Restless Minds

The new anthology from Nottingham Trent University

Our anthology, Restless Minds, contains an exciting mix of new talent including fiction, poetry, young adult fiction and script, with subject matter as diverse as off-roading to murder on the motorway.

Publishing an anthology has been among the high points of a year spent studying for a Masters in Creative Writing at Nottingham Trent University. It has taught us a lot about the publishing industry, the editing process, and working together on an ambitious project. It has been a rewarding experience and we are proud of the result.

In his introduction to our book, screenwriter William Ivory says: ‘There comes a point in the practice of any difficult skill when the practitioner understands. They get it. Feel it. Sense that they have mastered this hitherto elusive activity and can now make it do what they want. At this moment, wonderful things happen….’

Here is a selection of some of the work.

Inspire, Expire is a short screenplay by Emma Lauren Wisher that explores the relationship between writer and character. The plot focuses on a writer who begins a surreal conversation with one of his characters, resulting in an ambiguity over whether the exchange is the product of his imagination, a reflection on his sanity or a result of the alcohol he’s consumed.

Inspire, Expire (excerpt), by Emma Lauren Wisher.

1. INT. STUDY – NIGHT.
The room is dark, curtains drawn. Yellow light flickers across a blank sheet of paper. Beside it is a small globe, a half-empty bottle of cheap whiskey and the paper’s predecessors – sheets scrunched into balls, others torn into confetti.

The nib of a pen is lowered towards the paper. A WRITER, mid twenties, leans across the desk, scruffy and tired. He takes a swig of whisky and writes ‘CHARACTER IDEAS’ at the top of the page.

A male VOICE is heard off-screen. 

VOICE (O.S.)
Hello?
The writer looks around. The room is empty.
VOICE (O.S.)
Can anyone hear me?
The writer looks again. He grabs the whisky bottle and laughs.
WRITER
Well, this never happened before.
VOICE (O.S.)
Hey! Can you hear me? I’m lost! I can’t see anything.
WRITER
That’s because I haven’t written the setting yet.
The writer puts the bottle down and begins writing. 
VOICE (O.S.)
It’s freezing! And dark. Where the hell am I?
WRITER
      Ext. Forest. Night. A wintry forest covered in snow—
VOICE (O.S.)
What are you talking about?
The writer pauses, nods to himself and continues writing.
WRITER
I’m writing a horror movie.
VOICE (O.S.)
Why are you writing out here?
WRITER
I’m not. I’m in my study.
(Pause)
You’re my character.
VOICE (O.S.)
I’m your what?
WRITER
You’re my character in my screenplay.
VOICE (O.S.)
Right, that’s hilarious—
The writer puts his pen down. He speaks down at the paper.
WRITER
You don’t believe me? Okay, then. What’s your name?
VOICE (O.S.)
I, erm—
WRITER
You don’t know, do you? That’s because I haven’t written it yet.
VOICE (O.S.)
No! I remember! It’s Jake!
The writer spins the globe, leaning back in his seat.
WRITER
I prefer Jack.
He writes another word.
JACK (O.S.)
I don’t want to be called Jack! And I don’t want to be in this stupid forest!
WRITER
It’s only a film.
JACK (O.S.)
It’s my life!
 

'Regrets', by Nora Al Rasheed, is a poem about a young woman who suffers emotionally after making the decision to have an abortion.

Regrets, by Nora Al-Rasheed.

One hundred and sixty beats a minute.

Twelve weeks—with wrists and elbows that bend. Pulling a daydream (you) away from me, This body burns.

This body burns.

I challenged nature’s order: it did not save me.

Now, breathing just for one—seventy five beats a minute. How undignified, I wanted to survive.

While your body burns.

I did not have a choice, I was not free.

That is a lie—you were not free. My heart, it yearns. It yearns For you. Every minute.

‘Surviving the Outernet’ is an excerpt from a novel by Silvia M. Lopez about a girl who struggles to relate to people in real life, preferring to hide behind her online persona.

Surviving the Outernet (excerpt), by Silvia M. Lopez.

‘Are you trying to embarrass me?’

My sister’s screech makes me jump, causing the contents of my locker to spill onto the floor. Sighing, I bend down to collect everything. Seconds later, her shiny new shoes enter my line of vision.

‘Hi, Hollie,’ I say.

She doesn’t respond or offer to help me. Instead, she gestures at my outfit.

‘What are you wearing?’ she asks.

I straighten, and look down at my uniform. The Head told me to feel free to personalise it; he didn’t want to ‘suffocate our creativity’. So I took his advice. I had a long-sleeved band T under my regulation white, button-up blouse and I’d forgone shoes in favour of my well-used Doc Martens. My sister was clearly not impressed. Her blouse was tucked into her regulation-length skirt and she wore a cardigan with the school’s logo on it. I’d conveniently left my cardigan at home.

‘I like it,’ I say, tugging at my sleeves.

‘It’s your first day here, and that’s the impression you want to make?’

I don’t answer her.

‘Fine, be that way. Just don’t tell people we’re related.’

With that, she walks off. My sister, Queen of Tact. Not that she should worry; I was shy at the best of times. The nerve I’d have to work up to claim her as my sister wasn’t worth the energy. My interactions of the day had consisted mainly of nodding and mumbling unintelligible responses to why I’d started late and why I’d transferred.

Hollie had been going to this school since Year 7. For some strange reason, our parents thought we’d benefit from some separation and had us attending different schools. We’d grown apart quickly, even though we lived in the same house. We were opposites in almost everything, but sometimes I wished we’d at least gone to the same school so we’d have had a chance to be slightly closer.

My wish had come true this year. Just not in the way I’d imagined. A prank gone wrong, a visit to the ER and some stitches later, I’d refused to go back to my old school.

Since the school year had already started, and my parents had a good relationship with the Head here, they decided to transfer me. Hollie had been on an end of summer trip with some friends, taking full advantage of the two extra weeks Sixth Formers had for summer. Suffice to say, she was not happy with the news.

She branded me a drama queen and an attention seeker.

Which, ironically, are the exact words I’d use to describe her.

I slam my locker shut, hoping everything will stay in place next time I open it. Pushing my hair back, I scan my new timetable. My last lesson of the day is double Maths. Great.

Pop along to the launch on Thursday 9 October at the Antenna Media Centre, Beck Street, Nottingham, NG1 1EQ. Doors open 6.30pm, readings start at 7pm. William Ivory will introduce the event. For more information visit:

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