Creative non-fiction



Creative non-fiction is simply non-fiction that’s imaginative and inventive while still cleaving to the facts. Writing non-fiction – even different types of non-fiction – in addition to fiction and poetry, is a bit like being able to switch the instrument you’re playing to bring different kinds of tunes to life. Some writing is trombone writing, and some simply demands that you employ a xylophone. Or a triangle. .

For Arts-Council funded photographic book, Angels: millennial messengers, I wrote bite-sized, intensively researched, journalistic-type pieces. An essay about Will Self, the M40 and my own motorway driving experiences evolved into a chapter in the book Common Ground. When I was commissioned by writers’ collective, 26, to write a history of their first 10 years, I penned a playful, extended digital piece: Short History of 26 – an A to Z in 25,000 words. It can be read in a linear fashion or by cycling through a pattern of web links.

As part of its 26 Characters’ exhibition, Oxford’s Story Museum asked members of 26 (see above) to choose the character they’d most like to be from the books they’d loved as a child. My first thought was either Hal or Roger Hunt from Willard Price’s Adventure series. Then I remembered how I’d been turned on to reading by Angela Banner’s Ant and Bee books – they’ve recently been reissued. I was delighted to plump for Bee. Read my piece about Bee.

I’m enormously grateful to you for pouring so much time, energy and love into this project.John Simmons, founder director of 26

Nightingale

I’ve never heard the nightingale sing
though he starts on the same day each year,
though he comes to the pool each evening.
‘What did he sound like?’ I asked the poet who heard.
‘You can’t put it into words,’ she said,
adding, ‘piercing like light’. Then I thought
of a star running down my throat.

Published in Her Wings of Glass (Second Light Publications, 2014)



A Wire to Grief

When you flash upon me,
yanking the voice from my throat,
I’m usually peeling potatoes
or combing my just-woken hair

or, worse, in bed with my not-quite-lover
who’s helped pull me clear.
And you freeze me: peeler,
hairbrush, almost-lover in hand,

See ‘SHOW FULL POEM’ to see full work



 

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