Archives for Berlin

Flash Fiction: Stone

Joanna stood like a human pebble amongst the ebb and flow of the tourist tide on the roof of the Reichstag. She’d bought a £39 flight to Berlin and got on the plane the very same afternoon, something she’d never done before. She was giddy with bravery. And now she was here, with Berlin at her feet. So far she had eaten currywurst – a disappointing long sausage with curry sauce on the side, rather than the curry-flavoured sausage she had expected – she’d been on a boat trip down the Spree, walked through Checkpoint Charlie which was a street filled with tacky souvenir shops – not like the films at all – and she’d plucked up the courage to ask a stranger to take her photograph outside the Brandenburg Gate. He was Japanese, she thought, or possibly Chinese, but he smiled a lot and seemed to know more about how her camera worked than she did. She had managed to say danke schön, which afterwards she realised the tourist wouldn’t have understood. And now she was standing on top of Berlin. Her nose felt hot, she hoped it wasn’t red. September in Berlin was hotter than September in Leeds,
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Categories: My Flash Fiction.

Applying the rules of art to writing: look and think

“For every hour of making, spend an hour of looking and thinking: Good work reveals itself slowly. You cannot judge a work’s full impact without hours of observation. It is also a good idea to step away from what you are doing at regular intervals. The immediate impression a work makes when it is re-encountered is critical. A good work is satisfying both upon immediate encounter and after long periods of concentrated viewing. If any work fails on either approach, keep trying until you feel satisfied that you have succeeded on both counts.” Excerpt from ‘101 Things to Learn in Art School’ by Kit White Okay, there’s a lot here. Looking and thinking means use your writer’s notebook, have it by your side all day. The muse does tend to strike me at inconvenient moments, and unless I make a note of that brilliant thought it will undoubtedly be forgotten. This is a small scruffy notebook from my handbag, the notes scribbled on a day recently spent walking around Sachsenhausen concentration camp near Berlin. The emotions were so strong, the sense of history, a moment of horror trapped in a sunny September day: my mind teemed with ideas and sensations
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Categories: On Writing.