writing

Somewhere to write

/ Bill

I have been reading ‘A Space to Write’, a series of illustrated interviews with Cornish writers by Amanda Harris, with photography by Steve Tanner and a forward by Michael Morpurgo, (published by KEAP, the Kernow Education Arts Project). Of course, it made me consider the room I am in now, with its books, souvenirs and references to Steeple Point, I thought it would be a good place to restart this blog. However, there is another place. If my space at home is a place where everything is gathered round, then the space on the boat is free for inspiration.

I am concerned that overstating the case may kill the process. How often I have become jammed by too much thought, too much research. The trick has been to get something into written form before ‘killing it with too much love’. So I don’t want to spoil my boat space by talking directly about why it inspires me. Maybe it will become obvious if I describe the space.

To give you a contrast, we recently chartered a yacht in the Southern Ionian. Three couples, three double cabins, a large saloon, and a galley with double sink, two burner hob, oven and a microwave. As far as accommodation was concerned, if this had been on land it would be called a chalet. There was plenty of space to share, the sailing was perfect. We had a great holiday, returned happy – all still speaking to one other.

The space on my boat is very different. For a start, there is no headroom. I am 5ft 8in, I have to bend to stand. There is a trick to putting on trousers and zipping them up, even more so to putting heavy weather gear on.

When I bought the boat, ten years ago, I spent the first six or seven years developing it the way I wanted to sail it – as a single-hander, (left-handed to boot!). There was no question of a ‘writing mode’ in those days. This has evolved.

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Below deck, it was important for me to retain a sense on space. I used the quarter berths and lockers under the side berths for stowage, everything packed in named waterproof bags – easy to access. I have built a small bookcase that fits into the entrance of the port quarter berth. This is be secured with a lanyard and can be pulled forward when I want to get behind it. The fore cabin can be closed off with a white canvas ‘curtain’.

The galley stows beneath a hinge locker lid. I inherited a gimballed paraffin stove but removed it to make more space – first in favour of a JetBoil stove which I liked very much. Unfortunately, I irreparably damaged it one fateful day, dismantling it in a lumpy sea. I currently use a standard ‘picnic’ gas stove which works well, can be used instantly, the kettle boils quickly – (very important. I drink a lot of coffee and tea), and is small enough to have all the ingredients stowed with it (coffee, tea, dare I say “biscuits”) in the galley locker.

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To create the impression of space, the bulkheads and exposed surfaces were painted white, the floor a light grey.  Varnish was left where varnish does.  Because there had been a lot of leakage through deck fittings over the years, the ceiling was in a terrible state and we lined it with fabric which both insulates and reduces condensation – cosy’s not the word but it’s comfortable!

A removable chart table was fitted crossways over the starboard berth. Charts are slung below the table. There is enough space between it and the port berth to move around. It can be dismantled and stowed forward when the starboard berth is in use.

Initially, when writing at the table, I sat askew. The cushions are relatively thick – I am told the material is used in the Princess yachts – (I can be sold almost anything). One day I was worrying about working with tools on deck and wondered whether I could run to some sort of separate worktop that could take scrapes and knocks. In my shed at home was an old shelf which might do, and could it do more?

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Sanded, varnished, with pads either end (for stability and to protect various surfaces), and two eyes for lanyards when used on deck, I now have:

  • a small worktop which will take a simple vice.
  • a thwart for the cockpit
  • when on a mooring or pontoon, an extra worktop for the galley, and
  • a seat for sitting at the chart table – either facing forward or, more usually, facing aft, with a simple cushion lashed to it.

Facing aft, the view is out through the companion way, I can look port and starboard through the windows.

So, head just clearing the ceiling, iPad, paper and pencil, coffee to hand . . .

The view varying with wind and tide . . .

The music of a vessel on the water . . .

Folksong: the answer – a plank of wood

/ Bill

I had spent the afternoon kneeling on the cabin sole, cleaning first the bilge then the lockers and getting frustrated because every time I tried to put something down, it either fell into the bilge, or into the open locker. I wished for a working surface to put tools on and to hammer/screw/cut on, one that would be easy to manage in a relatively restricted space. Too wide and it would be difficult to stow, too narrow and I wouldn’t be able to attach a vice, too short and it wouldn’t fit across the cockpit/cabin sole.

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Folksong: below decks

/ Bill

If this is your yacht – or a similar size to yours, then you need read no further as this is a short post about the space below deck in a small boat with no standing headroom. This post is for Folksong owners and anyone interested in small boats. I would welcome feedback and tips. Feel free to use and improve any ideas you find helpful here.

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Reviewing the blog – a rough path to follow

/ Bill

In February I changed the WordPress theme for this site. This started as a cosmetic gesture – I wanted it to be easier to read and easier to search. However, in the process, it has opened up new possibilities. At the moment, these possibilities are inklings at the back of my aging mind. Discovering them means teasing them out, being honest with myself about what I think I am doing . . . and why. Therefore the aim of this post is to review what’s going on beneath the surface and reassemble the contents. I want to do this without losing the ‘Folksong’ and ’Maritime History’ elements that I started back in 2006. The path I am taking roughly follows this route:

  1. Visualising the current content
  2. Reviewing the motives for writing the blog
  3. Deciding the tools for learning ‘on the job’
  4. Considering the content and how it might develop
  5. Putting it all together
  6. The final tweak . . .
  7. . . . and Publish

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2/14 A new tack

/ Bill

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Let me ask you a question:

Let us say you have spent most of your life sailing down the same long estuary. Where you started, the head of the estuary was narrow, the product of a meandering stream which had grown into a river. This river joined other rivers, all flowing into the very same estuary. The further you sailed, the wider the estuary became. And as it widened, so you grew. The shoreline contained you but you always had enough sea-room. There were a few navigation problems but no more than on any voyage. Now finally you have reached the open ocean and the opportunity to steer a completely different course. You have a good feeling about this.

But at the last moment the weather turned. Instead of being free to ease the sheets and sail gently away as originally planned, you found yourself sailing into the wind – tacking back and forth across the estuary entrance, hanging on to each tack till the very last moment in the hope of making headway in one direction or another. This was immensely frustrating, each tack seeming longer than the previous one, pushing you ever closer to the shore. There was the  temptation to give up and head for the nearest port. However, as the man said, “ships are safe in port, but that’s not what ships are built for,” (Grace Hopper). There is more you want to do, so you kept going – one last tack should do it!

Finally, with one eye on the closing shore, you push the tiller away from you and bring your boat into wind for the last time – the sails flap and the boat slows as it plunges into the waves. You watch the bow, mind the sheets and feel the wind on your cheeks. In a short while you will come round and set off in a new direction – your other hand on the tiller, the wind on the other cheek. In slowing into the tack, there is a very brief pause, a watchful moment to reflect, to look around and see what you see.

Here is my question:

Do you keep what you see to yourself and merely enjoy the moment? Or do you record a note or two? This is a unique moment for you, Should you say something? But this is 2014. Even if you do speak out, you know that last year there were over thirteen and a half million new WordPress blogs on top of the ten million the year before. Isn’t your note going to be lost in the ocean of words you are sailing into? Your few square yards of sea are unique but the wind and the waves will sweep the ripples away the moment you sail on.

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Perhaps you should make a record. Others may judge of they want to.

Surely the significant point is that you still have the freedom to say anything at all.

~~~

Although it can be read as a single post, the above is part of a series that illustrates one of the author’s current interests, taken from a locker full of interests, at a major waypoint in his life. The series sets out as a comment on retirement before focusing around language. He wonders whether he himself has the language to cope as he steps out into the wider world popularly known as ‘retirement’ – an irreversible step into a world that he has previously only glimpsed out of the corner of his eye, a world in which he thinks the word ‘retirement’ to be a misnomer. He has used the medium of the blog to paint the picture. The irony is that, whereas writing about it does allow him to reflect, sitting alone at a computer actually distances him from the face-to-face interaction he is describing.

1/14 Writing again

/ Bill / 1 Comment

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A little perspective. There were 13,704,819 new WordPress blogs in 2013, 10 million the year before. That’s a lot of people writing a lot of words. But we still do it – writing them and hopefully reading them too.

We can’t read them all, so we follow particular blogs. We like the writer’s style or we like the subject and hope to learn more. Over time, we get to know the writer pretty well – or we think we do. And we notice the changes. Maybe the original topic has run its course, (perhaps the particular voyage has come to an end), or maybe the writer has reached a life-changing junction, (a different sort of voyage coming to an end). Few subjects are consistently interesting over a long period and even fewer writers are able to make them so. The blogs that stand the test of time ebb and flow – the writer revealing a pulse that keeps his/her blog alive.

Sometimes there is a longer pause. The writing stops. The writer needs to back away and think for a while. So with this one.

Well over a year ago I decided to finish the day-job. The process of finding a successor and finishing work took over. As life became less certain, I found writing more difficult. And as with the blog, so with the boat, I lost sea-time – something I thought would never happen. The whole process took a lot longer and was a lot more traumatic than I imagined. For a long while it felt like walking a very narrow gangplank with a long drop to the sea and every possibility of falling into it. It’s over now – the stormy period is easing. Maybe I will talk about it when the time is right. I want to start writing consistently again.

~~~

Although it can be read as a single post, the above is part of a series that illustrates one of the author’s current interests, taken from a locker full of interests, at a major waypoint in his life. The series sets out as a comment on retirement before focusing around language. He wonders whether he himself has the language to cope as he steps out into the wider world popularly known as ‘retirement’ – an irreversible step into a world that he has previously only glimpsed out of the corner of his eye, a world in which he thinks the word ‘retirement’ to be a misnomer. He has used the medium of the blog to paint the picture. The irony is that, whereas writing about it does allow him to reflect, sitting alone at a computer actually distances him from the face-to-face interaction he is describing.