Writing in the Digital Age, Saltwater and My Baby Shot Me Down

I sat down to write a blog last week in Tunisia, under the creaking ceiling fan hung over my hotel’s solitary computer terminal (wifi has yet to take off in North Africa), and though I baffled my way through the Arabic keyboard the internet flickered off just as I hit post, a setback redoubled by the autonomous reboot of the system and a user-lockout, which left me sitting there scratching my head.

And now that I’m back in the land of the plugged-in and happily writing a lengthy blog, I've become overwhelmingly aware of the impact constant internet access has on my writing. I had a few paradisiacal mornings over short, bitter Tunisian coffees in the town square, where the men gather to sit on plastic chairs and share a bottle of water or perhaps a single coffee, and I joined them, writing for an hour or two by hand. In the UK I tend to write in the mornings, and since I've been back I've noticed how often I'm disrupted, how many times I slip open my email and find something that just has to be responded to, or discover a new source of inspiration I simply have to read further about. 

The distraction is constant. Emails, status updates, photographs, news items, texts. It’s hard to adapt, and it’s nigh impossible to set yourself up for a few hours of writing without descending into it – especially if you’re like me and you like to look up a thing or two online as you go.

But there are strategies out there - today I was reading about the tactics of novelist Ned Beauman, whose latest book Glow comes out next week. His semi-online writing set-up is intricate - it combines a Net-Nanny program that prevents him from browsing anything remotely distracting and a time-operated safe where he deposits all his electronic gadgets. A little on the extreme side of things, certainly, but not a bad starting place if your goal is to have a book out every two years.

Reading's a more-loved distraction, and in the time I’ve been gone there have been two publications featuring ABCtales talent. The first – an all-women anthology called My Baby Shot Me Down – I’ve talked about at greater length here. I’ve kept flicking back through my copy even though I finished it a couple days ago, and I know I’ll continue doing so for some time – it’s quite literally the closest thing to a ‘best of ABCtales’ available (apologies to the gents on the site), so do purchase a copy if you haven’t already.

The second is the debut short-story collection of Lane Ashfeldt, better known on ABC as Ashby or Lena. Lane was kind enough to share a few words with Tony Cook and me about how ABC helped her in the writing of the work:

"While working on early drafts of SaltWater, it was really helpful to have a small positive space online where I could post bits of work in progress and receive (and give) feedback on other writers' work.

At ABCtales the writer is totally in control of their work and can remove it for editing whenever they want (and repost  new versions). This is really important when you are working on new stuff, because there may be all kinds of changes you need to make to your early drafts

I used to pop in on my lunch break when working at a particularly difficult job in London, and it would be the high point of my day to see what people were up to and maybe add something of my own. A guy called Celticman from Scotland, and a woman from Sussex were among the writers whose work I was following. There was also a guy who wrote some great and very funny non-fiction stuff about working at a juicing factory.”

Lane Ashfeldt at Dublin Port

The collection, SaltWater, is a stirring sequence of stories loosely connected by the theme of the open sea – two of the stories have already won prizes and a third was shortlisted for the HG Wells Prize. It's high quality work, and the author is giving a reading this coming Monday in Brighton. If you’re interested in the book or the reading, have a look on the forums where Ashfeldt will be discussing both and taking reservations.

And, as always, we’ve picked out two outstanding pieces for you to read this week. Our story of the week is ‘A Nose by Any Other Name’, a delightfully surreal romp through a Monopoly world. It’s like something David Lynch might write for the Cartoon Network – powerfully plotted, awash with reference and powerfully off-kilter.

Our poem of the week is Sid’s ‘Wake Up Call’ - a blast of stream-of-conscious poetry that throws you into the turbulence of a broken shoulder, a fractured relationship. Full of life, emotion and reality.

Enjoy both, and if you need a little inspiration for you next piece, you know where to look.