100 RPM - stories inspired by music

100 RPM, a gorgeously designed ebook anthology, is released today, the project of Caroline Smailes,  whose enthusiasm is irrepressible and inspiring.

All money raised goes to One in Four charity, which supports victims of sexual violence.

And an  introduction by Nik Kershaw!

Caroline has explained all on her blog.

There are a hundred stories and every story is one hundred words or less and has been inspired by music on You Tube. The playlist is here.

My own story was inspired by Scottish band Glasvegas' version of 'Silent Night'.

I hope you enjoy the book and pass on the word! I'm off to download my copy.

I'm finding I like microfiction more and more, the possibilities as a writer and the little energy required as a reader. Perfect!

* Review of my story here.

** And thanks to Glasvegas for RTing the anthology.

Different states

I've just ordered  paperbacks of The State of Me, and State of Wonder  by Ann Patchett as gifts. I enjoyed both Bel Canto and Truth and Beauty. I have the Kindle sample of State of Wonder; these samples are overflowing, I download them and forget to read them. I imagine them as brightly coloured scraps of fabric that caught my eye, I have no real use for them but can't throw them away (literally, I don't think you can delete a Kindle sample, can you?). Also, just downloaded a sample of The Submission by Amy Waldman which I saw reviewed here. I love learning of novels I'd not yet heard of.

*And here we are, courtesy of Amazon's 3-5 day supersaver delivery:

Gorgeous

At the weekend, my nephews' village primary school won an inter-school football tournament, an unexpected victory.  I heard that one wee boy who didn't even play - too young - took his shirt off and did a lap of honour. Gorgeous. The team is  being taken to an Italian restaurant for lunch this week, what a fabulous treat (I can't recall anything remotely as sumptuous at primary school). But this is a  generation of nephews who ask for Jamie's summer salad in their packed lunches.

My older nephew, still glowing, actually glowing, from the gold cup victory, can now play 'Mull of Kintyre' on the trumpet. He wanted to skype and play to my mother, not realising she is too ill just now. I can't wait for my session.

And: 'The clouds are punctuating the ceiling': my stepdad's explanation of the crazy May sun/shower cycle we're having.

*for those not in UK, this is Jamie.

Educate, educate, educate!

Have been so preoccupied with my mum being ill this last ten days that ME International Awareness Week has had to go on the back burner. Scott blogged this on Monday and it was nice to see this review going up on Amazon and Goodreads. I like reviews that quote from the book - once I knew the novel off by heart, but with time you forget. Nice to see snippets and be reminded of what you wrote.

I managed to attend the ME Awareness Cross Party Group event at the Scottish Parliament last night, organised by Mary Fee MSP, which I hope got more MSPs engaged, though I'm not sure how many attended (mine didn't, disappointingly). I really was so wrecked, in that zone of feeling outside everything but somehow you chat through it all. I cheerfully told Mary that I'd voted SNP in the council elections (though I'd swithered in the booth); I hope she understands my mishmash of a head - true cognitive dysfunction, momentarily confusing an MSP you know is Labour with your own MSP who is SNP - and that she didn't go home and burn my book.

The great thing about an ME event is that when you have to suddenly sit down on a trestle table, or the nearest thing, no one bats an eyelid. I took along a copy of The State of Me to gift/donate and gave it to a charming young woman  who has been ill for fourteen years. She looked like a Southern belle, I was struck by her demureness.  I didn't mix as much as I would have liked to, but I did meet some inspiring people and left with a feeling of hope. There are, thankfully, enlightened medics (I heard Dr Greg Purdie of NHS Dumfries and Galloway speak for first time), politicians and teachers (Can you imagine the horror of your sick child being forced to attend school?) out there, but not enough has changed since my diagnosis in 1984 - so much time and money wasted on bogus  'research', too many shutters coming down. Yes, there are chinks of real progress, but we still have a huge uphill task, we  need to educate, educate, educate - and those in the dark need to want to be educated, they need to come forward, it's a two-way process. Otherwise we are just preaching to the converted.

Thanks again to Mary Fee, and the hardworking charities who attended, I didn't manage to look at all the stalls and missed a demo of a fascinating VLE (virtual learning environment)  project in development from Perth and Kinross for children who are missing out on the school experience (not just educationally but also socially) because of illness.

And the Garden Lobby is a gorgeous space.

* Just heard that 17 MSPs attended, good news indeed!

** ME Research UK's summary of the event.

The poetry of dementia (1)

My Danish stepdad is (gently) forgetting his English as his dementia progresses and  last night he, quite fabulously, referred to fish fingers as 'fish pins'.  Lamp posts are now 'light poles' and lifeguards are 'sea rangers'. My mum has been ill and  as we waited for her having out-patient tests yesterday, he said: 'She is no ordinary, everyday human being of any kind, she is my wife.' Tautological, but wonderful (and heartbreaking). Later, my mum and I were chatting about how she is never  ill - the only times she recalls are malaria when she took us to Pakistan in seventies; having to have a salmon bone removed by general anaesthetic during a trip to Finland in nineties, and, more recently, a slipped disc. My stepdad turned to us and said: What's that about Ed Miliband? 

'Salmon bone in Finland' heard as Ed Miliband: the poetry of dementia.

Tagore & Virginia

One of my friends is big on Tagore and when I told him I'm into birds now he mentioned the tiny poems Stray Birds. I dipped in - really dipped in, just read fragments - but found it all a bit sentimental - almost like 326 spiritual greetings cards, the kind you find in New Age shops - though these are translations, so maybe something is lost.

This one's a gem though, number 2:

'O troupe of little vagrants of the world, leave your footprints in my words.'

And I love this, from Virginia's essay 'On Being Ill':

'Comatose with headaches. Can't write (with a whole novel in my head too - it's damnable).'

That's from the introduction by Hermione Lee, I haven't read the essay yet.