Monday, 28 February 2011

World Building: Living in Isolation

If you have read my  post at the beginning of Feb - World Building: Drawing Board? what Drawing Board - you will know I had scattered land mines around my new world. Of course I made life difficult for myself in the use of landmines.  However I did think that, based on our past history, we would be making use of them to defend ourselves from . . . well anything really. We have been using them indiscriminately for years now and although the clearance goes on apace across the globe, I believe if any nation felt threatened, even we who have signed up against their use, would make use of them. But, I didn’t truly think through the consequence of keeping settlements confined, like I did, for fifty years.  Ellen was, after all, supposed to be a short story!

Thinking of lifestyles we take for granted, what would we lose?  It wouldn’t be just depriving the survivors of fossil fuels but depriving them of food and water, if for some reason they had little expertise or knowledge.  Also trade and looking further afield for supplies was a route of survival I had cut off.  In 50 years objects deteriorate from use and external conditions.  Each settlement would have to have the wherewithal not just to produce its own food but its own cloth, tools and amenities.  No buying in from the next community, no money in fact for what use would it be.  I had crashed my survivors backwards in time, the only difference between them and the original inhabitants of a pre-industrial world being that they had modern knowledge.

I thought it could be done but I had to research hard to find the ‘yes’ to it all.  Cloth I already knew about, from my own experiments in the past.  Linen we all know but nettles, that hated weed of every garden, makes splendid cloth.  If sheep are around then of course fleece not only provides wool but felt, so warm and waterproof.

Food when there is no backup would be difficult. Could it be preserved when there was no refrigeration, would they be able to learn the old skills?  Most towns and bigger villages would have had libraries of some kind and, although recent events (closing libraries or making them electronic) would foil my plans, I did think that knowledge in books would help them survive. Drying and smoking is the easiest way to preserve food without any chemicals to help. Vinegar can easily be made and, if you could harness them, bees will give honey.  All ways of keeping harvests through the winter.

Could they make leather without chemicals?  This last took a lot of tracking down because I didn’t have the correct words to feed into the search engines.   I knew there had to be a method; after all, I reasoned, those early trappers in the opening up of the wilderness would not have lugged massive quantities of salt with them, on canoes, into the wilderness.  It would make no sense at all; apart from the weight, water would be bound to get in.  Yet skins must be cured or they become rank and spoiled.  Yes I know, you over the Atlantic know the trick, you still have a wilderness.  Maybe others with their own wilderness know the trick also.

Brain tanning.  The day I found it was a great day.  Not only because I had found it but because I found the whole process fascinating.  It seemed beautifully neat and natural that each creature has the right size brain to cure its skin.  Not only is nature wonderful but so too the early peoples of our world who discovered all these skills.

So they could clothe themselves, tan skins, preserve food.  In this blighted world could my survivors produce the food they preserved?  What kind of farming would they be able to do?  I visited our local organic farm and Andrew very kindly took me around explaining and listening to my plans.  I left a little discouraged because the size of the fields and my inability to see how my small bands of survivors could possibly plough and seed such vast areas, and this was a good farm with hedges and wildlife and reasonably-sized fields.  I had to have a think and do more research!

Tuesday, 15 February 2011

World Building:Food Security


When I took finger to keyboard to write a short story it never crossed my mind that first it would become a full length novel or that it would be the first of a few. Neither did I realise that I would be writing about so many modern day conundrums. The list is formidable: from genetic manipulation to food security and taking in population growth/control, climate change, globalisation and the modern world with all its toys.

It is fair to say I am interested in all of them and hold, as do many others, mixed and sometimes conflicting views on most of them. On many of the above subjects I have come to decisions but don’t see how anything will be managed, others I know ‘I shouldn’t’ but find I ‘still do’. Life is never easy, I envy the purists in any discipline for their fortitude but I am full of human frailties!

The ‘Sefuty’ in the ‘Sefuty Chronicles’ stands for food security in this post apoplectic world I have invented. ‘Se’ and ‘ty’ are the first and last parts of security and the ‘fu’ for the food in a manner that so many pronounce the word. Of all the problems that may, or may not, face the world I feel that food security is the most pressing. Solve that and much good would ensue and not just because we would not be at the mercy of the markets. Many disputes and wars would cease! Hopefully, resources that are fast running out, such as useable water, would cease to be plundered in a crazy manner, healthcare in so many parts of the world could be afforded, and population would stabilise. Well - these things could happen if there was food security around the world; of course, as with many great ideas such as communism and democracy, if human beings are involved it will probably go wrong!

A cynic? Me? No!

Many decades ago I declared to the world – well family and friends – that I thought our greatest danger lay not in nuclear holocaust but in the movement of the hungry, when they got desperate. I was dismissed as an idiot because I thought both sides having the bomb made us safer; of course, as far as large and nasty bombs are concerned, the goal posts have changed now. However, at the time, I had started out on my travels and was young and impressionable; I journeyed to countries where the gap between ‘us’ and ‘them’ was extreme in a way we hardly know here.

I am talking of the days before rolling news and wars fought and won by TV. Decades ago and even now there is no better way of seeing what hunger, want and despair looks like than by being there. It looks, smells and sounds different in the reality. As we wandered around poverty we were also aware that there was the land, the water and the wherewithal for this not to happen. We were not in any war zones; there a different grim picture was emerging. It was the beginning of learning about politics, local and global, of differing ways of ruling and containing societies. Not a particularly political animal I learnt the lessons very slowly over the intervening years of travel and reading and listening.

Food security is not just a problem for the undeveloped nations nowadays, although they are already suffering from the effects of globalisation and price capping. For us, a small shiver of anticipation occurred when a volcano blew its top on our doorstep. The percentage of food that we consume in this country which starts its life overseas is staggering; the amount that relies on crossing boarders and seas to reach us should be real cause for concern for all of us. We worry over foreign countries owning our gas and water, of imports of coal from thousands of miles away. Worry over food supplies. Worry over the declining agriculture industry here, of the closing of farms, the drain of farming youngsters into cities. We could live without the gas – I don’t want to mind – we cannot live without food and a population at 60 million + and rising living in these islands, it is time to be afraid, be very afraid.


Parts of this blog I have posted before in different places but it shows some of the thoughts that have fed into the creation of this new world I have created for the Sefuty Chronicles.


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Tuesday, 8 February 2011

Words Shy of Daylight

I am not sure that my moments of inactivity at the keyboard can be construed as writers block. It is more akin to very narrow entrance and a jam of words, shoving and pushing to pass through and getting nowhere! As in any jam all it needs is for one to move slightly to one side, allow a space and hopefully, like sheep the rest will follow. With luck the brain has settled on the right words and the correct order. If not that is what re-writes are for and good editors.

I started writing Ellen’s Tale during a period of great stress and distress. It was a therapeutic escape from a life becoming more unbearable by the day. The words flowed and I settled into a very agreeable alternative world. I continued writing after that stress vanished and more stress crowded in behind. Illness and operations have dictated my life for a few years now and I have learnt the benefits a ‘lie down’ on odd occasions during the day. It is during these quiet times I find inspirations, work out an impending piece of writing. I hold conversations in my head to decide which character says what. If I drift into sleep those moments as I fall asleep and the moments I come back are fertile moments.

So getting that first word sometimes, for me at least, means stretching prone on a bed, letting thoughts drift; or, as thoughts and words that elude one are often found when not being looked for, I will potter in a sunny garden. Again letting my mind wander as it will between - do we have vegetable bake or liver and bacon for dinner and the last piece of writing or research I had done. Many times when I think my mind is tunelessly blank a word, an idea will explode into consciousness with a huge Yay!

Other times if words are shy of the daylight I will shrug and get on with anything else. Maybe the house needs some work done (I hate housework so there is always something needs doing!)or maybe some research for WIP or maybe the next novel. The first is so boring I am driven back to the keyboard, the second is so endlessly fascinating that the barren hours can be kept at bay while a file of useful aids to the inspirations are collected.

Ellen’s Tale as I have said in previous blogs started as homework practice for short story writing. In the class I was attending each week I found a blank mind over three nights, a mind that refused to offer a single idea to the teacher’s requests, they were supposed to be ten minute writes. Sci Fi, Food and Historical, the three subjects I appeared to be blocked on. I spent the time doodling elaborate prototypes of some art doll I thought might be fun to make.

I was determined to get to grips with short stories during the holiday and then, when the first word made it though that jam, they just kept on coming. In the intervening weeks those three subjects had obviously been fermenting within a very over stressed brain. Not blocked so much as slowed right down in a whole lot of other issues; in the grand scheme of things more important than keyboard to screen. However the words and ideas were still forming, gathering strength until their time came. Waiting for a calmer tide to wash them ashore.

For me extreme stress has both been a spark and a dampener to writing; relaxation and brainless occupation often a great companion to them both. I do not have to write to make a living. I do not have to produce x number of words in x number of hours/days, I am willing to admit I am lucky not to have that pressure. I give them to myself by inventing deadlines!! No-one is dependent for a roof over their heads on my writing. I can just enjoy the process of adding words to words, gaining immense pleasure from the creation of my Tales.




http://www.albertaross.co.uk/    Official website for information on my books - extracts, purchasing and forthcoming publications.

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Writing Challenge:  WRITER'S BLOCK
  1. Second Tuesday 2: Words Shy of Daylight - Alberta Ross
  2. 12 & a ½ Ways to Deal with Writer’s’Block - Ruchira Mandal
  3. Second Tuesday - Writer's Block - Patti Larsen
  4. Iain the Cat opines on Writer's Block - Jeannie
  5. Using Writer's Block as an Excuse to not Write - Rebeca Schilller
  6. Writer's Block - Gary Varner
  7. Second Tuesday - Writer's Block and the Tooth Fairy - Annetta Ribken
  8. Writer's Block or Writer's Withdrawal - Eden Baylee
  9. Breaking Past Writer's Block - Elise VanCise

This post is part of a monthly writing challenge known as "Second Tuesday," written by members of the Fellow Writers' Facebook group. Click on any link above to read another "Second Tuesday" post. Enjoy!

Tuesday, 1 February 2011

World Building: Drawing board? what drawing board

When I started the Sefuty Chronicles I had no very clear idea of the world I was writing about.  However, before I was half way through Ellen’s Tale I realised I would have to find out and fairly quickly.  I had an impression, of my own making, of the downsides of climate change; I needed to find out how realistic these were.

Apart from checking climate change scenarios the most important idea was how my survivors outside the city walls would fare.  I grew up here in the UK after the 2nd world war with a romantic mental picture of farming.  Story book farms with cows, milked by hand! sheep, an odd pig complete with little pink piglets  eating scraps from the table. Dozens of chickens in the yard, ducks on the pond, and jolly fat farmers and their families.  It was a place of endless sunny days and the whole family would bring in the hay on the back of a hay wagon pulled by a shire horse, settle down to cream teas and merrymaking.  It never seemed to rain, harvests never flattened by the wind, never frozen into the ground by ice and snow.

Of course I became aware through my growing that life is different from the books.  However when I started writing I still had the mixed farm in mind.  All I had to do post climate change was eliminate the tractors and land rovers and bring back that Shire horse wasn’t it? Simple? Well no.  There may not have been fossil fuel any more, but neither would there have been many Shire horses, they are almost gone now.  I went back to medieval times to see if there were clues on survival for my country folk to be found there.  It seemed easy.  Take away the feudal lord of the manner and the tithes due to him and the church.  Calculate how much of everything they grew and survived on. 

As I researched it was with growing dismay I remembered I had put rings of landmines around every settlement.  In the ‘olden’ days they shared the heavy draught animals, as today expensive tractors may be shared, between villages and farms.  They exchanged foodstuffs they had with that they didn’t at markets.  They would share the bull, the ram. Between communities.  I had taken that mobility a way with never a second thought.

I searched self sufficiency books of the now, the articles and books about the past.  I travelled back as far as the Stone Age.  But everywhere the greatest difference was the mobility the other ages had.  I had myself, that year, in my garden, a plague of snails which demolished an entire harvest of cabbages before even the Cabbage White could get to them, and I realised that, all through the ages, harvests fail for so many reasons. While I continued buying cabbages from the village shop my survivors would not be able. 

While you can live without cabbage until the next season my research had been throwing up disasters a plenty with universal starvation from a ‘poor’ season.  It is of course always going on, we do though in this country think of famine and plagues of insects as happening somewhere else.  I had to try and think the impossible.  How would they survive without the ability to seek further afield, how would they survive if the weather wasn’t kind for a whole growing season.  What would then change in the ordering of societies as they faced this constant challenge to live? 

In my anthropology studies I had been fascinated at how environment and climate dictated so much of the social differences we find puzzling in our dealings with ‘others’  now I would have to work out if our social conventions could remain intact within the maelstrom of such a catastrophe.  It seemed the more I thought of one thing, i.e. how to farm, I saw the dominoes of consequence tipping, falling and sometimes landing lying askew.

It always came back to food.  Everything about the survivor’s way of life would begin with the security of their food.  As with the City I had placed Ellen in, food security was to be all.  However the world Ellen inhabited had the science and the wherewithal to secure the feeding of the survivors, had a certain mobility to travel further afield.  Not depending only on themselves they had an army to defend them.  My wilderness survivors had no science, and land mines not an army.  It was not a case of back to the drawing board as it was evident in writing my ‘short story’ of Ellen I had not visited a drawing board at all!


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