Yay! dogdaysofsummer!!

[rosie_rues]

dogdaysofsummer is back! *dances with glee*

And, of course, I'm playing. Day One of Reservoirs is here



Now, rather than just spam you with reposting it, I thought I'd talk a little about what I've written, just for the sake of variety. It's another take on the summer of 1976, but with a much darker tone than my previous efforts in that year. I've done a lot of reading and research on that period for an original project recently, and the prompt reminded me of a conversation I had with my mum the other week. We were talking about my original project, and she suddenly said, quite unprompted, "Of course, what I remember most is the fires. Every bit of heathland in the country burnt." She was working on the Berkshire/Hampshire border at the time, and all through her working day she could hear sirens as the army fire engines came out from Aldermaston to tackle heath fires.

So when I saw the first prompt, I wanted to write about those fires, about the summer when people in my village remember standing on the ridge and looking down to see the valley burn. It's the summer the Marauders come of age, a time of violence and destruction, of the beginnings of the Order of the Phoenix. Using fire as a motif for a little one-off piece seemed more and more appropriate. I started writing and, whilst trying to work out where I was setting this thing, I stumbled across a reference to a reservoir that dried up in 1976, exposing the buildings on its bed. Following that trail took me to the story of Llyn Celyn and the village of Capel Celyn and to R. S. Thomas' poem Reservoirs. Llanmadoc Newydd in the story is an invented place, conveniently dotted on the Welsh border, in case I need that freedom later, but it's based on something which happens.

So, this is a story which begins in a place where injustice and resentment are woven into the very landscape. It's hot and oppressive and Remus is waiting under the constant threat of disaster for something to finally break. I've got a few ideas where to go from here, and I hope I can do something interesting with the mood I've set up here. Finger crossed.

Oh, and this is the poem that set the tone:

Reservoirs by R. S. Thomas

There are places in Wales I don't go:
Reservoirs that are the subconscious
Of a people, troubled far down
With gravestones, chapels, villages even;
The serenity of their expression
Revolts me, it is a pose
For strangers, a watercolour's appeal
To the mass, instead of the poem's
Harsher conditions. There are the hills,
Too; gardens gone under the scum
Of the forests; and the smashed faces
Of the farms with the stone trickle
Of their tears down the hills' side.

Where can I go, then, from the smell
Of decay, from the putrefying of a dead
Nation? I have walked the shore
For an hour and seen the English
Scavenging among the remains
Of our culture, covering the sand
Like the tide and, with the roughness
Of the tide, elbowing our language
Into the grave that we have dug for it.

Comments

[missmary.livejournal.com]

Yay! I'm excited to read.

[rosemaryandrue.livejournal.com]

I'm excited to be writing ^__^

[cackling-madly.livejournal.com]

Thank you for sharing. I love when writers talk about the process or share some insight into what they are writing and what inspired them.

[rosemaryandrue.livejournal.com]

It's not something I've done before, but I always feel guilty about spamming my flist with double posts, so I thought this might make it more interesting. It's making me really think about how I set about a long narrative, which has to be a good thing. Hopefully others will find it of interest too.

[katyjo.livejournal.com]

I'm just coming to this now, late as usual, and am just about to go and read the first four parts. But before I do, I just wanted to say how happy I am that you're writing this, not least because I always love to read your work.

But aside from that, this is about my home. I grew up on the Welsh side of the border, and went on holiday every year to the Welsh seaside, turning right at Bala, past Llyn Celyn, listening for the church bells of the drowned village, and checking to see if the water level was low enough to see the tops of the ruined buildings. In fact, I'll be going there again at the end of the month...

Anyway, off to read. So excited!