South America: Argentina and Chile.

I'm taking four months out to travel around South America. This, honestly, is purely for story researching purposes...

I won't go on about it, I promise. Having read some vomit inducing blogs about spiritual journeys whinging about how hard travelling is and transversely some amazingly articulate and fascinating travel blogs ( you know who you are...) I've decided I can compete with neither. So I've simply broken the first month away into a series of concise statistics as follows.

• Countries travelled through: 2. Argentina and Chile.

• Baby-sized Argentinian steaks eaten: 11

• Hours spent on buses: 64

• Hours spent asleep on buses: 10

• Books read: 5

• Spanish speaking fails: Countless. Actually, I quite enjoy muddling through - it speeds up learning. However, one waitress in San Telmo, Buenos Aires seemed to relish asking questions we didn't stand a chance of grasping, then bringing a variety of unasked for extras we were sure we'd never consented to. On one occasion "Dos cafe con leches, por favor..." yeilded three croissants, one orange juice, one milky coffee, one espresso, a cheese and tomato sandwich and what can only be described as a smirk from our waitress.  

• Churches / cathedrals / graveyards visited: 7. Anyone else inherit this tic from childhood family holidays? From being dragged around places of foreign ceremony and death as a child now I can't stop myself. The favourite so far? Cementeria Recoleta in Buenos Aires. Visitors wander between the mighty tombs for hours looking for Evita's grave which turns out to be as underwhelming as the wooden chalice chosen by Indiana  in Raiders of the Lost Arc. The cemetry is an incredible place, arranged in rows and blocks much like the city it is set in. Each sarcophagos has windows through which you can peep morbidly at the coffins stacked and draped with lace cloths inside. Cats stroll disarmingly between these blocks, rubbing up against the enormous weeping angels, horses, ships and urns.

• Narrowly avoided volcano eruptions: 1. passing over the Andes on the Argentina-Chile border the eruption from the Caulle geofield is still smoking. Whole towns including Bariloche, Valdivia and Puerto Montt are caked in thick ash from the eruption in June. In some places entire forests are submerged in the stuff. The dust sticks in your throat and resettles just minutes after being wiped from surfaces.  My first reaction was sympathy for the areas affected. Although no one died in the eruption, it caused massive disruption. Then a Chilean friend pointed out that the ash will make the ground incredibly fertile in a few years time. So actually, good stuff.

• Stories written: None. There is too much to see and experience. I'm struggling to focus on any one close idea. But I'm sucking it all up. Hopefully there will be lots that will prove fertile when the dust settles. 

...One Giant Leap...

Recently, I took up a challenge to write a story in response to the work of Polish Science Fiction writer Stanislaw Lem. This was for an anthology, 'Lemistry', celebrating his work and featuring new translations of his stories, alongside other established writers responding to his work.

I have read an embarrassingly tiny amount of Sci Fi, maybe residually due to the very acid opinion of a bookshop colleague years ago referring to the science fiction section as 'sweaty books for boys'. I resented this critique of an entire genre, but a reluctance to delve in remained. I thought Sci Fi required knowledge of technological or scientific stuff. I thought to read, or indeed write, science fiction you'd need to know all the 'rules'. But as I read Lem's work I realised my preconceptions couldn't be further from the truth. There are so many books and films that came to mind that seem to have been inspired by him. And as a writer responding to his work, I could go literally anywhere and put anyone (human, robot or alien) there, too.

I also realised through the process how challenging it is to write well in this genre. There is much that needs explaining in creating unknown complete worlds and it requires discernment as to how much you can leave out and what to include without being heavy handed or breaking the old show don't tell. I don't think I got everything right in my story 'Traces Remain', but I had a really good go at it. And I am immensely grateful to the editor Ra Page for his astute and brilliant guidance. I would be mortified if people read my early malformed drafts. And although there are probably aspects in the final cut that Sci Fi aficionados may roll their eyes at, I am pleased with the end result. Forgive me - it was a little bit like learning to write all over again.

I'm really excited to read what other contributors have done with Lem's inspiration. And thrilled to be appearing in an anthology that features brilliant well established writers. For more information about the project and to pre order copies of Lemistry see Commapress

'Keeping Mum...' with Woman's Weekly

Woman's Weekly 9th August 2011

I'm chuffed to bits to see my first story in Woman's Weekly. I sent my story 'Keeping Mum at No. 32' not sure whether it would be right for them and was delighted when they liked and accepted it. It seems they are absolutely true to their word that they're looking for edgier or more experimental stories. A pleasure to write and delightful to see it in print. 

Review of Dogs Chase Cars by Mark Porter

   ©  Eric Uhlich 2011

I've been doing a spot of reviewing for the fabulous Lancashire Writing Hub. Read my review of Mark Porter's fantastic novel Dogs Chase Cars on the LWH website here. I first heard an extract of the book at Word Soup in Preston, where Mark gave a reading. It was one of those readings where I would have happily sat and listened indefinitely. More about Mark Porter's novel, and other projects, here.

Storey Forum in Lancaster

I can't wait for this fantastic event at the Novel Cafe, New Street, Lancaster. Amazing writers and performers on the bill (and somehow I managed to sneak on there with them!) Organised by Mollie Baxter with profits going towards printing costs of 'Back and Beyond'; the newest arts publication for Lancaster, Morecambe and beyond! For more details see the Back and Beyond website. 

Back and Beyond

There's that old adage - "You don't get 'out for nought"... I beg to differ!

Back & Beyond is a new FREE arts publication that promotes the arts, culture and heritage in Lancaster, Morecambe and beyond. Its aim is to make people more aware of the enormous wealth of creativity in the area, to bring new and established work to light, helping local artists and practitioners to showcase their work to reach a wider audience. 


It is lovely! 


I feel very excited to be part of it, alongside some brilliant writers and contributors. The paper is available in various outlets throughout the area... if you're quick. 

A Short Story for a Long Day

To celebrate the longest day of the year, well, clearly not the longest, but the one with the most sunlight, I've added a very very short story of mine to the blog. I hope you enjoy it!

Photo courtesy of Paul Wilkinson on Flickr

The Addict 

by Sarah Schofield 

He was addicted to tobacco and sulked like a child over the lollipops that his doctor offered as a poor cigarette substitute. The satellite navigation in his Mercedes helped him find the confectioners he’d looked up on the internet.

“What did you like, when you were little?” the woman in the saccharine-lined shop asked.

“I cannot recall,” he said. A pink sugar mouse peeped from under the counter. He rattled the cash in his pocket.

“Coltsfoot rock and liquorice, that’s your sort,” she said and patted him on the hand. His eyes softened at her understanding.

Standing in the shower he looked at the remnants of rose soap his wife had left dissolving in the porcelain dish and sucked coltsfoot out of his molars. He cancelled his afternoon appointments.

“More liquorice?” she asked, as he walked into the shop, shaking her fringe out of her eyes.

“How about dinner?” he said.

The restaurant was beige. She sat opposite him. He was used to seeing her framed in multicoloured fudge and Uncle Joe’s and jelly babies.

But she had brought the aromas with her; candy floss and cola pips. Her earrings dangled like sherbet drops.

“Marzipan fruits are my favourite,” she said, picking at her bread.

He watched her longingly and started to salivate.

“Fisherman’s friends,” he said.

She pushed the asparagus tips round her plate with the fork. He imagined that if he sucked her fingers they would taste sweet, from trailing through the candy jars all day. If he breathed her in, he might head rush, like that first cigarette he’d stolen from his father all those years ago.

The restaurant was starting to empty, and he felt the familiar pull of panic. The mildly frantic gnawing at his thoughts as he glanced round.

He took her hand and asked her to come home with him. She smiled.