Did I mention I was a total disaster - as in if it can go wrong, Sheryl is usually at the heart of it? I’m the one who falls off public transport whilst on crutches and ends up back the hospital, remember? The person who disappears over the backs of boats and no one notices is missing, that’s me.
I was recently super-proud to be part of the School of English,
Birmingham City University Creative Summer Show, where I was to read part of my
short, The Memory Box, which has been included in the Birmingham City University Anthology, Paper
and Ink (this year’s collection of new fiction, life writing, poetry
and script). The anthology was edited by Rhoda
Greaves, Zoe Southall and L.M. Thompson, who worked extremely hard and did
an absolutely fantastic job. Bear in mind, I am to be in the company some fabulously
talented, inspiring writers here, cue nervous nail-biting and manic mantra
chanting, I will not fall in a dead faint at the podium. I will not trip over
my feet, fall down the steps going to the podium, and bite off my tongue. I MUST not be late! I will not fall…
The show featured readings by students on the BCU creative writing
programme, and was hosted by Ian
Marchant (author of the memoir Something of the Night, the travel books The
Longest Crawl and Parallel Lines, and the novels In Southern Waters and The Battle
for Dole Acre), who managed to make me smile, even through my mantra chanting,
with his witty introductions. Until he introduced me, that was. In my defence,
the reason I was late was… Seriously, have you ever driven from Worcester to
Birmingham in the rush hour, patted yourself on the back at having managed to
negotiate your way there and found a parking spot, and then had minor palpitations
when you realise it’s a PRIVATE car-park – on a one-way street. Oh, dear, I uttered demurely, set off to find
another, and promptly got lost. Yep, that’s me, perpetually missing.
So, Ian introduces me precisely one minute after I’ve tiptoed – late
– across the floor in front of EVERYBODY and the palpitations escalate to
imminent heart attack level. I will not trip over my feet...
I didn’t trip over my feet and, like a real trooper, completely
ignored all my worldly good, including my sat nav – without which I would never
be seen again, sliding down the back of my chair as I stood, and took my place
at the podium. My mouth, by now, was parched. I hadn’t got enough spit to even swallow.
I was shaking, from the inside out. Catching the wonderful Zoe’s eyes, however,
and receiving a lovely smile of encouragement from Rhoda, and another from
Sally Watson-Jones, I steeled myself… I will not fall in a dead faint at the
podium …and, after a wobbly start, I got through it – and was marginally
ecstatic that I had.
I should say that I have given talks before, I am published and it
comes with the territory. This, however, was that little bit more worrying for
me. Having waited – age not disclosed – many years to grasp the chance to
undertake my MA, I really was nervous. Can I actually do it, has been the
overriding worry. With one or two major life events recently conspiring to
divert my attention, my worry multiplied threefold. However, I am now halfway
through the course. I AM doing it and I think that’s largely down to the lovely
supportive lecturers at BCU (staff in general) and the also lovely and
supportive fellow students I’ve had the pleasure of studying with.
The guest speaker at the
show was the novelist, playwright, and television writer Stephen May, author of Life! Death! Prizes! (shortlisted for the
Costa Novel Award 2012), TAG, and Teach Yourself Creative Writing. Stephen injected
just the right amount of realism regarding the life of an author into his talk,
but also a healthy dollop of humour. So, once the nerves had been subdued by a
large glass of medicinal wine, I relaxed, laughed and thoroughly enjoyed the evening.
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| Ian Marchant and Stephen May |
