Kerry Hudson: Chatterbox

Come see me and other people

Sun, 19 May 2013 18:17:13 +0100

So I am no longer slave to office cubicle or, as Douglas Coupland so rightly called it, the veal pen. I am now a full-time writer and freelancer of um…words. Yes, that’s it, Kerry Hudson: Word Freelancer. Catchy right? If only I hadn’t already ordered my business cards which say, enigmatically I like to think, only ‘Kerry Hudson’.

Anyway, as accustomed as I have become to sitting on my morning commute responding to multiple writing work emails with a croissant jammed under one armpit, my headphones cord choking me, and my coffee clamped scorchingly between my knees, I am very, very happy indeed.

So much so that I went out celebrating and caused carnage on the dancefloor below ( wearing jeans, t-shirt and trainers - the best dancing clothes obviously) that is, until 1am hit, when all I wanted was cheese on toast and jumper. Old age is so cruel.

This week I also got to fulfill a dream by reading at Foyles in Charing Cross. I used to go there and watch writers read and think ‘oh, maybe one day…’ It was the reading evening for The Author’s Club First Book Prize shortlist and a good event with all the right things: lovely authors, a great chair, a big, interested audience and free wine. If it hadn’t been for my unfortunate slippy dress/tall stool combo it would have been perfect. Anyway here we all are…from left: Suzi Feay, Lloyd Sheppard, Me, Ros Barber, Patrick Flanery, Sarah Ridgard…

Lastly, Scots, French people, PLEASE come see me over the next week…

Tomorrow night (20th) I’m doing a talk on the writing of Tony Hogan for Dunbarton Booked Festival at Balloch Library it’s free but you need to book: http://www.bookedfestival.info/adult-events/kerry-hudson/

Then I’m off to the Festival du Premier Roman in Chambery. I’m doing lots of events over the weekend. So if you’re in France come eat some cheese with me (that’s not an official programmed event, but still) http://www.festivalpremierroman.com/ED26/auteurs_europeens.html

I’m also doing some events in June including ‘Family Affairs’, part of the Holloway Arts Festival, on the 6th June and ‘Speak Easy’ at Drink, Shop, Do on the 12th June.

Just as well I’m a Word Freelancer now eh? Wish me luck!

Life, work and running

Mon, 06 May 2013 22:27:00 +0100

Life

April was incredible but it almost broke me. After a month of working full-time, including London Marathon my busiest day job event of the year, celebrating the selling of Thirst for a near full week, and shuttling up and down the country attending the Aye Write Festival, Fire Station Bookswap, Polari and two events at Liverpool Literary Festival, I took to my bed for a full day to sleep and occasionally wake up mewling like a kitten before falling back into a sweaty slumber. Friends this is what happens when you do not allow your body to rest for 31 days. Do not do this. Actually DO do this…it was an incredible, joyful month. Here is a very tiny selection of my best bits:

Getting the Programme Director gossip in the green room at the Aye Write Fetsival after my event with Karen Campbell (she’s lovely and the lady talks sense) before proclaiming that I was off to ‘spend some time rolling about in my giant bed’ back at the hotel (it was a really, impressively big bed)// Telling the assembled audience at Bookswap that I’d take all my clothes off and dance around if the four minute warning sounded (I know, but it was the first thing that occurred to me…) and being shored up by the very funny indeed Will LeFlemming, Marie Phillips and Scott Pack // reading at the Southbank Centre and sharing a stage with the legendary Celia Imrie at Polari // spending a few days with the fabulous Simon Savidge rockpooling and eating caterpillar meringues at Liverpool Literary Festival after taking part in an event on class and publishing where the audience came prepared with (sometimes clipboards) of questions at a local community centre. As they would say in The ‘Pool is was bosker (actually I’m unsure if they would say that in Liverpool at all).

Work

On the 23^rd April I posted this on Facebook ‘In ten minutes I’m going to walk into my boss’s office and quit my job to be a full-time writer. I think I’ll remember this sunny morning.’ So that’s it. As of May 17^th I’m a writer proper. I can put it on forms in the occupation space and everything. I am going to focus on teaching creative writing and running my own workshops on finding the time, space and courage to make the jump and start writing your first novel. And writing, I’ll be doing lots of that too. I keep telling people I’m leaving work to go freelance but I haven’t worked out what I’m freelancing at yet. Anyway, if you want to hire me for um…something please do – I need some summer sandals and a haircut sometime this year.

Running

I am spending a lot of time in Lycra, sweating like Barry White, doing pointy finger dancing to my running compilation, knotting up my arms and legs in ‘stretches’ and doing walking lunges in front of highly amused basketball teams. Yep, I’m going to run Berlin Marathon on September 29^th for Freedom from Torture. So I’m running, yoga-ing and swimming up a storm. I want to say it is horrible because otherwise everyone will be disgusted with me but actually tiny voice I’m loving it, the most painful thing by far has been dropping some dollar on these ugly (but now beloved) special trainers. Between you and me I spend a lot of time fantasising I’m in an 80’s reinvention film (think Rocky, Private Benjamin, Terminator)…it’s not in any running book but by God it works a treat.

Never let it be said I do not milk a celebration

Mon, 15 Apr 2013 08:50:18 +0100

I’m thrilled and delighted and bloody cock-a-hoop generally to say that Chatto and Windus will officially be publishing my second novel, Thirst. I have loved every minute of working with Chatto (and their paperback imprint Vintage) on Tony Hogan so I’m thrilled to do it all over again with my new book.

It seems I was actually doing something apart from cycling on my wee red bike, eating banana splits and watching Ingmar Bergman films at Cinematheque while in Hanoi. I wrote a love story too.

I found out on Friday staring at a piece of graffiti saying ‘Stoner’ - there was a smiley face in the ‘o’ which I took as a good sign.

This morning finds me gulping down a bucket sized black coffee and dancing on train platforms to this (listen you will dance with a giant smile on your face too) after a weekend of celebrations which included Mexican photography, Red Stripe and New Yorkers in Bowie masks, Soviet musicals, mock-up Japanese city plans, Guinness and folk music in a tiny pub, scampi and chips and a bedroom disco, afternoon Champagne and brownies and toddler piggybacks. Basically me just smiling like a loon for days.

Like I say, I know how to milk a celebration.

Never mind me what are you all up to?

Mon, 08 Apr 2013 21:50:20 +0100

Me? Working full-time again - on my commute I cocoon myself in a cave of music and dance on train platforms. Getting in my latest set of Thirst revisions in (yeehaa!) by the skin of my teeth, fueled by cake (porny picture thereof below) and Day Nurse and True Grit (yes, true grit my friends). Seeing some beautiful films like In the House (gorgeous cast and some fine acting) and The Late Quartet (where Philip Seymore-Hoffman broke my wee heart and had me weeping into my chocolate covered popcorn). Thinking about my next project (it might involve me travelling nomad style around Britain’s council estates). Meeting and chattering with the Green Carnation judges (lovely, just fucking lovely, the lot of em) and plowing(ish) through the books (there will be over 50, I am braced). Seeing art like the Bernadette Corporation at the ICA (as BC itself would say both dope and, like, nothing) and Black Eyes and Lemonade at The Whitechapel (it is glorious and witty and nostaligic). And writing a near-unreadable parenthesis laden paragraphs like this.

I am also doing some stuff in April. Good, exciting STUFF:

First up I’m at the Aye Write Festival in Glasgae appearing with the lovely Karen Campbell at 6pm on the 16th April

Later in the month Simon Savidge will be putting me through my paces with not one but two panels at Liverpool Literary Festival. The first on Council Estate of the Mind: Literature and Class (29th April, 6.30pm – 7.30pm , Kuumba Imani, Millennium Centre Cafe, 4 Princes Road, Liverpool, L8 1TH with James Smythe and Claire McGowan) AND THEN on a debuts panel with Beatrice Hitchman, Sarah Butler, Gavin Extence and John Ironmonger (30th April, 6.30pm – 7.30pm , The Attic, 33-35 Parr Street, Liverpool L1 4JN) More details to be had on Simon’s website

Now? Now I’m going to put on old man pyjamas, eat some Marmite and toast and watch some Masterchef on my creaky little laptop.

Anyway, never mind me, what have you lot been up to?

This is late because I am buried under a pile of work and compressed to about the size of a human Oxo Cube.

Tue, 19 Mar 2013 20:27:33 +0000

Travel friendly at least.

Anyhow, I was dead chuffed to be on this list naming Alex Clarke’s 20 possible hopeful contenders for the every-decade-and-legendary Granta ‘20 Under 40 list’ Thank very much indeed Alex.

And it was in the proper paper and everything….

I was robbed (again (not really))

Thu, 14 Mar 2013 13:46:11 +0000

So on Tuesday day I went through the Southbank Sky Arts Awards looking glass and had one of the strangest and funnest days ever. My choices in advance were simple: succumb to the terror of of P.E.N. (Posh Event Nerves as coined by my fabulously glamorous agent and Awards side-kick) or just enjoy the fuck out of it. I chose the latter.

It was starry. Really, really starry. Julie Walters (one of my all-time heroes) accidentally nudged me and said sorry (that’s a word from her to me…I just grinned like a loon), Jessie Ware did a beautiful performance, we queued for the toilets behind Twiggy and shared a table with national treasure Grayson Perry, his fabulous wife Philippa Perry, the completely lovely Celia from Sky and Russell Kane…all brilliant company. Juliet got chatted up by beautifully tressed Cumberbatch (actually he asked her where we got our Raspberry Mojito’s but in my head that’s a declaration of love…). I finally got to meet Louise Welsh who’s been on my ‘give them a massive thank you and tell them I think they’re lovely list’ forever. Victoria Wood presented Julie with the lifetime achievement award, Melvin Bragg wrestled curling his tongue around my title and Hilary did a great video acceptance speech…I love that woman. If I’m going to lose to someone for the rest of my days, Ms Mantel’s my first choice.

So Hills got the gong and I got the fun. I squeed and grinned and stared all pop-eyed at all the starry folk like a cocktail-dressed, over-blow-dryed palomino pony. In no way did I play it cool. But I did have an absolute fucking ball.

I finished the evening eating pizza and drinking stout in my posh frock at the pub at the top of my road with a dear friend. As Tuesday’s go…yep, pretty bloody awesome really.

Kerry Hudson: Deposhing even the poshest of events...

Tue, 12 Mar 2013 09:55:01 +0000

Hello. I am covered in toast crumbs trying to line my stomach before a 12 noon drinks reception.

I have a nice red manicure. I am moisturised to within an inch of my life. I am still wearing my pyjama bottoms and a hoodie.

In a wee while I’ll put on the black cocktail dress (that’s right people, I bought a cocktail dress) try on the 27 different shades of lipstick I’ve bought to match my ‘can’t believe my luck’ expression, hop into a taxi and go off to the Southbank Sky Arts Awards at the Dorchester where I’m hoping to see Hills continue her blaze of glory. I intend to smile ear to ear, enjoy the grub and bubbles and celebrate every minute of being nominated.

Also, I’m aware that some of you may think I’m currently in a claw-footed bathtub filled with patisserie in Paris bemoaning my Anglo un-jutting collarbone. In fact, I’m at my kitchen table in my new lovely house, in my beloved Hackney eating lemon curd yogurt. I’m here to stay for a good long while and very happy about it too.

Ok. I’m off to dance around my bedroom in my pants and curlers…wish me luck!

Not so much the underdog as the under-flea on the underdog...

Sun, 10 Feb 2013 18:19:00 +0000

It was 1am and I was sitting on my rucksack on the gleaming floor of Bangkok airport. I had snacks (cashew nuts, a slightly bruised apple, a green tea latte from the 7-11) my feet were filthy, I had sunburned shins and too broke/tight to pay for an airport hotel I was waiting it out until my 9am flight when I got the news I’d been shortlisted for a Southbank Sky Arts Award for literature along with Hilary Mantel and Will Self. My reaction? Holy. Fucking. Jesus. Christ.

Of course, I’m not so much the underdog as the under-flea on the underdog. But honestly, who gives a shit? I’m most comfortable as the underdog (no sniggering at the back of the class please). It is an absolute fucking complete honour to be shortlisted alongside Mantel and Self and something I’m so grateful for. I’m going to buy a new frock (no, I can’t really afford one and yes, I will get it wrong and it will almost definitely too short and wholly inappropriate). I’ll get a free lunch. I’ll get to go goggle famous folks (how do they get so shiny-sheeny?). I still can’t quite believe it but it’s on the internet so it must be true.

Plus I am back in absolutely bloody beautiful London. I’ve never been more adoring of this city as I have been in the last few days. The pleasure of a freezing muddy walk on the Heath, toast dripping with butter and Marmite, Stout and sausage-rolls in old man pubs and too much wine and threats of a barring from Camden Mecca Bingo (don’t ask), long bus journeys with a cup of coffee, good music and the soaking city sliding by…today, the Southbank’s Poetry Library and a whole afternoon of writing…

Sorry, I worry that this blog is becoming just a long glut of happy, grateful wordy gurgles…but as I say, who gives a shit? I am happy. I am grateful. And now I’m off out onto the shining nighttime streets of London town.

On monkeys, magpies and sleeping in airports

Wed, 06 Feb 2013 18:02:16 +0000

I am sleeping in Bangkok Airport tonight. I love airports, full of greetings and goodbyes, essentially full of stories and human intrigue. Tomorrow morning I’ll board my flight back to beautiful, bursting, brilliant London. Only for two weeks when I’ll reacquaint myself with Hackney and the people whose faces I’ve missed and spend a lot of time at the Southbank revising up a storm. After that it’s off to Paris for six weeks working. I love Paris too, I’ve never been there in springtime and I am fantasising about all that beautiful light (and cake) (and vintage shopping) (and their excellent, excellent library).

After that? Who knows. 2013 is joyfully unstructured for me though I do have the Aye Write Festival, Firestation Bookswap and Polari in April, a month Supervising at Cambridge’s Pembroke College with the National Academy of writing in August, the launch of the French edition of Tony Hogan. I suspect this year has some more surprises ahead too.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my transient, fly by the seat of my pants lifestyle which really, is just my pursuit of freedom to write. People have taken to asking me particular questions ‘don’t you get lonely?’ (yes, sometimes, doesn’t everyone) don’t you wish you had a home? (define home), aren’t you worried about leaving it too late to settle down? (would you ask a man in his early thirties that same question?) The truth is this: writing and living fully and decently are my absolute priorities for this year. If I have time to read and work and have small adventures each day then I think I will become a better writer, that it will make for better books in time to come.

I am a glutton for sights, smells, noises, new people and trying to understand my reactions to unfamiliar circumstances as they quickly change colours like oil on water. I think of each new place as a visit to a library, or a penny sweet shop, I think I am filing pieces of places away or shoving them messily inside a straining rucksack for a future story. It won’t always translate in the way I expect; a Thai train guard who shouted at me for making my own bed on a sleeper train will become a check-out girl in a Hackney, Tesco Metro who thinks customers always pack their carrier bags wrong. I want to think that these new things, from my beginning in Hanoi to Hackney to Paris, are the laying down of breadcrumbs or the planting of tiny, shining black seeds.

I used to call this curiosity the monkey on my back; constantly pulling at my hair, aroused and morbidly fascinated by everything I saw and experienced – it hasn’t always been a benevolent pet either. I’ve wondered recently if writers ever experience anything authentically, purely, without placing a narrative upon it, or plucking off the shiny bits for their collections like magpies. But maybe that’s a post for another time. ..

It’s no accident that writers often travel. Theroux, Sackville-West, Wolstonecraft, Capote, Fitzgerald, Greene and Hemingway are just the ones that instantly spring to mind. Writers are natural tourists: outsiders and scavengers of curious things. I return to the UK with work done and more work to do, a monkey on my back, a magpie nesting in my hair and a desire to stay a tourist for wee while longer yet.

See you back in London folks.

What Can I Say Except Thank You Very Fucking Much

Sun, 30 Dec 2012 11:51:52 +0000

Dear 2012,

You’ve been a blinding, brilliant one and I couldn’t have asked for anything more from you.

This year Tony Hogan came out and its publication brought more than I could ever have hoped for. I did interviews and got reviews. Tony Hogan made some short/end of year lists. I did some incredible events. I wrote stories for magazines and Sunday supplements. I traveled to Edinburgh, Poland and then all the way back to my adopted Hanoi. I met some of the most decent/smart/gentle writers/readers/booksellers I could imagine. People contacted me to tell me that Tony Hogan/the Ryan women/Janie’s striving for more touched something in them or helped them or just gave them a good laugh or a cry - those have been the best moments really.

2012, you have been a gift to me and I’ve not stopped being grateful for it all for even a minute. I promise I thank my lucky stars every single day and know how lucky I’ve been.

Tomorrow I’m spending the night on a farm up in the Hanoian mountains. I’m going to eat cake, drink whisky by a campfire under smoggy stars, wish happy birthdays and another year with good things to come. It feels like the perfect way to part ways with a wonderful year.

Like I say, thank you very fucking much you’ve been an absolute beauty.

It is like Top of the Pops here

Wed, 19 Dec 2012 08:52:55 +0000

Just a wee one. I am mostly busy eating an amazing The Cart (if you are in Hanoi hunt it out and live out all your sandwich dreams (I’m suddenly aware that maybe it is just me who has sandwich dreams)) pork and apple Banh Mi simultaneously writing a short story about Hanoi and urging novel-sized love along in Siberia.

Anyway, as a lady who loves lists I’m bloody delighted to be on a few end of year ones.

First, Louise Welsh named Tony Hogan as one of her books of the year in The Herald saying it should do for Aberdeen what Trainspotting did for Edinburgh.

Then The List only put me on their Hot 100: Scottish Cultural Contributors list (if you click there is also a picture of Frankie Boyle with an otherworldly ginger beard).

And as an extra early Christmas present (not that I deserve any after the bloody beautiful year I’ve had) to top it all off Tony Hogan made Foyles Top 10 books of 2012.

As-ever-surprised and chuffed beyond measure. There’s been so much to be grateful for in 2012 and I really, really am.

Here’s a picture of a dog lusting after a sandwich in celebration of good things.

It Is Much Warmer in Hanoi When You Are Jigging Around in Excitement

Wed, 05 Dec 2012 15:15:29 +0000

I am taking a blogging break from my self-imposed editing prison sentence during which I sit at my desk for long hours by a very old Chinese electric bar heater that may see me expire in a towering inferno (good for book sales I imagine though?) while drinking gallons of fresh ginger and mint tea and munching my way through ‘healthy’ oatcakes make from, among other things, condensed milk (so good).

Anyway enough about that. I’m on here with news. That’s right NEWS. And not just about the biscuit selections available here in Hanoi (though for those who are interested, they are delicious, sweet, entirely made of things that shouldn’t go inside your body usually).

Anyway! NEWS…I am thrilled to announce that Penguin US have acquired Tony Hogan. PENGUIN! USA! Janie Ryan is finally off to America (those who’ve read the book will understand the significance). I like to think I’m staying close to my UK roots following the Penguin Random House merger too.

So there we go, that’s better news that oatcakes made with condensed milk eh?

Also, I’ve been dancing around my room so much I’ve been able to turn the Chinese electric bar heater down a bit thus lessening the chance of me dying in a fiery blaze. Good news all round really.

Just when you thought I would stop banging on about that sweary book I wrote...

Sat, 01 Dec 2012 14:59:54 +0000

…here’s the paperback cover for Tony Hogan. It’s a corker an’ all…

I insist everyone gets legless on my behalf

Thu, 29 Nov 2012 16:45:14 +0000

I should be doing something tonight. That would mainly involve fretting about my skirt being too short and my saying the wrong thing after a glass too many at Guardian First Book Award ceremony. I would have so loved to have been there but I am still away in the land of many motorbikes, noodles and pyjamas as outerwear (which I wholeheartedly approve of obviously).

I should probably have probably gone for a cocktail tonight or watched an old movie at Cinematheque or at least cycled around West Lake and enjoyed the sparkle of the lights on the water. Instead I am editing, wearing my favourite writing jumper with the giant hole in the armpit and woolly socks as Hanoi’s autumn arrives.

The truth is it would have been nice to go to the swanky party but I don’t really need to. I’m so lucky to be on the shortlist with four other incredible writers and that’s enough. And (even though I was brought up to believe this sort of feeling would blow up in my face and burn my eyebrows off) whisper it: I am proud. I’m proud just to be on that list and to be representing the female (and Brit) novelists tonight.

I do however insist you all leg-numbingly drunk, wear very short skirts and say all the stupid things I would have on my behalf. I’ll be here, making things up and indulging in some London custard cake…cheers!

Mostly spending my time in Hanoi...and Hackney and Siberia

Sat, 24 Nov 2012 11:02:11 +0000

I don’t have a lot to report really. I am working on Thirst re-reading and editing clumsy sentences, strange words and inconsistencies. This is a gentle re-acquaintance with the Dave, Alena, Hackney and Siberia before I start on my editors notes.

Most of my days here comprise of a pic’n’mix of the following things:

Editing + cycling back-alleys and around the lakes + gym (it’s at the top of a shopping mall the sauna smells of lemongrass) + bun cha + reading + Cinematheque (the art cinema here…this week Hitchcock, next Coen brothers) + the lake + French class (my Vietnamese classmates are so lovely) + green tea & jasmine + flatmate chatter + Cafe sua + emails home + papaya salad with beef jerky + hello, hello, hello from schoolkids + Banh mi = my Hanoi

Some days I am homesick. I miss people. We all know I how much I love London. Sometimes I want to walk Hampstead Heath, catch the 243, eat some pie and mash, cosy up in a winter coat and watch the lights of London dance on the Thames. And then I get on my wee red bike, cycle around the dusty city streets, see things I will never ever forget and remind myself that it is a huge privilege and treat to have this length of time to write and I am glad and grateful.

Today is the first cool day of winter in Hanoi, so I’m wearing an actual sweater and drinking ginger and lemongrass tea about to return to Hackney and Siberia to read about Dave and Alena’s first kiss.

Isn't she lovely?

Thu, 15 Nov 2012 09:15:29 +0000

I’d like you to meet the new lady in my life: Betsy Spitfire. Isn’t she a beauty? She’s a Vietnamese Asmama and she rides like a dream. True, she is cheap and a little flimsy but that’s always something I’ve admired in a woman. Each day I weave her in and out of the Hanoi motorbike traffic (there are 6 million people in Hanoi and they are all on the roads ALL of the time) ringing my little bell. It’s unusual to see a blonde ‘Tay’ (literally west meaning westener) riding a push bike, especially in my non ex-pat university district, Cau Giay, so students will shout hello to me, look perplexed and then return my smiles at intersections. It’s early days but I think Betsy and I are going to have lots of adventures.

I’m all moved into my new apartment. Sharing with a Vietnamese journalist Thuy (she is 36 and absolute powerhouse: investigative journalist, Oxford fellow, documentary maker, lecturer…). We have a collection of vintage typewriters in the livingroom and three floors so there is always peace to work, excepting the bicycle sellers who come around the alleys shouting their wares.

I’m taking French lessons at the French Cultural Centre. I am so bad. Even the teacher assumes an expression of amazement at my badness as I fumble my way through the most basic phrases. Still, three lessons a week for two months - I should at least be able to say my name and order a coffee.

I’ve joined a swanky gym and discovered a supermarket to buy delicious Vietnamese ingredients, I want to come home a Bun Cha whizz.

I’ve just had a Banh Mi Cha Lua and Cafe Sua Da for lunch.

I keep a picture of the great lady-adventurer and writer Mary Wolstonecraft above my desk as I reminder of how lucky I am to be here. Two weeks after leaving London I’m all settled and today I’m re-reading my editors notes on Thirst and creating a work schedule for the next three months. I really couldn’t be happier.

I know people say those things. Speechless or I didn’t think I had a chance or I can’t...

Sat, 10 Nov 2012 13:30:00 +0000

I know people say those things. Speechless or I didn’t think I had a chance or I can’t bloody believe it. People say them but I really mean it…I was just beyond thrilled to even make the Guardian First Book Award longlist.

I am relieved to spill the beans though…I found out Tony Hogan had been shortlisted for the award in a hot little room in a Bangkok guesthouse last Friday. It was 1am, the rickety ceiling fan was whirring the thick air around and I’d just completed my 30 hour journey to south-east Asia. I picked up the email and then said aloud ‘just…fucking…what?’ and then repeated a few times ‘no fucking way, no fucking way’ with a ridiculous amazed expression (I imagine). With the email came a request to write a 400 word piece about writing Tony Hogan. They are in The Review today along with 400 words from the other (frankly terrifyingly brilliant) shortlistees and extracts from all of our books. You can read the fruits of my late night, poolside, slightly jetlagged writing here.

Since then I’ve transited three different countries. I spent today riding from one end of Hanoi to the other on motorbikes looking for an apartment. It is the strangest thing getting news like this all the way out here. I will say I’m hugely grateful and joyful and enormously humbled by the company I’m keeping on that list.

It is nighttime in Hanoi and I am thanking every lucky star I have.

So there we go - not quite as speechless as I thought (surprise).

green carnations in the sun

Thu, 08 Nov 2012 08:45:00 +0000

First things first…Tony Hogan is only on the bloody Green Carnation Prize shortlist. It is a strange but lovely thing getting news like that in the scorching heat of Laos and I couldn’t be happier. There are some very fancy authors on the list and I’m honoured to rub shoulders with them for a wee while. Thank you very much Green Carnation Prize…I wear it with pride.

Next things next...I’ve been away for a week now. Here are my best things: Trying to meet a deadline while all out of whack with normal hours, sitting in the deserted hotel canteen by the pool, typing into the wee hours, celebrating with a Chang bought from reception when I was done // riding Bangkok public buses, windows open to catch the heat and colour and smells…on every journey someone showed me a small kindness // the train journey to Laos - an overnight sleeper and then going to the dining car to watch morning bloom over the Thai countryside, listening to Adrian Crowley, my hand stretched out of the window so my fingers could caught the breeze // that in Laos you share the pavement with stray dogs and kittens, lizards and frogs // Vientiane isn’t so much a 1 horse capital as a 3 horse one but it is charmingly frozen in time, so gracious and very gentle // swimming laps in the 1930’s public pool and then falling asleep on a rickety wooden longer to the sounds of children laughing // sitting in a tiny little hut down a backstreet, while a fire boiled water fills little shack with lemongrass, lime leaf and mint scented steam, then going outside, drinking some nut tea and petting one of the many waggish stray dogs lying around the courtyard…

In short…this has been a wonderful week. Still, I can’t go on like this, the kids need new shoes (by which I mean, I need to start writing). Today I’m cycling up to the Vietnamese Embassy and collecting my single entry, 3 month visa. Tonight I’m catching a 24 hour sleeper bus to Hanoi (yes, that’s 2 and 4 together…24 of your earth hours on a bus probably only a little less vintage than the Laos one below) then I need to find a room to rent, a bicycle to buy and get stuck into the writing good and proper. I can’t bloody wait…did I mention I was bad at being on holiday?

See you in Vietnam you lovely lot.

I'm leaving on a jet plane...

Wed, 31 Oct 2012 19:24:30 +0000

Here I sit at Heathrow Terminal 4. Off I go back to Vietnam (via Thailand and Laos) to Make Things Up until next Spring. It’s bitter-sweet journey as I’ll miss so much about my London life though I’m excited to return to my Hanoi one.

My last supper? Mushroom soup with extra Panda (a stowaway gift from my godson). See you in Bangkok lovely folks…

i am unusually quiet - you lot should make the most of it

Sun, 21 Oct 2012 23:43:04 +0100

Hello you lot. I am sorry I’m so quiet…I am about to fly off to Vietnam for six months, I am wrapping up things in the day-job (or it is wrapping me up, one of the two) and I’m struggling to comprehend how my worldly possessions can equate to 120 books, 73 pairs of laddered tights and a plastic ring I got free in a packet of Japanese sweets…anyway! There’s also lovely writerly stuff:

Last Thursday I did a session of the Bristol Festival of Literature with Richard Beard, Director of the National Academy of Writing. I was talking process and getting the words on the page and raising your hand to say I have a story too. It was far and away one of my favourite ever events thanks to Richard, the lovely Festival organisers and the incredibly engaged and warm audience. I left incredibly inspired and humbled (and full of stout).

Tomorrow I’ll only be allowed live on BBC radio. Anyone who’s ever been to one my (highly profane and verbally impulsive (not impulsive in a good way)) readings will know I am likely to say something very daft indeed. I’ll be on BBC Oxford drive time tomorrow between about 5.45 and 6pm. It’s live. I will almost definitely accidentally swear.

And I’ll be doing BBC Oxford because I’m doing events in the lovely city on Tuesday evening. I’ll start with a life writing workshop to Crisis members (who use the Old Fire Station for their classes) and then I’ll be at the frankly magnificent Short Stories Aloud with the hugely talented Tania Hershman at 7.30. Come, do come - you won’t even have to hear me read…they have proper actors…but you will have to listen to my verbally impulsive and possibly profane answers to questions.

Then…I’m off to do this….(maybe not exactly in this period fashion admittedly)