail of screws in likely corners, and waited.
Finally his patience paid off...

So anyway, those competitions:

The first is from the lovely people at Flashtag, Manchester, part of the Chorlton Arts Festival. You may remember, I won this one last year with 'Two Swans' - which is now in the excellent (and freely downloadable) Listerature II anthology. This year they want 400 words by 26th April on the fairly all-encompassing theme of: Past, Present, Future.

The second is Writing on the Wall's 'In the dark' competition - 500 words by 6th May. What I don't like about this competition is that all entries have to be posted to their site, which means they're technically published if you ant to send them somewhere else.

 I can't pretend either of these offers much reward to winners except a lovely warm feeling, some literary freebies and the chance to go on and on about it on their blogs.  But the third - The Bridport Prize - offers a whopping £1000 first prize for the best 250word flash - deadline  31st May.

There's an excellent guest post by Vanesse Grebbie on the Bridport Prize site, and she also has a fun flash fiction exercise on the Writers & Artists site.

You might also like to read about the most quoted six-word stroy ever written: Hemmingway story explained

The plot thickens...

I blogged last month about my 'secret admirer' Valentine.

I still have no idea who it is, but another gift and letter appeared in the library last week addressed to me. Well-written, witty, with poetic interludes, the letter doesn't give much away except that he may read this blog, has seen my writing online and, oh yes, he wants me to meet him.

He names a time and a public place... nothing sinister. But if he has the confidence and covert skills to deliver two red packages in a public place entirely un-witnessed, along with the words and chocolates, is there a cloak and dagger?

How to take this depends very much whether your fictional leanings are romantic (think: Cyrano de Bergerac, Milk Tray man, You've Got Mail) or something darker (think: Scream, One Hour Photo, Phantom of the Opera). I have mixed feelings. The idea of being whisked away to an underground lair by a mysterious devotee is romantic in fantasy but not something you would necessarily wish to really happen.

If I don't show up, he says he may 'declare himself' to me in the library. Awkward - especially if he is a regular borrower. My mystery packages have generated interest amongst co-workers who have taken to looking at everyone I talk to funny. Also, being approached at work when we're very busy (we've been short staffed and hard-pressed lately) could be tricky. 8-/

But anyway, I won't be showing up at the time and place suggested - it clashes with a rare visit from my brother who is taking the family to lunch in New Brighton that day to celebrate Easter and my Dad's birthday. But I have no way of telling my secret admirer that I have another engagement...

...except, perhaps, this.

A mysterious package

Romance and mystery are in the air at the library where I work. Last Thursday - Valentine's Day - a gift bag was found on the returned fiction trolley with my name on it. I only work Mondays and Tuesdays so I didn't get it until yesterday.

Inside was a box of choccies and a poem. No name, no clue.

I have no idea who it is from! I assume they wrote the poem, and it's rather good, so that narrows it down somewhat, but I do know a LOT of poets! But some of the Borrowers could be secret poets!

If they copied the poem from somewhere, that opens it right up again. I am eyeing everyone who comes in with suspicious eyes, looking for sign. I have considered going through all the membership forms comparing handwriting or getting forensics to brush the paper for prints...

But at the same time I am quite enjoying not knowing!