Although I like to carry such an attachment
with me, not only for my writing but also to carry my bait box and whichever
books I have on the go at any given time (I usually have one fiction novel that
I’m reading but always also carry a couple of non-fiction/reference books with
me to leaf through), lugging around a huge touring backpack would not be my
idea of daily fun, thus my hunt for the small knapsack style backpack that I
use today…
My real purpose here though isn’t to pass
on my recommendations of the type of bag a writer could get for themselves,
(although after almost losing a whole chapter and a few writing notebooks, leaving my backpack on a train last year, I’d recommend any writer to
become attached to their bags just to avoid being lost for words!), but
this post is more to just take some time to reflect on the objects that I carry
within my bag. Each of them are important
personally to me, but the act of carrying them is I guess a weird mix of
pilgrimage and practicality, and is analogous with my journey as an amateur scribbler,
in this early part of my writing life…
The first treasured object is “my
spaceman”. This is sort of a lucky charm
that I’ve been carrying with me on holidays and various other journeys ever
since I decided to embark on a life of writing and he has been making an
appearance over on my Flickr page (still under construction in 2013 and very much in its
infancy until I work out exactly how I want to use it for in relation to my writing...) and it is sort of my way of paying homage to the film Amelie and
the travelling gnome if you’ve seen that movie.
So now my spaceman (since I’m fond of writing sci-fi) goes wherever I
do, just in case he wants to pose in front of some famous landmark or gorgeous
vista that I pass.
At the moment, and pretty much any time I
open my backpack, I can lay my hands on a wad of leaflets and flyers – I love
collecting these, carrying them round with me until they’re out of date and I
recycle them. They’re usually on local
exhibits going on at various museums or for writing events or lectures taking
place in my local area over the upcoming months (most of which I tend to miss,
but good intentions are there!) I find it useful to collect all sorts of
reading material in my bag, to be honest, and like studying different types of
writing and formats of presenting scribbles…
One such leaflet right now is for an exhibit right up my street at the Great North Museum nee Hancock, called “Tales of Antiquarian Adventure”
(running until the end of April 2013) and sounds like going could make for
useful research for “my history mystery”.
The next object is a teeny tiny glasses
repair kit, with a small screwdriver and even smaller screws, which comes in
extremely useful on many occasions where my glasses insist on falling
apart. I’m actually short-sighted so
don’t need my glasses to look at my computer screen or to write, but they’re
essential when it comes to looking far off to the horizon, day to day, and all
around me for inspiration, so carrying this MacGyver-esque gizmo is a must…
I also carry a small travel-sized pack of
cards. Ever since being young, I’ve gone
through short periods (usually on long train journeys or holidays) where I get
a bit addicted to playing Patience and I get obsessive over trying to
complete a single hand of the game, so I play over and over again in one sitting to
make sure I achieve my aim… I often wonder if this has been good practice or
preparation for a life in writing, striving and trying again and again to get
stories published…
Now, these things may seem quite odd ones
to carry already but I also at the moment have a small packet of 80s-style
popping candy – the kind of sweets that you stuck on your tongue and waited to
crackle and spark. I got it at a
workshop for my day job a few months ago but have left it a bit too long to eat
(or have I? It’s probably just sugar, after all!). But every time I open my bag and see this, it
reminds me of my first adventure novel and the nostalgia theme that book
carries (can’t really tell you much more about that – top secret - apart from
saying that’s why I’m carrying around out-of-date candy…
The final collection of things that I carry
in my backpack on a regular basis are ones I don’t really talk about very much,
being quite secret and rather personal…
They’re objects very much influenced by my upbringing as a Christian,
and also reflect my ongoing search and wonder at the world around me, which as
a writer, I’m constantly trying to challenge and gain different perspectives
on… The first is a Rosary-Bead pouch – I
picked up the pouch and the beads 10 years ago on a stop-off in Rome (more on
this epic tour in the coming summer months here on the blog as I celebrate a
decade passing since “backpacking” around much of Europe…) The beads remind me of where I’ve come from
and probably where I’m going… The patron
saint of travellers, St. Christopher shares my first name and the grounding my
Faith gives me shapes who I am as I journey through life and ultimately
influences where my scribbles lead… I also have a “Little Book of Francis” with
quotes from St. Francis of Assisi. He’s
my Confirmation saint and it’s perhaps timely that at this new Easter period
here in 2013, the world has greeted a new Pope – Pope Francis, who seems to
share the simplicity of Assisi. This
example of simple existence is one that inspires me day to day as I carry my
backpack here and there, pursuing fame and fortune but always realizing simply creating
short stories that entertain myself first and foremost is always the best
starting point…
Before I “ramble” on too much and being
wary of sounding like I’m preaching, I’ll end this post with a recent
acquisition to my backpack - I picked up a new bookmark (I like collecting
these too!) which reflects my recent growing interest in story maps –
it’s from my local Diocese and has a simple message to “Step up to
Life” in 2013. And with the help of my
backpack, I’ll keep on doing just that in the days to come, carrying all of the
things I inevitably carry with me (physical and otherwise), searching for that
inner writer, beckoning him to appear and make his voice heard once and for
all…
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