Category Archives: Writing
Gestation of a short story #4
Day 6
Thanks to the commenters on yesterday’s post for their advice and encouragement. I got stuck into my story again today with renewed enthusiasm and a calmer demeanour, and have gone from looking like this:
…to this:
🙂
Time period
I have decided to keep the story in the 1950s because:
- Some of the key words in the story, words that were included in the original anecdote and sparked my imagination, are specific to that era.
- Setting up a small shop in your own home is much less likely to happen nowadays (planning permission laws are much stricter, and new small businesses less likely to get financing).
- If I can pull it off, the non-contemporary setting adds interest to the story.
Timeline changes (again)
I realised that the mother needed to be older. Based on the previous timeline, she had been only 18 when she opened her shop. I decided she needed to be a little older when she took this step. Also, now that there is only one child, I wanted to create extra space in the timeline, leaving the reader free to guess that there may have been miscarriages, as a possible reason for there being only one child in the family. Here is version 3 of the timeline:
Time scope
The next issue I was dealing with today was also to do with time. Originally, I had thought that as well as the action that takes place in the story present, the story would include scenes from the past as background. Now I think that this time scope is too wide for a short story – for this one, anyway. I am going to keep the story within the limits of a few hours on one day. I am really trying to keep this story as tight and focussed as possible.
Development of the main character
The character of the boy is filling out. His new status as the only child has made him more self-assured although he still has the searching, watchful nature. The idea is still that the parents are very busy, so he is still always striving for time with and attention from them.
I have written just under 400 words of the actual story. This is a bit discouraging after six days.
A more encouraging thought is that a large part of the planning is complete. Now that I have quite a clear idea of the shape and sound of the story, further changes can be made as I write.
Gestation of a short story #3: Dark night of the soul
Days 4 & 5
Things are not going too well.
Maybe it’s divine retribution. I am guilty of infanticide: I have had to kill off the three siblings. As per my previous post, the number of characters in a short story has to be kept to the minimum. So the siblings’ lives have been cut short before they even properly started and my main character is now an only child. Sniff.
This changes the whole dynamics of the family and the character profiles have had to be amended as well. The mother’s energy now comes in part from a need to keep herself busy, to fill the gap in her life left by the absence of any more children.
The father-son relationship has also changed. Now that the boy is the only son, he is destined to take over his father’s family business. There is now an air of expectation and pressure in their interactions, especially as the boy is a reflective, bookish character and does not fit his father’s idea of the kind of person needed to take over the business.
Just as well I hadn’t got around to the doing the main character’s detailed profile yet – I can start that from scratch with him as an only child.
With all that in mind, I set about re-drafting the timeline earlier today. I was busy crossing out the hapless siblings and considering how to close the resulting gaps when a thought occurred to me. Is it really necessary for the story to be set in the 1950s?
The anecdote that originally sparked the idea for the this story took place in the 1950s, and I guess I just left that in in my initial planning. But does this really add anything to the story? Could it just as easily take place in the now?
Also, transposing the story to the present would remove the burden of historical accuracy (and the research work involved for me). (I could just go and ask the person who originally told me the anecdote for details about the period, but I don’t want this to be anything remotely resembling someone’s memoirs; the anecdote is simply the spark for a work of fiction.)
One step forward, two steps back. I’m starting to wonder if this story has as much potential as I originally thought.
Gestation of a short story #2
Day 3
Character profiles – mother and father
I spent a good portion of my writing time today developing the characters for the story.
The main character is the third child in the family, a boy, aged eight. The story is told through his eyes, in the third person. The mother and father are the two other significant characters.
I got the character profiles for the mother and father done today. They ended up being longer and a bit less structured than previous profiles I have done, but I got into a good flow and didn’t want to interrupt that! There is a lot of detail in them, which I hope will enhance the characters. The vast majority of the detail will not feature in the story, it is just background information for me to keep in mind and refer to as I write. I certainly feel as if I know these people well now.
Here is an abridged version of the character profile for the mother:
Mary, born 1925 into a large family, several children. Grew up in the countryside outside the town she now lives in. The town seemed remote and exotic. Her parents kept a few cows, grew their own potatoes, did what they could – her own mother kept hens, sold eggs, took in mending, etc. Mary was one of the older children and worked from a young age, cooking, cleaning and minding younger children. She moved into the town aged 16 to work as a domestic in a guest house. Her cleverness and capacity for hard work were quickly noticed and she was soon offered a job as a shop assistant in the town’s largest grocer’s shop. She made lots of friends in the town and settled in quickly to her new life there.
At age 18 she met Tom Loughlin when he came into the shop one day. She fell for his charm and wit. As the only son he was expected to take over his father’s business in due course. Because Tom’s family had means, lack of money did not delay their plans and they married later the same year. Tom’s father helped them buy a house that came up for sale on the main street in the town. Mary is delighted and feels she has truly escaped the hardships of her childhood.
Mary gives up her job in the shop when she marries. There is an expectation that she no longer needs to work and she sees no reason to disagree initially. However after a few months of “keeping house” in her new home, she is bored and starts to think about how to occupy herself. She loves Tom as much as ever but has noticed that his business and management skills are not as keen as hers. His building business ticks over but does not do as well as it could. This annoys her and she also realises that extra money coming into the house would not hurt.
Mary decides to open a tiny grocery shop, operating from the front room in the house. Being an end of terrace house, there is a side door from which the shop can operate without putting in on the household too much. She persuades Tom to give the idea his blessing. She has found her calling: businesswoman. She knows that Tom is a little put out but her ambition and conviction drive her on. She also knows that Tom adores her and despite grumbling, will always support her.
As she settles into motherhood, Mary finds that with help, organisational skills, and her great energy, she can keep running her shop and begins to plan for expansion…
One other thing about the character aspect: I am not too clear at the moment about how I will handle the siblings in the family. It is central to the story that the family be a large one, so I have settled on four children. However, this being a short story, three main characters is pretty much the maximum (unless you are Kevin Barry – his story “Beer Trip to Llandudnow” in New Irish Short Stories has six equally important, perfectly drawn characters – but that is Kevin Barry). So I don’t want the other siblings to be prominent. At the same time, they have to be proper characters and not one-dimensional “devices”.
Timeline version 2
The other thing I did today was expand the timeline. Here it is now:
The timeline needs refining but I am not going to change it again until more of the story is written. Once I see how the characters are developing on the page, I will be able to see more clearly how the time aspect is panning out and revise the timeline as required.
Possible key scenes
I’ve worked out three key scenes so far. Number 1 below will be placed towards the end of the story. Originally I had thought of this scene as the “climax”, but this is too strong a term in a story like this where the action takes place largely in the main character’s head. “Epiphany” is likewise not quite right. It’s too dramatic. What the main character in this story experiences is more of a quiet realisation. So a better term in this case is “turning point”.
This is another key scene and the resulting first draft of a paragraph I have written for it:
It’s dinner time. Bacon and cabbage for the lodgers. Mammy spins between kitchen and dining room, steaming plates held high. He retreats, going right to the back of the house on the top floor, but the smell is everywhere. His parents’ muffled voices float up from the kitchen, in the rising inflections of an argument. There is a moment of silence, then the stomp of angry footsteps. Banging. He follows the noise downstairs, through the door through to the new house. His father stands at the foot of the stairs, one hand at his brow, the other resting on the sledgehammer, a pile of splintered wood at his feet.
He knows to ask his father only specific questions.
“Why are you breaking the stairs, Daddy?”
His father closes his eyes slowly.
“So Mammy can make her cafe.”
What’s next?
- Create a character profile for the main character
- Figure out background characters (siblings) – check creative writing books
- Decide on a title for the story – in a short story, the title is crucial
- Write the opening paragraph
Gestation of a short story #1
What are Greenday talking about? I love September. With the exception of going back to school (which only bothers you if you actually have to go – teehee), September is a time of renewal, revival and getting around to things you put off til after the summer holidays.
In that spirit, over the next while, I will be tracking the development of my latest short story as I write it.
This story-to-be was inspired by that rich source of short story material: a passing comment, an almost-anecdote. The one I have in mind was told to me by someone I know, at least a year ago, on the subject of his childhood. There was an image in there that has stuck in my head ever since: A mother, father and their children are driving along in their car. The mother and father have had a row at home. Suddenly, the mother begins to sing happily.
What intrigues me about this little vignette is what it might say about the dynamics of family life and married life from a child’s viewpoint. Children can be highly perceptive and they can also misinterpret and over-interpret. How might one of the children interpret what is going on in this family on this day?
This series of blog posts tracks my efforts in building this story. Whether or not the story is a success (see how I’m covering myself there?), I hope it’ll be of interest to some to follow the process a writer can go through in an attempt to create a short story (obviously, there are many ways to do this – mine is only one).
***
Days 1 & 2
Physical environment – house sketch
After mulling over various possibilities for the story for a while, I develop a picture of the family at the centre of the story. The family – mother, father, and three or four children – lives in a big, chaotic house in a medium-sized town. The family’s life revolves around their shop. The small grocery shop is integrated into the house in the converted front downstairs room.
Part of the dynamics of the story is that the mother in the family runs several mini-businesses from within the home. The house is always being extended and modified to make room for each new business venture. So the house is always noisy and busy.
I realise that movement and the physical environment – all the family members moving around this big, chaotic, disorganised, confusing house – are key to the story. So I decide to sketch out a plan of the house. I want to be completely familiar with the layout of the house in my own mind, so that the characters’ movements around the house are consistent and flow smoothly.
This is my initial sketch (architects and technical drawing experts, look away now!):
Timeline
At this stage, the characters are still in their infancy in terms of development. Later, I will create detailed character sketches. Before that, I need to create a timeline for the family in the story. This is to ensure that all aspects of time in the story are correct and consistent. For example, to specify the age of each character, I need to know when they were born, and all the family members’ dates of birth have to be consistent with each other.
This is the rudimentary timeline I drew up (yes, on the back of an envelope – keeping it real!):
Practise paragraphs
By this stage (the end of day 2), I have also written a few disconnected paragraphs of the actual story. These are really sketches themselves, rough “practise” drafts to help me get an idea of how the story might look and sound.
What’s next?
The next steps are: fill out the timeline, create detailed character profiles, and identify key scenes. I’ll be moving forward with these tomorrow.
Douze points for Denise
Things may not have gone quite as hoped for Jedward in the Eurovision, but Denise Quinn’s performance in Garter Lane theatre in Waterford on the same night, May 14th, won a standing ovation and a resounding douze points from the packed audience.
Local woman Denise is the writer and sole performer of two one-act, one-woman plays, Bardot Bites and Lucy Bastible, which ran for two sold-out nights in Waterford last week as part of a nationwide tour.
The plays are beautifully observed glimpses into the lives of two very different women. Denise’s scripts cleverly use humour to draw in the audience and make them feel an instant connection to two women at crisis points in their lives. “Bids” in Bardot Bites is a single, middle-aged, put-upon woman determined to get her life back on track after her elderly mother’s death, while Lucy Bastible is refined, well-off wife of a solicitor who unleashes her wild side after her husband’s infidelity.
While the script is sharp, witty and insightful, it is Denise Quinn’s acting skills and stage presence that made this performance truly wonderful. We, the audience, genuinely forgot that there was only one person on stage. The stage seemed to teem with characters – Leonie and Leandra, Bids’ two young, man-mad colleagues at the cheese counter in the local deli, were particularly brilliant. Denise’s depictions of the ridiculous situations in which people find themselves in daily life were a joy to behold (one scene involving a balcony bra and a roving hand in the cinema will stay in my mind forever).
The script is also a great example of that great maxim of creative writing: “Write what you know”. Not content with being an accomplished playwright and actress, Denise is also a qualified solicitor and sales assistant at a well-known cheese counter in Waterford. Both cheese and the legal world featured strongly in the scripts and the playwright’s background in both greatly added to the credibility of the plays.
Accolades are also due to the show’s director Mary Curtin, a high-profile name in Irish theatre with a long list of theatre and film credits.
Bardot Bites and Lucy Bastible went down so well on the Cork leg of the tour in April that Denise has been asked to give repeat performances there later in the summer. Let’s hope she can be convinced to do the same in her native city at the earliest opportunity.
A miscellany of magic
Even in this internet age – or maybe especially in this internet age – the printed word is still loaded with magic.
I’m beyond honoured to be included in the new RTÉ Sunday Miscellany Anthology 2008-2011, edited by Clíodhna Ní Anluain and published by New Island. Sincere thanks to Clíodhna, editor of RTÉ’s Sunday Miscellany, for finding a slot for my piece, A Tribute to Mick Lally.
I also had a completely magical evening on April 7th at the launch of the book in the National Concert Hall, Dublin. It was great to meet Clíodhna and Miriam O’Callaghan, who launched the book and said some very nice things about it. It was also really special to chat to Padraig O’Neill, award-winning production designer, who was a close friend and colleague of Mick Lally’s (including on Mick’s last screen turn in the recently-released Snap) and has some wonderful stories from their times together.
The launch was followed by a wonderful Easter Sunday Miscellany concert, with readings from the book by Kevin McAleer, Mary Molloy, Grace Wells, and Kevin Barry, among others, interspersed with music from artists including Altan, Eimear Quinn and the RTÉ Concert Orchestra. The concert was broadcast in the Sunday Miscellany slot on RTÉ Radio One over the last two weekends. Here are Part One and Part Two.
The text of my piece in the book, A Tribute to Mick Lally, is here.
Lines Penned On the Occasion of the Epiphany
I wrote this a few Christmases ago. A bit of light-heartedness seems especially appropriate now as 2010 draws to a close. Remember, it’s for a giggle, people – no disrepect intended to anyone of any religion! Merry Christmas everyone!
Lines Penned On the Occasion of the Epiphany
In olden times – nay, yesteryear,
Or perhaps it was days of yore,
Three Irish men sat down to plan
A trip to a far-flung shore.
They’d heard Our Lord had just been born
And they just had to see Him first-hand
They settled it over a couple of pints
They would head for the Holy Land.
Frankie Malone was the brains of the group,
He would sort all the travel and visas,
While PJ O’Brien would make sure to sort out
Some gifts for the baby Jesus.
PJ and Frank knew that Willy Magee
Was a few bricks short of a load
So to give him a job, they put him in charge
Of refreshments and snacks for the road.
They were finally ready, the boys set off.
The road was a hard one at first.
But their spirits were high and Willy had packed
Five slabs of Dutch Gold for the thirst.
In Damascus they met up with three fellas in turbans
Who claimed to be led by a star
Our heroes just shrugged – they were tolerant types –
And they asked them along for a jar.
Frankie and Co. felt guilty next morning
When their friends couldn’t move from their beds
But with no time to waste, they bid them goodbye
And left them there nursing their heads.
As they got nearer Bethlehem, matters improved
In terms of their method of travel
The locals stood back in amazement and gazed
At the three Irish lads on a camel.
In a field outside Bethlehem they had a wee session,
The end of the journey was near.
“And just as well too,” hiccuped Willy Magee,
“’Cos that’s nearly the end of the beer.”
“One last thing,” cautioned Frank, as he downed his last drop,
“We’ve a problem: our names are too silly.
They’ll laugh at us in Bethlehem if we say that our names
Are PJ, Frank, and Willy!”
“What were those lads called who we met in the bar
And left sound asleep in Damascus?
Oh yeah – Casper, Melchior and Balthazar,
We’ll just say those if they ask us.”
They set off and were just at the stable door
When O’Brien did let out a groan.
“The gifts for the babby – I got them, but lads –
They’re in the boot of me car back at home.”
“Here – divide up this stuff I bought in that bazaar,”
Said Frank, having thought for a minute.
“It was meant for the missus, but she’ll be none the wiser,
Sure I haven’t a clue what is in it.”
So they knocked on the door, and were welcomed inside,
They rejoiced at the Virgin Birth.
Then a shepherd regarded the gifts they had brought
And scornfully asked, “What on earth?”
“Twenty shekels that cost me!” said Frank, incensed.
“Mmm – errr…” said PJ, far from sober.
Then Willy produced his last can of Dutch Gold
And solemnly handed it over.
People heard far and wide of the three foreign men
And their strange tongue (some believed it was Greek)
And the gift they had brought for to worship Our Lord
(Even if it was somewhat – unique).
Only three weary Persians, not long back from a journey,
Declared there was really no mystery.
But no-one believed them how three Irish blokes
Stole their place in the annals of history.
End
© Curmumgeon 2010
A Tribute to Mick Lally, 1945 – 2010
The facade of the Forum theatre in Waterford looks down on a sloping plaza that is itself surrounded by the small terraced houses that mark this historic part of the city. Here and there between the houses run narrow streets with centuries-old names, some leading down towards the Quay, others up the town to Ballybricken and beyond. It was down one of these streets, as I stood outside the theatre after a performance of The Castlecomer Jukebox in 2004, that I watched a solitary, tall, hunched figure lope away, hands in pockets, probably off for a quiet post-performance pint in one of O’Connell Street’s pubs. That figure was Mick Lally.
I never had the good fortune to meet Mick Lally in person, but I cannot shake the feeling that I have known him all my life. To my brothers and me, like many Irish children in the 1980s, the Glenroe theme tune signalled the dreaded Sunday-night bedtime (as much as it probably signalled to our parents the time when they could finally sit down and watch some TV in peace). Even when we were too young to actually watch Glenroe, we and our schoolfriends knew all the characters and especially Miley, the beleaguered everyman with the bewitching voice and a brilliant catchphrase that we repeated with delight at every opportunity.
Being finally allowed to stay up beyond 8 pm on Sundays to watch Glenroe was a real rite of passage. As well as being a staple in that show, to those of us growing up in Ireland in the 80s, Mick Lally always seemed to be around, be it on TV or radio. He even managed to turn a TV ad for cheese into a memorable experience, his mellifluous tones combining deliciously with the thrumming of a bodhran’s beat.
The years passed, I moved to Dublin, and even though as a student I no longer had access to a TV, Mick remained a constant. My Austrian friend Sabine visited Dublin and to give her a taste of Irish theatre, my boyfriend and I took her to see A Skull in Connemara, with Mick in the lead role. We had great seats looking down on the stage. I remember being overawed by Mick’s looming, menacing presence in that role. I was also delighted that we had an actor of such calibre in this country that enabled me to show off our culture to a visitor so successfully. In the pub afterwards, Sabine’s English was tested to the limits as she tried to put into words the impression his performance had made on her.
These days, my husband and I, now with three children, rarely get to listen to an entire radio show, so it was a special treat on a recent drive to Dublin to turn on the radio and hear Mick’s voice. He and another wonderfully familiar actor, his Glenroe co-star Mary McEvoy, were being interviewed by Miriam O’Callaghan. As the children, miraculously, slept in the back, it was a delight to hear him describe his life and career with endearingly self-deprecating good humour, and just as much a delight to simply sit and listen to his voice. To hear his gorgeous spoken Irish was another pleasure.
Perhaps because that interview is so recent, the news this morning comes as a particularly sad shock. It strikes me that as we advance into our mid-thirties, us Glenroe children have now reached the age where the death of a well-known person can feel like the death of something in us. Mick Lally was part of the background of our lives, whether we paid his presence there much heed or not. Now that he is gone, I personally, for the first time, feel the loss of a person I never actually knew.
Although, thanks to that radio interview, it is not long since I heard him speak, my last, and lasting, visual impression of Mick Lally is that evening in Waterford in 2004, when I watched him walk away down a dark street after another brilliant performance, alone, seeking no accolades, a quiet master.
(c) Curmumgeon 2010











