Did ye? Aye.

“Why do we tell stories? Is it to entertain? Is it to have a conversation with the world, say something new, get something off our chests, or let folk inside our heads?”

As part of our 18-month Many Voices project, we partnered up with the charity Move On to run a series of writing workshops with their service users. Led by author Karen Campbell, the group embarked on a 5-week journey to explore different types of writing styles – and to determine the stories they wanted to share with the rest of the world.

This is what Karen had to say:

“To open up and lay yourself bare on the page is a big step for any new writer, and these guys have done it with real honesty and verve. We talked a lot in workshops about language and power, and how often the least heard voices have the most to impart.”

“Johnshaven is an old fisherman who feels bitter to the world that has changed around him
He associates only with the cleeks that feel as bitter as he does
He despises newcomers and anyone seen to be different
The North Sea has thrashed him over the years and parts of him have crumbled into the sea
He is stuck in a time bubble he can’t get out
This man dislikes me, can I make it out.”

Fynn

Riverside

She’s there in the darkness when I try to escape,
Silent until I’m close enough to hear her scream.
If I get too close I’m risking broken bones and panic and choking and blood burning down my forehead in the chill of the night
But she’s familiar,
And although I’m respectful, a healthy dose of wits about me when I’m with her,
She’s the only place I feel safe.
When I have to say goodbye I think I won’t ever see her again;
Not ‘til I can pay my own way and get back to her.
But I’m nursing my shattered bones in the city
Having once more paid too much for too little
With a body thin as my hopes
And colder than her embrace.
I don’t know that the chill will make my bones ache and weep
Years beyond when my tear ducts ran dry.
I am wandering dark streets on my dislocated limbs;
I hear her roar and my chest catches:
Here she is, here she is!
And it’s night
And I’m alone with her
And I’m home.
The bats dance around her like swallows
And I can finally take a breath.
I’m not twisting from pigeons she won’t feed
And I’m not cringing from seagulls who pay her no mind.
I’m alone and I’m safe and I’m with her.
I’m with her and she knows and she’ll wait.
I know better than to share my soul with anyone but she knows it.
She knows me at my core better than anyone could
Because I am of her more than anyone else.
She never questions my new accent because we don’t need to talk.
She sounds the same everywhere
And ultimately so do I
Because when I’m with her
I am not screaming mute:
My silence isn’t telling.
We whisper like lovers, alone.

Jenna

Once I had everything in life
A house, a home, a beautiful wife
No longer having these things to stay clean
My world fell apart
Gone was the dream
But now my life’s back up and running
No longer living an empty existence
Staying clean, I must be persistent
I’m living a good life clean and pure
My memories will live on, that’s for sure
I think of my memories, some of them sore
Just looking at the past
Enjoying times that will always last

Terry

Proud

Walking through the doors
My heart was in my mouth
On the last day of my detox
I shook from head to toe like a leaf
When I eventually conquered my feelings and emotions
A close peer told me it was worth it
I could identify anyone by their shoes they wore
Now I know it’s worth it
I feel it deep inside I can look people in the eye and be comfortable in my own skin
I’m proud of me today and my own recovery

Stacy