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Hear Me Now Interview

Q&A with George Budden

Q. You recently conceived and led a compelling series of outdoor, hands-on workshops for young people aged 16-25 on the West Wight. Tell us a little more about that project?
A. Yes, my partner and I drafted an Arts Council Project Grant last Summer and completed the workshop series over a 4 month residency over Autumn and Winter. For me, particularly in photography which is often gate-keeped with expensive equipment and overly technical
processes, it’s hugely important that the sessions I run are affordable and accessible to anyone. The series we conceived consolidated these ideas with the incredible source of local natural materials available in the west wight to create workshops that worked alongside nature and eco focused processes. These sessions included things like developing 35mm film with seaweed, or making natural dyes with the gorse flower found on the downs.

Perhaps even more relevant, particularly to the 16 – 25 age bracket we focused on, was creating sessions that allowed participants to work with their hands and on something new, whilst creating comfortable spaces to network and communicate. Though I’m not from the island, it was evident quite quickly that there is a lack of creative and social opportunities for young people on the Island (particularly in the West Wight), and for me it’s important to have exclusive spaces for certain demographics and communities. The issues different demographics face are often exclusive to that community, and so to create an environment where we can talk openly and relate to each other on those issues is hugely important.

Q. You’re a visual artist, a photographer – who are your influences, who moves you?
A. Including possibly fiction writers who inform your creative practice.
Though I’m a photographer, it’s pretty rare that I’m hugely influenced by other photographers. There are photographers who I admire and respect, but they’re generally not the ones who influence my practice. If I look at the work that gets me excited to create it generally follows more performative pieces, written work (often analytical but sometimes
fiction), and music.

My themes change fairly regularly, at the moment I’m finding myself asking a lot of questions around masculinity within urban spaces, and the relationship between my own understanding of gender and sex with the physical infrastructure and buildings around me.

As I think through these ideas of emotional man made landscapes, particularly in London where I currently live, I’m drawing back to a range of creative influences. I find Burial’s music, particularly their album ‘untrue’, reflects a lot of my feelings and thoughts on the topic, as well as books like ‘Alone in Berlin’, ‘London Belongs to Me’, and ‘Last Exit to Brooklyn’, which all explore different personalities and stories in direct relation to the physical and political contexts they exist in. Their methods of written description are exactly what I look to
convey visually in my visual work; delicate and beautiful with heavier theoretical undertones.

Q. How do you imagine the Queer in Nature walk/talk might inspire the work of new and experienced Island writers?
A. Coming to a writing workshop from a photographic education, I hope my guided walk helps to give a new perspective on creative writing and our influences. Often I find myself stuck creatively, particularly when I’m trying to overthink or over engineer an idea, and generally the best solution to that is to give yourself an instruction or visual task completely separate from your natural way of working.

I hope the session helps to introduce a new way of thinking around descriptions and identities, and by the end of the session participants could have a new set of ‘building blocks’ of writing which can help us describe certain values and identities.

Q. You’ve talked about ‘finding infinite ways to describe and identify ourselves’ – give us a hint how examining and considering plant life makes that possible.
A. Particularly in queer identity, written language often fails us. There are literal examples of this in latin based languages, where everything is gendered and words for certain identities simply don’t exist yet; but also more complicated issues around strict labelling and language when trying to convey our very-much-fluid identities. By illustrating what we
relate to and identify as through abstract ideas and objects, like plants for example. I hope participants feel they can be as nonspecific and uncommitted to these ‘labels’ as they like, whilst still conveying the ideas of an identity.

Q. You’ve led a number of workshops and projects; do you have a top tip for fashioning creative spaces and projects that are safe, welcoming, inclusive and inspiring?
A. Primarily there are practical things I tend to do in all of the sessions I host and facilitate, as well as the queer party I work on. Making it clear that by attending the sessions you are agreeing to a respect and no-discrimination rule, by introducing my pronouns at the beginning and inviting others to do the same (again pushing that these are trans and NB
friendly spaces), and reiterating that if anyone needs to take a break or leave there is no pressure to stay; its generally important at a workshop to allocate a separate quite space away from the session as a break room, particularly when working with neurodivergent participants.

On a deeper level; I don’t run classes, I run workshops, I’m showing a process but certainly not telling anyone how to use that process. There is a natural power dynamic between the facilitator and the participants, and the workshops I see work the best tend to try to neutralise this power dynamic from the get go. Understanding that all the participants will be able to bring their own ideas and practises to the session, and holding those ideas as of equal importance to your own. By doing this we unlock beautiful sessions of skill sharing, experimentation and communication between the participants.

As part of the Hear Me Now project George Budden, a London-based photographer, will lead an inspirational walk entitled Queer Nature starting from The Red Lion pub in Freshwater on 25 May, 12.30 to 2.30pm. The walk is FREE of charge thanks to support from Arts Council England. To reserve your place on the walk, email caroline@stonecrabs.co.uk

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Hear Me Now News

Hear Me Now.

Hear Me Now is a 6-month creative writing project for LGBTQ+ people and allies; Isle of Wight writers of all abilities are welcome and encouraged to take part in this series of free writing workshops, inspiring walks and inclusive talks organised to grow a supportive local writing community.

Funded by the Arts Council England, Hear Me Now is hosted Brevity, The Isle of Wight’s Literary Handbill, in collaboration with StoneCrabs Theatre.

The project aims to inspire Island writers, urging them to find and celebrate their unique writers’ voices within the safe, welcoming spaces of the workshops, walks and talks. Learning from a variety of diverse writers and creatives, Hear Me Now seeks to introduce participants to short-form fiction, while inspiring them with compelling, inclusive and bold points of view. Along with one-to-one mentoring, participants will also have a chance to connect as a writing community. Short work created by participants will be considered for publication in the print edition of Brevity or on the Brevity website.

Workshops, Walks & Talks.

All workshops, walks and talks are FREE, but participants must make a reservation to confirm their attendance. Drop us a line on the Brevity Contact Us/Submit Page.

Anmarie Bowler and award-winning short story writer, novelist and lecturer Emily Bullock will lead the first writing workshop in Ryde on 30 April, 6-8pm.

George Budden, London-based LGBTQ+ photographer who recently completed a creative residency at Dimbola House will lead an inspirational walk on the West Wight on 25 May 12.30-2.30pm. Participants will meet at the Red Lion Pub in Freshwater before setting off together.

Author of the queer Age of Sail Leeward and The Devil to Pay Katie Daysh will lead a “Writing Historical Fiction” workshop in Newport on 8 June, 10.30am to 12.30pm

On 13 July from 11am to 2pm Island creatives Tracy Mikich and Teresa Grimaldi will run a hands-on print workshop at Boojum & Snark in Sandown. Participants will design and print a one-off Hear Me Now broadsheet featuring short-form work they’ve written for the project. The unique publication will be made available to the public during Pride, 19-21 July 2024.

On Sunday 21 July, Niall Moorjanni, a non-binary, neurodiverse Scottish-Indian writer and storyteller will lead a Hear Me Now workshop/talk at Ryde Library and perform at the Ventnor Fringe Festival.

There are also plans for an inspiring walk/talk at The National Trust’s Mottistone Manor and Gardens where participants will be inspired by the lives of mid-20th century architects and partners Paul Paget and John Seely who worked together to restore Mottistone Manor for Seely’s father.

The project will wrap up with StoneCrabs Theatre co-producing a public performance of selected short stories, as well as audio recordings that will feature on Brevity’s website.

If you would like to learn more about the Hear Me Now project, email Caroline Diamond at caroline@stonecrabs.co.uk or you can register for the free workshops/walks/talks via Brevity’s Contact Us/Submit Page.

You can learn more about StoneCrabs Theatre at www.stonecrabs.co.uk.

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Archive Flash Fiction News

Community.

Future writing & editing workshops are being planned for 2023. Drop us a line, follow us on Twitter, submit a story. Be Bold. Be Brief.

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Archive Flash Fiction

Keeper Series

A series of short stories, Seeing the Summit first appeared in Brevity hardcopy Handbill, Issue. 009.

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Archive Flash Fiction News

Our Past, Present & Future.

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Archive Flash Fiction News

Shout Out.

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Archive Flash Fiction

Covers

Fourteen Issues of Brevity. Be Bold. Be Brief.

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Archive Flash Fiction

Leftover Cake

She pays for a pot of tea and a slice of Victoria sponge, £6.25, with a £20 note left by the guests who’ve checked out of the huge holiday-let two streets from the seafront. No stack of thumbed glossy magazines or half-eaten packets of organic biscuits in a new bag-for-life. Nope, none of that. Instead, two words scribbled on a paper napkin – thank you – and 20 quid. They were tidy guests too, she finished early. With time, and money, for a piece of cake.

The bell on the cafe door goes and three blonde talkers walk in. Skinny coffees ordered, the trio settle at the table next to her. She admires the linen shirt the tallest woman is wearing. It’s the sort of thing that would suit her mum if she had – .

“ – enough money to cover a full set of nails and a night out at Wetherspoons. That’s all she wants,” the Tall Blonde reports with authority.

“It’s her mother, always looking after the kids that I feel sorry for,” says the Other Blonde.

“And a dad they hardly ever see.”

“I mean -”

“She just isn’t — aspirational.”

“She lacks -”

“She doesn’t lack -” says Blonde 3.

“Yes she does. She’s barren – I mean aspirationally.”

“A full set isn’t cheap you know.”

“She cleans houses three days a week. Fake nails and low-rent wine, God. The missing father makes up the rest. It’s worse than being on benefits.”

“It is.”

“Is it?” asks Blonde 3.

The talkers stop talking, sip their skinnies and examine their expertly painted nails.

She stands up, walks out, leaves cake on the plate. Her mother’s waiting at home with her daughter, Taylor, wondering about dinner. She walks into the chemist thinking she’ll buy herself a bottle of shampoo but ends up caught between a salon version in an apothecary-style bottle and a low-rent store brand. After too long, she walks out with neither.

Takeaway fish and chips would make her tonight’s hero but she opts for seven dreary essentials from Iceland, regretting her purchases almost immediately.

Climbing the stairs to her flat – Taylor’s unmistakable laughter spilling into the corridor – she half wishes the tidy guests had left her a couple of half-eaten packets of biscuits instead.

by Anmarie Bowler

Appeared in the hardcopy of Brevity Issue. 012, Dec/Jan 2022/23

Categories
Poetry

State of Translucence

Autistic.
Artistic.
Coincidence?
Either way.

My only solace is in the graveyards. Where people are truly honest. And where the constant cannot be clearer. For, whilst diplomacy is a deed drawn by dictators, and whilst foot soldiers become footnotes, this is our end. This graveyard, always growing, never ending.
Everybody. Perfectly. Dead.
I was innocent before thirteen. Untouched. Happier. Happy. Everything went in one ear and out the other, if it even went in at all.
Happy.
But I learnt to understand at thirteen. Learnt about trauma and exposure and knowing. Knowing. That is what I have, now I am no longer nineteen. The Knowledge. The new disdain of my past ignorance.
Ignorance.

“For on his brow I see that written which is Doom.”

I now come to a grave.
One bottomless, but ending in darkness.
One who’s stone is without a name and without a date.
One waiting.
Is there any living? Or just some void within the waiting?
Should I stay? Or sway?
Maybe.
Maybe I want to.
But not enough to.
I walk away. Walk on. I have to.
After all, it is the Mason alone who carves the calendar.

I want the world to know me.
But I can let no one see me.
Because if I do, they might see too much.
And I will not be thirteen again, and wait all those years again.
Too much buries my child from me now.
Too much for strangers to understand.
Too much Knowledge. My grateful and guilty Knowledge.
Too much.

So I – alone and not alone – continue to walk my graveyard.
And in a world of Hellfire that calls me ill and insane and Ignorant, I am that preferably conditioned icicle, learning how to smile in the mirror.

by River Watson, Freshwater

Categories
Flash Fiction

Something to write home about

A conspiracy of flies clusters on the quayside. Searing Malaysian sun bears down on a new delivery of curled chicken feet, cartilage, beaks and bones. The flies are on the march, crawling like small black infantrymen over plucked white wings and decapitated heads sporting pale pink combs. The delivery is destined for the cooking pot. Stock for the noodle soup tomorrow perhaps or served braised, on a bed of rice.

Nearby, slapping gently on the brown waters of the Tembeling river is the longboat that carried us here. Idle now after yesterday’s heady ride through spuming rapids with a cargo of thrill-seeking passengers. We are staying at this camp, upriver in the verdant rainforest of Taman Negara National Park where we have come in search of more adventures.

This morning we woke early, and ascended Bukit Teresek to hear the gibbons calling from the hilltop. We took out a small recorder and held it high while the arboreal apes duetted across the canopy. The concert bewitched us as their eerie whoops gathered pace, reaching a spectacular screeching crescendo before fading away into a mournful murmur. There was no encore. We craned our necks towards the jungle below but saw nothing. So we played back their calls from the hissing tape recorder. It worked. Tricked, the gibbons came closer to peer out from their leafy sanctuary. Finding only two human imposters, they lost interest and crashed away through the branches. But it was enough: we caught a glimpse of their watchful faces and swinging limbs. Elated, we descended the hill back to camp.

Now at the quayside, we sit in the makeshift restaurant, eating fish and rice at a rickety bamboo table. A postcard, part-written, lies beside my plate. Working close by is an old man in a straw hat. He is scything the vegetation, back bent as he sweeps the curved blade back and forth through the long grass. The smell of fresh mowing permeates the afternoon air. I pick at my bony fish; it’s a safer bet than any chicken dish on offer. Across the table my companion scoops up a palmful of rice, adopting the local eating style with his right hand, fastidiously washed.

Suddenly a Malay curse rings out. The table wobbles as I twist round and in that instant I see the rice grains tumble from my friend’s cupped hand. There is a flurry of wild, crazed slashing from the scythe operator. I am so close I could reach out and touch him. Abruptly, the swinging blade stops and the man stands back, passing a damp arm across his brow. Then he tentatively extends the tip, teasing the grass open like a surgeon parting an incision. He lifts something out, held at arm’s length. Two halves of a scaly brown and highly venomous pit viper dangle lifelessly from the blade. Under the table my toes are clenched in terror. Chicken feet in open sandals beside the unfinished postcard, which has fluttered to the floor.

by Julie Watson, Cowes

Julie Watson published her first collection of short travel stories, Travel Mementos, in March 2021. A new collection, Travel Takeaways: Around the World in Forty Tales, will be published by Beachy Books in April 2023.