What do you do when you get writer’s block? Do you go over your work? Consult a friend maybe? Or do you use a self-help device that gets rid of writer’s block. In today’s society there are so many gadgets for writers to help get their juices flowing that it’s hard to pick just one. Do you opt for story cubes or perhaps The Writer’s Toolbox? Even self-help books on overcoming writer’s block is becoming increasingly popular. The question however that is lurking at the back of 
my mind, is whether they actually work. Will using this product be more beneficial than a stroll to clear your mind? I understand that some people may conjure up a plot from a writing exercise, but are these writing tools and exercises worth relying on? I have attempted to create a plot from several of these writing gadgets, yet my most worthy ideas have came from travelling or just as I was about to go to sleep. After my attempts with the supposedly writing tools, I began to question whether the thought of using one of these strategies was actually better than using one. At Waterstones there is a book called, Get Ready, Get Set, Novel! At first glance it sounds really exciting, by completing the book you should be ready to start writing a novel. Then it dawned on me. Procrastination was what this book truly was. So after reflecting on this incident, could writing gadgets just be a way for writers to procrastinate. I m
ean going to a creative writing workshop is different as ideas are generated among the group and people come out inspired to write. However these books and gadgets that tell us how to write, appear to simply be there for us to procrastinate with. With that in mind, how do you start a novel? Do you begin with procrastinating (because we all need a tidy desk, a clean room and a cup of tea by our side before we begin), do you just write down whatever comes to mind as your ideas generate over the page, or do you wait for the idea to come to mind before you begin. This is just a brief thought about writing a novel, because obviously no one said it was going to be easy. However how do you start when you do not know how to begin?
Tag: creative writing
Bones of Birds by Jo Colley
Smokestack Books £7.95 ISBN: 978 0 9929581 1 4
On Tuesday 24th Februrary, The University of Teesside were proud to host Jo Colley’s book launch of her new anthology Bones of Birds. The evening at The University of Teessid
e kick started with Andy Croft, founder of Smokestack Books, describing Jo Colley’s latest anthology Bones of Birds as “a beautiful book inside and out” and “extraordinarily original.” After such a warm welcome, Jo Colley began to read several of her poems out of her anthology, to help lure the audience into her way of seeing the world.
Bones of Birds is about flying and falling from one extreme to the other. The anthology describes the act of flying and falling physically as well as describing the highs and lows of everyday life and dreaming into the abyss.
Throughout the night Jo Colley explains her influences for each poem, so that her audience can understand the relation between the two. After discussing several of her poems, a Q and A session took place, to learn more detail of why she had created the collection and what it meant to her for the anthology to be published. Colley explains that her work focuses on escapism. With her father being in the RAF, she was brought up around planes and even wanted to be an air hostess at one point. Everyone laughed in nostalgia, I mean who wouldn’t want to be an air hostess? With escapism coming naturally to her when thinking about flying, it was well suited that she decided to write Bones of Birds. With this, the crowd listened intently on her further readings of her anthology, applauding each piece along the way.
Each poem that was read at the book launch of Bones of Birds was written effortlessly, as if the wording was at ease upon the ears. The storytelling performance of the poems helped intrigue the audience and rightly did so. Not a word or sound escaped the audience as they fell in trance to another one of Colley’s mesmerising pieces.
Towards the end of the night, refreshments were given and people were able to buy their 
copy of Colley’s anthology, followed by a signing of the book. Everyone was in high spirits as laughter filled the room and discussions of the poems followed into the night. This event was organised by Andy Willoughby and Bob Beagrie, founders of Ek Zuban and senior lecturers in Creative Writing at The University of Teesside. If anyone would like to learn more about Jo Colley’s Bones of Birds, visit http://smokestack-books.co.uk/book.php?book=103 were you are able to purchase the book and read some of the sample poems that were performed at the launch.
There it goes again for the second day in a row, the siren of a deadly warning. Well, that’s what my mother says. It reminds me of the sound of a fire engine. Nee naw, nee naw, loud enough for all to hear. My mother grabs my mask and drags me towards the huge tunnel that is covered with sandbags.
“No mother, not again. I want to go and see the fire engine.”
“No you don’t Jimmy. Just get into the shelter and be a good boy okay?” I look behind me to try and see the fire engine but everyone else keeps blocking my view.
“Please mother, it can’t be that far away, it’s too loud not to be.”
“It’s not a fire engine Jimmy, it’s a reminder that the Germans are coming.” We walk down a few steps until I see the tunnel in front of me.
“So why do we have to come down here if they are coming to see us?” The tunnel is filled with other families, I even spot a few of my friends so I wave at them to get their attention. Mother pulls me to the floor to sit me down and tightens her grip a little too tight. I try to break free but she just holds me closer.
“Are you okay?”
“I will be soon, just stay in my view and we’ll be fine.” She hugs me, “here, I thought you might want this to play with.” Out of her coat pocket she pulls out my favourite fire engine. I go to grab it but she moves it out of reach.
“Don’t snatch.” My finger tips move, clawing at the air to get my toy. She smiles and then gives it to me because she knew I really wanted it. I want to be a fireman when I grow up. I play with the fire engine as if it was my own engine so I can rescue people. I make some explosion sounds but no one could hear me because of the noise coming from the ceiling of the tunnel. I wish it would be quiet so I could play properly.
“Nee naw, nee naw,” I drove the truck to the left. “Sssshhhhhhhh,” I spray all of the water on one building and then hurry over to another. My mother kisses my head which I don’t really understand why and then picks up my toy.
“Come on, time to go,” she helps me to my feet and we walk up the stairs.
“This was fun. Can do it again but a bit longer next time?”
“We were down there for half an hour Jimmy?”
“But can we still do it again?” I pout my face because I know she can’t resist it. She sighs,
“Of course we can Jimmy. At this rate we might need to make a shelter in our garden.” Told you. We get to the top of the stairs and I can see nothing but grey smoke covering the sky. I look to the left and right and saw two fire engines. I smile because I get to see the fire engine and then look at mother. She’s upset which makes me confused. I look to where she is looking and I see half of a house with a bedroom on show. I squint my eyes through the smoke to see clearly. The bedroom was mine.
“Mother?”
“I know,” she bends down and hugs me. I saw a fireman injured from putting out the fires, some even had blankets over their face.
“Mother?”
“yes?”
“I don’t want to be a fireman anymore.”
Charlotte Anne Barker 