My Writing Blog Tour

I am extremely grateful to Trev @trevwashere through the auspices of Abbie @thehungryfox for giving me the opportunity to talk about my writing.

What am I working on

Completing final book in my four book ‘The Four Gifts’, also called ‘The Four Gifts’, a short mystery, magical novel bringing together themes and characters from two poetry collections:

‘The Fabulous Invention Of Barnsley’ and ‘The Place For Breath’, and a collection of Short stories/Radio Piece  ‘The Four Songs’

Writing up the rest of my family history history research, that includes the tale of Charles Teft Laurence, Master Mariner, a Victorian tale of apprenticeship, marriage, shipwreck and family tragedy.

Invisible Town (inspired by Italo Calvinos Invisible Cities) and Wombwell early and late strolls are daily tweets building up to a larger work.

How does my work differ from others of its genre.

Strangely, after I had completed most of my family history (2010-2014), I discovered direct connections with my first collection of poetry, The Fabulous Invention Of Barnsley (1993).

My ancestor Thomas Laurence was Chairman of the Liverpool Select Vestry that administrated the Liverpool Workhouse, in ‘The Gold’ I recount an experience of Barnsley Workhouse. There are many other connections. If you like, see if you can find them.

My writing poetry/prose is interconnected by recurrent themes, characters. On my blog are early versions of my seven poetry pamphlets:

1. The Fabulous Invention Of Barnsley
2. The Place For Breath
(3. The Four Songs (Short stories/Radio Piece) 4. The Four Gifts (Novel))
3. The Bag Bottom Poems (Miscellaneous)
4. The Seven Breaths
5. The Stone Languages
6. The (The Reinvent The Remains) As A Documentary Treatment
7. The Desiccated Bus Shelter

The Bleaching Of Richard Peaudane (Historical/Romance poetry/prose)

The Quick Fables (Flash Fiction), covering science fiction, fantasy, extreme realism

My first tweeted children’s story ‘The Wombwell Unicorn’ featuring the young female ghost ‘Blue Mary’. *******
Non Fiction

Extracts from Family History Articles

Miscellaneous Articles, including one about how art leads to art, the idea of ‘reverie’ and so on.

Why do I write what I do?

I want to make sense of who I am, where I came from and where I live. An impossible but engrossing job.

I want to make sense of why others live the way they do, who they are and what they do. In the past, it seems, our job or trade defined us and the place where we lived. What do we mean by ‘place’? Landscape?

The importance of dialect and geology in giving a sense of belonging.

I wish to discover the marvellous in the everyday commute.

How does my writing process work

I explore ways of Seeing, ways of telling, ways of making sense.

How we piece what seems absurd into what is reasonable. Incongruity, surrealism, ‘kitchen sink’, super reality.

Using all five senses, all aspects, history, society, encompass all of it.

As for writing process. I have an idea then one of two things happen: I hear the voice then have to really listen and record what it has to say in the way that it says it accurately, or it comes all at once and I’ve all on to get it down.

I sometimes have to return and rewrite as I did not hear the voice clearly the first time.

The voice, monologue in some form, not usually confessional, seems to be my main mode of expression.

My Writing Process Blog Baton

I pass on to Stuart @StuartABarnes, an editor of e-book Tincture Journal @TinctureJournal http ://tincture- journal. com/ or Tincture Journal’s site


1. The Switch Off

After work I smoke to switch off
I need that release so at Morrisons
say to my mate Watch This and  jump into trolley bouncy with cardboard, nick from Pick ‘n’Mix, who misses a Jelly Tiger, me and mate do Madness walk down shopping aisles followed by security, till we get to sweets aisle and munch it all. Maybe buy some Johnnies and while she’s not looking pocket pack chewing gum.
Switched On, nah, that’s effort, what you want is no effort, Switched Off.

2. The Don’t Mind Me

Stood in our local hostelry

doing the business where

its quiet this lad comes in

says Don’t Mind Me, spreads

line of white stuff on white

porcelain and sniffs it up.

Don’t Mind Me he says

and leaves. I was finished off.

3. The Dream

Seen those foods on offer

as you go out supermarket

with your trolley, crisps, nuts,

what if you were to swipe one off

as complimentary. They’d not

miss it. Earn millions them.

That’d be A-Mazing!


The Switch Off

After work I smoke to switch off

I need that release so at Morrisons

say to my mate Watch This and  jump

into trolley bouncy with cardboard,

nick from Pick ‘n’Mix, who misses a Jelly Tiger,

me and mate do Madness walk
down shopping aisles

followed by security,
till we get to sweets aisle
and munch it all.

Maybe buy some Johnnies
and while shop lass not looking

pocket pack chewing gum.

Switched On, nah effort, no effort, Switched Off.

Invisible Town On The Cards

At bus stop 6 playing cards played 3 of Diamonds, Queen of Diamonds face up. Empty coke can: a bus on the cards

Bus stop other side from morning Ace of Hearts 7 of Diamonds 5 of Spades 6 9 of Diamonds face up. Afternoons hand

Hill top Mrs Wood, grocers, coming down street cemeteries avenue hill bottom where pit used to be a lush forest.

In siling down bus is a big kid in wellies a splash laugh in every pothole puddle, hurriedly shops import goods

Slanted rain rolls down slanted roof slanted street each angle geometric downpour wet arithmetic blatant flashes

Estate Agents white box A4 copier paper door stop charity shop rush takes green leather sofa armchair out of rain

‘value’ ‘bonus’ ‘Low, Low Prices’ big on bright blue next to ‘On Offer’ ‘To Let” boarded, flagged market forces

Pale blue sweatered woman bent at right angles pushes her brown tartan square four wheel shopping trolley up hill

Greenery now over spoilheap less work less danger canal no longer used all leisure, industry moved into headsets

Young man in flak jacket grey snapback struggles to attach long fishing rod rest and shopping to bikes handlebars

Bright cool blue sky cafe puts out green plastic chairs stacked like plastic cups bakers window 4 loaves 2 burnt

Invisible Town Pavements (Ongoing)


Invisible Town Pavement: is laid level over history,
Over cobble, over broken vase,
lost money,
Stare into workman’s dig
to see what is lost

Stare into jigger picked
high vis recall
Sweated out the dried carapace
squashed ancient trees
pressured into coal

Pavements are pages to be read. Each page a history inscribed marked cracked weathered. Every street a chapter, town a novel

Pavements are continually rewritten. New images, new characters added, others moved on. You are a character on a pavement.

Sometimes pavements need translating as they may trip up the unwary. Obstacles such as archaic language pedantic terms await

Invisible Town Plugged In

Language changes as gusts change. Words lean into gust, hold their meaning until the earths breath changes direction

A way of looking moved on. Clack and phut of wooden shuttle, shuttled off. Wire Making pulled out, nail making hammered off

A new way of looking, perhaps a new industry growing into itself. Perhaps call centre headset on revised coat of arms

All is driven intravenously. Plug our veins in to provide fuel for mechanical engines. Plug veins into computers, TVs.

The Glass Town

Fresh raw materials melted in crucible

Working average 16 hours a day Temperature extremes

A chair of five blokes include first gaffer sat in his chair

Second gatherer takes glass gather on his blowing iron out

white heat furnace hole

Gather becomes gob

Glass gob rolled on marver smooth iron or stone slab roll removes air bubbles passed to third a blower either free blows or blows into mould bottle body shape

Fourth bloke attaches pontil an Iron bar onto bottle base uses wetter off a soaked strip of wood applies a drop of water snaps glass off blowing iron

soft glass on pontil Passed to gaffer Gaffer keeps bottle turning on his chairs flat arms stops glass collapse

Gaffer trims, finishes neck adds string rim adds any seal

Fifth assistant boy Inserts iron rod in bottle mouth

Gaffer applies flash of water snaps off pontil that leaves pontil mark on bottle base.

Finished bottle taken to lehr for annealing

Boys dip end blowing irons and pontils in water tank remove moils waste glass

working ends of irons placed in furnace gathering hole heat up for next gather.

Bosses expected team produce 150 bottles an hour.

glass bottles furnace fumes made black glass colour

Heraldic glass blower


To understand and be understood
To comprehend and be comprehensible

I tried to speak clearly when young and my mother would say ‘Stop shouting!’
Outside of my home I would try to speak out of my grave shyness. People would say ‘Speak up. Your mumbling.’ I have acquired over the years, so listeners have advised me, a volume in my speaking voice that rises and falls, peaks and dips at unexpected moments but sounds perfectly level to me in my head. It is perfectly level to my hearing.

Over the years I have made a conscious effort towards clarity in my speech and writing. Scared of being misunderstood I went into myself through books, hoping my absorption in them would give me greater clarity when talking/writing to/with other people.

I have performed my writing on stage, on radio and was a creative writing teacher of adults for eight years. The last eleven years I have worked in a call centre on the phones where clear communication, correct pronunciation, and plain explanation is vital. Over the years I have acquired a mild form of OCD that expresses itself in a need that things make sense, clear order, instruction and process.

I hope you may empathise with this situation, and that this article can be clearly understood. When I request comments about my work, it is not out of egotism, a need for confirmation. I am asking ‘Am I comprehensible?’