I'm revisiting a previous work, Merely Players which I originally completed back in 2011. I was thrilled to find that it's in pretty good shape - or at least the last two thirds are. The first third is a bit of a cringe a minute, but with the clarity brought by the passage of *gulp* five years, I think I can see exactly where it needs to be fixed.
Excellent. Merely Players is set in 1814 London, in the world of non-patent illegitimate theatres. Thanks to the 1737 licensing act, theatres required a patent from the Lord Chancellor in order to perform serious, spoken word drama--in particular, Shakespeare. The purpose of this was, of course, to censor what went on stage.
The creative arts being, well, creative, actors and theatre managers soon found a loophole and non-patent or illegitimate theatres sprang up in all the major cities in England. These were commercial outfits putting on non-serious productions which included a strong musical element - comedy, pantomime and melodrama.
My two protagonists are both writers. One, a dramatist who has lost his writing mojo, the other a pamphleteer who has to hide her light under a bushel. As soon as they meet, creative sparks fly and the two end up partnering on a production... until it all goes wrong of course.
Wednesday, 11 January 2017
Monday, 9 January 2017
My friend Laura , a wonderfully talented photographer, has been working on a new collection. She calls it Serpents. I've been drinking it in, letting it soak into my imagination. To me, the images are wild, intimate and distant, a little painful. Things are close but shimmering just beyond reach. There are monsters lurking in the mist. There is longing hidden in the waves. And there are tears smeared across the lens and tumult fading into soft, grey calm.
The images make me think of selkies and the conflict inherent in motherhood. Selkies were mythical creatures who resembled seals when they were in the water but shed their skins on land to take on the appearance of a beautiful human. If a man could find a selkie woman's skin she would be forced to become his wife, and bear his children. But she would never lose her longing for the sea and if she found her skin, she would return leaving her human family behind.
This is just one response to those images... more to follow.
|By Laura Ward.|
Dread woke him. He lay stiff under his scratchy, eyes tight shut. If he didn’t open his eyes, he could pretend the black Things on the ceiling weren’t there. Wriggling, writhing, moving shadow things. Reaching for him.
Not there. You’re not there.