Taking a break: a resolution for writing for 2021

 

There goes the first week of January 2021. Back when life was normal (as in, this time last year) the first week of January for me would be a time for tackling writing projects with the renewed vigour born of a rest over Christmas and perhaps one or two resolutions. My writing resolutions normally involved things like: I will unfailingly set aside two evenings and one afternoon each week to dedicate to writing fiction or poetry or whatever I'm inspired to write. Or: I will complete project X this year and start on project Y. Or something similar. More often than not, by February I would have forgotten these or been distracted by a new project or a fresh idea.

This year, no resolutions for writing. Blame the pandemic, blame my age, blame my hormones, blame my steadily depleting bank account. Heck, blame Brexit and the riot in Washington last week. But I know the reality is that that I need to take some time to stop. A pause in which to reflect on last year, on this year, on today and on tomorrow. 

I am one of those writers who has not been remotely creative in lockdown. I did put together an e-book of short stories at Christmas to raise money for charity, but they were mainly written some time ago. Unashamed promotion, so here's the link:

All They Want for Christmas by Jackie Anderson

But other than this and 'work' writing, there was nothing. Not a squeak of nib on paper that left other than a meaningless scrawl.

There's something grim and insidious, nasty, to tell the truth, about this odd pressure to be creative, to do something worthwhile with this extra time that we apparently all have. Well, try telling a nurse doing double shifts at the CCU, that he's got more time. Or a police officer, or a firefighter, or a road sweeper or a rubbish collector or the supermarket shelf-stacker. And yet the TV and radio and social media are blurting away ideas and examples of all the creative things people are doing in lockdown, which have a tendency to make you feel a bit inadequate if you simply can't get anything remotely meaningful to hang together into a paragraph let alone complete a poem or story.

So this post is being written to declare, loud and proud that actually, getting through a pandemic like this is tough and if you haven't got the energy left for your creative project or learning a new skill, that's ok. If you're getting through each day, then that's enough. Thank you Joe Wicks, the exercises are great for some, and thank you for those musicians and actors laying on online performances, and thank you those writers who pump out prose and poetry brilliantly and publish work precisely because they have to stay at home. I mean it. The creatives have kept most of us ticking over reasonably well. We have had entertainment, and we have learned new things.

But, if like me, your work (real work that puts bread and butter on the kitchen table) did not slow down, just shifted location, or you stepped up a gear caring for locked down family members, or you were simply too anxious to concentrate, you are not alone. And if your feelings about the pandemic - fears, anxiety, impatience, even incredulity - left your pen dry, you are definitely not alone. I have been dry as a bone since the start of last year, and I was greatly relieved to surf the net and found many writers saying similar.

So in 2021, I plan to read my way out of pandemic-induced writer's block. I will read for pleasure, mainly, not for instruction or to broaden my mind. I have no intention of straining my brain, just to rest it and enlighten it. I will enjoy the delights created by talented others. I will finally spend time listening to music that I kept meaning to listen to but never tried. I will listen to podcasts and possible audiobooks. I will explore the theatre online and visit online museums and places I am never likely to visit even when lockdown lifts and travel is permitted once again. I'll watch classic movies and binge watch Netflix. I might do some yoga stretches, maybe, if I can find the energy. But I certainly won't allow myself to feel guilty if I don't. There'll be enough negativity to deal with while vaccines are rolled out and start to work and hopefully the relentless gloom starts to lift. 

If I write, it will be because I have to write for work (somehow I never class my feature writing as writing, probably because I want to be a fiction writer), or I write some journal entries, or letters to family and friends, or because finally the creative spark has been relit. I might well add posts to this blog, just to keep the fingers remembering how to type.

I do know that some Gibraltar Writers are busy working on a number of projects, and some plan to start new writing projects this year. Others are less sure of their plans but plan to write more. Which pleases me hugely, and hopefully they will provide lots of reading material: one of the things I want to do this year, is read as much Gibraltar writing as I get time to read. I hope we can get the library open soon! 

What will you be writing in 2021?

Keeping it Local for Gibraltar Writers

Buying books

Keeping my chat to a minimum this week and letting this blog post from Into the Industry speak for itself. All I would add is that the best way to help support local writing in Gibraltar is to support local writers. Read their work, talk about their work, create a buzz, buy their books - for yourself and for your friends and family. Books, after all, make a timeless gift. Invest in local writers, and you are investing in Gibraltar's cultural and literary development.

Into the Industry - Spotlight on Local Authors

A huge thanks to Carmen Anderson for this piece!

If you are interested in Carmen's work, follow her on:

Instagram: @IntotheIndustry_ Into the Industry Instagram page

Facebook: Into the Industry Facebook page

Carmen Anderson

This is just a selection of Gibraltar writers and their work. Carmen is considering preparing a similar blog in the weeks to come, so if you are not in this one but you have a book to promote, then please reach out and contact her.

A reader does a writer make

The Joys of Reading

I've always been a firm believer that reading is an essential prerequisite for writing. It's through reading that you absorb ways of expressing yourself in words, that you develop the sense of plot, of character development, of setting, mood, tone, style, genre...

Yet, of course, reading is so much more than this. It provides an opening to new worlds, to new experiences, to new learning. It sheds light on the obscure. It stretches the imagination and it teaches us to see the world from someone else's perspective. Learning to read, becoming literate, is not just a means for children to pass some exams and prove themselves. It is a pathway to empathy, an enhancement of thinking, a means of relaxing and of escaping the stresses of everyday life.

This past year has been tougher than usual for most of us. I have personally struggled with writing. Writing, in particular fiction or poetry, means digging deep into your emotions, exposing thoughts and fears and feelings that, in times of greater anxiety, you might prefer to keep safely locked away. This year, I have spent more time reading than writing. I have felt the need to escape my own thoughts and find fresh landscapes in the thoughts of others.

At first I was worried about this. My pen was dry, my notebooks blank, my laptop forbidding, a symbol of the more unpleasant drudgery of work rather than inviting creativity. I fretted that I should use lockdown, as many seemed to be doing, to practice writing, to find ways of improving. Maybe even to start the novel I keep saying I'm going to write and never get round to. Then, as the year progressed, I realised that there were enough things to fret about rather than how productive I am. Staying healthy, earning enough to live on, keeping in close touch with all those family members living away from Gibraltar whom I don't see anywhere near enough, getting through new regulations and restrictions, shutting out the negativity and spillage of hatred and ignorance and confusion from social media...all these things were enough to deal with this year.

Instead, I turned to my favourite way of destressing, decompressing and of opening up my mind to new ideas: reading. These are my five favourite reads of this year (in no particular order):

                                                  The Strawberry Thief on Amazon

The Strawberry Thief by Joanne Harris

This is the fourth novel by Joanne Harris following the life of Vianne Rocher whose story she began with Chocolat. It is a story full of mystery and mysticism, about conflict and acceptance within families and between members of a tight-knit community. It is about change and how we fear change, how change challenges and how it might be accepted. Change is something that has blasted through this year of the pandemic, with one crisis after another besetting the world, and the challenges that we face will bring about changes in how we live, certainly in the short term and probably in the longer term too. This was a novel full of beautiful, resonant writing. It was thought-provoking and it was calming. Change, after all, is always inevitable.        

                                                   Testament of Youth on Amazon

Testament of Youth by Vera Brittain.

I have been meaning to read this since the late seventies when I was taking O-Level history, and my history teacher recommended it as background reading for our studies on the First World War. I wish I'd read it sooner and I may well dip into it again. Vera Brittain lived the war, was heartbroken by the war and was made by the war. A wonderful insight into that period, and in particular into how the war and the times affected women and the struggle of women to be heard and taken seriously, their battle for equality. This too, was incredibly well-written, memories crafted into an absorbing tale. And it touched on the pandemic that was then as devastating to human life as was the war itself, the Spanish Flu, something that seemed close to home this year.

                                               Queenie on Amazon

Queenie by Candice Carty-Williams

I loved this book and I loved Queenie. What a great character and what a real, down-to-earth voice she has. The book is about Queenie, a young woman not in a particularly good place in her life at the start, and how she negotiates what life has to throw at her. It speaks fearlessly about friendship, race, love and what it means to be a young single black woman negotiating life in the city. It is witty and it is wise and it is fierce. A great read, Queenie was critically acclaimed, with Carty-Williams the first black and female writer to win Book of the Year at the 2020 British Book Awards. I love stepping out of my life and into the lives of characters in a book and Queenie was totally absorbing.

                                                 The Forty Rules of Love on Amazon

The Forty Rules of Love by Elif Shafak

This was a beautiful, lyrical book with two tantalising parallel narratives. I picked it up as a winter read to get me through February, which I tend to find a dull and dreary month at the best of times, not least as the world seemed to be plunging into a maelstrom of pandemic, misinformation and crisis. The story interweaves Ella's search for love with the poet Rumi's quest for spiritual enlightenment through his friendship with Sufi mystic Shams of Tabriz who expounds the philosophy through his forty rules of love. The story is told in a series of first person narratives by several different characters and is an enthralling exploration of faith and love.

                                                         

                                                              Solitude House on Amazon

Solitude House by M G Sanchez

This was delightfully dark and a perfect story to read in the lead up to Halloween. Set in Gibraltar and told from the point of view of a self-confessed misanthrope and a misogynistic womaniser, Dr Seracino is the perfect anti-hero, a loathsome protagonist you can't help but like. In following Seracino's descent into an alcohol-soaked retirement to a lonely house hidden in the depths of the upper rock, Sanchez leads us in a journey through the Gibraltar of the eighties and nineties with sharply observed details tinged with his characteristic dry humour. The novel deals with the duality of human nature: Seracino is supposed to care, but is self-absorbed and misanthropic; he lives in a tight-knit society and yet he craves solitude; he achieves solitude and yet is invaded by ghosts. Sanchez explores psychosis and superstition through the character of Seracino, and, not least for me as a Gibraltarian, he also explores Gibraltar through the eyes of a non-Gibraltarian. He looks into Gibraltar as he looks outwards from inside Seracino. A terrific read at the tail end of a dark year which has exposed both the best and the worst of Gibraltar.

As a writer, I am an avid reader, and I'm looking forward to a good read over Christmas. Any recommendations?

Weekend of Winter Festival Online

This has been a bit of a wonderful weekend where I have immersed myself in books, writing and literature. The weather has been ghastly - not that it takes much to tempt me to stay indoors, coffee in cup, nose in book. And I have been logged in pretty much continuously to online events at the Hay Winter Weekend, a digital literary festival. Happy days!

I discovered the Hay Winter Weekend purely by coincidence as I was researching what makes a good literary festival and what it is about them that aspiring writers as well as established writers and readers find helpful. There are lots of things that are beneficial about literary festivals but I'll reserve that for a future post.

So far I have logged in to listen to Stephen Fry and Susie Dent talk about words (it was joyful...the enthusiasm of these two remarkably skilled writers for the tools of their trade - words - was infectious) and to David Olusoga who spoke sagely about the deliberately hidden history of imperialism and how important it is for society to fully understand its past in order to forge a new future. I have listened to Stig Abel's thoughts on literature and on why if you can't get on with a book, it is perfectly ok to put it down and start a new one. I have relished every moment of Benjamin Zephaniah's poetry readings. And that was just a small sample.

David Olusoga talking about his book "Black and British" at the Hay Winter Weekend, courtesy of my iPad.

I am so glad that some festivals have gone online this year. Hay was free, others have a small fee attached, but the Covid19 pandemic has brought literary festivals around the world within my reach. I have to confess I often thought of literary festivals as elitist. Some undoubtedly openly pamper to white English middle and upper classes and their assumptions as to what they should all be reading. Many other festivals do some of that, but they also offer workshops and opportunities for aspiring writers to meet with publishers and to learn from some of the best writers in the world today. Either way, for someone who lives in a pretty small and often overlooked corner of Europe, and whose disposable income can barely cover the flight to Blighty let alone the fees for a literary festival in person, feelings of being excluded tend to come easy. So, thanks to the literary world's response to the pandemic crisis and technology, I have been able to enjoy and hopefully benefit from an experience I would never otherwise have had.

I hope festivals stay online. I cannot deny that being at a literary festival in person has its unique benefits, including getting you meeting up and actually talking to people face to face, rather than being a passive viewer. But online access opens up the benefits of a festival to so many more people. They become inclusive at last, moving away from their former, rather crusty, exclusivity. The Hay Festival is funded by donations and grants as well as attendance fees and there are a good deal of online resources worth dipping into:

The Hay Festival

Following up on Gibraltar's Literature Week that also went online, the Hay Winter Weekend has been inspirational for me. Listening to David Olusoga talk about real history rather than an engineered version of it, has had me reaching again for my laptop and searching out the recorded interview with Richard Garcia. His social history of Gibraltar is of tremendous value. Not just to help Gibraltarians understand their history properly and fully, but also to us story tellers. Because without Gibraltar's writers weaving stories from past experiences, even if these are from the memories or experiences of those who have gone before us, there would be no history of Gibraltar.

Literature Week "An Audience with Richard Garcia"

And on a final note, if all a literary festival achieves is to inspire and energise some new writing, then it will have been entirely worthwhile. Get online, on your pad, phone, computer, wherever you can, and find that next online festival and join in. I'm sure you'll find it worthwhile.

A Platform for Writing

 

Gibraltar Writers in the spotlight

I'm going to start this post by writing about Gibraltar's Literature Week. Organised in the place of the annual International Literary Festival which was cancelled this year because of the Covid19 pandemic (and just as well, I guess, given the second spike the autumn is seeing grow alarmingly throughout the world), Literature Week gave a voice, albeit small, to some of Gibraltar's writing community. 

There's nothing wrong with small, I hasten to add, and given that it was only a week long, Gibraltar Cultural Services, the government agency that organised the Week and all the events that it involved, there was plenty of ground covered. There were talks and readings for school children, Gibraltar's two most prominent playwrights shared their tips and passion for writing plays also with school children, there was story telling for kids in the park, the announcement of the poetry competition winner (well done, Rebecca Faller) and there were three 'meet the author events' per day throughout the week. These were filmed within the constraints of Covid19 regulations, which meant we couldn't actually meet the authors. Instead the sessions were live streamed on Facebook, which means that those who could not physically attend, for whatever reason, could either tune in live and listen to local authors talk about their work and chat about all sorts of other issues mostly pertinent to Gibraltar, its people and its culture, or could catch up on the recorded version later. 

For me, and many others I have spoken to this week, that was an instant hit. It meant that Literature Week succeeded where the International Literary Festival does not - it brought Gibraltarian books and authors to a wider public, including an international public (a friend of mine in US tuned in to some of the talks, for example, as well as family in UK). It meant that those who struggle to leave home, and did so even in the halcyon pre-pandemic days, could watch and listen and join in to an extent through the chat functions. Those of us who could not take time off work could catch up with recorded versions, and those who might not normally engage with events that perhaps have a touch of elitism about them, were able to watch from the quiet anonymity of their homes. I'm not going to rant on about literary festivals and elitism - but it is a feature of festivals and something that has been openly discussed across the world for years, and it is something that was happening here too. Not this year though. I have no idea what the viewing figures have been, but I hope they were good, because this was a very accessible and worthwhile format for introducing Gibraltarian writers to Gibraltar and beyond. In other words, whether they realised it or not, Gibraltar Cultural Services created a platform for writers.

A platform for writers

Why is a platform necessary? And in particular, why is it important for a small city, a self-governing territory still tripping over the remains of its colonial past, to create a 'national' platform for its writers?

I'm not going to go into an academic essay - I am not an academic and there are those professors out there who are expert in Gibraltar and Gibraltarian literature who would do much better justice to the subject. But I will say that, just like we talk about a platform for businesses, or a digital platform for marketing, we should be talking about creating a platform for Gibraltar's writers so that our literature, our stories, can gain better exposure at home, and more importantly, across the rest of the world. Heck, we might even sell some books!

In turn, that is important if we are going to develop our writing as individual writers and as an independent, identifiable, unique community. It's a lonely pastime, writing. We don't all have the chance to take writing degrees, or gain any objective or external perspective on our work. Unless our writers try to publish abroad, they usually have to self-publish to have their work read, and self-published work usually benefits from close scrutiny and revision before publishing. We have to head online and out of Gib and try to fund our own critiques, editing and so on. We have to help each other by being each other's beta readers, which is jolly tough if you're also trying to earn a living and raise a family. Because, of course, like many other art forms, such as music, in its early stages (most of its stages, if truth be told) writing simply doesn't pay that much.

A platform for writers in Gibraltar could involve creating regular events such as Literature Week, but perhaps hold them more regularly. They could be themed e.g. young writers' week, writing from the Gibraltarian diaspora, Gibraltar and writers of the Maghreb, Gibraltarian and Iberian writing, writing and mental health, writing and your family history, Gibraltarian literature and our varied languages and so on ad-infinitum. While this first literature week (because I do hope it is only the first of many) took what was clearly a very broad view of literature to include memoirs, history books, photobooks and art books, and perhaps was less literary than some might have wished, it did succeed in showcasing some of our writers and it did so in two of our cultural languages. I have to say only two, because with strong Hindu, Moroccan and Jewish communities to name just three, we are a multi-lingual society and writers can and should write in whichever language they feel comfortable doing so. A body of literature can celebrate that linguistic diversity as it can celebrate its own patois (for want of a better term to try to define llanito).

A platform for writers could also bring about a development of local skills through workshops. It could foster a sense of community for writers, an inclusive community that doesn't start with a red ID card or end when you pop over to the other side of the border for a few years. It could help grow book sales, and foster reading and literacy. It could, above all, become the launch pad for international careers as writers, to grow an international audience for Gibraltar.

This is not a task for one government agency to do alone. There are all sorts of issues that hamper government bodies from achieving such things, not least budgetary and time constraints or the policy priorities imposed by whatever political leadership is in place at any one time. But the initiative, and often facilitation, encouragement and empowerment for growing a platform for literature, does move faster with real support from government. And if the fostering, nurturing role by government is carried out properly, objectively, then the community of writers is likely to be able to take it forward further. Provided, of course, that independence is kept at the fore of the platform. Otherwise, its direction is too easily influenced, its strength diluted. 

What else for Gibraltar's writers?

Gibraltar's writers have a little bit of support. Literature Week was one event, only a small number of Gibraltar's writers got the chance to showcase their work. Some, I am aware, felt a little neglected to say the least. The Youth Arts Jamboree usually includes poetry and writing workshops and at least writing is included. There is an annual government run poetry competition and similarly an annual short story competition.

So far so good. But Gibraltar is missing so much. There are no bookshops. There are no creative writing classes. There is no real recognition. There is one publisher only. The support for publishing is in the form of a loan. There are no incentives to take a break from working and dedicated time to your art. This year is the first year that the prize for the poetry competition has finally begun to reflect the work and effort and sheer talent that goes into writing a good poem worthy to be showcased as the best in Gibraltar at that point in time. Oh, and there are no bookshops - have I said that already?

The space in which support for literature and the literary arts could grow is...exactly that. Spacious. Support is small, intermittent, dependent on what or who happens to be in flavour at any one time, which itself depends on what is written and how. I'd like to see open public discussions about the  nature of some of Felice's plays for example: maybe Utrecht, and Flavius, which touch on some significant Gibraltarian issues and events. Yes, plays, and yes, writing. Durante's poems, along with Hernandez, Cruz, Faller, Moreno could easily fill hours of teaching time to support English lessons, as could the novels of Sanchez, with their gritty realism redolent with the familiarity of the Gibraltar that we all know and many would like to prefer stays tucked away behind a veneer of glitz aimed at appealing to Cat 2 economic migrants. Sorry, my bad, high net worth individuals. I have no problem with anyone who wants to live in Gib, whatever their socioeconomic status, but I do have a problem with pretending our reality does not exist.

But I digress. The Literature Week was a good alternative to the Literary Festival, and even when the Festival returns, the Literature Week should remain. And it should grow and be enhanced. And writers should really think hard about committing a bit of time and energy to creating a platform to help Gibraltar's writing emerge into the spotlight, to stand up and be read and heard not just on the Rock but across the world. As Humbert might have been going to say in his Literature Week talk before he was outrageously cut short - no government has ever really committed to literature. We've had tourism led events, we've  had a little offering. Writers need so much more if the stories and the art that they can produce are to take up their rightful place on the bookshelves and stages and radios and screens of the world.

If you are a writer, and you feel you would benefit from a local platform for your work, both physical and digital, comment below or email me: jackiegirl@hotmail.co.uk. Maybe if we press hard enough together, it will happen.

Gibraltarian Literature - emerging from the shadow of the Rock

It has taken many years of a few, enlightened people banging their lonely drums here to bring the discussion out into the open. Yet Gibraltarian literature has been around for a long time: Elio Cruz, Leopold Sanguinetti, Hector Licudi, Sam Benady, Mary Chiappe and numerous others have been among the Rock's writers. And when a Gibraltarian writer commits his or her thoughts to words, whether fiction, non-fiction or other forms of writing, then the Rock of Gibraltar and its people, are written into the world's literature. The sad thing is, many in Gibraltar, many in its wider diaspora and much of the rest of the world, barely know about it.

It is thanks to the work of several individual writers such as Mark Sanchez, Humbert Hernandez, Trino Cruz among others, who have had the temerity to publish and openly discuss their work with academics in other countries, that finally the voices of Gibraltar's writers are being heard in other parts of the world. And, in the odd way that history works, it is because literary critics and other academics outside of Gibraltar have observed and are researching the value of Gibraltarian literature, and its relevance in world literature, that these voices are being both heard and perhaps given a greater sense of value than in Gibraltar itself.

The online Symposium, "In the Shadow of the Rock: A Symposium on Gibraltarian Literature", organised by Professor  Robert Patrick Newcomb of UC Davis in California and co-hosted by Professor  Edwige Tamalet Talbayev of Tulane University in New Orleans recently brought together seven contemporary poetry and prose writers from Gibraltar to talk about Gibraltarian literature, their own work and their thoughts on Gibraltar's literary relationship with the countries by which it is most influenced: Britain, Spain and Morocco. 

As a participant, listening to my contemporaries and samples of their work was tremendous - a rare opportunity, since literary events or literature in general has such a low profile in Gibraltar. Perhaps, and probably perversely so, it is considered of low cultural value, when, in reality, it will always be the words of writers that live on long into the future and are far more likely to shape and influence thinking than some other expressive art forms: while the illustrative and expressive function of a painting or a photograph will engender an emotional response, stimulate discussion and thinking, and music will express a range of emotion, it is the written and the spoken word that will spark, create, and ultimately record debate in a way that will offer future generations the details of our current story.

There was so much depth to the symposium, so many strands of discussion, so many themes to be explored further, that I am not going to try to relay them here. I hope very much that there will be further work on this by the talented literary critics involved in the symposium.

As a non-academic, to listen to the thoughts of professors on the other side of the world and in other countries discuss our work, our Gibraltarian words, was illuminating. I always had a hunch that Gibraltar writers were underserved, and I know from talking to many writers here that there is a sense of Gibraltar's writers working in the dark, that their words will never see the light of day or never be read beyond their immediate circle of family and friends. I know some logged in to the symposium, and I hope, that like me, they found inspiration to keep going. Because there is a growing platform for them outside Gibraltar. There are readers beyond the shadow of the Rock, and tough though the road to publication might be, the effort is worth the effort personally and also because you will be part of pulling Gibraltarian literature out from under the shadow of that Rock.

For those of you who didn't get the chance to join in either to listen in or join in the discussions, here's a quick summary:

Humbert Hernandez read an extract from one of the short stories he has written based on the patio culture of the Gibraltar of his youth, a culture that has all but disappeared. His presentation sparked a discussion on language, Gibraltar's bilingualism, the part this plays in its literature and where this bilingualism and indeed, 'llanito' might be heading in the future.

Marisa Salazar spoke about how she came to write poetry, the 'novel inside her' and she read some extracts from her work. She uses the simplicity of the haiku form to create intense, unforgettable images. She recited poetry inspired by the sea and also by the border. The issue of borders, in a city whose life is dominated by the border and by the sea, enclosed as we are by those features, is particularly pertinent in Gibraltarian literature.

Giordano Durante gave a detailed expose of his poem, "Alameda Interlude" published in his first collection "West". Through the words of the poem, and his exposition, he shed light on so much about Gibraltarian culture, how we still cling to the vestiges of colonialism while displaying snippets of a myriad other cultures, how the remains of those colonial days are crumbling about us, and again, the issue of our "mongrel talk" fuelled discussion about Gibraltarian use of language and how writers reflect that.

Trino Cruz, a writer published in Spain and Morocco, recited some of his beautiful poetry, which he writes in Spanish. He also spoke about the importance of lifting Gibraltarian writing off the confines of the Rock itself to find its place in the literature of the wider locality: the Iberian Peninsula, Morocco and North Africa and perhaps even further afield. Among the poems he recited was one of my personal favourites, "Si borramos algunas huellas", published in the "Anthology of Contemporary Gibraltar Poets". 

Mark Sanchez, who has so successfully brought Gibraltarian writing to the attention of the rest of the world, read an extract from his  new book, Gooseman, due to be published shortly, a multi-layered novel, it promises to be a delightful mix of gritty no-holds barred realism tinged with his characteristic dark humour. I am looking forward to reading this when it comes out. Mark also pointed out that he includes both Spanish and Llanito in the work; it is, after all, a realistic portrayal of what we speak here in Gibraltar. Our language, in our literature.

Professor David Alvarez, of Grant Valley State University in Michigan, spoke about his views on Gibraltarian literature, its development and how it has broken away from the shackles of colonialism, from being written about by the imperialist powers of Spain and Britain, to producing its own voices. He mentioned the importance of works of criticism by Gibraltar University's Becky Gabay and Jennifer Ballantine's Institute of Gibraltarian and Mediterranean Studies, the need for a people to 'have an inventory', and mused on the Gibraltarian diaspora and the cosmopolitan nature of Gibraltar - the movement of peoples in and out and how that is a feature that might create boundaries to the development of a Gibraltarian literature and at the same time be the reason for its potential success.

A good number of threads and themes emerged from the symposium which will give me much to mull over. Above all, it is clear that Gibraltar's writers simply must keep writing and that Gibraltar urgently needs to help them find a platform for sharing their work and for writing the Rock into world literature. I would urge all Gibraltar's writers, whether on the Rock or somewhere in another part of the world, to keep writing on whatever theme and in whatever genre. This growing body of work will be part of Gibraltar in years to come.

This being my first time participating in a symposium on literature, I'm not sure what my contribution achieved, except to add a bit to the discussion on the vital nature of stories and how they shed light on a culture, on how a particular people live and think and function in a specific time and place. I've published my contribution on the link below - feel free to read and to make comment. The conversation on Gibraltarian literature, is, after all, only just beginning. Long may it last.

Writing in the Shadow of the Rock, by Jackie Anderson

Autumn is for writing

Autumn is the perfect inspiration for writers

That's it, summer's over, and if those crisper mornings are a still little overwhelmed by the warm afternoons, the drawing in of the evenings are a good indication that the world is still steadily turning and the seasons are still changing, regardless of the mayhem that seems to have surrounded us since the start of the coronavirus pandemic. Perhaps this year, more than most, the longer evenings, the cooler weather and the slowing into new routines provide a chance for reflection.

Autumn has always been a time for introspection, for slowing down from the frantic activity of summer. It is a time to gather up our thoughts, contemplate on the year that has gone by as it draws to its close, and to reflect. It is in autumn that I most miss England, with the rapid shortening of the days that the end of September brought, the nip in the air that made me reach for a sweater or a scarf, the mizzling rain, the foggy evenings, the russet and gold of the trees and the musk of damp earth on a morning walk. 

Gibraltar has its own cycles: colour returns to the pockets of gardens around street corners and in the postage stamp parks; the tang of brine in the air sharpens when you walk near the sea; clouds gather and gloom on the horizons and some evenings you can almost taste the promise of rain from the west to alleviate the suffocating humidity of sunny afternoons. The air clears with the rain and the expanse of blue around the Rock is stunning, so bright it hurts the eyes, and the horizon appears closer, almost within reach, and this is the right time to dream.

For anyone who writes, autumn is such a fruitful time. Much as farmers will be gathering in the olive harvest and the grape harvest, picking pomegranates, berries and apples, autumn is a good time for gathering together all those ideas and thoughts that have been mulling in the back of a busy brain during a summer of juggling work commitments and dealing with youngsters home for the long summer holidays. Autumn is a good time to pick up the pen and write.

To write poetry in particular. 

There is something about the medium of poetry that suits the articulation of thoughts and feelings that are triggered in the change of the season. Autumn is transient. It is the petering out of summer and the heading into winter. It is the season where time is travelling forward while we seek to look back. It is as much about wrangling with inner conflict as it is about musing over the passing of time. Poetry, because it is brief, because it pares down each complex emotion and rambling thoughts into a few choice words, is ideal for expressing that range of ideas that tend to emerge during this time of year. And this year, we may all have much to express, to work out in our minds and in our lives, and poetry can be part of that, giving voice to the extremes of emotion that so many of us have experienced.

I had a long conversation with an old friend last week, someone whom I hoped to have spent a short time with this year, but given travel restrictions, could not. When we meet, which is infrequently at the best of times, we speak as if we had never been apart. We talk about everything and anything, and both of us lovers of literature and poetry in particular, conversation inevitably turns to the written word. So when we spoke last week, we voiced how the experience of the pandemic might influence our creativity. And we agreed that it wasn't just the disease, the lockdowns, the wearing of masks, the washing of hands, the concern that the people we love might die or fall so sick that the scars of the disease remain with them indefinitely; one of the most difficult aspects of this year has been the divisions between people, the hullabaloo of every highly opinionated voice, the incapacity of people to cooperate and work together to keep each other safe, the uncontrolled intolerance, the sheer mistrust of knowledge, the inflated proclamations by self-appointed experts that have created a maelstrom of negativity that is a stark reminder of just how weak humanity can be when threatened by that which it does not yet understand.

Autumn is the time of year which points towards death and decay - the falling leaves, the fading of the last flowers of summer, the encroaching darkness and storms of winter. Yet it also carries us to a form of rebirth, it directs us towards the winter and reminds us that this is only temporary. The summer will return, and all we need to do is pause, and take stock, and rethink how we face life's challenges.

Poetry, stories, art, music, will work through this period. Poetry will be the way some of us will give voice to the lessons of this historic time that we are experiencing. Poetry will linger for a long time and will tell the story of how we in Gibraltar and we as individuals came through this.

So, for all of you out there who are writers - whether you write for publication or secretly, for your personal satisfaction or to be read by others - make the most of autumn. Paint those gloriously stunning autumn images with your words, to remind the rest of us that the world about us is still beautiful, that it is worth striving for despite the darkness that seems to hover at its edges. Tell us how you or your characters have striven and survived. Sketch out those characters who will help us connect with the truths of this time. Distill those intense emotions and gather that intensity into the few words of a line of poetry that resonate with those universal truths that unite humanity.

Autumn is such a perfect time to pause and write.