The creative ‘spirit’

According to psychiatrist Dr Iain Smith, in a recent article in the Independent, the brilliant, drunken writer is an absolute myth – well, at least if s/he’s drinking while writing. Smith reckons alcohol makes the imagination more flaccid than fiery, but admits artists in general are ‘more emotional people’ so use substances to cope. He says: ‘The idea that drugs and alcohol give artists unique insights and powerful experiences is an illusion,’ and: ‘When you try and capture the experiences [triggered by drugs or alcohol] they are often nonsense.’

Well, I think it’s all a matter of perception. If you’re also reading this ‘nonsense’ produced by a stinky wine-breath author while off-your-face, you might be moved to tears or action. And didn’t Joyce sip white wine in bed while writing Ulysses? I’d hardly call that nonsense.

But I have to admit, none of the stories I’ve had published were written under the influence. I have had some enjoyable nights in my life where I’ve sat up late with a bottle of Ricca Donna or three, watching a music DVD (Bowie, or, embarrassingly Billy Joel – love that song ‘Honesty‘) and scribbling lines, poems, flash fiction. I’ve probably sent a few text messages and floated out a few tweets, too. And then the next day I look at it all and wonder how such a rubbish, lame, emo person like me gets to publish anything at all.

But then I see the slurred tweets of prolific and popular author John Birmingham – smashing down a few, submitting an article – he’s definitely written while drunk, or at least tipsy. So some can do it.

I think, though, alcohol in the life of some writers, or creatives in general, is not so much a lubricator of brilliant ideas, but assists the mental down-time of a head too full. I think a few drinks take the edge off the constant observing, analysing, plotting, working it out. And all the feeling that goes with those things. A straight whiskey is like a little switch – from mind, to body – to spreading warmth and allowing things to be simpler for a little while. To let a song wash over you, or someone’s smile. It sounds like I’m saying it’s a necessity – not at all. But for many creative people, I think this is one reason a drinky-poo might have appeal. Not as an idea-stimulator, but as the opposite, as a tool for winding down and coaxing the hard-at-work part of the brain into the back room for a little while. What do you think?

And this might be one reason I’ve had so many good drinking experiences at writers’ festivals. The writers have been switched-on all day and they’re ready to let loose.

So I guess I’ll see you in the MWF Festival Club!

Thrillers and two first names

Tom Rob Smith

Tom Rob Smith‘s name not only breaks the ‘only one first name’ rule, it also seemed to break the internet when I typed it into the MWF search box. Consider the pictorial accompaniment to this post hard won, people. I also wrenched this post from the jaws of the unforgiving Federation Square wi-fi. Maybe someone out there didn’t want this to be posted. [DODGY SEGUE ALERT] Sounds like something out of Stalinist Russia.

Many different paths can lead to writing books. For Tom Rob Smith, it was a personal assessment, or reassessment, of what it was he liked about writing. Though he studied literature at Cambridge, he felt that ‘stylistic’ concerns weren’t his strong point, and he found himself searching for what it was he loved in writing. Eventually, he realised that it was the all-encompassing allure of story that kept him writing, whether across film, television or novel formats. This love of story is evident in Child 44, which was originally conceived as a film, but became his first book — a Booker-shortlisted book, no less. Child 44 tells the story of a serial killer who got away with his crimes because Stalinist Russia refused to admit that he, or any crime, existed. Interested in the idea of a state that is more dangerous than the serial killer himself, Smith found that the setting of Stalinist Russia was a natural fit for the thriller aspects of his story: jeopardy came from everywhere, not just the ‘criminal’; the paranoia and fear of the time arose as startlingly from the state itself.

Blue is free

Irfan Yusuf

Writers are a notoriously unmoneyed lot. (Not you, JK.) So it will be sweet news to the ears of my impoverished friends that The Morning Read, the first MWF event today — nay, every day — is free. In fact, there’s a free event in the Festival Club in every time block of the festival’s scheduling throughout the main program. In the printed program, all the events headed in blue script are free. So, you could easily attend MWF for the entire seven-day main program and not pay a dime. (Uh, hello, there’s even a free wine tasting.) But back to The Morning Read, chaired by Chris Flynn of Torpedo, which features three authors reading from their work, new, published or unpublished.

Forgive the ‘dime’ anachorism above, though such quirks can surely be forgiven in the presence of China Mieville, who read this morning from a new work about created worlds, metamurder and deaths of gods.

Petra White, a poet, and surely the first guest of the festival to say ‘ablutions’, read two new poems that contemplate no less than the nature of the soul. Her poem ‘Machinery’ was beautiful enough to eclipse the (nevertheless apt) sounds of building works outside.

Well before his normal waking time, ex-Liberal Party member Irfan Yusuf read from Once Were Radicals, a memoir about being a teenage part of ‘the Muslim question’. George Bush, Irfan thanks you for the term ‘Islamofascist’ and your various other charming epithets.

Catch the shining pate of Chris Flynn every day of the main program at The Morning Read. You want the dates? Saturday 22nd, Sunday 23rd, Thursday 27th, Friday 28th, Saturday 29th and, phew, Sunday 30th. Don’t make me write that again.

Estelle Tang, 3000 BOOKS
Festival Blogger

Volunteers Ahoy

Well, it’s been an action packed week. First thing Monday morning I accidentally deleted our entire database of volunteers. In my defence, the ‘delete this user’ and ‘delete all users’ buttons are VERY close together. I can’t express the relief I felt when I announced to Helenka what I’d done and she laughed instead of throwing something at me. I’d already trawled through my mind to work out how many of those three hundred names, addresses and phone numbers I could recall (none) but luckily the system had been backed up the night before so a phone call to our IT guy had the list recovered in half an hour. My only punishment was to do the coffee run and by then I was totally ready for a coffee anyway.

Monday night was our volunteer briefing at BMW Edge. That type of thing always feels a bit like a birthday party with the obligatory few hours of fear that no one will turn up. To my relief we had a great crowd, around 130 people, and I’ve been meeting with other small groups of volunteers all week. So many fabulous people! I can tell it’s going to be an amazing team.

Now I’m working on scheduling everyone to their preferred roles and it’s the time of year where the words ‘I don’t envy you at all’ are constantly being thrown at me. This means many hours working my way through the program, assessing where I need to place people and trying to marry that with where people want to be placed. Of course I’m forever wandering off on tangents, reading up on different writers and events. The events at the Toff and Festival Club look fabulous and I’m excited about Craft Hatch. All of these crossovers between words, music, art and craft totally have my heart.

\In response to Nina in her blog below, No Nina, it’s not just you, Tom Rob Smith is hot. If you would like me to write him a love letter on your behalf maybe you should check out my new website Clothing For Correspondence. And you could give me that red cape you are wearing today in return.

Jane
Volunteer Coordinator