Our intention was to launch a new raucous rendition of WritLOUD and on the night it was appropriately dubbed ‘a hubbub in a pub’. (I’m quite sure there was some brouhaha-ing going on as well.) The turn-out was good and as a result we will have to look for a larger venue for the next one.
Miguel Fernandes Ceia compered and restrained himself from using his ‘Umbrella of Doom’ on any of our readers. (It actually appeared to be a ‘Walking Stick of Doom’ but that doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.)
Our guest readers; Jonathan Kemp, Liane Strauss and Russell Celyn Jones, were on top form - Jonathan made us blush, Liane made us laugh and Russell made us swoon. Jonathan read from his new book Twentysix – a collection of prose poems, Liane read from her collection Leaving Eden as well as some new poetry, including the very popular ‘We’re All Fine’, and Russell read from his most recent book The Ninth Wave – a contemporary retelling of a Welsh myth.
We even sold a book to the barman.
There are a few pictures of the event on the Writers’ Hub Facebook page.
Our Twitter ‘Last Line’ Competition was wildly successful – we had as many as five entries, and I managed to overlook two of them, so when it came to announcing a winner on the night we had only three entries to choose from. So, in the end all three were awarded a prize for participation if nothing else. There did seem to be an over-arching theme – informed by Miguel’s bird-orientated first-line but also by people apparently looking forward to their Christmas dinners.
The Original Line was:
‘The bird, a pigeon was it? or a dove (she'd found there were doves here) flew through the air, its colour lost in what light remained.’
(from Carpenter’s Gothic by William Gaddis)
The ‘Last Line’ Competition Entries:
‘The meat, tender in her mouth, reminded her (was it a goose or duck?) of some Christmas past.' Ruth Livingston
‘He returned, my feathered friend, perching loftily on his branch, surveying the carnage, as the bank of fog crawled up the hill.’ Alex Gray
‘Three years & 500 pages into the wild I pursued the dove to discover? That the taste was like chicken, best served with lemon.’ Mario Kyriacou
‘As I placed it on my plate, the piece of shot reminded me of something. Something lost, like a biscuit. Or a bird.’ Matthew Loukes
‘She tightened the string of her snare and laid it out in the dirt - it would be a hungry night if she couldn't catch anything.’ (I’m sorry – I didn’t get your name, I presume ‘Brixton Hotel’ is not actually your name – although I suppose there is Paris Hilton)
Thanks to everyone who entered, all five of you. We appreciate it.
Hubbub will be back – hopefully with more space and less medical emergencies. The date for the next one will be announced shortly.