GUY MANKOWSKI

I'm delighted to see that I've just reached 1,000 followers on Twitter. As a small thank you here is a new short story entitled The Sequin Underworld... I wish she would pull David out of her ears. Bowie’s ‘Velvet Goldmine’ is filtering incessantly from her earphones, and I wonder if anyone will ever hang onto my words as desperately as she does to his. That’s the first thought I remember having this evening; and I must recount them precisely if they are to be of any use. I remember first seeing her leant against a pillar in this greater London train station, her dove-white skin a violent contrast to her blood-red lips. She was a beguiling blur of sequin, lipstick and perfume, and as her face moved into the light I saw that her tiny shoulders were dusted with some gold glitter. She’s still there now, wearing a red sequin dress, wrapped in a trench coat of indiscriminate dark colour. Her uneasiness suggests that her mind is consumed with something of pressing importance. She...

A quote from the Editors there, but I think it's fitting. I've just had a journalistic piece, entitled ‘The Dark Side Of The Human Psyche’ published in the Gothic Issue of New Trespass Magazine, coined as ‘an opportunity to delve delightfully into the dark side.’ Other contributors include Collin Kelly, Izzy White and Sarah Reilly. In the past it has featured contributions from Paloma Faith, Salena Godden and Simon Munnery. Below is a snippet of my article. The magazine is available at- www.exacteditions.com/newtrespass As a child I was deeply intrigued by the way Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tales combined magical images with delicately drawn portraits of pain, refined and astute enough to be recognisable in our own lives. It seems that when beauty is coupled with pain, it makes for a particularly potent combination. Readers, languishing in the real world, accept that there is a price for pleasure, even beauty, and so the lows we experience with our protagonists al...

I haven’t blogged for a while, namely because I’m conscious of how many unnecessary blogs there are out there anyway, so I decided to only write again on here when it was about something I felt truly passionate about. The most recent spark has come from the anniversary of Anthony Minghella’s death a couple of days ago, on 18th March. I am learning more and more as time goes on the huge influence he had- not just as a director but also as someone who gave offered rare insights into the creative process.  I was fortunate too that my own life was, in some small way, impacted by him. Like me, he was born on 6 th January, raised by Catholics on the Isle Of Wight and he too, rather unconventionally, travelled over the water to school every day by hovercraft to attend St Johns College in Southsea. I first heard about him as a young teenager, when I was just beginning to write. One night my mother and father attended a charity event at a rather salubrious establishment on the Isle Of W...

I was very fortunate to be awarded a grant by the Arts Council to research my second novel, Letters From Yelena, for a week in St Petersburg. The book will chart the life of a Russian ballerina, and the trip gave me the chance to find out what this would have entailed... Day 1- St Petersburg is bewildering, overpowering, and grandly beautiful. I lug my suitcase down the great Nevksy Prospekt, and struggle to make out signs depicted in letters I’ve previously only seen on confectionary. My hotel is situated in between the prestigious ballet academy the Vaganova, and the famous Mariinsky Theatre. As the city darkens I go to visit the Isaac Cathedral. It’s surrounded by neo-gothic statues, with young couples kissing in amongst all its dark corners. Day 2- In the morning I visit the Nabokov museum. A quote by the writer on one of the video installations seems particularly relevant to my situation. ‘Reality’ he says ‘is perpetually eluding. A plant has a deeper reality for a botanist ...

As I move beyond the age where going to nightclubs remains comfortable, I find myself enjoying dinner parties more and more. I’m not talking about the Come Dine With Me style bitterness fests which we often see on TV, but instead those rare evenings when mutual disclosure is permissible and perhaps even nourishing. I apologize for writing about an arguably pretentious black and white French film, but I recently caught the wonderful ‘My Night With Maud’ for the first time. The film captures an intimate night in which a strongly Catholic man is introduced to a divorcee, the beguiling Maud. Over the course of the night they discuss fate, mortality, and philosophy, and when snow prevents him returning home the two of them have to spend the night together. As an engaged Catholic the man has to resist the charms of the alluring Maud, and question whether his wife-to-be, a younger and more innocent women, is really right for him. In so doing the two c...

This week I was very fortunate to be awarded by the Arts Council a grant towards the research and development of my second novel 'Letters From Yelena'. The book in progress contains the letters sent by a brilliant ballerina to ‘Noah’ – a writer who first gave her faith in people after the darkness of her childhood. By chronicling her journey first as an immigrant, then as a rising ballerina, the letters will chart how seemingly insurmountable obstacles can be overcome through the connections people make. I'm grateful that the award will allow me to spend much more of my time writing, as well as taking me to St Petersburg in Russia in a few weeks time. Whilst there I hope to visit the prestigious Vaganova Academy and world famous Mariinsky Theatre - places where my lead character learnt to dance. I'm also attending a performance of the famous ballet-blanc 'Giselle' at The Mariinsky Theatre. St Petersburg is a city I have been longing to visit for a while and ...

I often feel like a bit of a fraud when people ask me who my favourite writers are. They seem to be a small, insular crowd which people don’t particularly associate with literary prowess. It seems slightly disingenuous to say that my greatest influences have been records. I’m always attracted to works in which the listener can be drawn in by three or four rich threads. For instance, in Siri Hustvedt’s wonderful novel What I Loved, I found myself enraptured by four or five circling themes that rose recurrently like distant riffs. The idea of faded romance, the way art reveals the psyche of its creator, the vertigo in trying to reign in someone who always remains unknowable, even to themselves. Giving the audience that room is something that in my own writing I’m always trying to achieve. Paul Auster has written eloquently about how he intends his books to ultimately give the reader room to find themselves in. It is perhaps just something I have just found it easier to do with recor...