Virus

[Today's Scribbler's Corner freewriting topic]

The minibus had dropped people off at the side of farmland and ditches, so when the curve of the M50 appeared over the hill they gawped.
"Isn't it usually a car park?" Jess moved to turn on the radio. Brendan shook his head at her hand which she withdrew.
"We'll have you home in no time" Brendan said, a spliff in one hand and a tinny resting between his knees.
The bus croaked and wheezed as he swung it around the feeder road to join the empty tarmac.
"It'll be weird to have tv and radio again."
"You'll feel great. These retreats just reset your media noise to neutral. Sometimes I go months without picking up a newspaper." Brendan grinned.
They took the Dublin ramp with still no vehicles in sight.
"Drop me off here" she said. "I can walk the rest of the way."
"Nice one. Stay loose!" Brendan made a peace sign. She raised her hand as thick smoke from the engine engulfed her vision.
Trudging through the wasteland towards her parents' house, she tried to remember a time the place had been as quiet. She passed the corner shop, a closed sign swinging in the breeze. She'd never known Jimmy to pass up making a bob. Even on Christmas Day. Another breeze gaped the door open; a bell rang, but there was only darkness inside. She shivered within her heavy winter coat.
Crossing the empty main road, her stomach tightened as she spotted the high fence erected in front of her estate. Two soldiers were sharing a smoke in front of it, leaning on their machine guns.

Old

Scribbler's Corner was cancelled, but as I'd already left the house I went shoe shopping - and ended up with these.

Apparently ASICS are now called Onitsuka. A further example of the world conspiring to make me feel old. Dayum.

Scribblers Corner

I made a deal with myself - if I edited eight pages this morning I'd go to Scribbler's Corner.

Eight pages later I was running around the flat for my notepad and pen. Making myself as presentable as possible I dawdled up the hill, gulping at the semi-fresh air of Dublin city centre and gave my nerves a lecture.

At the Writer's Centre I was met by Simon who ran the group, and he was so friendly and helpful that I got my breath back. Many in the group were newcomers and we exchanged nervous glances. The first topic that we were to freewrite about for twenty minutes was 'The Flag'. I came up with this:

The flag unfurled in the light wind, the material rippling. The three men attached it to the flag pole. They stood in ceremony, dressed in heavy black coats with deep pockets for shelter from the winter's day. All eyes on the fluttering material as it strained and tore against their grasp.

The flag is fixed now, and the dark haired man handled the rope with a practised accuracy. The tricolour screeched as it inched up the chipped metal. Satisfied, the men stepped back to bow their heads, fingers pressed together in prayer. The only sound was the creaking of the metal.

The wind died. The flag swooned to the floor; the men rushed forward to protect it from the muddy ground. But something distracted the blond haired man, the glint of sunlight against a flack jacket. Two Guards* are running towards the Garden.

The white haired man grabbed the rope and pulled sharply. The flag tore a quarter of the way up. They swapped glances as the guards bore down on them and they nodded. A match was put to the cloth. It burst into flame.

Simon gave me lots of advice about publishing in Ireland after the meeting, and he told me not to be nervous about reading my writing - because it was there already, and it would just get better with practice.

I'm so glad that I went now.

*The Gardai are the Irish policeforce.

Writers Groups

I've taken a necessary step out of my comfort zone to start on my second draft. And as much as I love my hermit writer lifestyle, I think it is time for me to meet and work with other writers face to face. I've met some great writers online and I will always rely on them for help and inspiration, but I think a writers' group will add another prop to that support structure.

A few weeks ago Beth Morrissey told me about Women Writers in the New Ireland:

WWInI is a new initiative aimed at facilitating a dialogue between women writers in the New Ireland. The intention is to promote the creative work of women writers living in Ireland who are from migrant and new communities and to encourage contact between these writers and other women writers who were born in Ireland or who have lived here for a long time.

I'm attending my first meeting next Saturday at the Irish Writers Centre.

The Irish Writers Centre also runs Scribbers Corner, 1pm-2pm every week on Wednesdays, which sounds like an interesting way to get some creative juices flowing:

The aim is to gather writers together for a short writing session. Each week a different topic or theme will be given to the group and then those present will freewrite for 15 – 20 minutes. After this time each individual will be asked to read his or her work out. Please note that there will be no feedback on work created during these sessions. The aim of the group is to allow those present to hear other writers voices on a common topic in a relaxed and informal atmosphere.

The Irish Writers Centre website also lists Dublin-based and national writers groups, including the New Writers Forum which meets at the centre every second Wednesday at 7pm.

I'm going along to my first Scribbers Corner next week, and I've emailed the New Writers Forum to find out if they have any spaces available for a newbie like me - hopefully they do.