Emma Lee

I would like to welcome to my blog today Emma Lee. Emma was featured on CafeLit on 15 September 2010 with “Father Ghost” and “Weblines” on 5 August 2019. She also had a short story “Snowena” in Bridgehouse Publishing’s Gentle Footprints.

Over to Emma: 

I write short stories and reviews alongside poetry. I used to write music reviews for fanzines when I was a teenager and when I started sending out poem and story submissions, I mentioned my music reviewing so I didn’t sound like a complete beginner. One magazine editor asked if I’d thought about reviewing books. I hadn’t, but if this was a way to get my name in print and reviewing books couldn’t be more difficult than reviewing music, I’d do it. My reviewing career runs in parallel to my writing career.

My mother taught me to read before I started school, so I was an early, avid reader. I don’t think it’s possible to be a writer if you don’t read. I used to build houses from toy bricks and create stories for people I imagined might live there. Once I could write, I started writing these stories down. Then stories became poems.

However, I didn’t have the confidence to show anyone what I was writing so I wrote in the gaps between other things: sneaking off to an empty classroom during breaktimes or pretending to do homework or arriving early and writing before friends showed up. Consequently, I don’t have a particular routine. If a poem or short story needs to be written, it gets written. I do a lot of drafting in my head before any words get near a page or screen. The discipline from reviewing means I don’t differentiate between reading from a page or screen and it makes no difference to me whether I write a first draft on a laptop, phone or notebook.

I do have a desk at home. But a lot of my writing gets done in the car because I’m early for something and have to wait or in a café before an event or waiting for friends. (My friends aren’t late, I’m in the habit of being early for everything and meeting in a café means I top up my caffeine levels and write). If I publish another book, I think my car and the Phoenix café bar in Leicester deserve credits.

Even though I started getting published as a teenager, I didn’t really think of myself as a writer until I’d got a few publishing credits under my belt and decided to look for local writers’ groups to join.

My fourth book of poetry, The Significance of a Dress has just been published by Arachne Press. This collection’s origins go back to 2015 when I was co-editor of Over Land, Over Sea: poems for those seeking refuge (Five Leaves, 2015), an anthology of poems published to raise funds for charities working with refugees. I began writing poems exploring why people flee their home countries, set out on dangerous, life-threatening journeys and settle in camps with little support as they wait the outcomes of their asylum applications. There are three poems with “dress” in the title. The title poem, which is based on an interview with a woman who ran a wedding dress hire shop in a refugee camp. “How a Dress Lost its Sparkle” inspired by Arabella Dorman’s art installation in Leicester Cathedral. “Bridal Dresses in Beirut” inspired by a novel protest against Article 522 where wedding dresses were hung up from wires in the city.

During 2015-2017 I did a lot of promotional events for Over Land, Over Sea: poems for those seeking refuge including a pop-up poem library at Leicester Railway station where poems or extracts from poems were handed out to commuters and Journeys in Translation where we encouraged people to translate poems from the anthology into other languages. In 2018, Arachne put a call-out for submissions to an anthology. I’d had a poem sequence, flash fiction and individual poems accepted by them previously so thought I stood a good chance. However, Arachne said on this occasion they didn’t want to include my poems in an anthology but wanted a single author collection, so The Significance of a Dress came about. It’s available direct from Arachne.

There were events planned. Fortunately, a launch event took place at the Stephen Lawrence Gallery in Greenwich, London early in March. However, I was given less than 24 hours’ notice that the venue was withdrawing from the Leicester launch so had to quickly find an alternative which meant some who had planned to attend the original launch couldn’t make the alternative. States of Independence where I was due to do a reading was also cancelled. There are plans in the pipeline to do more readings in Leicester and London, but dates and venues are to be confirmed. There some videos on Arachne Press’s website of me reading from of the poems from the book which have been shared with Tara Skurtu’s wonderful #InternationalPoetryCircle initiative and I read my flash fiction “The City’s Heartbeat” to share with Hannah Storm’s #FlashFamily initiative; both aim to share videos of writers reading their work to combat feelings of isolation.

The Arachne Press link is: https://arachnepress.com/books/poetry/the-significance-of-a-dress/ and includes a trailer featuring the title poem.

Writing the World

Writing the World  

We have faced a few challenging incidents in the past weeks in the UK. Always when these big things happen we want to do something. Perhaps we add flowers to a memorial site, perhaps we attend a vigil or we might give money. What we choose to do may not directly make it better for the victims but it nevertheless expresses something.

I belong to a choir and some members sang at the children’s hospital last Sunday. This was a reaction to the terror attack on the Manchester Arena. 

As writers and artists we often want to do what we do best. We put together anthologies of stories and sell books, donating the profit to the victims. We paint pictures or we make music.

I was delighted to have my short story The Gift Child published in Lines in the Sand, a collection of writings and illustrations by those who had protested about the war in Iraq. This was my first piece of fiction to be published. It very much told the same story as my novel The Prophecy. It also helped me to feel that I was doing something practical about my anger. Up until then I’d had a lot of time for Toni Blair and New Labour. That government also stopped compulsory language learning in school. That also horrified me. My story, included in the Seeds of  Hope section, addresses that also. Lines in the Sand not only gave all profits and royalties to UNICEF but also tackled the topic of war for children.

We published 100 Stories for Haiti. All profits go to the Red Cross.

It’s our experience that the books don’t make a lot of money. Even when Gentle Footprints starred at the Hay festival we barely covered our costs and then the money we did donate to Born Free got tangled up with VAT. It might have been much simpler just to donate from our own pockets. However the sentiments expressed remained really important. Animals should be allowed to live in the wild. Our collection contained stories from animal points of view – very tricky, and Richard Adams made us a fantastic contribution- or from the point of view of humans who help them to stay or become free. Debz Hobbs-Wyatt, my publishing partner on this venture, has continued to work with schools on this.

Perhaps if we can make others re-examine these situations we make a valuable contribution. Isn’t it the artist’s job to make the viewer look back at the reality? 

What’s up next? Well, we’re working on a collection called Citizens of Nowhere. It’s all about the global citizen. It embraces diversity and multiculturalism. It contains characters that have no fixed cultural identity. Now then, Madam May and co.     

         

Mixed Feelings about the Hay Festival

It was great fun when we took Gentle Footprints to Hay. We were in the biggest stadium which was almost full and we had the early Friday evening slot. Virginia McKenna wrote our introduction to the anthology and so she was there. The publishing team had coffee with her in the morning and took her out to dinner in the evening. All of the contributors met her for lunch. It was definitely a red letter day.

My friend and publishing partner Debz Hobbs Wyatt and I decided to go for most of the week. We were joined later by other members of the team. We had a ball. We stayed in a really good value for money B & B that was a short ride out of Hay and in beautiful countryside.

We paced ourselves and even managed a few hours chilling back at the farm.

Hay needn’t be expensive. There are lots of free events and most don’t cost all that much. The food is good – mainly local produce and very good value for money. If you book your accommodation enough in advance you can get it at a reasonable price. There is such an atmosphere – even when it rains – maybe particularly when it rains and you get to paddle around in your willies.  It’s nice, though, as well, when the sun shines and you can lounge around in the deckchairs or sit on the grass reading books. It’s lovely, anyway, to be surrounded by people who love books.

I’ve made a second trip to Hay and enjoyed it just as much. I booked it very last minute but managed to get reasonable accommodation forty minutes’ drive away. It was just as enjoyable though we weren’t such stars that time. I began to think I’d like to do it every year.

One thing bothers me however: they do not pay their writers. They treat you like royalty. You get exposure. You sell books. Maybe. Yet even with Virginia McKenna there, signing copies, we only actually sold 75 at the festival and this was deemed to be good. The profit on that nowhere near covered our expenses.  

I’d thought about going this year. I wanted to support Melvin Burgess who will be discussing Junk there on 2 June. I’ve recently read this and was impressed. Alas, I’ll be up to my neck in marking by then and also moving office. But would I have gone anyway? I do feel inclined to boycott those festivals that don’t pay their writers. Creative Practitioners must be paid.

The counter argument is that it would make the festivals a lot more expensive. Isn’t there a creative way in which we can make this win win?                        

A writer, counting blessings

Recently a few small things have pleased me no end. They really have. They all add together and contribute to the bigger picture.

Northern Venetians

I was extraordinarily pleased to be involved in this project. Partly because I was commissioned, partly because I’m rubbing shoulders with some significant people and partly because I’m growing rather fond of producing these very short texts.

I asked my colleagues to see if they could spot my text. One managed straight away – she recognised my style and a reference within the text. Another colleague is still puzzling it out.

Can you spot my work here? Because it’s nearly Christmas I’ll send you a signed copy of one my books if you spot it. You choose which!

Hay Day One

There is an incredible atmosphere at the Hay Festival. The main events are held on a field just outside the town. Large marquees are sponsored by the likes of Barclays Bank and the Guardian newspaper. There are quirky side-stalls such as the one selling a Monopoly-like board game based on books and the tombola for original and reproduced artwork. Proceeds support green initiatives. Young people wander around with beehive-shaped backpacks giving samples of honeybeer. There are open meadow areas with people sitting on designer deckchairs and on the grass and guess what – they’re reading. Reading, of course, is a respected activity at this festival. There’s the atmosphere of a rock festival though it’s a little more subdued – and of course the inevitable queue for the ladies’ loo.
I actually attended two events: a reading and interview with Audrey Neffenegger who wrote The Time Traveller’s Wife and Andrea Levy who wrote Small Islands. They were both extremely interesting though totally different from each other. Both good speakers in their own way. Speakers and presenters at Hay are awarded a long-stemmed rose. You can spot them as you wander around the town afterwards. We walked straight past Levy later in the afternoon.
I was fascinated that Neffenegger is part writer, part artist and part college professor. Sounds familiar somehow. Even the best of us have to juggle. She did give us a tip for a book we really need: Time Travel for Writers. Need to google that.
Levy was a performer. She read with a fabulous Caribbean accent. She sets out to portray amongst other things the ordinary day to day life of the 300 years of slavery. She talked of a distinction between voice and accent.
We also visited the Rainforest Rescue stand which was interesting and supported by Sky Arts and the World Wildlife Fund, so there’s a connection with Gentle Footprints and our launch on Friday.
We took some time afterwards to visit the town of Hay itself. You can see that the locals are milking the festival. One family were offering cream teas in their garden. A house for sale is having its Open House in exactly this week. Many people are holding garage sales. But who can blame them? If the world invades their space at festival time… why not? In a way, it’s a form of hospitality.
We took the time out to investigate the Swan where we’re having our meet-and-greet before the main event on Friday. It was crowded but delightful. The evening menu seemed very reasonable and they didn’t seem to have inflated prices at the time of the main festival. That too is a form of hospitality.
We dined at the cheaper of the local hostelries, The Wheel Wright, recommended by our landlady. There was actually more choice there and it was cheaper. The people were very friendly if a little noisy.

Gentle Marketing for Gentle Footprints

“I think I’ll get my car washed at the gym today,” I say to my husband.
The door bell rings. There are two little girls standing on the step.
“Would you like to have your car washed?” one of them asks.
“Well….” Well, why not? And how did they know? “How much do you charge?” I ask.
“We’ll do it for free if you like,” the other one replies.
No, I can’t do that. That would be child exploitation. “Will a fiver do?” I ask.
They nod eagerly. I remember my daughter used to do exactly this for pocket money about fifteen years ago. She did a much better job than the local car wash.
They do too. I’ve already had the idea of giving them a “tip” in the form of signed copies of two of my books. We also give them all the Tesco’s school vouchers and because one of the girls keeps dropping everything we even supply them with a linen bag that advertises my web site.
“My mum likes books,” says the older of the two girls.
“Well, she’ll like the one that’s come out this week,” I say. I explain all about Gentle Footprints and that my story is about the swans on the Outwood Park pond just opposite the house.
“Oh, yes, they’ve got babies again,” says one of the girls.
Good. I hadn’t seen them for a while. The nest must have been well hidden.
Unfortunately, I have none of the Gentle Footprints postcards left. However, I find a couple from my other books.
“Tell your mum to look out for this book,” I say, writing down the title and ISBN of Gentle Footprints and the address of the Bridge House Publishing web site. “And tell your teachers I’ll come and do a free author talk if they’ll let me sell some of my books.”
Fortunately the girls go to two separate schools. One is still at primary school, the other is already at secondary school.
So, a good marketing opportunity and a clean car to boot.
Late, when I drive to the newspaper shop, I see the girls again. They spot me and immediately take out the books and start reading.