fiction

How I got my Writing (and Voiceover!) on BBC Radio!

How I got my Writing (and Voiceover!) on BBC Radio!

“My writing is going to be on the radio!!!” I scream at my startled husband, who then of course congratulates me, the initial shock having worn off.

Seriously, I was absolutely DELIGHTED to get this opportunity, which came about through the amazing Cambridge Writers’ Group, (http://www.cambridgewriters.org) who were approached by BBC Radio Cambridgeshire for content for their evening show’s regular fiction slot.

So, join your local writers’ groups, join national writers’ groups, online groups, Facebook groups, everything you can find. Connections and opportunities can and do arise through these sorts of groups.

The Story Behind The Story

It was another lovely local group, the Royston and District Writers’ Circle (https://www.facebook.com/groups/1717302128482540) who set the challenge, concerning history, which resulted in my story, ‘One February Night’. The challenge was to either re-write a historical event, write an account from a new point of view, or solve a famous mystery. Another great reason to join writers’ groups; it’s much easier to come up with story ideas when you are given prompts, parameters and a timeframe in which to produce the goods! In this particular case, my interest in horses prompted a friend to suggest I write a story that solves the mystery of the disappearance of the famous racehorse, Shergar.

Incidentally, if you want to hear my short story, it’s on BBC Radio Cambridgeshire (or online via their website) at 9.30pm Monday 10th – Thursday 13th August. But if you’ve missed any episodes, don’t worry, you can catch up on BBC Sounds (https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/brand/p08753g8) Just go to the shows from the dates above and forward through the show until just before 9.30pm (about 3 and a half hours in) to listen to the episode. Hurry though, I think they only keep shows from the last thirty days.

How did I come up with the plot?

My knowledge of the real life story was sketchy and so, here’s another message for you, research was crucial to success!

As it was a fiction woven around real-life events, it had to be convincing enough to make sense in the real-life situation. To achieve this, I found out everything I could about the background to the story, starting with the setting, specifically, where Shergar was stabled when he vanished. I also combed Google Maps’ satellite imagery to discover the physical features and landmarks in the surrounding area. The final text contained just a few touches of this research, such as a mention of the Curragh racecourse, to bring authenticity to the narrative.

I read up on what was supposed to have happened to Shergar, and some of the events mentioned sparked ideas which shaped my plot, so I could be sure my version of events was plausible considering what are known facts. For example, a horse sale which features in my story was a real event which did happen. Nobody knows if it had any bearing on what really happened to Shergar, but it was a great plot device for me.

Recording the Voice-over

Due to the Coronavirus situation, I was asked to record the narration myself at home. The show’s lovely presenter, Thordis (Twitter @thunderfairy), and her production team then added a soundscape of amazing effects and music which totally brought the story to life. I have a good quality (Rode) microphone at home and recorded at quiet times of the day to prevent background noise sneaking in. Add in a duvet piled around me and my mic, and I had my makeshift recording studio!

As One February Night was originally written as a short story, rather than for radio broadcast, I did make a few changes from the text version, most notably, removing an instance of strong swearing! The narrative also needed to be split into sections to create the four episodes for broadcast. This required voicing the paragraphs that would form the ends of the episodes in a ‘wrapping-up’ sort of style, rather than sounding as if I was about to continue with the next sentence.

I used Audacity, which is free, open-source software to record the piece, and I would definitely recommend it. It’s very easy to use but has loads of helpful features for recording and editing. For example, if you make a mistake with the lines (or the neighbour’s dog barks!) you can use ‘punch and roll’. This plays the last few sentences before the error back to you before starting recording again, so you can pick up straight away from where you left off, and continue with the same level of energy and intonation you had before. There’s also plenty of information and advice online if you get stuck with anything.

Get Out There!

Here’s the final message! Get out there with your writing and take whatever chances come along. I almost didn’t go for this because, like pretty much every writer, I was sure there would be loads of other writers submitting better pieces of work than mine. But I took a chance and it paid off. GO FOR IT!

Let me know in the comments what writing opportunities have come along unexpectedly for you.

Happy writing!

Posted by Rachel in Blog, 0 comments
Tambourine Man

Tambourine Man

“Excuse me, Kate, do you know how my dad is today?”

The day sister looked up from her paperwork and smiled warmly. 

“Hi, Laura. Er… I’m afraid he’s not so good. He didn’t get much sleep last night apparently and he’s a bit more confused than last week.”

Laura plastered on a smile for the benefit of Sebastian who, not yet tall enough to see over the desk, stood gripping her hand and glancing wide-eyed in every direction at once.

“We’ll just have to see if we can’t cheer him up a bit then, hey Seb?”

Her son gave a small nod, then jumped as a large metal cage full of bedding rattled past.

Laura crouched down to Seb’s level and gave his fingers a squeeze. “Don’t worry if Granddad seems different, he’s just a bit poorly at the moment, okay?” 

Seb nodded more firmly this time. 

“Okay, mum.”

When they reached Eric’s room, Laura leaned around the doorframe to get a look at her dad. Eric was sitting staring out of the window with a blanket over his knees.

“Hi Dad,” Laura called as she led Seb inside. There was no reply, no movement even, from the frail figure in the chair.

“Hi Granddad!” Seb offered bravely.

Eric turned then and gave a strange, bright smile. Laura swallowed. That was not her dad’s smile, full of twinkling mischief. It was the one he gave when he had awareness enough to know he was supposed to, but no idea why.

Laura tried to talk to him, but Eric’s answers were non sequiturs, saying he liked the food, and the view from his window. Except he could not quite remember ‘window’, and just waved a skeletal arm at the glass-filled frame to his right.

“Window, Granddad,” Seb said matter-of-factly, not a trace of surprise at his granddad struggling for such a simple word.

Then he held up his satchel and shook it, making Eric’s eyes brighten at the jangling sound it produced. “I thought you might like a go on this, Granddad. I got it from school.” 

Seb pulled a tambourine from his bag, its wood worn smooth by years of childrens’ hands. He tapped a rhythm against his palm then shook the tambourine’s shimmering zills with a flourish, his arms outstretched like a cabaret performer.

Eric actually laughed then, and took the offered instrument. He began patting out a beat, hesitantly at first, and then with more confidence as he started to sing. 

The lyrics, though a fantastical poetry, flowed from somewhere deeper than Eric’s illness could reach, and when he got to the final verse, he winked at Laura.

“Take me disappearing through the smoke rings of my mind, down the foggy ruins of time…”

Posted by Rachel in Flash Fiction, 0 comments
An Easy Conscience

An Easy Conscience

This short piece was a writing exercise at a Royston Writers Circle meeting. The exercise was to open a book at random and use the first full sentence as a prompt.

I wrote in response to this quote:

‘God, if he believed in him, and his conscience, if he had one, were the only judges to whom he might look.’

Jules Verne, ‘20000 Leagues Under the Sea’

Since he was furnished with neither a belief in a deity, of any kind you understand, he was not prejudiced against any religion in particular; nor had committed any act his conscience deemed worthy of note, Stuart had simply floated through his formative years unencumbered by such fetters. It was at the tender age of fourteen and a half that he was first troubled by either one of these concepts. In truth, it turned out to be a combination of both. 

The priests at Stuart’s school had all attempted to instil in the children an unholy fear of the consequences of misbehaviour which, unfortunately for Stuart, appeared to include his burgeoning feelings of being rather more interested in boys than in girls. As he grew up, indeed, it was to his best friend, Jack, that his attentions turned.

Jack was a good, god-fearing boy, so Stuart’s mother told him, and an example Stuart would apparently do well to follow more closely. Stuart was happy to heed his mother’s advice, though perhaps she had not intended him to interpret her words in quite the way he did. It was safe to say that she was surprised when she walked in on the two of them sharing a kiss after school one afternoon. She demanded that Stuart examine his conscience as a result of his actions. However, having done so, he could only conclude that, like god, his conscience did not appear to exist. 

Posted by Rachel in Flash Fiction, 0 comments