On Dialect – How Caribbean people supposed tuh talk in a story, eh?

In a previous post about how I met Olive Senior, I mentioned that I wanted to do a separate blog post on the Bocas Lit Fest session with Irvine Welsh, author of the very famous Scottish novel, Trainspotting. 

cocktail

Irvine Welsh -Scottish author

Anyone who knows me knows I have a very soft spot for anything Scottish, as I consider it my second home. The Scots are very similar to us here in the Caribbean; they are friendly, love to laugh and love to drink – can’t get any better than that.

Irvine Welsh was refreshing. He reeked of confidence. He sat on the stage chewing the life out of a piece of gum, not caring about the hundred or so eyes staring at him. He gave honest answers to every question; even the rather rude one from a nosy audience member who asked about the contents of his personal bag. I mean, come on! (All sane Caribbean people covered their face in shame when Welsh actually answered “a shirt and a pair of sneakers”).

He should also give lessons in how to read fiction to an audience. It was one of the best readings I have witnessed. He captivated us with every word and antic, he did not apologise for any of the cuss words which occurred every sentence or so, and his language…was brilliantly Scottish.

Did he get a standing ovation? I can’t remember. But we in the audience were glad that he read another piece, despite it being a questionable excerpt requested by interviewer, B.C. Pires, on the slaying of a dog. And I thought my humour was dark!

My friend (and excellent writer) Desiree, had just bought Trainspotting, and I, still  completely mindblown and impressed with this man who had perfected balancing on the line between confidence and arrogance, asked for a quick peek of the novel. Here is a shot of the first page: Continue reading

Too Many Ideas Syndrome (TMIS)

Last night I dreamed about a movie.

It was one of my favourites because it is so brilliant – a fantasy movie with poignant main characters, and twisted plots which shocked and angered me. The antagonist was so cruel that I skipped ahead of some of the worse scenes. I never remember the name of the movie, but when I was dreaming the plot came back so easily. It was an old movie – think back to a time when you watched a TNT movie on that old six-channel STV box.

While I was dreaming I said to myself, “I need to look up the name of this movie because I keep forgetting what happens. It’s been a while since I watched it.”

So I wake up, yawn, and turn on the computer. I look out the window – it is a sunny Saturday yay! Now what do I have to do today again? I go on Facebook, check the emails, read a funny Cracked article (I love that site) and then I remember about the movie.

I open the Google search engine, and then I pause. I realise I have no idea what to google.

Then it hit me.

DAMMIT TO HELL (not the words I used) IT ISN’T A REAL MOVIE!

IT WAS A DREAM! Continue reading

How I Met Olive Senior

So if you’ve been following my scribbles and read the post about the Evolution of my Writing voice, you would know that Olive Senior is my favourite Caribbean writer. As soon as I heard that she would be attending Bocas Lit Fest in Trinidad, I booked my ticket! I stated that:

“I hope to meet Olive Senior at BocasLitFest next month in Trinidad, and I will be try to stay calm, normal and be level-headed, and thank her for inspiring me so much with her novels. I will not scream like a groupie…I will not scream like a groupie…I will not.”

Sigh.

At least I didn’t scream like a groupie…for her to hear.

It all started at the cocktail party at the residence of the Trinidad British High Commissioner. I was all dressed up, level-headed, surrounded by great food and drinks in a lovely environment. Perfect time to meet your favourite author right? But fate would not have that. I found out Olive Senior was there hours later when I was home. To rub salt in my wound, I saw this picture online:

cocktail

Yup.

There I am – seemingly high on wine – yapping away to someone while the person I came to meet stood RIGHT BEHIND ME!

Continue reading

Sometimes I feel like giving up…

I am angry.

I do not want the “I’m sorries” and “My condolences”.

I would like things to be fair.

Good people – live.

Bad people – die.

Seems simple enough right? Then why does God get it wrong so many times?

There are some evil people who live long, prosperous lives, who get to pass peacefully in their sleep, while genuinely good people suffer, and die long before they fulfil their potential.

I have a friend who is suffering from cancer. He hasn’t passed away yet, but he is on life support and everyone has said their goodbyes. He was young – not even twenty five- and bright, and all he ever wanted to do was write movies. Unfortunately he was born in a place and time where such dreams are unheard of. Continue reading