Above is a mosaic of photos that seen together illustrate the story of what I’ve been up to this month. The first photo shows the chickens! Yes, we’ve three rehomed chickens. They were industry layers and, as they’re now nearly two, would have been killed for meat. We collected them from a barn in Essex a couple of weeks ago and they have settled in really quickly. They are called: Bertha (not in the photo) and named because she’s big, Dawn, because she gets up first every day and Eggatha Christie, just because we could. We’ve had three eggs every day since day two of their arrival which we’re taking as a sign they’re doing okay.
As you can see from picture two, I have also made an actual mosaic, on a bit of missing slab outside my writing gaff. The story behind that is, my son, George, his girlfriend Hannah and G’s best mate Joey were cooking burgers in my ex fire dish at Easter, when the bottom fell out of said dish delivering blazing logs onto the the stone slab beneath. Undeterred by this mishap, on they cooked, enjoying their burgers in the quiet of the night until the slab below exploded, showering them with red hot slivers of sedimentary rock. They put out the fire and (unhurt thank goodness) decamped to the barn down the garden (where G lives) and next morning, as they swept away the ashes and cleared up the remnants of the fire dish, they discussed with me what they were going to do to replace the slab. (Joey’s dad has an angle grinder and if they power washed the slabs they could colour match what was already there with a new piece of stone). I suggested a mosaic instead. Using some old bathroom tiles and repurposed bits of masonry from the ex fire dish. They said go for it if I fancied doing it. So do it I did. The photo depicts the result which I’m pretty happy with. It reminds me of Japanese kintsugi pottery repair that treats breakage as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise.
Also in the monthly mosaic pictures are photos of the medieval saplings as mentioned in my previous blog. The tyres which used to house spuds have been stacked and filled with soil and are now home to sprouted scorzonera or black salsify which was Emperor Nero’s fav veg, apparently. Also photographed is the no-dig bed I’ve started which is covered in cardboard and veggie peelings which will soon be covered in top soil and good king henry seeds, and also the new bed full of sprouting red orach which is the precursor to modern day spinach. It can grow really tall so it will be interesting to see how big it gets over summer. I’ve also included a photo of my outside chair where I have a brew after I’ve watered everything; my little patch of ephemeral joy, the lilies of the valley which fill spring evenings with a divine scent, like joy mixed with magic, and my reading chair where I sit when its chilly, fire-lit and focussed reading (this month) the pile of books I’ve also photographed.
The last photograph is the short story I’ve been rewriting so it’s told ‘in-flash’. I’m doing this to better understand what telling a story ‘in flash’ is all about, as part of my PhD research. In a nutshell a story told ‘in-flash’ is a narrative made up of standalone flash fictions, each themselves under 1000 words, which when read together tell another, bigger story. The story can follow a conventional narrative arc or can be more of a mosaic narrative where the constituent flash fictions can be read in or out of sequence to reveal a bigger picture. It’s been a difficult task and is not yet finished. But I wanted to do it to see if it is as possible to write a short story ‘in-flash’ as it is to write a novella-in-flash, or if there are particular challenges involved. Turns out there are specific form-related challenges. The biggest of which, I found, is titles. Most novellas-in-flash have standalone flash chapters with titles, that mimic the form of conventional novellas. Short stories do not have chapters so this makes it more difficult. Difficult but not impossible I think, so I will continue to experiment and post the finished short story ‘in-flash’ here next month, to see what you guys think.
Another thing that happened this month which was too big a happening to include in the rest of the mosaic, was the passing of writer, friend, mentor, professor, poet laureate, editor of Radical Wonder and all round wonderful human, John Brantingham. He died very unexpectedly at much too young an age and I was totally shocked. John was the judge of the Bath novella-in-flash prize the year I won it, in 2023. I did not know him before this but after I won he was such a supporter of my writing journey – inviting me to read at events and championing my work. I am so so grateful to him for all he did and to have known him at all. Silver Birch press will be producing a book of flashes and poems written in memory of John and in thanks to him too. I wrote this micro which will be included.
Six Things I did because of John Brantingham
1) Won Bath Novella-in-Flash competition
2) Felt a genuine connection in the light of his feedback
3) Saw my courage shapeshift in that generous light, from pearly-grey points of windblown fragility, to solid roots of earth and malachite
4) Began a late-life PhD from a grandma’s perspective — a last-blast road very nearly not taken
5) Composed earnest demurmurations loaded with protest to keep myself sane in these frightening times
6) Became bereft of words. Silent. Straining to catch fragments of echoes he left, then was blown away, hearing so many, like a chorus of comfort, like a radical wonder
Jan Kaneen Creative and Other Writing 