CREATING STANLEY by J.J.R. Lay

‘CREATING STANLEY’

This is a novel told in two voices; that of the un-named woman writer, and that of Stan, her protagonist. In each chapter the first section the writer speaking of her own life, then we go on to read the part of the narrative she writes that day. There is a merging of the two realities.

How did this novel come about? Well two things happened almost simultaneously: firstly, I began to hear the voice of the female writer in my mind; she was obviously unhappy, nervous and a little timid, but very distinct; secondly, one morning I came out of my bedroom onto the landing, the bathroom door was slightly open, and I could see Peter standing in front of the mirror, shaving.    That was it. Apologies to Peter for using him, but ‘the fat, white man in the bathroom’ began the whole novel.

I’d become somewhat irritated by a sexual saga that created a storm in the media and amongst many women readers. It was made into a film in 2015, with follow up films that I never bothered to watch. Possibly, subconsciously, I wanted to challenge that stereotype of a conventional sexy male; of conventional sex in general, maybe. I didn’t become aware of this until long after I’d finished the book. Now I see that my novel challenges several conventions within our society: our approach to mental health; the increased availability of pornography and its possible links to sexual abuse; the rise of unemployment and the problems of finding new roles, especially for older men. I set the book in the year 1998, as I wanted it free of social media. But today, the above issues have not been resolved and in many ways social media has caused more damage within our society, certainly in regards to some mental health problems.

I personally found the novel much harder to write than poetry. It requires the writer to inhabit the world she’s creating for long periods of time. That world has to be real with its boundaries and signposts; the continuity of narrative has to be maintained, and the characters have to evolve. The poem may take many edits on the road to perfection, but editing a novel takes stamina and determination over a prolonged period of your life. This book has taken me years to write. As some of you will know, it first appeared under a different title as a self-published novel. I confess I was never happy with it. My life got in the way several times: getting concussion twice in one year certainly didn’t help; not having the time or energy to devote for the re-writes, didn’t help either. That’s why I turned to poetry and found a rich seam of communication that I loved to use.

However, the woman writer still haunted me. Her voice would come to me in the night when I couldn’t sleep. She’d complain that the story wasn’t finished. Last year she won me over and I began it again. And thanks to some amazing beta readers, I worked out what to change within the novel and re-wrote a different ending, one that satisfied me.

Now, I feel happy with the book. So much so, that I’ve begun its sequel.

Josephine Lay  06/06/2202

 

CREATING STANLEY by J.J.R. Lay launch date is Tuesday 21st June 2022 via Zoom, https://www.facebook.com/events/5469613223102309?ref=newsfeed

Link for your free HELM ticket,  https://bit.ly/3GtAn4s

 

I am excited and a little nervous about this launch, this is something  different... I will be reading extracts and talking about Stanley, of course.

Also, come and see two other poet novelists who will each be reading a poem and an extract from their recently published novel; the wonderful Claire Dyer  and the fabulous Emma Purshouse plus another author & friend, the brilliant Debbie Young, who'll read from her new novella, ‘Mrs Morris Changes Lane’.

Pre order a signed copy of CREATING STANLEY from,  www.blackeyespublishinguk.co.uk/shop

(Copies can also can be ordered through any book shop worldwide or through Amazon.)

 

To Boldly Go - with Derek Dohren


So, I packed my bags and moved to the Isle of Skye.

Why wouldn’t I?

Photo by Charley Dohren

Photo by Charley Dohren

Ever since my first visit to the place in 1995, I’d told anyone who would listen that living and working there one day would be a dream scenario for me. I’d even bored my Spanish students with it during my time teaching English in the impossibly beautiful Andalucian city of Granada. They didn’t all buy into the notion that anywhere could be as good looking as ‘The Pomegranate’ but describing the place that most fires one’s imagination is always a good conversation starter and was a great way to get my more advanced students talking.

This year I saw my chance and here I am, a poet and an artist finally living and working in the very place that promises to unlock untold waves of creative energy. As far as wish fulfilment goes it seems tick boxes have been well and truly ticked. I believe that one way or another we can manifest our own realities and I’ve spent so long wanting to come here that events finally conspired to make it happen.

‘Be careful what you wish for’ is an idiom I’d previously never taken much note of until now, but it has become apparent to me that I made the move long after it had ceased to be a good idea. Right place; wrong time.

Don’t get me wrong, Skye is unremittingly beautiful and there is much to hold the visitor in thrall. One trivial example is that place names up here are delightful and either put me in mind of characters from Game of Thrones (Edinbane, Sconser, Uig, Storr, Bernisdale, Torvaig) or suggest the names of planets that may feature in some Star Trek franchise (Valtos, Carbost, Duntulm, Flodigarry). I guess some of the names could cut across both tv genres …

“Captain, the Valtos ship is attempting to hail us.”

“Officer Torvaig, open a communications channel. I am Captain James T. Edinbane, commander of the USS Bernisdale. Please state your intentions.”

“Captain Edinbane, I am Flodigarry, leader of an all-female scouting vessel. We require humanoid males to help repopulate our planet.”

“Engineer Sconser, beam me right over. I’ll handle this one myself.”

Frustratingly though, I am finding little time to indulge in such flights of fancy. My job is shockingly all consuming and I am keenly feeling the distance I have put between myself and my loved ones. As I drive my buses around this iconic island I realise having a home and a job here, hell even a job that allows me to traverse the island’s most stunning locations, has given me no sense of the anticipated fulfilment. On the contrary, I am not engaging with the landscape beyond a superficial need to steer buses over the roads. I am finding little to enjoy here. Fragments and glimpses of what the island has to offer make no impact on me. I am way too tired and over-worked even to feel disappointment.

Instead, I’m like one of those mad scientists from a cheesy B movie who’s trying to make life in the laboratory. I believe I’ve mixed all the necessary ingredients: amino acids, proteins, lipids, sugars, a sprinkling of precious metals. I’ve bathed my solution in ultra-violet light and dunked in a couple of electrodes. The work involved has been ferocious and has exacted a heavy toll physically, mentally, and financially.

And yet, nothing.

I’m left staring at a beaker of chemical soup, and all I feel is a kind of denial of the reality. Life, god dammit, where are you?

Spiritually however, there have been gains. I have met some nice people and forged new friendships which may yet endure. That’s been a good thing, but I have also learned a great lesson. Many of us make journeys in life for all sorts of reasons. Often, they are made in search of something that is hard for us to quantify. This is particularly so on a pilgrimage. Such wanderings allow us to free our minds of the day-to-day mundanities that bog us down and, to that end are helpful of course, but the truth of the matter is the real gems of discovery are to be found inside of us. There isn’t always a need to actually go anywhere. We just need to explore the inner realms. Many of us are reluctant to do that.

I’ve always been a bit of a loner and have thought nothing of it. For much of my life I have perhaps placed more emphasis on the value of place over people but now find myself yearning to be in a place where I am close to the people I love and to the people who love me. I recognise this change in myself, that I now firmly value people over place. My inner sense is telling me it matters less where I am and more who I am surrounded by.

Maybe the missing ingredient for my chemical soup is simply time. If I stay here long enough I will fill the missing gaps in my life with new friends, new experiences and memories. Sure, I have done this several times over in my life. But time is not a luxury to take for granted. Futures are not guaranteed and I no longer find myself willing to wait things out. It has taken me moving to live on one to finally understand that no man is an island. I have no regrets about this. Regrets shouldn’t be expressed over the things you do but are better left confined to all those things you didn’t do. I guess I needed to move here to finally find this out. Wrong place; right time.

So, if you don’t mind, someone else can go help repopulate the planet Valtos. I rather fancy I will make better use of whatever time I have left.

“Officer Torvaig, set co-ordinates for home. Warp speed 9!”

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Chloë Jacquet's, The Dealer video wins best spoken word category at the RTF Realtime International Film Festival 2021

The Dealer video from the poetry book TAKE IT BY THE LINE… by Chloë Jacquet, published by Black Eyes, wins best spoken word category at the RTF Realtime International Film Festival 2021.

The Dealer features Chloë Jacquet, and is produced and directed by Stephanie Cobban

“it has been an honour and a joy to be nominated in several film festivals worldwide but to win best spoken word category at the RTF Realtime International Film Festival feels like the cherry on the cake. Both myself and Stephanie Cobban, who created the film with me, are incredibly proud of it and it is wonderful to see it recognised”. Chloë Jacquet

Click here to watch the Dealer video

Click here to buy TAKE IT BY THE LINE…

www.blackeyespublishinguk.co.uk

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The Talk

Do a talk they said.

Or do a question-and-answer session. Or make a video, perhaps.

All these sounded slightly fraught to me. Videos might not load on the night; a question-and-answer session would entail me writing the questions as well as answers to ensure I said what I want to say, and not get any embarrassing moments. So, I opted to do a short talk. But that created a problem.

As anyone knows, who saw my reading at the Cheltenham poetry Festival in March with the wonderful Claire Dyer, I rather like to talk in between reading my poems. So, what should or could I talk about in a talk?

Well, I can try to talk about when this book began; although I’m not strictly sure I know: a few of these poems were written a while ago, especially the ones about my father, but I had no concept of a collection or how they might fit into it.

There is no doubt in my mind that this book would never have come about without that first lockdown. That stopping of daily life was something that had a calming and soothing effect; was A Quietus. The stillness. The silence. The return of the wild to our door steps: foxes, badgers, deer, wild boar, sheep roaming the streets, and the birds: we had crows walking down our road. Smaller birds seemed to fly lower above our heads - you could feel the disturbance of the air as they passed, hear the sigh from feathered wings. You could almost smell quiet.

BUT in contrast, there was the horror of the dying, people dying alone.  The nurses and doctors trapped behind masks and protective clothing. And people stuck in an urban sprawl, who didn’t have this luxury of nature on their doorstep. Each spring morning as I entered my personal paradise of the garden, I felt joy and guilt for I was privileged. I wrote Am I a Coward? and it happened to coincide with Ziggy, the poet Z D Dicks, calling for submissions to his Pandemic Poetry Anthology.

But, although there are a few poems written about the pandemic experience in the book, I don’t want this collection to be viewed as a Pandemic Poetry. It isn’t. It’s about time slowing, it’s about contemplation away from the distortions and distractions of modern life.

I began to think of civilization, modern man and our consumerist society, how we try to contain Nature (hence the poem Cotswold Life) and how distorted our perceptions of living and dying have become, when they are synonymous. How far civilisation has taken us from the beginning of things. How we are forced into a mold at birth – a mold that is almost impossible to break free from, Sewn Up.  Last summer leaving my garden to grow wild at the edges brought a cloud of terra cotta butterflies, the Gatekeepers, Pyronia Tythonus.

But then I began to get obsessed with death. Everything I wrote seemed to be connected to that subject, in fact it became a bit of a joke in the workshops I was attending. I looked at my emotions around the demise of my own loved ones, and realized that not all my responses were dark or sad and that even sadness had a beauty of its own; I began to see that perhaps the trick for dealing with grief was not to push the feelings away but to embrace the memories, Take up the Newly Dead. To try and live with the pain, allow it to ferment into a sad wine that numbs distress.

Viewed from an altered perspective, Quietus is a release from life. As quoted at the start of the book, ‘it may be,’- Socrates said – ‘the greatest of all human blessings. Emily Dickenson viewed ‘Dying as a wild night and a new road.’

Naturally, I began to view my own demise. I am an agnostic. I don’t, personally, believe in a life beyond this one and we now live in a largely secular society so how then are we to view death when religion is left behind? It seems an almost a taboo subject. People mourn alone, they are expected to ‘move on’, and we talk of death euphemistically. Even in the midst of a pandemic, the large number of deaths are mostly spoken of, certainly in the media, in terms of statistics and not in terms of human suffering.

Last year the Autumn was glorious, I walked among the trees, the colours of the dying leaves were wedged in my brain and I wrote Abscission. That small poem said everything I’d been looking for and perhaps that was the pivot of this collection.

I hope, these poems will speak to those who’ve been isolated from family, lost parts of their life or who’ve been bereaved and prevented from mourning when that ritual is so important.

I hope the book gives a balm (what a lovely old word that is) a salve, an anodyne, A Quietus.

Josephine Lay

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A Quietus by Josephine Lay

https://www.blackeyespublishinguk.co.uk/shop

(Also available from all major booksellers) ISBN: 978-1913195151

 

Black Eyes Blinks

Welcome to ‘Black Eyes Blinks’.

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This month’s exciting news:

Black Eyes Publishing UK is pleased to announce the publication of Josephine Lay’s third collection of poetry entitled, A Quietus. To pre-order, your signed copy, go to the following link, https://www.blackeyespublishinguk.co.uk/shop

We will be launching Josephine Lay’s book via Zoom, on Tuesday 11th May 2021, 7.00pm. The host for the evening will be Zoe Brooks with readings from David Clarke, Angela France, Anna Saunders, Thomas Trofimuk and of course Josephine Lay. We would love you to join us; it is a ticketed event, get your free ticket here, https://helmtickets.com/events/7012/josephine-lay---a-quietus---her-new-poetry-collection-launch


From a conversation with Josephine Lay

A Quietus is a collection of poems that contemplates the calm spaces between moments of life and a reflects on the process of dying; of our release from existence.

The impetus for this book was the silent period, the quietus, during the first covid-19 lock down in April/May 2020. Our world stopped. Here was space for contemplation and connection with Nature, but here also, was death, grief and fear: so many people were dying.

Death in our society is virtually a taboo subject, with the horrifying statistics of the last year, we still tend to talk about those deaths numerically and avoid thinking of the pain of loved ones. In our current technological civilization, Death has been removed from being a natural part of living.

I began to write poems about death, became a little obsessed with it. I wanted to view it as something beautiful. - a mere extension of life, a part of Nature. These thoughts linked me to the deaths of my parents: my Father’s disabilities, my Mother’s slow release from life.

So, there are poems in this collection that deal with that sadness, yet I hope they also show a beauty within that grief. There are a few poems about lock down, a few on love and loss, and a few about the aging process - the path towards the inevitable.

But there are also poems about the glory of Nature, the calmness between the frenetic elements of modern life, and the yearning for those soothing moments.

Peter has asked me to share a poem and I have decided on the title poem:

A Quietus (def. - something that has a calming or soothing effect.)

A quietus is the falling

into the space between notes.

 

A quietus is absence:

a track after a train has passed

a landscape free of people.

 

The stretching of tired muscle

the pausing for breath.

 

A quietus is stillness after storm:

the dropping of wind

the drying of ground.

 

The smoothness between ripples

on the surface of water.

 

A quietus is a sleeping beast:

felt pads between talons

skin beneath the fur

 

a yawn of sharp jaws.


For more information about Josephine Lay and her other collections, go to, https://www.blackeyespublishinguk.co.uk/josephine-lay-poet

For further details and discussion about the launch, go to, https://www.facebook.com/events/249317880224913

 

Regards, Peter