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LIVE OR JUST DIE

First and foremost. I am not an expert and everything that follows is just opinion, my opinion. This article is about promoting hope and beating fear.  Live and Not just die. The subject is the Coronavirus or COVID-19 which ever term you prefer. Like my last subject it is not a joyous subject, but like the last I cannot turn a blind eye to it.

In the run up to the recent general election in Ireland, the subject of climate change and the threat to our planet looked as if it would be foremost in the people’s mind.  However, the results based on the Green Party return, the main supporters of climate change policies, did not endorse that policy to any great extent. It did not bother me greatly as I do not subscribe to climate change being the greatest threat to mankind and question the control we have over a vast universe.  I do believe though, that man is the biggest threat to mankind.  The weapon of choice is most likely to be chemical or a virus.  Did man contribute to the existence of COVID-19?  The stories of the wet markets in Wuhan born out of the famines of the 1970’s certainly points the figure at man’s contribution to the existence of this virus which now sweeps through the world as I write. Is this the Armageddon virus? … I don’t think so, but it is certainly a wakeup call and then again as I said at the offset, I’m not an expert.  

The World Health Organisation (WHO) describes COVID-19 as a pandemic. Pandemic if a frightening word, but all it means is that it is a disease epidemic that has spread across a large region, for instance multiple continents, or worldwide.  No surprise.  Is it serious? Obviously, it is, no question, but is it recoverable from? Of course, it is. Let’s not forget that.  Fact, in Wuhan and Northern Italy, the recoveries far outweigh the deaths, though I accept that is little consolation to the deceased or their loved ones. However, I will return to this in a while.

To recover from anything, one needs hope. Unfortunately, hope is being slowly eroded by fear.  Fear that is driven by people both through social media and even sources that were once considered reputable media.  If hope is eroded completely, there is no future and fear will take over which leads to the inevitable of man turning on man.  We have seen it in so many apocalyptic films and books. Maybe for rations, maybe for medicine, maybe for food. Maybe because some nation sees another nation as a weak touch to take advantage of. I hope not for toilet paper though. It is called war.  Nations who disagree on approach may find like two children in the playground who disagree, a primitive resolution.  Fear causes stress. Stress is known to affect your immunity.  Immunity is the one and only weapon you have in your arsenal.  Your body will fight to the last, but you must choose to give it a fighting chance.  Too much stress reduces your firepower.

In coaching parlance, respect the opposition, but do not fear it.  You have only jurisdiction over what you can control. You can control the personal sanitising and hygiene as advised and everyone knows that advice at this stage.  It still doesn’t guarantee the opposition will not find a chink in your defence. We know that there is no cure at the moment other than the battle your body is prepared to put up against it.  Give your body every chance.  Exercise regularly and do not stress your mind. Prepare for the onslaught. You need all your energy to launch that counter attack. The blanket defence will not work. You have to fight back when you are put to the pin of your collar.

A couple of things do come to my mind.  Firstly, this is not the world’s first or only pandemic. AIDS/HIV was one which commenced in the eighties. It is still there but very much in the background of our thoughts.  In 2018, 1.1 million people died from AIDS related illness worldwide.  The WHO estimate that in 2016, that there were 1.35 million road related deaths in the world. Who is afraid to get into a car and drive?  Yet we only have control over our own car, not the many thousands of other cars that are on the road. We’ve all seen the lunatics and it is never us. But we haven’t left that fear stop from living or driving.  WHO also estimate that there are 320,00 drowning deaths per annum in the world. How many of us will not swim because of this statistic? 

In 2016, Cancer was the highest contributor to deaths in Ireland with 30.7% of 30,667 deaths. However, worldwide, the greatest cause of death, is heart related issues including stroke.  It contributed to 30.1% of deaths in Ireland in 2016 or 17.9 million worldwide that year!! I have experienced heart attack twice (November 2016, 10 days apart). I am a survivor. Do I have a fear of it?  Yes, there are times. If I feel odd at all, fear can immerse me for a time. I do have what I call “moments”, some may have noticed. When I hear of a young person or even people around my age, dying from heart related issues, it does give me the shivers. However, when that emotion starts to consume me, I fight it, remembering I have recovered twice. I take my medication regimentally. I exercise to the best of my ability, allowing for two artificial hips. My weakness is probably my diet.  It could be better. But one thing is for sure, mentally my body and mind is up for the battle, should it happen again.  Mentally, I need to be strong and ready for the battle. Believe me reading too much bad news is not useful for developing mental strength. Again, in coaching terms, I focus on my strengths which I can control rather that the uncontrollable strengths of the opposition.

The power of social media is frightening when used indiscriminately. Too many people, who like me are not experts are posting and sharing information that is adding to the fear.  Sharing an article that suits your own thought process is not wise unless you really know the person the wrote it originally. They could easily be a waffler like me! I’m not an expert. You are not an expert. How can you tell if an unknown on social media is an expert?

To that end, it is a fact that there are vastly more people who have contracted COVID-19 and recovered than have died.  Why not share these people’s stories? They have experienced it. Using my heart experiences, they are more expert than anyone who has never had it. They are the people who can give us hope.  Let’s listen to them.  This is not to understate, that people will die, like our Taoiseach Leo Varadkar stated and the HSE experts.  It is not to reduce the effort put into precautions. Hope is important. And maybe there are people who were in the high-risk category who contracted the virus and have recovered.  Imagine the hope their story would give. Unfortunately, at the moment, people are too interested in the negative numbers rather than the positive stories. Stop people. THINK before you post your badly constructed, poorly spelt reaction or over reaction or blame of someone.  Think will your comment give hope or further despair?

The mentioning of the Taoiseach brings me to a something, I was trying to steer clear of and that is politics. Fact, I have no allegiance to any political party.  I do like the best people to run the country. To be honest the best people are actually cross party.  However, it is worth giving praise where praise is due.  The Government and the HSE are doing a brilliant job in what is uncharted territory.  A situation that changes on a daily, maybe even an hourly basis.  When this is all over maybe people will recognise that the HSE is doing a huge amount of the right things.  I know from my own heart events in 2016, I had no private health insurance, but the care I got was absolutely brilliant and I really appreciate that from the doctors, nurses, paramedics, pharmacists, administrators, helicopter crew and aftercare staff at St Luke’s, Kilkenny, Waterford University Hospital and Cork University Hospital.  Some parties and politicians came to the last general election with policies that they knew would never have to be implemented. They were promising the world with untold money, knowing that in reality it would never be tested.  Many of those who wanted change fell for the propaganda. You will note now, how quiet they are and probably how relieved they are at not being in power at this time, because you cannot promise the solution for COVID-19, a cure.  The people will see through that much more quickly.

I would like to finish this blog, by reminding people, that living in fear, is not living.  Hurl clever, and stay mentally strong and positive. Work on your game everyday and keep the spirits in the team high and unified. Victory can be ours!  And if despair does get to much of a burden, use the technology to talk to someone.  Social must not die from the virus. If the technology doesn’t work there is always the option to talk to your God, who or whatever that maybe. It is at times like these, the value of Prayer to give hope will be seen. Because if you do end up in isolation, that God, will be the closest friend you will have.   I hope when this is all over, we (as in the world) will be more honest and caring to our fellow mankind.

FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO WOULD LIKE READING MATERIAL TO PASS THE TIME DURING THIS PHASE, PLEASE CHECK OUT THE LINKS BELOW. YOUR INTEREST IS VERY MUCH APPRECIATED;

SHORT STORIES

NOVELS & NOVELLA

FULL LENGTH PLAYS

ONE-ACT PLAYS

POETRY

 

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HOW COULD IT HAPPEN?

Last week I visited Poland and specifically the City of Kraków. It is a typical and beautiful eastern European city and the people are very friendly. Normally, when I go somewhere, I want to write a story about the place and use it as a backdrop to my fiction.  The place normally adds substance and variety to my fiction.  Yes, there was the intriguing and fascinating Salt mines with its underground Church, shop, theatre and restaurants as well as the wonderful House of Illusions, the lovely food from the reasonably priced restaurants, the horse drawn carriages and the brilliant architecture. However, Kraków’s biggest tourist attraction has its own real stories, too brutal and painful for many to hear, but also too true. 

Myself, Sheila, Jennifer and Lisa took in a tour of the concentration or more appropriate extermination camps of Auschwitz and Birkenau. There were no souvenir T-Shirts, fridge magnets, calendars or pens for what is the area’s biggest tourist attraction.   There was plenty of stories already there, told in a very solemn manner by the knowledgeable tour guide. The train tracks to the death camps. The accommodation, far from human luxury, crowded and even inhumane for animals.  The stories of torture and separation from family.  The shootings and the hangings were not even the worst. The medical and genetic experiments.  The thoughts of the agony and the failure to catch those final breaths in the gas chambers. The stark reminders with the thousands of shoes, the combs and brushes and pots of all kinds, but must brutality for me, the prosthetic limbs and the tons of human hair. Mostly brown, but made even more harrowing with the random cuts of blonde interspersed. Normal everyday things representing a massive inhumane atrocity.

The thought of the untold cruelty to men and women alike brings huge emotion. Even more grotesque when you consider the horrors inflicted on the children, very young children. Then there is that horrible glee you feel as you see where the commandant of Auschwitz, Rudolf Höss was hung for his crimes, but there were so many more “humans” involved.  Over a million people were murdered in those extermination camps.  Mainly Jewish and Poles, but not all. There were many other races. How is justice ever achieved for those crimes against mankind?

Being one that always looks for the logic, my overriding thought was “How could It happen?” How could so many of the perpetrators let it happen? Surely as humans we should learn.  Surely it could never happen again. Then that evening I arrive back in the hotel. Turn on the television and watch Sky News.  The story of the refugee camps in Syria is prominent….

THE ONLY THING NECESSARY FOR THE TRIUMPH OF EVIL IS FOR GOOD MEN TO DO NOTHING.

(Edmund Burke)

I do not have an inspiration for any play, novel, short story or poetry after Auschwitz and Birkenau. I do know that in all walks of life, he above saying is so true, yet so often we as people, both men and women often do NOTHING.  I urge you never to forget and learn for the future.

It might sound like I am not recommending Kraków for a visit. On the contrary. I think everyone should visit. It is not all gloom, and do most definitely include Auschwitz and Birkenau, if only for it to serve as a reminder of the cruelty of the human race and the importance battling evil.  Let us never forget those people and what happened, ever.

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THE STORY

The Story… If you Google the definition (and everyone loves to Google these days), you get “an account of imaginary or real people and events told for entertainment.”  This is why when I write, The Story, is the most important aspect of my material, factual or fictional.  I write to entertain, I write to tell a story because everyone has a story and everyone is a story and reading the written, should be entertaining. The academic scholar and literary writer indulge in the extravagant words with exquisite narrative and description. Often the pace and the context of the story is lost in the elaboration of their finely manicured words. My words are more simple than most, but the story is the key.  The Story… Everyone loves a story no matter what the theme, setting or overriding emotion.

We Irish have a huge tradition of storytelling.  The seanchaí of old, pictured by the fireside with an attentive audience, entertained with stories of legend, folklore and current affairs of the time, long before television, Netflix, Amazon and the many other forms of streaming entertainment. The story is what mattered to them. It had to provide entertainment on the long nights before electricity became available.  The Irish culture is traditionally a social one and storytelling is the foundation that it is built upon. We love to socialise, from the fireside, the graveside, the church wall to the pub, the local shop or sports facility. We love to meet, talk, gossip and have a laugh. It is probably one of the reasons why we became known as the land of saints and scholars and produced so many renowned writers. Those special interactions. Even the guy on the bar stool regaled his audience with the story. His words and grammar were not always the best, but his story mattered and adapted versions would be narrated in workplaces and other hostelries thereafter.

Recently, I was at a book launch in Langton’s, Kilkenny. The book is called “Uncover, Discover, Recover” by Fergus Heffernan. Fergus is a man I have come to know and respect over the years through my hobbies of Drama and the GAA. The book is his story. It was a very good and intriguing launch with excerpts of the book read by local drama group members to great dramatic effect.  I have to admit I am very slow to read books and it will take me some time to finish it, mainly due to all my hobby demands and reading shorter articles in my thirst for quick knowledge. (I know! A bit hypocritical for a writer). It could possibly take me a few months to complete. Although I had no idea before the launch what the book was going to be about, I get the gist of the story from the launch and the bit I have read. It has two strong threads of suicide and sexual abuse both underpinned by mental health. I have known and respected Fergus for many years and the content surprised me. I did not know or even guessed. Just goes to show. However, it his story and it takes a lot more courage to write your own story, especially that story, than the fiction that I write. Fair play to Fergus.  I do hope the end of his written story offers hope and I am confident it will, because Fergus was there to launch the book himself, with a smile, to a huge, diverse and enthralled audience.

Hope is one key component of my stories. No matter what the content or context, I want my stories to give hope. Hope that they live happily ever after. Hope that they will find a way. Hope that they can live with the consequences. Hope that it will be better. Hope that there will be more. Hope is a belief in a better tomorrow. If you have hope at the end of a story, your story, the story has touched you, life gets better. 

The stories, I write are fiction, but many, particularly the Irish based ones are based on real life events. Others, particularly the westerns, are the product of my wild imagination. But they all tell a story. As I said previously we all have a story and we all are a story. Our stories entertain. Our lives entertain. Even the sad and tragic ones entertain and capture our imagination and empathy. Entertainment is not always about the happy emotion, but hope is. We Irish love to ask “anything strange, exciting or new?” The answer is more often than not “No.” But the truth is our lives are exciting when you think about it and every day is actually different and sometimes even strange.  The story is different every day, albeit similar. And maybe it is that similarity that causes us to miss the subtle differences. We are all diverse characters in one huge big story called Life.

My characters are often composites of people I know or the person I would like to be. We all strive to be someone else, better than what we are, but how many of us achieve that? Few I suggest. But writing and the story allow us to get close. It allows me to get close.  If you love a story and who doesn’t, I believe you will be entertained by the stories I tell. My website and online published library is now over two years old. I am disappointed with the number of people who visited here and/or have read any of my stories, plays, novels etc. My stories have to be read to have life, provide entertainment, to give hope. I really appreciate those that have taken the time and especially those who have gave me feedback, positive or negative.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart. You are good friends. I need more people to read and share my content. That is my ultimate hope for 2020.  As I said at the start, everyone loves to Google.  Why not Google into my stories this Christmas. Share with friends and relations. Be entertained. Find hope. Most of all… Savour the Story!

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THE WILD WEST

BLOOD BATTLE (Click to read), is my latest short story published here. The American Civil War and the aftermath of the Battle of Amelia Springs, Virginia in 1865 is the setting for a game of cat and mouse between a Union soldier and a Confederate soldier as they fight for their principles in a battle for survival and death. I would consider it possibly my darkest piece to date in that it highlights the horrors of war and especially that of a Civil War. In fact, it could be adapted for a civil war in any country. I have used the American Civil War as the basis because of my long love of the America of the 1800’s, the wild west, the frontiers and all the Western films I loved growing up and still love with a passion.  Growing up, watching Westerns was a simple innocent pleasure. We’d watch them, then we’d go out and play Cowboys and Indians (Native Americans) on make believe horses with toy guns, or make-believe sticks or hurleys. A bit like after watching a great hurling match and then playing the All-Ireland in the garden or field. It is only as time moved on, I noticed the sad undertones of racism, violence including sexual and lawlessness that these films contained. However, at the end of the day they were primarily about good versus evil where more often than not the good guy won and there was rarely ambiguity about the ending.  The high moral ground was generally successful and life’s lessons were always positive. Most Westerns were set against the fabulous background of the wild west with beautiful mountains, rivers, hills and forests underneath wonderful blue skies or battling the strength of storms that mother nature can throw. All showcased the best and most powerful that nature has to offer. For the reasons of morals and nature, I do not apologise for my passion and love of the Western.

My writing has regularly used the Western theme for these reasons. THE MAJORS WIFE set during the Arizona Indian wars of 1869/70, started life as a one-act play before I turned it into a short story.  (Both are available on the site). A relationship triangle based in a real historical setting tells the story in a simple way even if relationships are never simple. My first real full-length play was HUNTERS FOR REVENGE and it is set in a saloon in Texas, 1885. We all love heroes, enough said.  THE BALLAD OF SAM STONE is a short story set in the famous Arizona town of Tombstone in 1881. It started life as an epic poem about a gunslinger before merging into the short story. Westerns are not about gadgetry, but they are about people and emotions and their story. This is what make the stories simple while also giving huge curiosity. My first novel which I started writing (and never finished) at the age of 10, “The United Family” was also a Western, loosely based on the John Wayne film, “The Sons Of Katie Elder”.  It started in the West and there will be more.

Arizona is a location that you will notice that I often use. I was there at the Grand Canyon in 1985 on my tour of America with my friend Dick Walsh. It is without doubt the most awesome natural site I have ever seen.  No picture or video can do the depth and colours justice. So, for my holidays this year I wanted the “Cowboy” experience, (I know, I am a cowboy!). Therefore, Sheila and myself headed to Arizona and the Mohave Desert. We started in Las Vegas (Worth a day/night at best, but very plastic). Then we headed to the Grand Canyon. Wow! As awesome as ever.  Then we stayed in a lovely quaint town called Williams on Route 66. The next day we made our way to Utah and the absolutely brilliant picturesque Navajo property of Monument Valley. The red rock formation many will see on your standard Microsoft wallpaper is here.  For me it was more than that. This was the location for the classic John Ford directed, John Wayne starred Western, “The Searchers” as well as their other collaborations, “She Wore A Yellow Ribbon” and “Fort Apache”. This was Western heaven. I cannot express the wonder I had on the 17-mile sand covered loop drive through the valley. It was almost as if civilisation had never arrived, its beauty was so raw.  This epitomised the setting for so many Westerns. It made us think about the pioneers in their covered wagons as they headed across the vast wilderness with no sign of civilisation, little water and definitely no GPS. They were tough people!

The final stage was back to Arizona and Stagecoach Trails Guest Ranch via a small quaint mining town called Oatman also on Route 66, a village in the Black Mountains.  We drove up a very narrow mountain pass to get there although there was an easier way which we found out after arriving. Oatman is named after Olive Oatman, a young Illinois girl who had been taken captive by Indians during her pioneer family’s journey westward in 1851 and forced into slavery. She was later traded to Mohave Indians, who adopted her as a daughter and tattooed her face in the custom of the tribe. She was released in 1856 at Fort Yuma, Arizona. Many donkeys roam the streets and they are the descendants of burros brought there by the miners in the late 1800s; when the miners no longer needed them, they were turned loose. Each morning they come into town looking for food. They wander the streets and greet the tourists. Shortly before sunset they wander back to the hills for the night.

Stagecoach Trails Guest Ranch is a ranch in Yucca in the Mohave Desert. It is an 18-mile sandtrail from the main road and an hour from the nearest shop. It is an oasis in the wilderness of the desert.  The Proprietors were wonderful people (of Irish descent) and made you feel part of their family on the ranch.  The food was glorious and what a super feeling sitting outside around the camp fire under the moonlit and star lit sky as coyotes howled in the background. Miles from anywhere but yet somewhere so magnificent and special. Nature is its foundation and its roof. The highlight for me was riding the trail on the painted horse, Amigo (pictured) or Piebald as he’d be called in Ireland. We were great together. Particularly just after sunrise as the temperature was very comfortable and there was hardly a breeze. We headed out into the desert strewn with the Joshua Tree on sandy, stony trails. The silhouetted shadow of myself on Amigo looked so tall as I gazed down to my left. For those moments I was the great Western characters played by Audie Murphy, Clint Eastwood, John Wayne, James Stewart and Gary Cooper. I was in those films I deem iconic. Those already mentioned plus “The Good, The Bad And The Ugly”, “High Noon”, “Cat Ballou”, “Maverick”, “The Quick Gun”, “The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance”, “A Few Dollars More”, “The Quick And The Dead”, “Pale Rider”, “Unforgiven”, “High Plains Drifter”, “Apache Rifles”. “How The West Was Won”, “Dances With Wolves”, “The Fastest Gun Alive”, “The Quick And The Dead”. The list is almost endless. This was living the dreams of my childhood.  I was the cowboy!

Admittedly, with two artificial hips, it wasn’t easy to get on or off the American saddle horse, but once I was up, my world and my imagination merged as I rode off into the brilliant sunsets where the sky seemed to turn into an inferno.   The Wild West is a passion. It is one of my passions. Las Vegas could not compete because it is man made and nothing man has created can compete with what God gave us in the first place. If you love the Wild West and/or Westerns, these places are a must for any bucket list. Ireland and Kilkenny are beautiful too and also a massive love for me. It is a different type of beauty, but there is nothing to say you can have only one passion when it comes to the world and nature. It is not unfaithful, just spreading the love and passion for our beautiful world.

Enjoy BLOOD BATTLE or reading some of my other Western material. Share with your friends who might be of a certain vintage. Let me know what you think of the stories. Publishers always welcome!

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THE SNOWBALL THAT’S JAMIE

To start this month’s blog, it is a Happy 21st Birthday to my son Jamie Peter Norris. That was the easy bit. Having written poetry for my daughters Jennifer and Lisa, it would be pertinent to do something for Jamie though he may not thank me nor did he ask me, but that’s fine too. This task did not sit easy at all as inspiration failed me and given my quirky dislike for poetry, it was a challenge that beat me.  However, in parallel, a number of artistic ideas were flowing around the eerie maze that is within my head.

One was inspired by a film that I really like called “The Shawshank Redemption”. Most of you will know it. I was always under the misconception it was based on a Stephen King short story and wondered how a short story could become such a detailed and brilliant film. I wanted to write a short story that could be turned into a film like that, but could not figure out how I could reduce the words to succeed. Then I discovered it was actually based on a Stephen King novella called “Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption”.  A novella is a long short story or a short novel with the word count generally varying between 20,000 and 40,000 words.  Now I was in the right territory. A novella beckoned, but on what subject.

In another parallel sphere, I was getting to the end of watching the TV series, “Castle”, one of my favourite US Crime dramas. I love the chemistry and wit between the main protagonists, Rick Castle and Kate Beckett and to be fair she is not half bad looking.  A thing that baffles me about US television police dramas, is the use of last names when calling each other.  The Cops almost always call each other by their last name or surname. Even when Rick Castle and Kate Beckett got married they still most often called each other Castle and Beckett rather than Rick and Kate. The trend was noticeable in other similar genre programmes like “Blue Bloods” and “Rookie Blue”. I think perhaps it is a North American thing. Then, coincidentally after one episode which I had discussed the phenomenon with Sheila, the following day, I was unexpectedly called “Norris” by a work colleague, ‘out of the blue’, to stick to the blue theme. No harm meant. It just made me think that it is unusual in Ireland, a bit American in fact. I didn’t find it offensive but it did give me a thought. How would an Irish crime drama go where the protagonists and characters only used first names? That would be more Irish and different. It would contrast with the Americans and I reckon it would be unique.  But what name to choose?

As I was looking for inspiration for a poem about Jamie, the thought occurs, why not Jamie for the main character? Not a bad name. I gave Jamie Norris the name (with Sheila of course). Why not borrow it back so to speak? It’s a good name for a lead character, but a novella is a huge leap from a poem.  But hey let’s see where it goes, I thought. I wanted the theme to be an Irish crime thriller, set locally in the South and South-East of Ireland and incorporate places that I know well.  The characters would only be known by the role or their first name unless there I was referencing real people rather than fictitious people.

Around the same time as inspiration was growing, I went to the “Cowboys and Heroes” festival in County Leitrim, a country and western festival headlined by the singer Lisa McHugh.  Really enjoyed my weekend in the North West and Lisa McHugh, so I introduced a Country and Western singer into the plot. This gave me the opportunity to write the lyrics of song which I called “Jamie” (Click link for lyrics) for the purposes of my Novella plot rather than a poem. Not exactly about my son Jamie, but it is called “Jamie” in a novella called “Jamie”. It was as close as inspiration could bring me.  A leap and a small compromise. If any reader with a female country and western background wants to put the music to it, please contact me. At the moment, it is just words.

From here the novella snowballed into my most risqué piece of work yet. It is definitely not suitable reading for young people with murder, bad language, sexual innuendo and nudity involved but honestly no wildlife was really harmed in the writing of my first novella.  Locals will recognise scenes around Kilkenny especially Piltown, Hugginstown, Windgap and Paulstown, in Tipperary, Grangemockler and Carrick-On-Suir, as well as Mahon and Fota in Cork and Tinryland in Carlow.

To my son Jamie, enjoy your birthday and thanks for the inspiration and the use of your name.  Thanks to rest of my family who throw their eyes to heaven on a regular basis. To my work colleagues at Glanbia whose actions and words inspired different elements of the story, plot and characterisation.  I know you are a covert reader, but always delighted to have you as I target double figure readership.  Please read my debut novella, “Jamie” and share with your adult friends. To US crime drama fans, your crime drama has now been given a unique Irish slant.  To publishers, it’s new, it’s different and it’s Irish! Read it and try not to weep.

JAMIE

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY SUPERWOMAN

Happy 81st Birthday to Eileen Norris (Da Mammy) on Thursday (28th March). A harder working woman you will never find. A really proud and independent woman who has huge pride in her children and her grandchildren and all her family and dozens and dozens of cousins. I have dedicated my latest poem to her. All the writing I’ve done, I have never written about her before. So hopefully she won’t kill me and people will enjoy this short tribute called Eileen.

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FIRST ANNIVERSARY – CHRISTMAS REUNION

The website is one year old today! As members of the smallest author fan club in the world I’d like to take the opportunity to thank you for looking at the website and its content at least once in the past year. Thank You.

Due to the special day that is in it and the festive period that is coming, I’m relaunching the full length play script called “Christmas Reunion” CHRISTMAS REUNION

The play was first launched in 1997 (21 years ago!), but is one that has never been performed. Set between 1985 and 1995, it may bring back some nostalgic moments for some and raise emotions for other in what I’d like to think is a festive thriller. What better for the festive season than some chocolate and a drink of your choice with some tissues next to you reading and weeping (hopefully for the right reason). Then add in some mystery and maybe some happy moments and you have a typical Christmas classic. I hope you can stay awake until the end but don’t tell me what happens at the end!! I like the suspense.

Unfortunately on the downside to manage costs of the website, I have to increase the fan club membership fee by 10%. You can all do the math on what you paid this year yourself.  Next year I’m hoping to grow the social media following and maybe even my Mother might follow me if she gets broadband in the new year! (Doubtful!). It would be great to get a following on my social media platforms but more important have people read my works and spread the word and share works. Welcome to any publishers. Please like and share my content.

Feliz Navidad

Seamus D. Norris

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THE SHORT STORY

My latest Short Story, “The Pattern Of Seamie O’Connell” has been published on the Website.  Please take a few minutes to read and enjoy. It is loosely based on a true story from one of my personal experiences, like so many of my short stories. It was specifically written as an entry for the 2018 RTE Radio 1 Francis McManus Short Story Competition of which there was over 1800 entries.  Congratulations to those who won. However, without trying to be ungracious, I often wonder what these arts competition really want, particularly the ones run by RTE, our national broadcaster. This is meant to be a short story competition suitable for radio. What better theme than a story about one of our national sports, descriptive by nature, a solid story and of course an Irish theme. Ideal for broadcasting in that our national broadcaster frequently broadcasts GAA matches live. This match has the added drama and the back story. Throw in a funeral and sure it must be the near perfect traditional Irish story.

The judges were for the RTE Competition were Danielle McLaughlin, RTÉ’s Arts and Media correspondent, author Sinéad Crowley and book publicist Cormac Kinsella. The stories were limited to 2000 words. Not a lot for a writer to be descriptive and tell an epic story. Cormac Kinsella said of the winning entry, “What impressed me most was despite its length the reader is given a fully realised world that the characters inhabit.” Seriously “A fully realised world!”. What is that? And if you could do it in less than 2000 words, what is left for the story? Of the runner up, Sinead Crowley commented “It soon becomes clear that there is another layer waiting to be uncovered. Deceptively simple, with well-drawn characters and evocative writing”. Another layer and deceptively simple! Evocative writing! In my youth, the hens were good layers!  I didn’t know you could draw picture on radio. Of the third “Doesn’t shy away from its material in any way and at the same time remains nuanced, with lots of subtle layers”, said Danielle McLaughlin. Why would it shy away? It’s meant to be a story!

My issue is that words like “layers”, “evocative”. “nuanced”, “subtle”, “deceptively” and “realised” are words RTE adjudicators love to use to try to make themselves sound more educated and sharper than the common man or woman in the street. What is wrong with saying that it was a “funny story”, a “sad story”, a “dramatic story” or a “tragic story”. The common denominator is the word “story”. Yes, it’s a story, a short story and the story is the important ingredient of a short story. The story matters! RTE adjudicators represent arts nationally using taxpayer’s money. So maybe now and again they need to think of keeping things simple so that everyone no matter what their level of education can feel part of the arts and literature that this country is famed for. Ireland is famed for its story telling. Let’s not lose the art of the simple story telling to fancy words and evocative language! Maybe it explains why so many are turning away from the National broadcaster to watch, read and view the stories of other countries in their medium of choice.  Everybody loves a good story, even more so when it is Irish based.

Anyway, rant over. I would be interested in hearing my audiences’ thoughts, both on competitions our National broadcaster run and thoughts on “The Pattern of Seamie O’Connell”. In the meantime, some of you will have noticed a small restructure of the website, where the Gallery and the Contact are now part of the Main Menu, not to mention this excellent evocative Blog that is deceptively simple with loads of layers, subtle sarcasm and I just realised how nuanced it is! Don’t be afraid to let me know your opinion and connect with me on social media.

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MY HEART BELONGS TO PILTOWN

This month’s blog is the story behind my song lyrics “My Heart Belongs to Piltown”, motivated by some recent traction on social media.  Coincidentally, the story crosses both my writing and sporting interests.

The idea came for a Piltown song came about in 2005. I had dabbled in song lyrics for a few years in conjunction with my brother-in-law; US based singer/songwriter, Enda Keegan. He put my words to music based on my mood direction. In fairness Enda indulged me and my madcap ideas. The truth is I am devoid of a musical note and skill. On the other hand Enda is a superb singer and musician. I consider myself a wordsmith but I’ll leave it to others to judge if the same adjective fits. In the nineties, I entered songs in the National Song Contest with the dream of one of them representing Ireland in the Eurovision Song Contest.  At that stage it was difficult to even enter the National Song Contest. You needed a promoter. Mine ended up being former Senator and radio broadcaster, Paschal Mooney. The nearest success we had was reaching the final of the Glinsk Song Contest in 1997. A contest won by Eurovision winner Paul Harrington previously. My song “Let’s Just Kiss” was performed by Maria Merry of Fiddown and Dermot Keyes of Portlaw and Munster Express fame. Evan Grace was involved in the backing track. We didn’t win, but it was an interesting experience. What I enjoyed was being in a recording studio putting together the demos.  These were done in the Poppy Hill Recording Studio in Eadestown near Naas in County Kildare. There was a pop star buzz to the whole professional studio process.

My children were born between 1995 and 2000. In sport, I was still playing soccer for Piltown as well as five-a-side in Waterford, but by the mid noughties, the toll of over thirty years of playing sport had severely taken its toll on my body. My hips were well and truly worn, eventually leading to two total hip replacements, one in 2011 and one in 2012. The idea of playing, though still the ultimate, was becoming less practical. In late March 2003, I was visiting Jim Norris (A neighbour at the time on the Rathmore Road, Fiddown and who was chairman of the Rathmore Road Residents Group, A small group that worked tirelessly at the time to improve safety on the Piltown/Fiddown Bypass). His wife Jackie was involved with Piltown Camogie Club and she asked me would I get involved in coaching the young girls on a Sunday morning seeing as Jennifer was reaching that age.  (I had previously managed Piltown Junior Camogie team back in the late eighties for a year). As I said in previous blogs, coaching and team management was something I really loved.  I jumped at the opportunity and arrived the following Sunday morning at the Piltown GAA field.  Fate works in strange ways. In my enthusiasm I had arrived a week too early. While I was standing around the car park, I met Liam Ryan, now my neighbour in Jamestown. Liam asked would I give a hand with the boys while I was there who had started back. What else would you do? So began, almost accidentally a period of 10 years coaching Piltown boys in Hurling and Gaelic Football. In 2006, Jim Norris invited me to get involved in Kilkenny Hurling Development Squads as well. Over a dozen years later and I am still involved and have added Gaelic Football to my Kilkenny resume since as well as being the only Kilkenny person to be involved in Tony Forristal and Sonny Walsh All-Ireland winning management teams.  I am very grateful to Jim, Jackie and Liam for the opportunities that they sowed the seeds for, over the last decade and a half.

In those early years involved in Piltown Juvenile GAA, Enda, on his trips home from New York, would do a concert in the GAA Complex to raise funds for the Juvenile Club. It was at one of these concerts, and again it was Jim Norris, who asked us to put together a Piltown Song. It may have been a passing request, that Jim and Enda soon forgot about but I started to think, the seed was sown. Wouldn’t it be great if Piltown had a song that could be sung at all Piltown GAA events? An inclusive song, as far as is possible. Something like the “Rose of Mooncoin”, but this time, a Piltown song. A song that could be sung after Piltown has won a county championship in celebration or even an All-Ireland title. A song that would become synonymous with Piltown, about Piltown and for the people of Piltown.  I was dreaming and dreams have no limit is my motto. I pictured Piltown winning an All-Ireland club title, with me as the manager and the song being played over the Croke Park PA being a song that I wrote the lyrics for. Thus was born the lyrics of “My Heart Belongs to Piltown”, the dream and the ambition.

It was a number of years before Enda actually added the music and the voice, but I think he did a fantastic job. Social media reaction would appear to confirm. We published the song originally on the old Piltown GAA website in 2010 while I was the website Administrator. In the summer of 2014, I went around Piltown capturing footage on my camcorder of many of the well-known landmarks and edited it to make the video which was posted on Youtube as part of a website for Piltown Girls Gaelic Sports.  I wanted to sell the beauty and the amenities that Piltown had to offer to the wider world. What struck me most was when I was recording footage from both Owning Hill and Corbally Hill, the shots of the Suir Valley on a beautiful summer’s day; what a beautiful area we live in! Almost heavenly and probably under appreciated by many. I would recommend to everyone, on one of those rare glorious summers’ days, to head to some of those vantage points, look, listen and feel.  Your worries will soak away.

When my role as Administrator of Piltown GAA website was ended prematurely, the marketing also ended.  However, when a door shuts, another always opens for those who seek it… “My Heart Belongs To Piltown”. It still does. Part of the dream is there, the other part is the ambition to lead the Piltown GAA teams to those great days. The ambition is there, the comprehensive plan is there, the supports are ready and waiting for the call to put together the best team of people possible to deliver the ambitious dream in a professional and inclusive manner because no one person can deliver it. To facilitate the fantastic players to be the best they can possibly be and enjoy the journey, because the journey is wonderful. The management team’s main qualification will be that their heart belongs to Piltown and their passion is Piltown, 24/7/365, not just the GAA but all of Piltown. Unfortunately, it looks like there is a long queue before I and my team of people get a shot having submitted my name for the team management roles over the last number of years and yet to get an interview or even an acknowledgement, but the ambition never fades. We are ready to deliver when the call comes and the Players want it.

And having said all that, the dream for the song although born in the GAA, should not just be a GAA song. Jim Norris came up with the idea and sowed the seeds. Enda Keegan delivered the music. I delivered the words, the direction and the dream is a work in progress but the Song should belong to all in Piltown, the parish, the other sports clubs and organisations, any club or any individual whose heart truly belongs to Piltown.

Click Here to check out my Song Lyrics, Music and Videos

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HOW I BECAME A WRITER

I grew up in an era when Westerns were very popular on television and Cowboys and Indians was the game of choice for young boys outside hurling and football. Playing Cowboys and Indians always involved a great deal of imagination and exploited the creative minds of young children as we hunted the Indians and the outlaws, charged with the bugle blowing Cavalry and we were the Sheriff who cleaned up the town while riding imaginary horses and shooting imaginary guns sometimes improvised as sticks or hurleys.  It was an era when good always won in the end, although the Indians were mainly seen as the baddies, though history is now reflected differently.  Nobody really played the Indians in those days unless someone’s sister. The Apache, Comanche and Sioux were always imaginary in our games.  Programmes like Bonanza, The Virginian and many Audie Murphy and John Wayne Westerns cultivated an imagination where adversity had to be overcome and the hero always got the beautiful girl, usually after a huge shoot out where the adversary is shot many times and “killed” many times over.  In fact, my imagination was so vivid and I was so naïve that my ambition when I grew up was that I wanted to be a cowboy; because I thought they were real. Some would say I still managed to become a “cowboy”.

So when I was about 10 years of age and my Aunt Mary who is a St. John Of God nun currently based in Australia, bought me a blank copy book with a hard cover, it was an opportunity to write a book and what topic did I know best but a Western. I’m sure someone said off the cuff, “You could write a book in that”. With an influence of the John Wayne Western film “The Sons Of Katie Elder” and the fact that I had so many uncles (Four boys on my father’s side and my mother had seven brothers), something which I yearned for as I had no brother in real life, a Western about a group of brothers joining together to take on the bad guys was an inevitable plot. I entitled it “The United Family” and several chapters were written in almost illegible pencil hand-writing (my handwriting was and still is terrible). It has never been finished as teenage years beckoned and other activities took centre stage and the realisation that Westerns, were not actually ”real” anymore, set in. The unfinished first novel still resides in my attic. Who knows may someday…

I still loved writing English prose and when I got to my Leaving Certificate years in Carrick-On-Suir Vocational School, aka “The Tech”, the classes were very small. There were two girls and myself in my year, three boys in the year ahead of us and three girls and a boy in the year behind, so fifth and sixth year were always together which made for a unique relationship with each other and our teachers. My English teacher was a Mrs. Mary Fitzgerald and she was my favourite teacher. As I did not do Irish, I did honours English , mainly on my own, but she did really help me and when it came to the English composition or essay, she encouraged my wild imagination which made the slog of other parts of the English course bearable.  I am forever grateful for her support and encouragement. She gave me freedom to write, the content was never criticised. My sister Mary took one of my essays a few years later as she had homework using the same topic title and nearly got expelled by the nuns in Callan, to put things into perspective.

I left “The Tech” in 1982 and writing left my agenda again. Theatre was a social class above me for a few years, in my narrow mind.  I got involved in Piltown Macra Na Feirme in the latter stages of 1987. In 1989, they entered the county one-act drama competition with a play called “Strawberry Jam”. Although an English play by Bruce Fisk, it was played out in an Irish scenario and to be brutally honest, in my opinion, it was really horrible “stage Irish”. However, I thought the performances of my Macra friends in the play were great despite the poor script, especially one Sheila Keegan, later to be Mrs. Sheila Norris.  I felt if they had a better script, they could do very well. So I set about writing my own comedy farce “When The Cats Away, Everybody Plays” with a view to it being performed in the 1990 County Macra Na Feirme drama competition.  I got Sheila and my sister Mary to sell the project to the rest of the club and they did a good job on it. Meanwhile, I up skilled myself in the area of acting and direction so as I could take on the directing role myself.  The play qualified for the county final and although not successful in the final it was very popular with the audience, although the judge was not impressed.   I would later portray him in my play “The Cast” as a not too popular individual. For the next four years I wrote and directed the club play and even  acted as well, winning best actor and best director awards along the way though the elusive Macra county title was never to come.

By the mid-nineties the writing bug had well and truly bitten. From 1994, I wrote the factual local notes for the Kilkenny People provincial newspaper in an adventurous way.  This I did for 2 decades highlighting many local issues and stories. I made the column interesting, informative and challenging. I went from one act plays to full length plays, to short stories and eventually a novel (Quest For Justice).  One of my plays “Weeping Women” won a competition for a rehearsed reading with Waterford playwright, Jim Nolan and was later performed by the KATS theatre group. Another “Painters Mess”, won a Drama League of Ireland competition and had a rehearsed reading with renowned director Scott Marshall.

I even dabbled in poetry, something I hated when going to school, still do if the truth be known. Subsequently song lyrics became part of my writing diet and these were put to music by my gifted brother-in-law, the US based Enda Keegan.  By the mid noughties, the kids took up more of my spare time. The GAA and sport was a better pastime to share with them as against the sometimes lonely pastime of writing. The GAA was an interest we could all share together as a family. However, over the previous decade, my portfolio had grown, but people were unaware of my treasure throve. So in 2014, I decided, what was the point in keeping my gems hidden and after many false starts I eventually came up with this website launched in 2017 for all to view my extensive works and for many to obtain and use.  My plan over the next period is to promote these works so that my plays will be performed again and my stories and novels published and more importantly read.

My genres include my childhood obsession of Westerns, but my subject matter has evolved significantly over the years. Irish stories are the nucleus. Stories based on experiences but fictionalised for dramatic effect.  You can enjoy them all on this website. Tell your friends.