A new trailer for the Skipper's Child!

With just days left till the votes for the People's Book Prize close, I have finally managed to put together a short trailer for the Skipper's Child. A bit late, I know, but there's still the final voting to do, so it might help!

It's taken me far too long to do as I struggle with the new film editing programme I have. I just don't understand how it works and nearly chucked my poor undeserving laptop into the drink. The thing is, the old programme I had was much more user friendly to someone who is familiar with real film editing. I used to help to with editing for a film company in my former life. But the new iMovie is designed for people with gadgets (iPads and the like) that I don't have.

In particular, I have problems adding music to movies now, so luckily for me, Koos came to the rescue and added it on his computer. Even better, the music is his own composition, so I am very happy about that.

Nevertheless, there's still a disappointment in that YouTube has compressed the film so much, the music is a bit out of sync with video now. We will see if we can correct it, but for now, here it is!

UPDATE: Here is a much better version! Thanks again to Koos for fixing the sync (and the sink) for me today :-)

Starting Afresh

A little while ago, Chris Hill, who kindly did an interview here on the barge, did a post about 'How to Write' books. I found it interesting as it's not something I've ever thought much about until recently. That is, I never used to read 'how to write' articles, books, blog posts or anything of that nature. I just wrote. Simple.

But since I've been following a number of writers on Twitter and seeing links to really hundreds of such websites and articles, I've started wondering how much they might help me. I read a few blogs about editing and found them useful, and then I bought Stephen King's book, On Writing. After enjoying the autobiographical part, I waded through the advice - he's a bit dogmatic about some things, and I even felt annoyed about some of his remarks about what makes 'good' writers or 'bad' writers. Since I'm not a fan of his fiction, it wasn't difficult to react with thoughts like "And who are you to say what is good and bad," convinced as I was - and to a large extent still am - that what we think and judge to be good is mostly a matter of taste and choice. Cheeky of me, huh? For sure, I can recognise some writers as great, but I might dislike their subject matter and style. I have once or twice abandoned award winning novels half way through as heaps of self-indulgent twaddle. I won't list those that have inspired this reaction because others might think they are wonderful. And that's the point. It's about what inspires us, and as a writer, I try and write the type of books I enjoy reading. In the end, whatever we think of someone's skill as a wordsmith, it doesn't always mean we will like, respect or even want to read what they write. Apart from that, certain styles and topics come into fashion and then go again.

So what did I learn from Stephen King's book? Well one thing was a consciousness about adverbs that I never had before. He hates them and makes quite an issue of it. I'm still grappling with this one as I just love my adverbs. They give so much colour and humour, and I hate to see them go, but yes, I have to admit I use too many, so the delete key has been busy of late. That's a minor detail, though. The other, more important tips were firstly, when you finish a first edit, leave it alone yourself but print it out and send it to some trusted readers. Ask them to give you honest, constructive feedback. The second is to start doing something else so that you can go back and read your book afresh.

I have now followed both these pieces of advice. As I mentioned in one of my previous posts, I've recently finished an intense edit, and I am now waiting for the printed copies to send out to a few test readers.  The other tip is that I've started a new writing project. This is not fiction. It is the account of how I convert the Vereeniging (the barge in the header picture of my blog) into my home. It will, I hope,  be humorous as much of the process was very amusing and it follows on from Watery Ways, picking up just before I left off at the end of that tale. I am already enjoying the change and I'm finding it much easier to write than fiction, so it's very refreshing for me.

I hope it will move quite fast as I'd like to have the first draft done by the end of the summer. Ambitious? Maybe, but it's good to be busy with something new. And for that, despite my occasional annoyance with his pedantry, I can thank Mr King.

By the way, the man is amazing. He survived the most horrible crippling injuries when he was hit by a reckless driver, and if his book is to be believed, it is his passion for writing that helped him recover after months of hospitalisation, several operations and deep depression. It is a very inspiring book in many respects, and I do recommend it fully (see another adverb!).

For Ros - The water I see from my patio

In the comments to my last post, Ros mentioned that she expected me to be able to see water from my garden. Ros, I can see water, but not from where I was sitting in my chair. I was a bit too low. However, from the patio at the back of the little house, this is what I see. The photo above and below were taken last weekend on a beautiful evening.

Sunset from my patio zoomed right out

The photo below this is from just a little higher still as it was taken from the kitchen window! The higher I go, the more water I can see. This was a bit of a grey day, but still a lovely outlook. We call this the Molenkreek, and it used to be a natural watercourse in the times before the land here was drained and the big sea dykes were put up. This whole area used to be semi flooded at high tide, but at low tide, it left these creeks and water courses. Our Molenkreek is therefore a natural stretch of water about one and half kilometres long in total.

View from kitchen

Here is a crop of the map so you can see it. The blue strip at the edge is the big sea canal from Ghent to Terneuzen, and I can see the ships and barges going past from my bedroom window.

Map of Molenkreek. Ghent-Terneuzen sea canal on the left

A zoomed in image of what I see from the bedroom

As you can see, the canal is higher than the surrounding land, making these ships look very surreal as they float across the landscape.

Bits and Pieces

Life in the flatlands has gone a bit stale on me of late and I am lacking inspiration - feeling flat as it were. I've been meaning to write a post all week, but that 'can't be bothered feeling' has assailed me every time I've thought about it. I'm not sure what it is except possibly what they call here 'voorjaarsmoeheid', meaning spring tiredness. Maybe it's also because I've just finished a long and intense edit on the first draft of a new book, which has left me a little down. I found so much that I didn't like on re-reading it, not to mention a whole heap of repetitive expressions that have all (at least I hope they have) been exterminated, eradicated, eliminated or whatever else you can do with such literary mannerisms. Now, I'm wondering whether it's ever going to be any good. I'm having a few copies printed and sending it to a number of trusted readers who I know will give me good, honest feedback.

So, in the meantime and just to pull myself out of sloth, I'm presenting a post of bits and pieces from my phone camera.

The marvellous thing about these smartphones is that wherever you are, you can always whip your phone out of your pocket and snap something, and the results are not all too bad now. I don't carry a real camera around with me all the time - unlike Koos who would feel more naked without a camera than his shirt - and so the phone is an ideal pocket snapper. The result is that I often accumulate dozens of pictures on my phone before I get round to importing them to my laptop.

These first two pictures are of one of my bookshelves. I was going to write a post about my somewhat eclectic reading tastes, but it was a post I never got round to doing. Are there any books you can see here that you recognise, and any you have read yourselves?  I confess I haven't read absolutely all of them as a few come from Koos (you'll note those - they either have Dutch titles or they're about Poland). I will also acknowledge I haven't enjoyed all of them, but seem to keep them anyway. Notable among these is the one about Atila the Hun, which was all a bit too gory for my tastes. One I have enjoyed very much is by fellow blogger, Christina James. I wrote a review about her In the Family some weeks ago, which you might remember. By the way, the books are two deep, so I'm afraid you can't see the back rows.

These three photos are from a conceptual art event we attended last weekend. The artist is Christa van der Heide who is well known in these parts for her original and fascinating approach to the use of waste   items from industry in her art. It was at this event that my new profile picture on Facebook was taken. We all blew bubbles that floated down and mingled with the glass 'bubbles' on the floor. It was a moving and special event prompted by the artist's desire to confront her own internal conflicts and traumas. The middle photo is one of her pieces of industrial waste art.

And this is my chair in my tiny garden at my escape in Zeeuws Vlaanderen. I have a very small house which is where my sanity is restored after a week in the hectic environs of the middle of Rotterdam. I love it here and below you can see why. The two photos immediately beneath this text are what I see when I sit in my chair. The very last one is the current state of my spring flowers at the front of the cottage. It is of course nothing like the boat, but the boat lies in the heart of Rotterdam's social centre and the overnight noise can drive you to the desire to perpetrate lasting evil on your fellow men. Not good for the soul or for my advancing years, and hence the need to escape to this. 

So there you have it - my bits and pieces for the last week or so. Next time, there will be a proper post suited to the title of this blog. Have a lovely sunny weekend everyone!

Cruising in another dimension

Last week I was cruising both down and upstream on the River Guadalquivir. You may well wonder where that is, and if I'm truthful, I had never heard the name before I went there. Geography was never my strong point at school, and the only rivers I ever really cottoned on to were the really big ones. You know, the Thames, the Avon, the Ouse…okay, I'll admit it, the English ones. About other rivers, I might have given you the Seine, maybe the Nile, and perhaps the Amazon, but not much more than that.

It's living on a boat that's done it. Now I know more rivers than you can point a stick at and probably know my way across Europe by water better than by car. No kidding!

I think that is the Puente de la Cartuja in the distance

Anyhow, the Gudalquivir is the river that runs through Seville in Spain and has its mouth in the Atlantic Ocean. It is wide and lovely as it passes through the city, but sadly, you cannot get much further north than Seville because they've built a dam across it, probably to prevent flooding. There is also a canalised stretch that reaches round the city and which is probably there for the same reason.

Even so, you can hire boats or take a boat trip up and down the river, so as I happened to be in the neighbourhood last week, or as Christina James might say, I found myself in Seville, I decided the boat trip was a must, and very very agreeable it was too.

Going downstream from the town centre

Back upstream and the Puente de Triana is in sight

The Puente de Triana with its beautiful ironwork

We started off at a jetty in the middle of town almost opposite the Bullring (which I would prefer not to acknowledge, but which is rather a beautiful building). The boat then cruised downstream for about a kilometre before turning and taking us upstream to the northern most reaches of the city. We passed under some lovely bridges, one of which is the Puente de Triana, the oldest and most elegant in Seville, originally called the Isabel II bridge. Another is one that is mentioned in the Guiness Book of records for having the longest unsupported span. It's not particularly beautiful, but it is remarkable. It is called, romantically, the Puente de la Cartuja. The third and most familiar bridge to me is the Puente del Alamillo designed by Santiago Calatrava. It looks very much like the Erasmus Bridge here in Rotterdam and in fact, Calatrava designed another bridge here in the Netherlands of a similar style.

Apart from the bridges, we had a wonderful view of many of the sites for which Seville is famous and I learnt a good deal of the very noble history of the city into the bargain. Did you know that three Roman emperors came from Sevilla? I didn't! One of them was Trajan. It's so odd as I always think that Roman emperors must have been Italian, but it seems they were much more international in those days than I gave them credit for.

On a purely selfish note, the weather was just gorgeous - up in the thirties and wall to wall sunshine. It was just what I needed and had ordered. An added bonus was witnessing the first days of the famous Feria de Abril where Sevillians dress in their finest and ride their most elegant mounts around the city before drinking and partying the night away for six full days. Now I'm back in a chilly, but sunny Netherlands with a heavy cold and a temperature. Ah well, it was great to feel the sun on my skin and to be out on the water again. Simple pleasures are what it takes and the water is always a pleasure.

This bridge used to open for water traffic, but does no more

Attractive waterside buildings

The river traffic control tower

The Puente del Alamillo

The trip boat with my partner in travel

The beast that bears the beauty

Aren't these just beautiful? I think they are too lovely and I would give a lot to have a collection of this charming British canal art on my barge. Unfortunately, it wouldn't really go - my barge being Dutch and authentic (meaning, according to our harbour authorities, no infiltration of narrowboat features, thank you very much!) - added to which, it would probably all fall off given that I have no neat side rails to hold stuff in place on our somewhat choppier waters. I can just imagine launching myself after a set of painted teapots as they lurch overboard into the drink...canal performing art...

Nevertheless, I feel the need to say something about them here as these works of canal art are produced and sold by a very good friend of mine, Jan Nichols. She and her husband have a narrowboat and cruise continuously on the English waterways. It's a pity I can't give you a location as they'd be there today and yes..well.. gone tomorrow.

Still, Jan is beginning to get known on the circuit, so if you're doing a cruise or a walk along the canals one of these days and you see the Beast Carrying sign out, knock on the window and ask to see some of Jan's lovely wares.

Oh and yes, don't forget! Most importantly...give her a big hug from me and tell her I miss her.

The Reality Blog Award

Warm, witty, funny and above all spunky. That's how I think of Jo Carroll. She has become a true blog pal so I was just as truly honoured when my blog was one she nominated in The Reality Blog Award. Luckily, I just have to answer some questions, but they are quite challenging and really got me thinking, so...first the picture and then the answers:

This picture certainly describes many of my blogging friends, so let me see if I can come up with something to do justice to this idea and then pass on the baton to some of the others:

1.  If you could change one thing what would it be?  

All forms of racial prejudice. I know that's fairly broad, but as I teach in a very international environment, I come across it from the most unexpected sources at times. Apparently DNA archaeology has pretty much proved that we are all originally from the same stock, so no one really has a reason to see other races as different other than culturally - and cultural differences are surely to be celebrated.

2.   If you could repeat an age what would it be?

Jo said her choice was the sixties, but I can pinpoint mine to a single year. For some reason, I loved being 22. Maybe that was when I felt I became my own person rather than simply my parent's daughter.

3.  What one thing really scares you?

Oh dear, there are too many of them really. I'm the worst 'what if' worrier in the world and I anticipate disaster round every bend in the river, but, and you're going to find this curious from a boat dweller, I'm really scared of drowning. Luckily, I can swim - I made sure of that very early on!

4.   If you could be someone else for a day, who would it be?

I've never wanted to be anyone else, but let me think now. Whose shoes would I like to walk in for a day? Maybe Alison Krauss the singer. Firstly, I love her voice, and secondly, she's a brilliant fiddler. I'd love to know what it's like to be able to play the violin with such ease and dexterity instead of making the horrible squawking noises that come out of mine when I try.

Okay, so now it's my turn to nominate some of my favourite bloggers. It might be hard to find some who haven't been nominated yet, as there are so many worthy ones, so I'll branch out and suggest the following:

Fran of Bonnie of Clyde

Carol of Carol Hedges although I suspect she might well have been nominated already

Christina of Christina James

Thanks again, Jo, this was fun.

The joys of an open steering position

The Vereeniging on the day we arrived next to the Hoop in the Oude Haven

Back in 2001 when I bought the Vereeniging, I didn't really stop to think of much at all other than the fact that I wanted this barge. It had meant a great deal to find a boat that was so very much me. Firstly was its name - the Vereeniging, spelt with a double 'e' and not the single 'e' used for the word 'society' here. As many of you know, I lived in South Africa for much of my life and the town of Vereeniging (with a double 'e') to the south of Johannesburg, was a favourite with me. It seemed just right that the barge I'd fallen in love with from a photo should have such a special and familiar name and one which I associated with calm tranquillity and the warm sunshine of my former adopted country.

There were of course other bonuses to Vereeniging, the barge. It wasn't too long (19,8 metres), it wasn't too wide (3,2 metres), and it was low and sleek, meaning I could creep into places other more muscular, barges could not follow. In fact, with the charm of its ancient engine (a single cylinder hot bulb installed in 1921) and its old fashioned good looks, there was not much that could have dissuaded me from making the offer. Which I did. There and then.

Still, before I bought the Vereeniging, I'd had something of a checklist of requirements. The length and overall size checked out perfectly, but one thing I'd wanted very much was a nice, cosy wheelhouse. My early days as a resident of the Oude Haven were punctuated by spells of sitting in the wheelhouse on the Hoop, the barge I was renting from my friend, Philip. I'd sit there next to the upside down toilet (which never found its intended position and aim in life) and watch the ducks while I drank endless cups of coffee. The dogs also liked sitting there and watching Sea TV (okay, it's a river, but they didn't know that). The cast of characters never changed much: Mr and Mrs Mallard and their hundred and plenty offspring, varied occasionally by the Cantankerous Coots, hustlers of local notoriety and now and then Ma and Pa Swan whose main line seemed to be 'Give us a snack' in varying tones of aggression. At least it wasn't too challenging a script as they never seemed to forget what they had to say. Anyhow, it was really great to sit there and I was determined that any barge I bought should have a wheelhouse for sitting in too.

Well of course I forgot this completely the moment I saw the Vereeniging. It had everything I wanted, that is, barring two rather important features: firstly it was totally empty. A shell with a rotten wooden floor and only rusting iron for walls, so zero accommodation. Secondly, it had no wheelhouse. Still, I reasoned, the price was good, and I couldn't afford the Hoop anyway, so the selection committee was down to beggars, and we all know about them.

My first reminder of what I'd so conveniently overlooked was our maiden voyage from Grave (pronounced a gutterel Hraava in case you had other ideas) near Nijmegen in the east of the Netherlands. It was December, 2001 and we had a journey of some 120 kilometres to make. The day was arctic with winds that slashed at us in icy shards. And there we stood - at our open steering position, exposed to it all. Oh joy!

There is a an article here published by the tugboat owner who assisted us on this trip, and he took this photo of me looking clearly huddled and miserable (yes I did have dark hair in those days, but not naturally even then). It was an exciting journey for all sorts of other reasons (to be found in Watery Ways, the book), but it was also an extremely cold one.

While I have never regretted buying the Vereeniging, I still think wistfully of the Hoop's lovely wheelhouse and often scheme about how to add one to my little barge. Sadly, I have been through all the possibilities mentally and on paper, and it would not work. More importantly, it would look so out of keeping, it is not even thinkable really, but still I dream. To be confined to travelling in the warmer months in this part of the world is somewhat limiting to say the least, so if anyone has any bright ideas, feel free to send in your plans! I want something like this (see the Hoop below). What do you think?

The Hoop as it was when I  was Philip's tenant.

Sindy on the hatchboards as a youngster

A trailer for WateryWays

I wonder how this will work. My first attempt at a trailer for promoting my book.

The Vereeniging will return

This last week I had 'the' chat to my lovely Jodie about what she wants to do as regards the Vereeniging. Just to remind those of you who have forgotten or who haven't been visiting me for long, Jo moved onto my barge, the Vereeniging,  a year ago this month. At the time, we agreed she would have a year to decide whether she wanted to make barge life a permanent thing, and added to that, whether she wanted to stay on the Vereeniging.

Well, one thing is clear. She wants to live on a barge. She loves it despite the inevitable inconvenience that such a life brings. The second thing is that she realises it cannot be the Vereeniging. My little barge is too small for my daughter's myriad interests. She is bursting out of it at the seams. I saw this coming almost from the first and I am not surprised. Her books, musical instruments and art work alone take up more than all the room there is. What there is left to live and cook in is less than her ambitions in this department will allow. I know she was worried about telling me, but it was clear to me in many ways. I am only glad she's had the experience and decided what she wants.

The other and good part is that I get my barge back. And in truth I'll be very happy to receive it again. I've missed it dearly, and I'm already dreaming about what I'm going to do with it in the coming years. One thing I've learnt is that the Vereeniging is too much part of me to relinquish, and come what may, my barge and I will be cruising off into a French sunset one of these days.

Koos will of course be my first mate...