One Ashworth...

You know me, always hanging out with the literati, right? So today, I had coffee or lunch, I'm not sure (I had coffee; she had lunch), with Jenn Ashworth, pictured here at the Bugged launch at Manchester Literature Festival 2010. I wanted to find out about some of her current projects, of which you will be privy to more very shortly right here. Happens I'm also just in the middle of Jenn's debut novel, A Kind Of Intimacy. You don't need to say it; I'm a slow reader: Jenn's second offering, Cold Light, is out at the end of this month, and she's well on the way to a first draft of her third.


For a sneak preview of the second, and possibly the third, of Jenn's books, get yourself over to the Martin Harris Centre at the Manchester University, tomorrow (Thursday 7 April) at 6.30pm. As writing fellow for the University's Centre for New Writing, Jenn will be reading some of her work and answering questions from the floor, alongside poet Paul Batchelor. You should go: it'll be worth the trip!

Voluntary sector

Roll up, roll up: a number of very exciting projects and festivals are in need of your assistance and spare time and I know full well y'all have it in abundance, you dirty reprobates you.

Numero uno is Chorlton Arts Festival "one of the largest multi-arts events in the north of England and a showcase for visual and performing artists, with record attendance figures in 2010 of over 25,000 people" - I got that quote off one of my press releases... I am the festival's press officer, but I need help (and not just in my usual idiotic issues way)! If you want to give me a hand writing and disseminating press releases, talking to journos, and generally promoting the event in the run-up to and during festival week (Thursday 19 May to Monday 30 May), please send me good vibes and smoke signals, uppers and cake! A phone number and email address would be pretty useful too, so I can get in touch with you.

Also starting on 19 May, and running to 21 May, is Station Stories, the literary brainchild of my author pal David Gaffney. Set in Piccadilly Station, the Arts Council-funded craziness will feature a number of local writers - Jenn Ashworth, Tom Fletcher, Nick Royle, Peter "Bookmunch" Wild and poet Tom Jenks - telling tales at noon, 3pm and 7pm on each of the three days. Project manager Diana Hamilton is looking for volunteers to help out 11am to 8.30/9pm on the performance days - runners, guides, techies, meeter-greeters... Email diana@thehamiltonproject.co.uk or call 01625 265055.

Station Stories is in association with the wonderful Manchester Literature Festival, which is also looking for help with this year's shindig, taking place 13 to 23 October. Volunteers are needed so events run smoothly (so, again, meet'n'greet, info, guestlist etc) and the festival is also looking to sign up bloggers to help promote the various activities on its dedicated blog. I've done it for the past two years, and it's a great way to meet folk, see some stuff for nowt, and get your name bandied about. Anyhoooo, if you fancy signing up, there's now an online form. Questions and queries, direct to the lovely Jon Atkin via admin@manchesterliteraturefestival.co.uk.

Last but by no means least is the gigantic Manchester International Festival, the grand unveiling of which I was very kindly invited to recently. Volunteers help the whole glittering shebang go round, so get yourself over to the website and stick your bloody name down. MIF runs 30 June-17 July. Worries and concerns, speak to Caroline via volunteering@mif.co.uk or 0161 238 7319.

Novella idea

Anyone who follows me on Twitter might have noticed I was in Northumberland over the weekend, having a spot of well-earned time off from my present contract and busting some moves at a wedding in the French-style surrounds of Alnwick Garden. I can now state with absolute certainty that the combination of a cheese sarny and a stride along a wind-swept beach really is the cure for a beer-wine-spirit-induced hangover, even if I can't be sure what said spirit actually was (although its magical properties were well documented as one of our friends flew around the floor to MC Hammer).

Plus, as if more excitement were needed - apart from the wedding, the witnessing of our new-last-year tent withstanding some pretty hardcore gales (although not without damage, it has to be said) and a two-way trip through Rothbury (yes, that Rothbury) - I was treated to a mosey around "one of Britain's largest secondhand bookshops", recommended to me by a certain ex-patriated American in Ramsbottom.


Located in an old railway terminus, Barter Books has everything: a station cafe, lots of battered plush velvet seats scattered about, a "muriel", as Mum says, of famous authors (from Alan Bennett to Virginia Woolf), a complete selection of Keep Calm And Carry On memorabilia (the original poster was, legend has it, discovered in a box of books the storekeepers acquired at auction), a miniature train chugging about above the bookshelves and, oh yes, books. Tons of the monsters.

I picked up Nicola Barker's Small Holdings. I'd read on Who The Fudge Is Benjamin Judge? that her previous tome, Reversed Forecast, was "splendid", and this novella (it's only 130 pages or so long) is a lovely Faber & Faber edition with a waxy black cover and a photo of half a giant red onion. It's also about gardening, which added to the attraction. I even came home and planted some more salad seeds. Anyway these initial warm feelings were borne out and I managed to read the whole book in my makeshift home parallel to Hadrian's Wall, which is a very good sign indeed. I'm still not quite sure what happens at the end, but no matter, it'll be one of those things I think about and gradually digest. What really struck me was the characterisation - really amazing and detailed - plus some almost poetic playing about with words. The penultimate paragraph is a case in hand, but I don't want to go spoiling it for you. Just read it and see.

I was pleased, therefore, to see that Barker has made it through to Round Three of Benjamin's World Cup Literary Distraction (as mentioned back in June), and is the next fixture. However, I can't cheer her on as she's up against lovely local Elizabeth Baines and, as I was chatting to the newly becoiffed Ms Baines only last night, I'd feel guilty. (BTW, Elizabeth is doing a reading tonight, from 7pm, as part of the Didsbury Oxfam Bookfest programme - more on last night's event very soon.) I know it's not technically possible in a World Cup context, but I can only hope for a draw.

Caught short

On the last day of the first Didsbury Arts Festival, I've left my Chorlton comfort zone and taken part in a workshop on fiction writing. It was held by novelist and short story writer Robert Graham, who is a lecturer for MMU Cheshire and has published the useful tome How To Write Fiction (And Think About It) (Palgrave Macmillan, 2006, £14.99).



I've been reading a lot of short stories lately, notably Dylan Thomas and Roald Dahl, and was after a bit of guidance to help me get my own ideas down on paper. We learnt about characterisation and immediacy, and we wrote some stuff off the cuff, there and then, in the class, hangovers and all. Here are three of my stories, each written in about five minutes flat.

This one was about a man, of whom I had been given a photograph and had previously been tasked with describing. I picked the situation "walking into a party" from a list we were presented with.

Standing at the edge of the room, Michael nursed a warm bottle of Old Speckled Hen and eyed the other guests cautiously. Realising he had been loitering alone a little too long, he made a beeline for the table where a simple buffet was laid out, and perused the food on offer. It was just as he was reaching out for a coronation chicken sandwich on white sliced that a voice made him jump.
"Do you come here often?"
He swerved round, holding the beer and sandwich up and close, and peered at the intruder.
"My name's Susan," she said, smiling.
"Oh, er, Michael. Er, Mike," he replied, putting the bottle down and holding out his right hand.
"I saw you standing on your own and thought I'd come over and make sure you're OK," said Susan.

This one was to lead on from the sentence: "I wonder if this happens to a lot of people".

I wonder if this happens to a lot of people. It's certainly not the first time it's happened to me. I supposed I really should learn, but I'm always in a hurry, and generally I have my hands full as I'm on my way to work. The first time it happened, I managed to ram my hands onto a black lady's ample bosom. It was so embarrassing but thankfully she saw the funny side of it.

This one was following an exercise when we worked in pairs to come up with three scenarios which included a person, a place and a problem. We then had to pick one person, one place and one problem, but not the ones that went together. I ended up with "teenage girl", "park bench, eating lunch", and "loses her son".

Bethany liked going to the park to have her lunch; it got her out of the poky council house she shared with her mum and younger brother. It also meant Ryan, who was now two and quite boisterous, could run around and wear himself out so she could have a nice, fuss-free evening in front of the telly. That wasn't going to happen this Thursday, however, although as yet she didn't know that. As usual, she laboured with the pushchair on the rough ground just inside the gate and went straight to the bench near the tree. She unclipped Ryan and lifted him out, then watched as he ran over to the roundabout where some other children were playing. She sat down and reached under the pushchair for her sandwiches, wrapped in an old Sunblest bag. She pulled one out and sank her teeth into the soft white bap, the tang of Cheddar almost a surprise. Looking over towards the roundabout, she saw it spinning, growing gradually slower, but the children were gone; the two that had been there and Ryan, who had joined them.

I really enjoyed myself, and hopefully I've learnt something useful. Robert Graham was a good teacher and a very nice man, and everyone seemed to have fun.

Robert is taking part in the upcoming Manchester Literature Festival
(see www.manchesterliteraturefestival.co.uk for full details), in a free event called Northern Salt on Sunday 18 October at 3pm at the Whitworth. This is a showcase of Northern talent, all published by the independent publisher Salt, and Robert will be reading some of his work, alongside prizewinning writer Elizabeth Baines, novelist Mark Illis and poet John Siddique.