Waking Early -
Post Performance Stress Syndrome
04 July 2008
This morning I woke very early, at around 4am. I
would like to say it was the birds shouting away in
the trees which woke me. They were indeed making a
racket. But actually it was because my system was
still flooded with adrenaline after a performance in
Leeds last night, at Borders bookshop, with the
incomparable Joolz Denby.
It was a great evening.
The Borders staff were amiable and helpful in setting up the event. At one point there were about six of them putting the sound system together, prompting one to say, ‘How many Borders staff does it take etc. etc. ‘
Joolz was on stunning form; the fact that this was part of a gruelling schedule over past weeks, curating an exhibition, ‘The Body Carnival’ for Cartwright Hall in Bradford [opening in August] , appearing at Glastonbury etc. etc. did not dim the quality of her readings which were beautiful, human and witty. They can be heard on the spine-tingling CD of her work [with music by Justin Sullivan] Spirit Stories.
I read, among other things, from a short story I’ve just sent off to a publisher and a poem written to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the publication of Alan Sillitoe’s novel, Saturday Night and Sunday Morning.
For most writers readings are a rare treat when you can meet like-minded folk and see how your writing works when you are communicating with a live audience. And last night’s audience was a good one, slowly growing, so that every time I looked up there were more people in front of us [and listening up the stairs, onto the first floor] somehow appearing from behind pillars and the bookshelves at the sides of the store.
But the aftermath [and it’s not an awful one] is often waking at dawn still popping with energy and deciding whether to continue in bed and listen to the birds singing or get up and write something. This morning I got up, made some tea and readied myself. The light was silvery when I first came down the path to my office, and as I opened the gate into the back garden I saw the washing lines hung with half a dozen vintage swimming costumes, moving and expanding in the breeze.**
It was a surreal and strangely beautiful sight, and I felt the adrenaline calming in my body, as I thought to myself, ’Remember that sight, and its effect on you, and write about it sometime soon’.
** This is not as random as it might seem as my partner runs a vintage and retro shop in the Hyde Park area of Leeds
The Borders staff were amiable and helpful in setting up the event. At one point there were about six of them putting the sound system together, prompting one to say, ‘How many Borders staff does it take etc. etc. ‘
Joolz was on stunning form; the fact that this was part of a gruelling schedule over past weeks, curating an exhibition, ‘The Body Carnival’ for Cartwright Hall in Bradford [opening in August] , appearing at Glastonbury etc. etc. did not dim the quality of her readings which were beautiful, human and witty. They can be heard on the spine-tingling CD of her work [with music by Justin Sullivan] Spirit Stories.
I read, among other things, from a short story I’ve just sent off to a publisher and a poem written to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the publication of Alan Sillitoe’s novel, Saturday Night and Sunday Morning.
For most writers readings are a rare treat when you can meet like-minded folk and see how your writing works when you are communicating with a live audience. And last night’s audience was a good one, slowly growing, so that every time I looked up there were more people in front of us [and listening up the stairs, onto the first floor] somehow appearing from behind pillars and the bookshelves at the sides of the store.
But the aftermath [and it’s not an awful one] is often waking at dawn still popping with energy and deciding whether to continue in bed and listen to the birds singing or get up and write something. This morning I got up, made some tea and readied myself. The light was silvery when I first came down the path to my office, and as I opened the gate into the back garden I saw the washing lines hung with half a dozen vintage swimming costumes, moving and expanding in the breeze.**
It was a surreal and strangely beautiful sight, and I felt the adrenaline calming in my body, as I thought to myself, ’Remember that sight, and its effect on you, and write about it sometime soon’.
** This is not as random as it might seem as my partner runs a vintage and retro shop in the Hyde Park area of Leeds