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#HistFicThursday - Folk Music - The Spinners

 Today, in Caithness, the sun is shining and the air is clear. I'm sure it will come as no surprise to anyone reading this blog that, certain weathers and certain times of the year ignite certain music in me. And, on late winter days which are filled with sunshine, I am usually to be found singing the songs of The Spinners . Inevitably, I start humming different ones of their songs (and of course adapting them to be about Orlando and Jess) as I go around doing different things. But I remember almost all the words to them. I haven't heard a lot of them in years, but they are all there, rooted in my memory. It is truly fascinating to think about how these songs have passed through history. They are part of my own nostalgia, which is why crisp sunny mornings make me incapable of ignoring the temptation to sing them, but they are part of something much bigger. There are songs amongst them which are a newer step in the folk music movement. Songs like Silver in the Stubble are amongs...
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#HistFicThursdays - Poetry - The Tenterchilt Saga

 What do you say when people ask you if you like poetry? It's one of those questions where a single word answer just does not work for most people. Like all artforms - writing included - poetry is hugely subjective. But, when you do find a poem you love, it can be one of the most inspiring things of all.

Blake's original plate for The Little Black Boy

My family saga draws constantly from poetry. I love the poetry of the Romantics - Byron in particular - and their poetry weaves in and out of the books, right down to the titles: Day's Dying Glory (from Byron's Lachin y Gair); and Beneath Black Clouds and White (from Blake's The Little Black Boy). I'm someone whose writing style is rather sumptuous (or should that be: overindulgent?!), and these flowery poems of depth and flow serve to add to my inspiration and also find a common ground between me and my characters, for whom they are contemporaneous.

The way we interact with words can say a great deal about about us. Where nonfiction writers use words to inform, and prose writers use words to project, poets paint with words. I like to believe there is a poem for everyone out there, and similarly one for every character - all beautifully different. So, spill the beans, what is the most inspirational poem you've ever read?

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