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.