Tuesday 2nd February 2021

And what's to come?

Tuesday 2nd February 2021

Crikey, what a year.

Tuesday 3rd September 2019

Like buses, hey?

It’s that time of year again when I’m called to do some judging for short story competitions. Major and not so major.  Sifting judge, main judge. I like the challenge of both. Time consuming certainly and occasionally, to be perfectly honest, hard, hard work but when there’s a story that just hits you in the eye, and you can’t see any other touching it, that’s when it’s pure magic. As a sifting judge you hope that story makes it right to the top; that the main judge sees what you see. As a main judge you make sure it does.

*

Songs have filled my head recently.  Of misplaced people, of loyal dogs, of love and loss, and the lure of gold in the Gold Rush days.  On that front, I now have a song complete, in lyrics at least, and spinning around a few tunes and styles. Soon, maybe I’ll  be putting down a demo of it. Oh I like doing that.

*

Wrote a religious piece,  ‘Mass of the Northern Lands’ which is being sung quite a bit locally which I’m delighted about.  It’s not my first foray –written lots of hymns but this was something entirely new and using a music software programme, learning how to do it (and still learning) is a revelation. Like a foreign language.  You know, there’s something very humbling about being surrounded by people who have enough faith in your music to want to sing it. I feel thankful every time. It doesn’t go away.

*

Completed my first serial for Women’s Weekly which was a fascinating process, I have to say and most enjoyable. Waiting to hear about a second one. It’s a shocker that there’s this issue with rights though and I’m pulled in many directions. I stopped writing for them for a while  but having always loved contributing to the magazine my mother used to love I found myself wanting to get back to it. Twenty years is too long to turn away from it. Not sure what that says about me or what folk think. Not sure I care very much.  I’m done with sniffy people.

*

 Waiting to hear about the current finished novel which is sitting with an agent and a publisher and very soon another so who knows? The time it takes.  Keeping on with the writing. That’s all a gal can do.

*

And of course my September Challenge for Cancer Research UK.  Exercising every day, trying to raise money, and having stated that I would also get back to some writing, every day too, and not about exercise, what am I doing? Writing about exercise.  And what do you know, enjoying every minute. No, don’t be daft, not the exercise, the writing.

*

My own little world.  It’s nothing to what’s going on the wider front. Sometimes my heart near fails when I think about the mess we’re all in and what we’ve shelled out to the next generations.

Saturday 11th May 2019

Competitions

Great day at The Word (National Centre for the Written Word) to give its grand title. As part of this year’s Write Festival the library ran its first ever short story competition and asked me along with crime writer Adam Peacock to judge it. Which is a privilege, so thanks due to those who thought of us. Today was the celebration of the winning and short-listed stories. It seemed to go well though I’m always a wee bit anxious about reading out other people’s work, only because I want to make a good job of it and not spoil something which is precious to the writer.  Thankfully there weren’t too many hitches, there were some lovely looking books to hand out and some cheques for the top three stories. Well done to all who entered.  Meanwhile I’m working on a serial for Women’s Weekly- there’s a first time for everything- and have to say the process has been really interesting and something of a challenge to someone who’s been writing short stories for so long. I’ll let you know how it’s coming along.  Oh and the rewrite of the novel short listed in the Kelpies Prize is now complete. Looking for a home for it...

Tuesday 5th February 2019

Is it that date already!!!

Oh heck, it’s February 2019 which means it’s a long while since I last posted some news. And yet there’s been nothing but news, though most of it is only really relevant to me and mine. As for world news then, crikey, don’t you just feel like burying your head? Just for a little while? Anyway, lots of stuff going on at my crowded desk, stories being created, novels being edited, music being written with the help of my amazing Sibelius programme and songs coming thick and fast. So yes, folks I’ve been busy. I’ve also embarked on my Coffee Grounds a slow brew of poems written in all the cafes serving Baristocracy Coffee.  Why? It’s beautiful, that’s why. Look it up, try it out! And soon I’ll put up some of the poems. A run of gigs with my band over the next few months and some lovely little people to tell stories to. Here endeth the news.  

Thursday 28th September 2017

National Centre for the Word

Well here I am folks, Writer in Residence and celebrating The Word's first birthday. A few workshops available if you want to come and write poetry and there's a song and poetry fest from Noon till 2pm on Saturday Oct  21st. The Celia Bryce Band will bring up the rear with some of their own songs as well as songs written for the celebration and variously performed by the library choir, the Ukulele group and anyone else who wants to join in. Can’t think of a better job! By the way there’s all sorts of other stuff going on in a fun packed week, so check it out!

Wednesday 19th July 2017

KING CRIMSON

Just a little extra note to say that I've been recording some King Crimson songs for a project with South West German broadcasting station, SWR2.  These things! So, how, you might ask did I get that gig? The answer is - it’s all down to Anthem for Jackson Dawes, its German translator, Bettina Obrecht and her musician husband, Werner.  The programme’s due out in October, date to be confirmed. That’s all I know for now, folks.  Updates nearer the time. Crikey, October’s going to be a busy month!

Wednesday 19th July 2017

The Word

Delighted to be appointed Writer in Residence at ‘The Word’, South Shields, a National Centre for the Written Word. I'll be running writing workshops in September and October and spending time in August absorbing what goes on and what makes the place tick. On October 21^st there’ll be The Word’s First Birthday celebration where work produced over the coming months will be performed. Can’t wait to begin!

Friday 7th April 2017

April already?

The clocks have shifted, the garden's frothing with new growth and colour and it’s April already.  Yikes. But let’s embrace what we can, folks, let’s be happy while we may. So here I am, embracing a fab school near my home town, a real pearl of a place which actually reminds me of my garden just now. This school, with its indoor and outdoor classrooms, wild gardens and neat gardens, and happy, buzzing atmosphere, is just five minutes away and yet I’ve never noticed it before, nestled, as it is, in the heart of town. Hoping to see a bit more of it in the future. 

Friday 3rd February 2017

coming soon...

Women on Song

Celia Bryce and Chloe Chadwick

Low Lights Heritage Centre, N Shields

Fri 3^rd March  7.30 pm Tickets £10

Hear Celia & Chloe perform their songs and

discuss the art & inspiration of song-writing

Saturday 1st October 2016

Sunderland Literature and Creative Writing Festival 2016

It's all happening on Wearside for the month of October with Sunderland’s Literature and Creative Writing Festival.  For further info why not download the brochure! I'm doing a couple of adult creative writing workshops on: Tuesday 11 October 1.30 – 3.00pm at Sunderland City Library and Thursday 20 October 10.30 – 12noon at Washington Town Centre Library. Booking required folks!

Wednesday 3rd August 2016

In the eye of the beholder.

Wednesday 3rd August 2016

The world.

The world still turns no matter what’s chucked at it which, to me, is nothing short of a miracle. But my heart aches for the good people in it, the children, those who just want to live their lives. And it shudders at the rest.  Let's find some peace, and some beauty.

Thursday 16th June 2016

ICELAND

Back from a trip to Iceland and with a head full of rocks, steam and sulphur. Oh and fermented shark which is a non-compulsory initiation to this amazing country. I’ve eaten it, folks.  But won’t again. Took my camera, took some pics.  I’ve posted a few below.  Can feel some writing coming on!

Wednesday 9th March 2016

Here's the first story folks. Queens and Sitting Rooms.

Harry peels the potatoes half heartedly, his mind far away, his spirits as low as can be. If only he hadn’t opened his mouth. If only the others hadn’t believed him. If only he hadn’t listened to the visitor talking. The Queen coming to Seafield House? How stupid. And yet, at the time, it seemed entirely possible, especially when Miss Romney talked about secrets and surprises for the Boys. He’s going to look a right fool. Everyone’s going to hate him. Even The Littlest, who thinks Harry’s thmathing.

   “Harry, wake up! I don’t want eyes in my potato pie!”That’s Mrs Tilman, the cook. She’s got a voice like a foghorn, a chest like a bolster and hair like a wire brush. She’s lovely.   “And mind you don’t cut yourself. I don’t want no blood in it neither.”

Mr Tilman helps around the house and mends things that accidentally break and sometimes things that don’t accidentally break.  Boys being boys.  He’s not very happy about the new contraption coming to Seafield House.    “It’s not natural,” he says, examining a vase which is in four pieces on the table. “I don’t know why we can’t make do with the wireless. We’ve made do with the wireless since I don’t know when…it was a friend to us during the war, the wireless.” There’s a sad note in his voice. He and his wife used to have a son, but then the war came and now they haven’t. 

   “It’s just a craze. It won’t catch on,” Mrs Tilman assures him.

   They’re talking about the television coming from the Men’s Club this afternoon. Harry’s never seen one. None of the boys have. The thought of it should be exciting, yet for Harry, it’s anything but. He finishes the last potato which resembles something a mouse might have been at. He begins to chatter to stop him thinking. Harry likes facts, they’re good for distraction. Mrs Tilman, though, is trying to concentrate on her special Coronation Pie.

   “Harry, if you’ve finished them potatoes help me with this pastry, and keep your mind on the job!” She waves a floury hand at him. “I don’t want to hear how many gills are in a pint or yards in a mile. All I want, is for you to measure that water properly, so’s I can get on with this pastry.” She gives him a gentle cuff, as if he’s a puppy needing kindness. “Is there room in that head of yours for anything so simple?”

   “They’ll be running a mile in less than four minutes soon, you watch,” Mr Tilman says, winking at Harry, who now tries to picture a mile by laying down thousands of twelve inch rulers in a line right through his head.

   “A man can’t be human, if he runs that fast. Water, Harry…. in the jug, not all over the floor…”  When the door knocker sounds Mrs Tilman frowns. “Now who’s this disturbing the peace?”

   “It’ll be the Men’s Club.” Mr Tilman picks up the base of the vase. “Well, I’ve not got time to help with televisions.”

   “Harry, where do you think you’re off to?”

   “I can help, Mrs Tilman.” He’s standing in the doorway, straight and tall, like a strongman.

   “You’ll do no such thing!”  The strongman turns back into a boy.   Mrs Tilman softens her voice. “Alright, you can watch. But don’t let Miss Romney catch you!”

   Harry hurtles into the hall and bounds up the stairs before the front door is opened. He kneels down on the landing, pressing his face between the spindles. 

*

“If you set it down in the hall first, I’ll show you where it’s going to go.” That’s Miss Romney. She’s in charge.

   Two men heave in a heavy looking cupboard. A cupboard…? Harry recognises the tall thin man from this morning. The other man is like a barrel. He mops his brow and looks around the hall.   “Are they all orphans here, then?” he says, as if this is a zoo and its occupants caged.

   Harry pulls back into the gloom of the upstairs landing.

   “That’s right.” Miss Romney sounds crisp, as if she’s talking to a naughty boy.

   “War ones?”

   “Not all. Now, shall we get on?” She marches across the hall to the sitting room and throws open the door, giving the barrel man a pointed look as if she doesn’t quite like the word orphan.

   The cupboard is hauled up once more and disappears into the sitting room. Harry frowns. There has to be more to it than this. He creeps downstairs, avoiding the creaking step at the bottom. He inches around the hall wall, pressing himself into it like a shadow.   The cupboard’s by the bay window. When its doors are opened, they spread out like wings, and there in the middle of all the dark brown wood, is a tiny square of dull grey glass.

   “With our compliments, Madam! Your television!”  The tall man sounds rather like a trumpet, as if to herald the arrival of the best present ever. When it doesn’t do anything. “We can’t have folks missing out on such a glorious occasion.”

   “Bringing the Queen right into your sitting room. Marvellous!”  

   “Indeed!” Miss Romney clasps her hands and smiles at last.

   There they go again. People saying what isn’t true. She’s not coming to Seafield, Harry wants to bellow at them, unless she’s going to jump out of that cupboard thing. Somehow, he feels betrayed.  Having been told this morning, quite distinctly, that the Queen certainly isn’t coming to Seafield (if only he’d checked before telling the others), there’s Miss Romney agreeing with the men that she is!

  “The queen? In Seafield?” It comes flooding back, like a blocked drain, the conversation he had with the others.

   “That’s what they said. Mind you, it’s a secret, so we mustn’t let on we know. But, there’ll be horses and carriages and kings and queens from all over the world. Just you see.”

   “In our sitting room?”

   “…Yes…”

   “Why not the parlour? Thpecial people alwayth go in the parlour.”

   Why hadn’t it occurred to Harry, then, when The Littlest spoke? They could have made a joke of it, had a laugh. But no. Even now, the memory is like an open wound.

*

“How can I thank you enough?” Miss Romney’s saying now that everything’s plugged in.

   “No need.” The tall man shakes his head. “It’s a pleasure to help the poor unfortunates.”

   “I would be grateful if you could show me how to work it,” Miss Romney says, that brisk note in her voice again, as if she doesn’t like hearing the word unfortunate either.

   The barrel man holds up a finger as if it’s a magic wand, and he begins. There are lots of words about turning this and turning that, there’s Vertical Hold and Horizontal Hold and Atmospheric Pressure and Test Pages.   He flicks a switch at the wall, turns one knob, and then another. There are sudden lines and dots. The grey glass turns into fuzz. He picks up something like a large metal beetle and waves it about in the air. “Aerial,” he declares.

  The storm in the grey glass begins to calm down.

   “Heaven’s, how clever!”

   Harry stands in the doorway bathed in the wonder of it all. He inches further in. He’s never seen or heard the like. The words go on. Interference. Electricals. Thunder. Snow. Lines. Ghosting. It all sounds…fascinating. Like Meccano. He’s drawn in like a magnet. And trips over his feet.

   “Harry…?”

   Miss Romney gives him a look, then his marching orders, and his pulling-up-socks orders and his tucking- in-shirt orders. Only they aren’t really orders when Miss Romney gives them out, they’re gentle, smiling commands.

*

It’s past midnight and wild outside. The sea froths and fizzes. Harry’s glad the Queen’s not coming to Seafield in such bad weather, only he wishes he could have told the others the truth. He waited till tea, but the right time didn’t seem to come. He thought about after supper, when they were in their pyjamas and singing songs, but that wasn’t right either. Now he hears them all sleeping soundly. Not even The Littlest is awake, when usually  he gets upset by the wind and the sea thrashing and the rain drumming. He got himself over-excited and over-tired with keeping secrets about queens and sitting rooms. He hasn’t stirred all night. Harry has no-one to comfort, and his heart shrivels with guilt.

*

Breakfast is over, chores are done and it’s all excitement and whispers, high jinks and chatter. The boys are in smart shirts, trousers and red school ties. Their shoes gleam. Mr and Mrs Tilman are in Sunday Best. Miss Romney is wearing her special-day pearls. Soon the boys are sitting in a quiet semi-circle around the bay window.

   “Now, I think it’s time we turned on our surprise,” Miss Romney says. “Our television!”       

   The boys begin to bubble with excitement as she opens the cupboard wings with a flourish. The dull grey glass stares at Harry like a dead eye. He invents a smudge on his shoe and glares at that. The boys will soon discover how stupid he really is, when the Queen doesn’t arrive. And no surprise, no secret, no television, is going to help.   Miss Romney twiddles with the left hand knob. Nothing happens. She stands for a while as if contemplating, then twiddles with the right hand knob. The mantle clock ticks. The boys begin to shuffle. The Littlest begins to scratch. Mrs Tilman tuts at them and they’re still again. Another twiddle, and nothing.

   “Oh, dear me.” Miss Romney shakes her head.

   “I’ll get the wireless, then, shall I?”

   “No, no, Mr Tilman, that won’t be necessary.”

   Harry leaps up, remembering something important. “Don’t you have to switch it on at the wall first?”

   Miss Romney beams at him. “Of course! Silly me.”

   The switch is flicked. The knobs are turned. Lines appear. Snow. Waves. Fuzz. The boys gaze, mesmerised. More twiddling.

    “I think you have to do something with this.” Harry lifts up the aerial and waves it about like the man did.

   “Look!” shrieks The Littlest. “Horthes and carriageth!”

   The place is instantly abuzz. There indeed, are horses and carriages. Harry drops his arm, it’s so amazing, and the lines come back, the snowy haze.

   “Aw, no!

   Realising what is called for, Harry raises his arm like a guard, saluting. He holds the aerial as if it’s something precious, like a jewel discovered in a tomb, and the pictures move cleanly, the horses clip clop across the screen.

   “Cor,” says The Littlest.

   “Here, that lad can’t stand there for a whole coronation,” says Mr Tilman. “It’s not right…”

Oh, but he can, he will. He could stand there forever, for the Queen and Miss Romney, for the Tilmans and The Littlest. Because now he sees! Now he sees what they all meant, the people from the Men’s Club and Miss Romney.

    “…I’m getting the steps.”

*

The aerial is sitting on top of the little stepladder and the picture is magnificent, according to Mr Tilman, who seems to have taken to this new contraption. The Littlest has somehow wriggled and snuggled his way next to Harry, thumb in mouth, and his warm little body’s like a cushion you can hug. Mrs Tilman’s mopping her face. Miss Romney has roses in her cheeks. All the Rulers of the world drift by, the Priests of all the churches, the Dukes and Duchesses of all the lands, the Knights and their Ladies, one after the other. Harry hopes there’s no interference or electricals, no snow or thunder, no lines or test pages, whatever they are.  He waits, his heart swelling, full to bursting.

   “Ith the Queen going to come thoon, Harry?” The Littlest whispers in his ear.

   “Oh, yes,” he answers with complete confidence, “very soon.”

 The End

Wednesday 9th March 2016

stories

Just been thinking. Maybe I'll try to put some stories up on my site, the ones I really like. Now, this might take some doing as I'm a bit of a luddite when it comes to anything with links, buttons and stuff but I’ll ask Dean, my marvellous website guru and see if it can be done. So watch this space.

Monday 29th February 2016

SCARY

Start new novel while awaiting developments. Always a sound plan. So, here's the latest. I have. Wish me luck.

Thursday 29th October 2015

Celia Bryce Band website up but glitchy.

OK, the long awaited and asked for Celia Bryce Band website is up and running but suffering newby nerves and glitches, so as you've waited years for this to happen please be patient for a little while longer! Thanks folks.

Monday 26th October 2015

Mam's Soup

MAM’S SOUP

She didn’t know much about art, yet
in the setting suns she sliced from carrots,
in the rising moons she hewed from turnips,
in the fireside logs she chopped from celery.
there was art.

She didn’t know much of the mastery in
leafy falls of orange lentils
golden ponds of butter melting,
river flows of hambone stock  

She would mix these autumn colours,
on her Pressure Cooker palette
making soup her masterpiece, her
snub to winter’s monochromed habit.

Whoever wrote this knows my Mam's soup. Heck, I think it was me.

Monday 5th October 2015

The song, 'May Day 1916'

Think about a woman writing a letter to her husband serving in the trenches, not many months before the Battle of the Somme. In the letter she writes about the May Day celebrations at home, their small family, their house and garden.  Think about what’s never said, her loneliness, her fear for his life. Add these thoughts to a beautiful melody and there it is. ‘May Day 1916’. If you want to hear it then it’s released on Oct 14. Every download raises money for the Royal British Legion, every song sold on CD. Please help us support the soldiers’  charity. Look out for it!

Friday 14th August 2015

This spinning world just won't stop.

It’s not that it’s a slow news day, week, or even month, folks, it’s just that I’ve been super busy lately which has to be good. I think. Part of that busy-ness has been to do with my novel.  Which one, you might ask, the answer to which is, don’t, there isn’t enough space, you have a life to lead, and so do I.  The one in question has had a thorough going over by an independent eye and mind, and has had some fantastic feedback. I’m now following the advice given, sorting out the scrambled eggs of the middle and seeing to the loose ends of the conclusion.  On the research front, another part of the busy-ness, I’m doing heaps of reading.  Came across the wonderful  books of the late Siobhan Dowd. Can’t get enough of them, but, sadly there’ll be no more. However, the paperback edition of  The Ransom of Dond will be coming out soon. If you’ve never read anything by this fabulous writer, then do give her a try. Just finished A Swift Pure Cry which made me want to turn back to page one and read it all again, but picked up Solace of the Road  instead. Wonderful.

Meanwhile, keeping the wolf from the door. There are a few of my commercial stories about at the moment.  This week’s issue of Women’s Weekly has Hens in it and a few weeks back a story called Three Quarters Full. There’s another coming out fairly soon, too.  It’s always interesting, if not a wee bit mystifying at times, to see what the end result is, by the way. A phrase removed here, which is often to do with lack of space; a phrase replaced there, with something more acceptable to the magazine’s ethos, a word swapped for something less in your face. There are occasional surprises, admittedly, but that’s the nature of things and a reminder that, once a story’s sold, the writer has little control over the editing of it or how it’s presented. Anyway, if you like women’s magazine stories then look them and enjoy. If you sniff at this sort of thing, then obviously...

On the music front, we’re rehearsing a few new songs to take out into the world.  We’re in the studio for a couple of days soon to record one of them. We’ve been playing it for a while now, and it’s going down well, so after ironing out a few things we’re finally going to get it done.  I’ll keep you posted on that and see about how you might be able to listen to it if you can't come and see the band any time.  

On the subject of airplay,  if you’d like to listen to some of our music, hear more about the songs and the writing of them, check out http://www.hartonradio.com and click on ‘Recorded Programmes and Downloads’ and find The Celia Bryce Band.  It’s a one hour show and we had a lovely time recording it.

You’ll see by my tweets that we’ve been out gigging and heading up to Northumberland’s Bellingham soon, to the annual BAAfest. Sunday, September 6, in fact  If you’re around why not have a look at what’s on, who’s on, and when, by visiting: http://www.baafest.co.uk

Well, that’s me done for now.

Keep safe, keep well, and thanks for dropping by.

Monday 6th July 2015

Busy, busy, busy...

Just back from a lush time in Australia and getting back into the swing of things here.  Mind-boggled over this second novel lark, but never mind, keeping the faith. Meanwhile  continue with short stories for the only magazine I contribute to, Women’s Weekly. They’re good to me and have been since 1999, so why wouldn’t I!

The Souter Lighthouse trip seems an awfully long time ago but my head’s full of light towers at the moment, can’t get enough of them. Isn’t research great!

The Celia Bryce Band took some new songs out for a run the other night to Porter’s Cafe, Tynemouth Station. Heading up to The Ship Inn, Low Newton in August, if the weather doesn’t interfere, for a summer festival, and in September to  the BAAFest in Bellingham. October sees the band heading down to Scarborough, then it’s to the Surf Cafe, Tynemouth, in November. As if that wasn’t enough it’s Northumberland in December. Those new songs are going to feel like lovely comfortable jumpers by the end of the year. Oh and we’re down to the last five in the UKCountryRadioAwards.Com for one of our older-newer numbers –The Workers’ Song.   Fingers crossed, folks.

Finally, Wimbledon equals me Doing My Annual Accounts.   Aw, come on folks, it’s just once a year and it’s a job that has to be done.  My floor is littered with invoices, receipts, mileages and remittances.  It’s a flipping death trap. Put a foot wrong and go careering into the TV. What a disaster that would be! That's all for now you lovely people.

Thursday 14th May 2015

Lighthouses and more

The wind certainly blew and cracked its cheeks last week on the road to Souter Lighthouse. Pretty apt really. This particular group of Year 3 pupils from Newcastle upon Tyne have been studying the plays of William Shakespeare so while we battled the weather and lost our hats, the air swirled with quotations! Brilliant.    A lively follow-up session in the school produced some great poetry. Well done everyone.

Taking Anthem for Jackson Dawes to Lanchester, in County Durham next month, working with pupils from a local high school. We won’t be in the school itself but in the local hospice, where some of these marvellous young people volunteer.  We do not give enough credit. It’s a fact, I reckon. Can’t wait to meet them, can’t wait to talk writing but most of all can’t wait to see what they’re writing.  This is what I like...

Working hard on another novel, so watch this space and because you all know I also like to sing, when I'm not writing, there’s a busy weekend ahead with my band playing in the historic heart of Jarrow and the sandy reaches of Low Newton-by-the- sea on Sunday afternoon. If you’re anywhere near and want to hear some of our original material then come along and say hello.  Look up the details on my music page.

That’s all for now folks!

Friday 10th April 2015

Nibbles of News

Taking a trip to Souter Lighthouse next month with some children from one of my favourite Newcastle schools. Let’s hope the weather is kind and we’re buzzing with words to shape into some poetry.

*

Meanwhile I think that’s the last of the foreign editions of Anthem for Jackson Dawes, a nice array of covers and something which stirs a lot of comment when I take them into schools. Recently visited Hebburn School  to talk about a writing life and to do a workshop as part of World Book Day celebrations.  Took the selection you can see above and asked pupils to choose their favourite cover. The majority liked the German issue, Heller Als Ein Stern, which was in the running for the British edition. So there you go.  If you have any comments on the covers let me know.

*

Some Celia Bryce Band gigs coming up next month – The Hive, at Jarrow Hall, and The Ship Inn, Low Newton-by-the -sea.  Mostly original material, so, if you want to know more click on the Singer/Songwriter  box and check out our Facebook site.

Monday 26th January 2015

Seems a long time...

It may only be January and that's not many months since October but it feels like an age. Happy New Year to everyone and apologies to those out there who are miffed that I haven't been keeping up with things. I have, as it happens, but so many things, so much to keep up, it's like juggling with a million balls. So here's the news.  My second book's now finished as far as it's out with my agent and he's beginning the process of showing it around. I'm working on a third, something completely different but just as challenging a job as the other two. The last of the foreign translations of Anthem for Jackson Dawes, by the way, hits France in February and that's from the publisher Albin Michel. There's a jazzy yellow cover and another title change- 'A La Vie, A La Mort'.  I’ve had a flurry of tweets so far in the build up and hope to hear from French readers once it's on the shelves.  When I can remember how to do it, being a technological luddite,  I'll put up the images of all the other translated books for you to choose your favourite cover. I have mine, but that’s my secret...  Meanwhile I continue to write short stories to earn a crust and sing to earn a crumb. Those of you interested in the musical side of me can be assured that I’m working on new material, practising it, and taking it out to see what listeners think, which is all part of the process for me and a fab thing to take me away from the computer. Keep up with all of that by visiting The Celia Bryce Band Facebook site.  Anyway, if I have any good news about book two, you’ll be the first to know!  See you, folks.

Thursday 9th October 2014

Competitions

It seems an awfully long time ago when I was the happy bunny whose name and debut novel was appearing on all sorts of lists for awards. Now then, although I’m sure you haven’t been waiting to hear, I’ll put you out of any misery you might have been left in, not knowing. I Didn’t Win. Got so far with each award and that was it. It’s old news now, and if you really have been waiting to hear, then I’m sorry for the delay. Am I disappointed in the results? Yes. Of course. When the names appeared of those who’d gone further didn’t include mine? I’m a sensitive soul. And yet, I’m still a happy bunny and this is why: I have been a short story writer for so long that to find a novel I’ve written on any List is constantly amazing to me, that someone had thought it good enough or interesting enough to warrant its presence; that lots of people were reading and discussing it, perhaps even arguing over it. If you were part of that process, by the way, then, honestly, you deserve an award! But what makes me really smile is the medal that I did win. It was for being a runner-up in the Dudley Teen Book Award 2014. I knew nothing about that list until the medal arrived in its deep blue box, a silver medal with the image of a book on it. What a lovely surprise. It sits in a special place on the shelf above my desk. Thank you to the people of Dudley who took the time! But I also need to say thanks to everyone, everywhere who read and discussed Anthem for Jackson Dawes. It’s a story which is so close to my heart it’s almost superglued there. And if you haven’t read it, then please do. Let me know what you think. And, by the by, I’m working on the final editing of my next novel under the inspiring mentorship of my agent James Catchpole. More on book two, when there’s more on book two! See you, folks.

Sunday 23rd March 2014

Awards Update and Viking Raids

Anthem for Jackson Dawes has been listed for a number of awards this year, which I'm delighted about, and good luck tpo all those remaining in the running. On the short list for the Leeds Book Awards, results out in May.  If you'd like to take part in that and live or go to school in the Leeds area then look it up. There's still time to read and vote. Fingers crossed. Meanwhile, I'm back in one piece from going a-viking from Norway to the shores of England and getting back in time for lunch and to tell the tale and sing the song in the long house. All constructed by YR 3 pupils in Newcastle. Fab

Wednesday 19th March 2014

Vikings

Writing has down sides, it has up sides. This week’s definitely up. I’m doing Vikings with some fab Yr 3 pupils in Newcastle. We’re going to make a long boat, we’re going to sail it from Norway to England, take over a few villages and then write a Saga about it. Later we'll tell about our adventures in the long house around a flame filled fire pit. A full morning’s work. Oh and we’re going to create a song to help us along. It’ll probably be something loud and repetitive to help that ship be built, to get those oars going and to pull up that sail to catch the wind. But, the North Sea’s a tough cookie. We’ll be ready for our lunch when we’re done. I'm hoping our Viking ancestors don't mind that I'll be taking a guitar with me.  If I come back in one piece I'll let you know how I got on.

Saturday 7th December 2013

Anthem goes Dutch

Just ordered my Dutch copy of Anthem for Jackson Dawes. Different cover and title, Een Leid Voor Jackson. Can’t wait to see it up there on my shelf with the American, German, and of course the UK, versions. If it was a very short shelf it would be full! Still to come - France and Brazil.  I know. I know.  There are heaps of writers out there with so many translations from so many countries and they can do this job standing on their heads. But this is new to me. I keep pinching myself and  nothing happens. The bubble won’t burst, it keeps floating around in my head. So let me be excited for as long as it lasts. It keeps the writing of book two (which I’ve been told by people who know, has to be as good as if not better than the first) feel as if it’s a possibility. Heck it’s hard work. I need that bubble. And if I can work out how to do this I might even be able to show you the different covers and you can decide which one you like best and let me know.

Monday 9th September 2013

New Writing North’s Read Regional Programme

Delighted to have been chosen for New Writing North’s Read Regional Programme, which means that in 2014 I’ll be heading for the further and near reaches of Northern England with Anthem for Jackson Dawes. Libraries and schools. Perhaps to an area near you. Can’t wait. I’ll keep you posted with details as they come.

Proposed trip to Australia’s literary hotspots in the planning stage. Watch this space.