Sometimes these people annoyed the God of Data Analysis (or GDA0101) as he became known. Occasionally they had a spark of things unable to be categorised or quantified. Neither he or his network of data seraphs could process these strange glitches in the machines. They were called ‘emotions’ or sometimes ‘feelings.’ They were baffling and a nuisance.

As time went by GDA0101 noticed that his view from Mount Numerous was not the same as before. The colour had drained. His citizens were becoming slower. Sometimes they behaved in erratic ways that did not fit his carefully honed model. The projections derived from the tracking systems did not always prove correct.

He called on his data seraphs. ‘Tell me what is happening!’ he commanded. ‘And what to do about it! I need to know what causes these people to behave so out of accordance with how the data indicates that they should.’

The Spreadsheet Seraph crunched her numbers and created graphs, but came up with no answers.

The Spirit of Loyalty Cards swooped in to track and monitor and profile. She could tell GDA0101 what was happening, but could not explain why.

The Econometrics Angel modelled and profiled and projected, and produced numerous theories as to what the citizens should be doing – but nothing to help explain why they sometimes didn’t.

Finally, the Cherub of Connection floated along. He was a little bit scared. He knew that his idea would appear radical. ‘How about…’ he ventured, ‘we talk to your people.’

‘Wonderful idea!’ boomed GDA0101. ‘We have some great software for just this.’

‘No, I mean, with words.’

‘Words?’

‘Yes, like a conversation. We could ask them why they do the things they do. Understand the people better.’

GDA0101 was not convinced. What could talking tell him that data couldn’t? How could the word ‘why’ – only three letters long – help him out when he already knew what, where, when and how.

But he was desperate. He granted the Cherub of Connection permission to go out and try his method. as laughable as it seemed.

The Cherub of Connection was gone quite a long time. GDA0101 was monitoring. Conversation was a lengthy process. And not always predictable. Some people had a lot to say, others very little. Some citizens found it easy to talk about their feelings, and others hated it. Some knew why, others had never considered it before. Words were messier than numbers, that was for sure.

Finally, the Cherub of Connection returned. He sat down and spoke of emotions and feelings and passions and motivations. Why proved to be powerful. Words seemed to show something that the numbers didn’t. They weren’t perfect on their own, but when thrown into the mix with when, where, how, what, data, digits, analysis and monitoring, why and words proved to be the missing ingredient. The magic spark.

There was a fizzle, and a crackle. The colour came back. The people smiled. They didn’t always smile as planned and projected of course, but that was ok. GDA0101 understood a little better. The God of Analysis he called himself now. Some data, some discussion.

The world was good again.

—

If you want to know more about how I can help you wade through the mud and tell clear and compelling stories about your brand and business, get in touch on fbaker@live.co.uk or here. I’m a content writer, marketer and communications consultant – and have had plenty of experience with data!

Moving Pieces‘ work is about finding the stories that reside in the body, and allowing them the space to breathe and be with freedom. Founder and director Charlie Blowers has a background in physical theatre and arts and somatic psychotherapy, and through her work explores the relationship between wellbeing and theatre. The goal of Charlie and co-director Jose is to support wellbeing and mental health as well as create theatre with a compelling narrative.

Their approach uses body based approaches emerging from neuroscience, many of which stabilise the nervous system and support self regulation. Through mask work, mindfulness, Feldenkrais method, storytelling and improvisation, participants are invited to bring their awareness to their experience, notice the subtle shifts in the body as it responds to its surroundings, and bring forth the stories that are held in the body. As Charlie explains, ‘sometimes our thoughts hold our body prisoner.’ Moving Pieces aim to liberate the body and the stories within. It’s an opportunity to process many of the feelings that often go unnoticed; or are pushed away so as not to notice them.

Through mask work I’m struck how much time we spend pretending to be someone else. Improvisation makes me reflect on the structures and ideas that stop us truly presenting ourselves to the world. Slow flowing movement is a welcome reprieve from the fast paced and frenetic pace of life.

Open to artists, mental health professionals, anyone with mental health challenges or those who simply want to explore personal story in a creative way, Moving Pieces offers a distinctive approach to exploring the body, building resilience and devising theatre.

We start with a Jewish dry goods peddler in New York at the start of the twentieth century. In No Flies, No Folly he falls in love with an Amish woman as he reveals an Edison Lamp, in a scene of rather strange yet sweet seduction. Not only does love succeed, but light ‘rising  out of the darkness of the water, breaking the horizon, so many lights, so wondrous, bright, new.’ He returns in the final tale, Hello From Here, in which his younger self, a deserter from the Russian army, encounters a photographer was talking ‘always, about only one thing: light.’

The Essential Constituent of Modern Living Standards is about a farmers’ uprising against the monopoly of modern power companies,  the realisation of what progress and mechanisation can result in. Power has come to the town, a world ‘opened up in holes, a dawn still stained with spots of night’ and there’s a ‘spark in our frayed ends.’ A couple’s attempt to adjust to a new life in New York could end in tears, but here there is hope, as explored in Beautiful Ground. In Angle of Reflection we hear the yearning and desperation of a Serbian immigrant teenage boy in 1990’s Vermont as he wants to see an experimental satellite, the Soviets’ ‘space mirror.’

Weil’s prose is moving and sensitive, but never overtly emotional. He uses dialect of the time and place, including Yiddish, and weaves the pathos and emotion in with an almost hidden touch. Reflections on the theme are ever present, almost like a heartbeat through the stories, drawn with a sweeping but subtle stroke across the ‘whole world. Edge to edge. Lot by the stark stare of a full Yule moon.’ as in it’s always there. Like your heartbeat

The collection was written over a decade, and follow Weil’s debut Dayton Literary Peace Prize-winning novel, The Great Glass Sea. Light is not only a continual theme, but a character in itself. There’s a sense of never giving up. Wounded hearts always want to be healed, broken bodies mended, crumbling buildings rebuilt. In the book? And in life.

Fables, noir, sci-fi…it’s all in here, and all woven together with the theme. Cab lights, fairy lights, glow worms and sunrise – every type of light features. Characters are richly drawn in masterful language, and we’re taken around the world to places familiar and new. At times things feel a little too fragmented, and it’s unclear what’s happening, but there are some real gems.

The Point of Roughness is a highlight. It sees the protagonist navigating the world with his wife Bess and adopted daughter Orly, a girl with hair ‘so fine as if spun from sunlight.’ It’s light that keeps them going through difficult times as they are forced to deal with their daughter’s autism during winter’s long dark night, and he is forced to deal with obsession, loss and love.

This isn’t about light, but people. ‘How much wattage does it take to illuminate the darkest corners of the human heart?’ he asks.  That’s the real question Weil is asking. He might not find the answer, but these stories are a brave and bold exploration into why.

To celebrate the twentieth anniversary of the release of Pulp’s Different Class we asked people to do the same with some of Jarvis Cocker’s finest songs.

Jarvis Cocker’s lyrical genius, acerbic wit and perceptive eye are one of the elements that enabled Pulp to connect so well back in the nineties, and continue to transcend the vagaries of time to communicate with individuals so acutely.In his book Mother, Brother, Lover Jarvis (as well as acknowledging that his lyrics are ‘alright’) states that his songs are always about narrative. It’s the story that matters.

Songs may be a story about a character. The lyrics could be shrewd and perceptive observations that make a comment on life. Or they may be an interesting blend of words and phrases that trigger an emotional response in you. You may see a tale within the tune. Or one which goes beyond its final chords. Explore what happens to the character once the song ends. Take the title and spin your own fantasy from it.

Or something else entirely.

This is the result. This is Pulp Fiction.

It turns out that we were not the only ones who thought this project would be a good idea. We were overwhelmed by the support and smiles that we have received in bringing together all the stories into this zine.

Using the premise of furthering the story, our contributors have followed the life of the protagonist after the final chords have ended, reflecting the feeling that the song insights. The stories are varied; subjects spanning a whole spectrum of emotions, events and styles that rightfully demonstrates the wealth of talented writers involved in this project.

Read, listen and enjoy x

Stories From Songs.

Francesca Baker & Jamie Malcolm

An eclectic range of styles, traditional forms, rolling free verse, the collection represents a broad range of backgrounds, ethnicities, ages and political convictions through the short vignettes to whole lives that are ignored. Sex work is still something of a taboo, hidden under the veil of social norms, gender politics and embarrassment.

Here there’s no judgement, but also it’s not romanticised. These women might work in the sex industry, but they are not only sex workers – workers, mothers, realists, feminists, victims, dreamers, saviours and healers.

But of course others judge, compartmentalising women into one part of their lives. They are shunned at the school gates while the ‘dad that picked you up like milk’ retains his role as family man says Darina in for the regular last Friday who asked what i want. Desire features heavily, as does violence. Sharifa is and was ‘abused…misused…amused…confused…refused’ she explains in give us a reason. Sylvia becomes desperate, taking vouchers to buy a new argos lamp broken by her last client.

There’s also hope. Some of this comes through a sense of solidarity and sisterhood. In olympic dreams 2012 Sharifa speaks of why she is here, reflecting that ‘mostly, if I do this work, then it means at least one less girl / is being taken against her will to have a body part put inside / her as she cries for her passport, her mother, her child. Daily life goes on. Tali works in a bakery, and in sunday is able to practise yoga and feel ‘ my body is mine tonight / lungs exude your touch.’

Through these distinctive and authoritative voices articulated in beautiful poetry, How You Might Know Me sheds some light on the exploitative and hypocritical industry worked by women with lives, loves and passions. It asks us to leave perceptions behind, and enter another world. But it also highlights that this world might be closer to us than we realise.

Published by Outspoken Press. Read this review on New London Writers.

There are numerous speaking events these days, where famous and high profile people tell of their adventures and exploits. But even lowly individuals have stories to tell. So, This is What Happened offers an opportunity for all of us to tell those tales, and the audience to appreciate just what we all have to offer.

The format is simple. On the last Thursday of every month at the Omnibus space in Clapham, six people have ten minutes each to tell their story. The only rule is that they must be true and it must be from their own lives. These people look like you and I. And they are. Their stories are life affirming and poignant, and show how in ordinary lives extraordinary things happen. Started by Laurel Lefkow in 2014, after she was inspired by similar events, it’s an opportunity for connection, celebration and participation. An actress herself, she says that she finds many of the stories ‘more memorable than a lot of theatre that I see. Human beings are endlessly fascinating, and the sense of wonder, inspiration, and community that these evenings have are inspiring.’ Creating something so powerful at the same time as being laidback and intimate is no small feat, but one that Laurel has succeeded in.

Sudeshna Choudhury told an inspiring and heart-warming tale of how simple feedback to the manager of a call centre employee who sold her a mobile phone went on to change his life. She describes her greatest joy as “helping and mentoring others to make a difference in their lives”, and her ten minutes showed just how simple that can be. This really was a case of the magical happening in the every day.

Some stories were a little bit more epic. Travelling the world with three children is quite an undertaking, especially when the time between a throwaway comment and the first train journey was only six months. Juliette Grassby-Lewis and her husband took their children around the world and gave them a real education in the process. She has been Buddhist for 27 years, and believes that putting your vision out there will help the universe bring it to reality.

It was not always about things that people have done, but also how they’ve felt. Yaron Engler, an ‘out-of-the-box coach, musician and speaker’ has lived all around the world, and explained in a tear-stained speech how love, hope, and tenacity rescued him from depression. A candid explanation of the ferocity of mental illness and the resilience of human beings to triumph over it, his vulnerability on the stage warmed the audience. It’s this type of story that continues to wow Laurel and who she believes are the “most memorable because they are so entirely themselves”.

Another tale of love came from Frederik van der Zeeuq, who has been in London for three years after following his heart here. Roddy Gye has done apparently everything, and continues to do it. A volunteer and consultant at Omnibus, he’s a storyteller who embodies what the venue is about. Thomas Quinton explained what keeps him coming back to the bar and how it feels to defend the truth in the name of justice—and just how hazy the truth can be.

It seemed such an apt location, in this old library that resembled a cosy living room in a large house. The intention of the Omnibus is to bring the literary canon alive to a contemporary audience, and it’s the perfect place for So, This Is What Happened. The locals saved the library from being converted into commercial premises just three years ago. Aiming to celebrate its historical roots and everything they do is intimately linked with the spoken word. We all have a voice. We’re all the stars of our own stories.

Published by Penguin/Hamish Hamilton, November 2015.