tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post5271341898403615209..comments2024-03-18T10:29:46.055+00:00Comments on Ken Armstrong Writing Stuff: The Value of Pointless MemoriesKen Armstronghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07775956557261111127noreply@blogger.comBlogger9125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post-6906047116611994422012-10-15T00:03:32.518+01:002012-10-15T00:03:32.518+01:00Thanks Jamie. That's the conundrum - to work t...Thanks Jamie. That's the conundrum - to work the memory to make it fit all or leave it alone to perhaps only fit one. It depends on the memory, I think.<br /><br />Hi G :) You have the 'inside scoop' as ever. <br /><br />Jim: I like this, "You might think you were being honest and accurate when you wrote this..." I actually wondered how much even this simply memory has been subconsciously 'worked up'. Quite a lot, I think.<br /><br />Shinester: Thanks for sharing the piece you referred to with me.<br /><br />Unknown: Write them first and then decide. Definitely. :)<br /><br />Chef Files: Nicely put.<br /><br />Unknown: That's the truth. Thanks for dropping by. :)<br /><br />Marian: I didn't know that or had forgotten most likely. That makes the memory every more worthwhile. Thanks. xKen Armstronghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07775956557261111127noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post-58676526090496981052012-10-14T23:44:22.904+01:002012-10-14T23:44:22.904+01:00The Smokers Own was my late uncle Dinnys shop! Lov...The Smokers Own was my late uncle Dinnys shop! Love the random connections that spark more memories! Marian (Bree) O'Reillynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post-29224247870503600742012-10-14T18:18:47.727+01:002012-10-14T18:18:47.727+01:00Great times ken a simple day that stays in our min...Great times ken a simple day that stays in our minds. The memories might not mean much to others but the fact that we can remember them it they must mean something.Unknownhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02828648865602385120noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post-83961650384067962812012-10-14T17:57:25.674+01:002012-10-14T17:57:25.674+01:00Memories are our own personal mile markers that te...Memories are our own personal mile markers that tell us exactly how far down the road of life we have travelled. Not every tale has to be funny, entertaining or even have a point. Memories are there for us to glean the details of our past in the wee small hours. Without memories we are dust.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13871866841906377841noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post-66913928159267461132012-10-14T15:17:33.973+01:002012-10-14T15:17:33.973+01:00I always worry that what I write will only interes...I always worry that what I write will only interest anyone who knows me or wants to know me. <br />I have so many inceidental stories that I'd love to tell but they don't make the cut cos they don't really mean anything. <br />Have great plans to turn them into spruced up versions and add them to the 'fiction' blog<br />Maybe I should write them first.. and then decide. :)<br /> auntyamohttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08213728883228063200noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post-62230931236029518982012-10-14T14:42:32.287+01:002012-10-14T14:42:32.287+01:00I really like this one Ken. I was musing over som...I really like this one Ken. I was musing over something along those lines just the other day when a memory led me to a folder, long forgotten, in a filing cabinet in the office. In my early to mid twenties, circa 25 years ago - I went through a "phase" of writing stuff (poems, song lyrics (?)) - I'm not a singer or a musician though. All of these things, deeply personal memories and comments on a fairly hectic time of my life - over a three year period. Well, the other day, I was looking at the Banksy image of the sky and child in the wall in Israel, you know the one, right? I had written one poem, that I was rather proud of, at the time about an eleven month stay (by accident - long story) in the Golan Heights and the Negev Desert. Not sure what came over me but I posted it alongside that Banksy image on FB and got an interestingly good response, so suddenly the memory and my poem was public property and surprisingly, it didn't bother me. It only took from 1983 to now for me to feel free to do so - apparently....<br />Oh, and something else, reading your post I was reminded of the David Essex lyric from the song Streetfight, Rock On album 1973 :O "I was lookin' back to see if you were lookin' back at me to see me lookin' back at you". Up to this week, I think the only person who ever saw anyhing I wrote was my other half and that was for about 30 seconds max 18 years ago - ooh the memories!shinesterhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03359103878974761089noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post-55163192705548878622012-10-14T13:25:17.650+01:002012-10-14T13:25:17.650+01:00The first thing I did with your memory was to repl...The first thing I did with your memory was to replace it with one of my own and by the time I'd got to the end that short paragraph I had almost lost touch with what I was reading. I was with George in the van listening to <i>Meddle</i> by Pink Floyd up loud. It was Christmastime and he had a job delivering something—can't remember what (milk's the most obvious choice but it doesn't feel right)—and this was him going round the houses collecting money and, of course, most people were sticking in a fiver 'bonus' as it was that time of year. The thing you have to remember about being a writer is that we have no control over what our readers bring to the text. For some that will be a boring incident but for others they will connect to it in ways you will never have imagined. It always puzzles me when people other than me make books their own as if the author really was only the bloke who typed up the text and that was it. I've only ever met one bloke who had the same affection for 'Mr. Bleaney' as me and I was <i>so</i> annoyed. It was <i>my</i> poem. How dare he?<br /><br />The second thing I wanted to do with that paragraph was expand it. There's a story waiting to be told and really all we have here is a setting and the dramatis personae. When asked if her own first novel was autobiographical Jeanette Winterson had this to say: "Yes and no. All writers draw on their experience but experience isn't what makes a good book. As the stand-up comics say, 'It's the way you tell 'em'. <i>Oranges</i> is written in the first person, it's direct and uninhibited, but it isn't autobiography in the real sense." You might think you were being honest and accurate when you wrote this but words are never, and never will be, up to the job of accurately communicating anything. All we ever are able to commit to paper is an outline for others to colour in.<br /><br />For months now I've been struggling with what I keep telling myself will be my next book. I've never been a particularly autobiographical writer. Like everyone I borrow bits and pieces—Jonathan had meningitis and I had meningitis—but I've never told a story where my family and friends could come along and say, "See that character there, that's me isn't it?" Now, however, I can't shake the desire to write a fictionalised memoir. It has to be fictionalised because I simply cannot remember anything with any degree of accuracy. I'm actually shocked by the things I cannot remember and really that's what I keep coming back to. I have a line which I haven't found a home for yet but it's too good not to use: "I don't have much time for memoirists; people with their heads stuck up their own pasts." A part of me holds that to be true but without the past who are we? Then again, does it matter how we got here? We're here in the now and have to deal with that. It's why I don't care whether we were created or evolved. It might be interesting to find out but it doesn't change anything.<br /><br />I'm with Auster when it comes to not giving two hoots what my potential readers might think. I think as soon as you start to imagine them then you're going to lose a degree of … I'm going to use the word 'honesty' here as opposed to factual accuracy or truthfulness. I am my ideal reader and I have to believe that there are others out there who will either see things my way or bring something to the table to make the piece work for them. I suppose being a poet first and foremost has been a help because as far as I'm concerned words only suggest meanings: nothing is written in stone. Apart from the Ten Commandments, allegedly.<br /><br>Jim Murdochhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12786388638146471193noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post-89559942138823481842012-10-14T11:24:38.928+01:002012-10-14T11:24:38.928+01:00Nice one Ken,I'm sure ye took the 'safeway...Nice one Ken,I'm sure ye took the 'safeway' to Donegal.I agree with you memories are of great value to us.I think they show us how we've changed , for better or worse in that time span what did we value then as we do now? memories to me are based on friendships and sharing good times,sometimes the nastier person i could be and how age time and experience has made me so much more mellow.Memories are like on demand tv they're always available and when we share them with others we evoke even more .Thanks Kenseoirse mac enrihttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11894305600071657649noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post-11419195953169439492012-10-14T11:18:56.969+01:002012-10-14T11:18:56.969+01:00It's a lovely passage (although not one that h...It's a lovely passage (although not one that has any similarity with my own life!), but I feel like that style can get a bit overwhelming after a while. It becomes <i>too</i> reliant on the reader at least having some sort of memory they can connect it to, whereas in short bursts - as above - that's not necessary at all.Jamienoreply@blogger.com