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Web archiveI had an email this morning from the Web Archiving Consortium who are acting on behalf of the British Library to create an archive of this site. It's part of their scheme to create a collection of current UK blogs. It's nice to be asked, but it is, of course, a minor copyright nightmare. Copyright for UnMadeUp pieces rightly belongs not to the blog, but to the writers. I'm going to contact as many contributors as I can, but if you've contributed could you drop me a line to let me know if you're happy with your work being archived by the British Library. Of course you are. I know... but I need you to say so. 4:35 PM - 17/5/2007 - comments {0} - post comment
11:19 PM - 27/3/2007 - comments {0} - post commentUn-Made-Up contributor Tanya Murray is one of three writers picked to present their work at Short Fuse at Brighton's Komedia Club in Gardner Street this week. 8.30pm. Tickets £3 on the door. 5:58 PM - 4/3/2007 - comments {0} - post commentDaniel CourtIRON PYRITE I'm here with The Skull and Lewis. We’ve all been friends for a while. We’re all here for a reason. Skull and I couldn’t be here without Lewis and Lewis knows how to keep it in check. Lewis isn’t the important one though.So we’ve been sat here for about six hours and I decide to broach the subject. I know that it’s not going to be easy and I have to approach this all in the right context or, not only will I appear to be insane, but no one will understand me and everything will go awry. At this point I’m not bothered about everyone else; this is between The Skull and me. It’s getting hotter in the room. I wonder if everyone is feeling hot or if it’s just me. I try not to think about it all. I try not to think about everything that’s riding on his answer and attempt to appear relaxed. I have another drink. I have perfected the art of taking large gulps but appearing to only have a sip. I wonder where I acquired this talent and if it’s actually useful. There’s a break in the conversation about football scores. Lewis gets up. Toilet I think. Now’s the time. I sit down next to Skull and cross the Rubicon. “Where’s the gold Skull?” His initial look of bewilderment gives way to amusement as matches my gaze and smiles. “What gold Dan?” I laugh. It comes out all wrong and it sounds wistful and uncharacteristic. Skull laughs too, but he doesn’t take his eyes off me. Room temperature has gone up about three degrees and we’ve drawn a bit of attention. I roll up my sleeves. It’s all going to go off. I can feel it. Rage is bubbling. I can’t back down, that’s not how it works. He needs to acknowledge my stance on the issue. Six eternities later he takes a swig from his can. “I don’t have the gold. I don’t even know what you’re talking about.” It’s easy to be smug when you’re in the driving seat. I take it easy because people have noticed a tension between us. I also laugh. It’s genuine this time because I think that in about ten minutes one of us is going to trigger a fight which will end years of friendship and camaraderie. I laugh at the things people will do for money. “The gold from the job Skull, the gold from the fucking job.” I emphasise ...I'm expecting punches any second... “I know what you’re talking about. You’re talking about the gold.”“Yes, I need my share. I know you can’t get it to me right now but I need it soon.” I plead. “Mate, it’s offshore…” It’s not offshore. It’s gone. That’s what he means. I am beginning to lose it. I am breathing quicker than usual. I don’t think he’s realised that the adrenaline is pumping through my system and I’m ready for combat. I watch him move on his seat in slow motion. He’s not taken an aggressive stance but he’s ready for me. Do I need to take this further? It’s mine too, we both worked for it, equal share right? I weigh up my opponent; Cumbrian, of farming stock. He’s sporting tattoos of dragons and scorpions underneath his top. I’m sporting 6”6’ of pure muscle. Can it be done? I don’t know. Let’s do it. Screaming and hysterical I leap up and start hurling abuse at Skull through rasped teeth. Years of education are lost. I am without class, dignity and comprehension. Primary colours, basic shapes, primal instinct. Vision blurs as I try to keep a basic handle on my existence. Everyone is looking and the jig is up. I haven’t hit Skull yet because we’re friends aren’t we? I just don’t want to be betrayed. It’s happened before. My eyes well up with tears. I know I’ve missed my chance and I’m expecting punches any second. “What are you playin’ at bruv?” A thick southern accent cuts in. I can’t see anything but I know its Lewis. I’m wiping my eyes as he turns to Skull. “What’s got D all worked up?” “The gold, mate” says the Cumbrian. “Oh right, shit, the gold…” The two of them exchange glances, shake their heads and stare at me. I weigh up how much damage I can inflict on the traitors before they or someone else takes me down. I fancy my chances. They’ll all pay. Lewis walks up to me slowly. There is something reassuring in his gait. I can trust him to at least tell me straight. I slow my breath and wait for the twist. “Big D…” he starts. “I think we should all do a little less Ketamine.” Instinctively I cover my mouth with my hand as to stem the pareidolia. Regret and humility flow through my system with an undertone of questioning. I take off my glasses, wipe my eyes and grin. Other people in the room are now laughing and giggling a bit. “I’m getting another Strongbow,” I mutter. Skull just winks at me. Daniel Court is a student at the Unversity of Central Lancashire. Photographer Danny Williams lives in Ireland. Hands up who knew what pareidolia meant... 10:10 PM - 8/2/2007 - comments {0} - post commentAn interview I did last year with Brandon Flowers of The Killers is on the cover of this month's Q. It's about the album Sam's Town, his retreat from rebellion back into Mormonism , and about growing up in Vegas. He was entertaining, very warm, very polite, and... often quite strange. Coming of age in conservative America can be such a surreal experience: 9:24 PM - 4/2/2007 - comments {0} - post commentIf Carver had been a photographer. Found writing No. 1What I like is found stories. Usually, once you've found them you have to find a way to tell them. Just sometimes those stories arrive already fully built with all the nuts already tightened and you don't have to touch anything at all. 12:36 PM - 1/2/2007 - comments {3} - post commentIt's been an absurdly busy January so far. And an absurd one too. I spent a week in Rio De Janeiro on an assignment for the NY Times magazine. The best moment was sitting round an oval table with the newly elected governor of Rio De Janeiro and several of his ministers. I ate lunch in a hastily ironed shirt, sitting at a place card which said Excelentissimo Senhor William Shaw Jornalista do New York Times. I can safely say I was the only person round the table gauche enough to slip their place card into the back-pocket of their trousers after the meal. Even the governor Sergio Cabral Filho whose first offical state lunch this was didn't keep his. 6:49 PM - 30/1/2007 - comments {0} - post commentSelf-blowing trumpet work Un-Made-Up is extremely made up to find itself in this year's Blog Digest, edited by Justin McKeating of Chicken Yoghurt, the blog that saved my sanity through the last General Election. Justin chose the very first piece on here, The Lion. One writer who's particularly well showcased in the book is the excellent "Lucy" of the A Spinster's Quest whose story Speed Dating was featured here at Un-Made-Up back in July. "Lucy"'s blog of bruising encounters of the heart is subtitled "50 Ways To Find A Lover"; I see she's up to 18. 9:03 PM - 26/11/2006 - comments {0} - post commentApologies...Things are a little slow this end; a combination of work and grim family stuff means that I haven't been at my desk much this week, and won't next week either. There are a couple of stories in the works which I'll get out there shortly - that's assuming the LAN at the Hotel Moskva in Zlin works... 7:51 PM - 12/11/2006 - comments {0} - post commentA slow week.Apologies. My excuses are here.4:31 PM - 7/7/2006 - comments {0} - post commentTheme weeksTo my on-going amazement, Un-Made-Up has settled down into a satisfyingly regular story-every-other-day flow. To everyone who has helped so far by loaning the site their excellent material, a huge thank you. The stories so far have been by a great mixture of professionals and amateurs, the published and the so-far-unpublished. I hope it remains that way. It's a great pleasure putting them up here.Meanwhile, I have whim to try a few "themed" weeks. This may or may not work, depending on how many people step up. To start with, I'm going to suggest two topics. Hopefully this doesn't come over too much as a Secondary School essay competition; if you've a story relating to either of them, send it in. The World Cup Embarrassment Any takers? William Shaw 9:31 AM - 16/6/2006 - comments {0} - post commentDemocratic Republic of CongoIf there is a geographical equivalent of name-dropping, this is it. I'm working in the Congo until Monday. In my absence Dave will be kindly posting stories for me. There is now quite a pile of excellent material building up, so if you've sent me a story that hasn't yet appeared, please be patient.10:11 AM - 7/6/2006 - comments {1} - post comment
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A growing collection of narrative non-fiction miniatures  £8.99 incl. p&p (UK only) Outside the UK email UnMadeUp for details. Home Unmadeup Editions Un-MADE-Up story archive RSS 
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Recent Entries - New site - Apologies - Nik Perring - William Shaw - Emma J. Lannie Public Service Announcement: Un-Made-Up becomes giddy with excitement at the prospect of publishing short, beautifully wrought pieces of non-fiction writing. Submissions may be edited but will only be published with the final approval of the author. For local colour - or color - local spellings are retained when appropriate. All copyright belongs to the authors, illustrators and photographers. COMING SOON • A story of teenage love and coffee • 41 Places • The one-legged man on the beach • |
A package arrived the other day filled with copies of the hardback US edition Westsiders that my New York agent had been trying to clear out of his office. They're lying in the hallway. His clutter is now my clutter. If anyone wants a copy, I will send them one for free in return for a contribution to Un-Made-Up. See the column to the right for the usual rules of play. First three Un-Made-Up stories recieved get one. 
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