Month: September 2016

Mennies

On By Clare ZeschkyLeave a comment

I’ve wanted to write about my hometown for ages. Like most Dundonians, I’m intensely proud of the place. It’s not got the romance of Edinburgh or Inverness. It’s not got the friendly reputation of Glasgow or the oil money of Aberdeen. In fact ask anyone outside the town what they think and they are likely to turn their nose up at it. Or back off in fear. As well they should. But ask a Dundonian and we’ll tell you another story. A story of how the light is perfect, of the way the river reflects sunsets in glorious colours. We’ll tell you of people who know hard work and hardship. We’ll tell you about the strong, fierce women who bind the city and its families together.

So, I’ve set the WIP (provisionally entitled The Lucky Weasel) in Dundee during the referendum of 2014 and this is the first in a series of short posts about the locations that come up in the novel.

The action opens in Mennies, also known as the Speedwell Bar, on the Perth Road. It’s one of my favourite Dundee places. Good beer, good punters, and scampi fries.  The pint of eighty I had on my last visit home still haunts my dreams with its silky loveliness. The bar’s website describes it as “one of the finest examples of an Edwardian Bar embracing all that was good in pub architecture at the beginning of the twentieth century.” Which is a fancy way of saying its affy bonny.  It makes a great location to set a book in, too. With a main bar, a couple of lounges and the world’s smallest ladies bathroom there’s plenty scope. Add in a magic weasel and the scene is set for a heist of Royal proportions:

No one noticed when Her Royal Highness Queen Elizabeth the Second walked in the side door of the Speedwell Bar and stole the Lucky Weasel. No one but me. And I wasn’t about to stop her. Not yet at least. So I just watched from the booth I’d managed to commandeer on this busy Saturday night as she leapt neatly over the gantry, sidled along the bar past Gary, stuck with his arm out pouring a pint, to where the weasel sat behind the gin. She tucked the beast in the folds of her cloak, throwing me a saucy wink before disappearing back out the side door. But not before she downed Iain Cunningham’s pint. I wasn’t sure this wouldn’t cause the bigger scandal.

Unfortunately, I made the legend behind the Weasel up. There’s no Weasel behind the gin. I checked. But maybe her Madge really did get it.

For more info on Mennies, see its website or Facebook Page.

 

 

Two Years On.

On By Clare Zeschky2 Comments

It’s two years to the day since Scotland voted to remain part of the UK. I wish I could be more objective about this but it still hurts a bit. And yes, I know, because it has been pointed out more than once, that I don’t have a right to an opinion on this having chosen to leave eight years ago. But guys, I’m sorry. I do have an opinion and the last two years watching Britain descend into fear and insularity has done nothing to change it.

I wish it had been different. But the results cannot be changed. Unlike the face of Scottish politics. Back in 2014, I was on a trip through the Rockies with my parents and staying in a cabin in the mountains. I had no idea if I was going to have access to the internet that day so before I left Banff I posted:

Probably losing internet later today so before I go I just want to extend my thanks to everyone back home for embracing the referendum. I don’t need to tell you all how important it is but for those elsewhere reading this- it is momentous. A country is deciding its fate by democratic vote. It’s not something that happens very often. Whatever the result Scotland has changed history, and changed itself. Nothing will be the same again- people now know they have a voice- the fact that the result looks like being so close really only emphasises this. It’s brilliant and inspiring. Yes there’s been a lot of trolls come out- yes the debate has been heated and personal at times. I expect nothing less, it is personal. But overall, I’m so proud right now to be Scottish. Go vote guys- Looking forward to Friday when I can find out the score!

Throughout the campaign I was so impressed by the way everyone embraced it. I heard stories of people discussing it at bus stops, in the pub. Wherever people went they were talking. And that was huge.

In the end, the result wasn’t the one I’d wanted. It was the one some other folk wanted. But in the end, Scotland gained something that it will be hard to kill- the knowledge that the people really do have the power to change things. Shame that couldn’t have filtered south during the Brexit vote.

But at least we can still blame the English. The other alternative was cats. And that just wouldn’t have been so satisfying.

 

Swim Until You Can’t See Land.

On By Clare ZeschkyLeave a comment

The sea plays a vital role throughout The Remote Part. It is never far from the action and its moods often set the tone for the chapter. But for Isla the sea is part of who she is. It is a realisation that comes to her as the novel progresses, but even in the opening chapter she cannot escape it’s grasp.

Exhausted and sick she curls up in bed only to be pulled out into the night by Stewart, and pushed into the sea. More than anyone he knows the power it has to heal her.

Before them the sea roared, the waves breaking close to shore, so close she could taste the spray. The pull of the waves on the land was almost unbearable now, pulling her in. As if he knew she could no longer stand it, she felt his lips on her forehead, cool against her hot skin. His voice cut over the pounding rhythm of the water.

“Come back to me,” he said.

His hand was on her back gently pushing her towards the sea.

She stepped forwards, the sand giving way unevenly beneath her until she was running, falling to where land met sea, where everything was blurred. The water wrapped around her and she let her body be carried by it until she was through the churn of the shoreline and out into the heave of the open water. The currents whipped round her like the wind. They tugged at her, tugged at what was inside her. She fought them, instinctively, until the calm came. It came slowly, a warmth which sparked in her chest and flowed out to the tips of her fingers and toes to the top of her head. She let herself sink, deeper and deeper, losing the sense of where she stopped and the water started.

 

Frightened Rabbit are another band that is going to pop up a lot here. This is classic Scottish Indie rock. And they just keep getting better. There’s a darkness through their work, particularly Scott Hutchison’s lyrics that just gets to me. It’s a brutal honesty, almost a slap in the face sometimes that draws me in again and again. These songs sum up so much of the Scottish experience, the reality of a life that is harsh but not without joy.

This song worked its way into the novel as a whole. The idea of Isla being linked to the sea, bound to it. The way the water can cleanse and heal but also how it can empty a soul.

And the land is a marker line
All I am is a body adrift in water, salt and sky

So here’s the song:

 

The Remote Part

On By Clare Zeschky2 Comments

I’d like to say I listen to music as I write, that I sit down at my old oak desk and tap out words in time to pretty tunes. But in reality I do most of my plotting in the car on the school run. So my inspiration comes from what CDs are in the glovebox. Or at least they did until I dicovered Spotify. Now I just stick it on shuffle and see what happens. It’s making the WIP interesting.

For this novel it is the songs I listened to on the road to daycare that worked their way into the text, inspired whole chapters and gave the project its name. So that’s where we start today. With the name.

It’s going to become pretty obvious that I’m a big Idlewild fan. They are one of those bands I’ve followed from the start- I remember them rolling round the floor of the Old Old 13th Note in Glasgow in the mid-90’s, creating a shambolic noise that still somehow managed to tear your heart apart with the gorgeous lyrics. This was that post-punk, post-grunge noise that Scotland reverberated to back then. And it had soul.

Fast forward a few years and things have calmed down a bit but at the centre the pure poetry of Roddy Woomble slays me every time.

The Remote Part is the third album, released in 2002, was on repeat in the car for a long time. My daughter knows the entire album off by heart. The songs wove their way through the story but it is the last one- In Remote Part/Scottish Fiction featuring Edwin Morgan that ended up being anthem for the book. This song, for me, captures the relationship between Isla, the main character and her home.

I also make a cheeky reference to it in chapter 19. Because I couldn’t resist.

She was eventually roused by a nudge and became aware that Stewart was playing the guitar and singing an old Idlewild song that she loved. She guessed from Fiona’s frantic nudging and the fact that he was looking in the opposite direction from her that it was directed her way. She also realised it was apparently a favourite of the group when he did his best Edwin Morgan impression to hearty cheering. He handed the guitar to Neil once he was done and announced he was going outside for a smoke.

So go have a listen.

In the beginning…

On By Clare ZeschkyLeave a comment

But we will start at the end. Though it looks a lot like the start. It’s the same beach, the same sea and probably the same damned seagull ruining the mood. But it is the end, on the edge between land and sea, at the boundary between the real and the unreal. It is the end and it is a promise. Which also makes it seem like the start. But I can assure you. This is the end.