I have an Agent – a real literary agent.

Hi all,

Hope you’re all keeping well.

As most of you who follow this blog know, I’ve been writing for many years now, with successes small and medium – short story publications, award longlistings, a blog that some people read occasionally and might even find either entertaining or educational.

(By the way, I might come back in a few days and write something new on Covid-19 statistics, but for now, for today at least, this is back to being a writing blog.)

St Patrick’s Day, Calcutta (Kolkata), 1997

Note, 17th March 2020

I originally posted this 4 years ago, but given the lack of St Patrick’s Day parades around the world, I was reminded of this day 23 years ago. I thought of the feeling of sitting in the Fairlawn Hotel, Calcutta (now Kolkata) with a badge on my shirt wondering what the hell I was doing on my own halfway across the world on such a day, and no-one to celebrate it with.

And I thought I’d share it with you – again, for those who read it 4 years ago, or for the first time, for those of you who didn’t.

Between 1996 and 1998 – when the city now called Kolkata was still called Calcutta – I spent some time travelling around the world. The piece below is taken from my journal, with a few slight edits for clarity.

Note: This was my 2nd time in Calcutta/Kolkata on this trip; this stay was only two nights because I was flying to Bangkok on Weds 19th, after 4 months in India and 2 months in Nepal. This isn’t a reflection of how I spent those months, honest – just a snapshot of these 2 days…

Fairlawn Hotel, Calcutta, 6pm Monday 17th March 1997

Paddy’s Day in Calcutta, all the same.

St Patrick’s Day, Calcutta (Kolkata), 1997

Between 1996 and 1998 – when the city now called Kolkata was still called Calcutta – I spent some time travelling around the world. The piece below is taken from my journal, with a few slight edits for clarity.

Note: This was my 2nd time in Calcutta/Kolkata on this trip; this stay was only two nights because I was flying to Bangkok on Weds 19th, after 4 months in India and 2 months in Nepal. This isn’t a reflection of how I spent those months, honest – just a snapshot of these 2 days…

Fairlawn Hotel, Calcutta, 6pm Monday 17th March 1997

Paddy’s Day in Calcutta, all the same.

Jam on the Doorhandle

A few years ago, I was heading to the west of Ireland with some friends. It was raining (as it often is in Ireland) and we stopped off for something to eat in a pub somewhere. We were sitting by the window, and outside there was a small playground. A little girl, maybe 5 or 6 years old, came over to the window and, with the heavy sigh of a 50 year-old, shook her head and said “It’s too late now, to go out on the swings.”

Myths and Fairytales – Why oh why?

The world into which Homo Sapiens emerged 200,000 years ago was a pretty harsh place. Individual humans wouldn’t have been the strongest, or the quickest creatures in the world of the time. They didn’t have the warm coats of some animals, or the sharp teeth of others, couldn’t climb as well as the ones who were neither vicious nor fast – in many respects, it’s amazing that the species survived at all, let alone thrived to the extent that we have.

But we did, and why?

Because of two things: co-operation and stories (the former only made possible by the latter).

Because we learned to communicate with one another about the dangers outside the cave.

Because Mr Ug was able to tell Miss Gar that there was a hairy creature with big teeth that could run really fast and if she watched out for it very carefully and hid in a hole when she saw it coming, she’d be OK (an early example of mansplaining).

And then someone figured out how to start a fire, someone else fashioned stone tools. And they told stories about what they were, how to use them, when to hold them and when to throw them to the ground and run (an early example of Kenny Rogers).

And then the human race spread across the world, and the dangers from wild animals receded a little. As we became “civilised” in towns and cities, it was people themselves who became the dangers. We began to tell stories of conflict – of the battles between the gods (Tiamat in Babylonian mythology attempting to avenge the murder of her husband, Abzu, being defeated by Marduk, and her body used to create the world), and of human’s incidental involvement in them, legitimising ancient enmities (the siege of Troy and numerous others).

We told stories of love and devotion (Isis and Nephthys together combing Egypt for Osiris’s dismembered body, together restoring it to wholeness so that Isis could conceive his child; OK, seriously weird and twisted, but that – as you will see – is kinda my point) to remind us that love is something divinely inspired. After all, if the gods can love as completely and single-mindedly as this, then why can’t we?

And then there are the tales that simply warn us that other humans are scary.

Vampires – or creatures fitting the common description of vampires – are prevalent across many cultures. I’m no expert, but a quick glance at Wikipedia gives us the vetalas in ancient Indian folklore, vyrkolakas in Greece, moroi in Romania, the impundulu of Southern Africa, the patasola in South America, and the Cullens of Stephanie Meyer.

All of them serving the same purpose: warning the listener to be wary – either these creatures hide in the forests waiting to pounce, or they disguise themselves as humans and lure you away to do nasty things to you. So, children, be careful! (Or be so pale that you are dangerously attractive to both vampires and werewolves).

The mythologies were complex, because – as any author knows – you need to have a compelling backstory to your characters, but the fundamental message was always the same: the world is a dangerous place, so be careful.

Since then, we’ve taken away the edge from a lot of the stories. I mean, very few love stories these days have a woman and her husband’s mistress flying around the country trying to sew the husband’s body back together so that she can conceive a child and gain revenge on the man who chopped him up. (Although… mental note for a new idea for a novel).

Even the folk tales that have survived have been diluted. Very few of us know the version of Rumpelstiltskin (the inspiration for my “The Straw Man” in “A Seeming Glass”) where he stamps his right foot so hard that it sinks into the ground, and in a rage he pulls at his left leg so hard that he tears his own body in two.

Or the one where the king who finds Sleeping Beauty is not so chivalrous when he first finds her asleep. And the story called “How Children Played Slaughter with One Another” (though the translation of the title varies) from the early Grimms’ Fairy Tales is probably not one that would be classed as a fairy tale at all anymore. For the last two, I’ll spare the details here, but anyone interested can click on the links above.

So the message is that fairy tales, myths, legends etc. are not, at heart, the pleasant, sanitised stories we tell our children. They are hard stories, designed for a hard world, designed to warn children and adults that they shouldn’t expect their prince to come and save them, for a fairy godmother to make their worries go away, or for a magic wand with a phoenix’s feather to be the perfect tool to save the world.

Oddly, exactly the opposite of what our fairy tales do today.

And yet… we still love the darkness. We still love being scared, being warned, being taught lessons.

So, in A Seeming Glass, The Random Writers have tried to resurrect the nastiness of the original stories, but in a way that still feels fresh and new. Remembering what the stories were for, but bearing in mind that the audience needs them to be told in a different way.

Because the world is still a scary place, and it’s still important to know what to do when you see a hairy creature with big teeth that can run really fast.

 

Martin J Gilbert

Dreams

“You’ve got to have a dream. If you don’t have a dream. How you gonna have a dream come true?” – Captain Sensible: Happy Talk.

Dreams are funny things.

Procrastination

“In the old days, writers used to sit in front of a typewriter and stare out of the window. Nowadays, because of the marvels of convergent technology, the thing you type on and the window you stare out of are now the same thing.” – Douglas Adams

We all do lots of different things to put off the tasks we don’t like – and sometimes even the tasks we enjoy, but just don’t feel like doing right now.

Walls

People are very good at building walls – we have to be, to survive. Not physical walls (though we are pretty good at building those too), but mental walls, barriers to keep things separated in our minds.

We need to be able to separate things, to put one thing in this box here, another thing in that box there. We know that truth is this thing, fiction another. We know that we might need to be one person in work, but another one at home. Our immediate family is a self-contained unit, our friends another. We need to be aware of all of these things, because some people know some aspects of our lives, others don’t.

What is the World?

What is the world?

Is it what we see, or is it what we feel? Is there an absolute, definitive truth out there, or is it just a patchwork quilt of sewn-together perceptions that we gather in our brains and try to make sense of?