May | 2017 | the writer is a lonely hunter

Chudleigh Literary Festival 2017

by gailaldwin

Photo by Chris Denny

Chudleigh is a small town in Devon situated between Newton Abbot and Exeter. Each year the Chudleigh Writers Circle organise a programme for the literary festival. This year the festival takes place on Wednesday 5 July. In the morning, there is a workshop titled Metaphor and Similes which will be led by Jackie Juno (author, poet and Grand Bard of Exeter). Lunch is available in the marquee but must be booked in advance. In the afternoon, South West Writers Networking takes place and involves two panel talks:

The Art of Writing with Georgia Hill and others
The Craft of Publishing with Debbie Young (ALLi) and Margaret James

There is also an evening event with Teresa Discoll (author, journalist and TV presenter) and Hilary Bonner (crime novelist best know for her psychological thrillers).

I will be attending the morning session, so if anyone who wants a lift from Dorchester, please let me know. Full details of the programme can be found on this link.

authors workshops writing

Paisley Shirt

by gailaldwin

Paisley shirt

Examples of my short fiction have appeared in The Best of CaféLit 2012 and The Best of CaféLit 3. Now the publisher, Chapeltown Books, has agreed to publish a collection of my flash fiction. Paisley Shirt takes its title from a flash fiction story about a surprise relationship in middle age. The Paisley Shirt collection will appear alongside other flash fiction collections published by Chapeltown Books including January Stones 2013 by Gill James and From Dark to Light and Back Again by Allison Symes.

I will keep you updated as the work progresses.

flash fiction writing

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Mother’s Milk Books

by gailaldwin

I am delighted that my poem ‘After’ has been commended in the 2016 Mother’s Milk Writing Prize. In an email from the publisher, Dr Teika Bellamy, the following feedback from the judge, Becky Cherriman, was shared:

After: a short poem that centres around one unexpected image of a new mother sucking her thumb. I like the ambiguity conjured by the poem’s title and the question in the penultimate line.

I’ve pasted the poem below. Do you agree with the judge?

After

Rolling on my side, the mattress gives.

With my chin against my knees,

I knot my ankles:

try holding myself together.

A trolley rattling with cups echoes

through air thick with disinfectant.

Unclenching my jaw, my parted lips

ache: they’re a target for my thumb.

With the pad, I trace the roof-ridges

of my mouth, make a vacuum