Nobody heard him, the dead man, But still he lay moaning: I was much further out than you thought And not waving but drowning. I first read Stevie Smith’s poem at school and could make neither head nor tail of it, yet this morning, lying in the dark, the lines above came to me and … Continue reading Not waving…
Month: November 2012
The Writer’s Task
Trawling through my chaotic file system, I came across this, which I wrote a while back - it has at least the merit of brevity ('Brevity is the soul of wit - if you can't be witty, at least be brief') : 'A character must do, not what I want him or need him to do … Continue reading The Writer’s Task
More on Metaphor: St Patrick and the Queen of Tropes
If we are to rescue metaphor from the charge of disrepute, of being essentially dishonest, saying something is what it is not, then we have to look at it differently. For a start, considering metaphor as a figure of speech is not helpful, for then it it is ranked with a host of others, most … Continue reading More on Metaphor: St Patrick and the Queen of Tropes
Metaphor, Queen of Tropes or Dishonest Harridan?
I’m not saying it’s all metaphor, but it is, just about - and vélophile though I am, if you were to press me on what our most important invention is, I would have to put metaphor first, even ahead of the bicycle. It was something we were taught very badly at school: the focus was … Continue reading Metaphor, Queen of Tropes or Dishonest Harridan?
A note on ‘Table Talk’
As the heading says, this is an old story, and not just because I wrote it eleven years ago. (At the time I thought having a story narrated by a table was pretty original, but I suspect it has been done before.) Part of the inspiration for this, which is alluded to in the text, … Continue reading A note on ‘Table Talk’
Table Talk : an old story
The old man’s whistling faltered; the young one took it up, moving briskly about the kitchen. My world is weight and sound, things laid on me, voices around me, arms leant on me, legs stretched under. I know my place, so central that I am taken for granted, my absence unthinkable. Stories are told over … Continue reading Table Talk : an old story
Elective Causality
'Myself when young did eagerly frequent Doctor and Saint and heard great argument About it and about: but evermore Came out by that same door as in I went.' (however, let us keep Omar Khayyam for another day) Myself when young was much annoyed by David Hume, particularly his account of causality, so I am … Continue reading Elective Causality
Walrus Boy
O walrus boy, o walrus boy! Alack, and wae is me – If I hadna wed a walrus My strange son widna be. It fell about the Martinmas When mists lie on the land I stumbled on a walrus Was lyin on the strand It didna look tae left nor richt But fixed … Continue reading Walrus Boy
Walrus Boy and the Ballad Form
'Walrus Boy' was written during a writers' weekend at Cromarty, some years ago. One of the talks we had was on the Ballad form and its characteristics. Ballads are an ancient and popular form yet they have a freshness and directness about them that never seems to wane: they may appear naive and unsophisticated on … Continue reading Walrus Boy and the Ballad Form
My Bicycles
I am a man of many bicycles: too many, some might say. Here are some: there's the c1924 Royal Sunbeam: On which I once rode from Inverness to Dunkeld in a day, a feat alluded to here (where I see I have dated it 1923), and its younger brother, the 1934 Royal Sunbeam: and of course … Continue reading My Bicycles
COMPLEAT TROWZER 