Sinead Keegan

In January of 2013, poet Christian Ward made major news in the UK poetry world when his poem, 'The Deer at Exmoor' won the Hope Bourne poetry prize. It was rather quickly discovered that his poem bore an uncanny resemblance to Helen Mort's poem 'The Deer'. When pushed, he made the extraordinary claim that he realised he was wrong but only because he had not changed Mort's work enough. In a statement published in the Western Morning News , Ward wrote: "I was working on a poem about my childhood experiences in Exmoor and was careless. I used Helen Mort’s poem as a model for my own but rushed and ended up submitting a draft that wasn’t entirely my own work. I had no intention of deliberately plagiarising her work. That is the truth." This seems to me, an extraordinary claim: that there is, somewhere, a line that exists where, once crossed, one has changed the work of another sufficiently to claim that it is not one's own, original work.

My dad tells a story of one day, when I was about six or seven. He heard the television playing in the living room, despite the house rule forbidding television during the day. He came in to tell  me to turn it off, but paused when he saw me sitting on the floor crying my eyes out as I read the subtitles of an opera. He asked me what was wrong. I didn't look away from the television as I said through sobs, "It's so sad. He really loves her, but she didn't know it and now she's dead." Moral of the story? I was an early reader. No, kidding, that's not it. You see, there are twin passions in my family. The first is stories, spoken, read, told, written, in any form we can get. The second is music; My mom sings, my dad is a talented percussionist ( see him perform live in Dublin this weekend! ) and my brother can basically play any instrument he's ever picked up (irritating, I know). None of us is a musical prodigy, or anything, but we can pass ourselves...

I'm delighted to announce that I will be working with SouthWestFest this year for a series of FREE creative writing workshops and a creative writing competition as part of the Stories of SW1 Exhibition . The two-hour workshops will run on the evenings of 24 June, 01 and 08 July 2014 from 5:45-7:45pm at the Pimlico branch of Westminster Libraries . These are low-pressure, supportive, fun workshops designed for writers of all levels. You don't need any previous experience and there will be exercises to help you get started with putting pen to paper. Space is limited so book now by emailing: info@southwestfest.org.uk . Participants will have the opportunity to submit for the Stories of SW1 creative writing competition, which has a £50 prize. Work will be displayed as part of the Stories of SW1 Exhibition and we hope to do a live reading at the end of festival bash! Competition Rules: Deadline for creative writing submission is midnight Sunday 06 July 2014 Email t...

You all know I love to plug Irish literature and so today is a particularly exciting day. Eimear McBride has won the Baileys Women's Prize for Fiction for her novel, A Girl Is a Half-Formed Thing . McBride is a true product of Irish history and immigration. She was born in Liverpool to Northern Irish parents, but spent much of her childhood on the west coast of Ireland. She now lives in the UK. A note to the aspiring writers, to my students and to myself on my down days: It took Eimear years to get someone to publish this. Years. As in, a decade. Hang in there and keep racking up the rejections. So, chalk another award up for Ireland and Irish immigrants. Again, I say, for a little country we sure can churn out an impressive number of impressive artists. Must be something in the rain. Congratulations, Eimear!

A West End worthy production about immigrants? Minorities? With parts of song and dialogue in a language other than English? Sounds unlikely, but that's just what In the Heights is. It's a energetic explosion of dance, colour and young talent. And that talent is considerable. Sam MacKay, as Usnavi, guides us through the stories of this Washington Heights corner neighbourhood with his broadway style rapping - if there is such a thing. It's more a broadway-washed Eminem than Daddy Yankee reggaeton, but it's entirely enjoyable and pitched perfectly at the musicals audience. Damian Buhagiar as Sonny, however, stole the show for me. It's hard to believe that In the Heights is his professional debut because there isn't even a hint that he might be nervous. He is perfect in his portrayal of a young man finding his voice, finding his place in the world and finding out how to survive. Plus, he's has endless energy and dance moves that manage to stand out in a pro...

On this Mother's Day I thought I would devote a reading-y post to my mom. Mom and I are very different in some ways - she would hate to have to write creatively for a living and organisation is second nature to her - but we share one very important thing. One thing for which I owe her an eternal, capital lettered THANK YOU: We share a love, nay, a passion for reading and this is truly one of the greatest gifts I've ever received. I read in the neighbourhood of 40-60 novels, plays and collections of poetry and short stories every year. And that doesn't include the stories that I listen to on The New Yorker Fiction Podcast or the poems from the Poetry Foundation's Poem of the Day podcast or the work that I read in literary magazines, online and from my students and colleagues. That adds up to hundred s of new world, ideas, images, plays on and with language and hours of joy. Now I spend my days reading and writing and teaching writing. I cannot think of a bette...

On the first day of my MFA in creative writing, I entered my first workshop and looked at my colleagues, the people who would critique my work and make me a better writer. Our tutor had us go around the table and introduce ourselves.  Hello, I’m Sin é ad . My favorite book is Dracula , my favorite fiction author is Margaret Atwood and my favorite creative nonfiction writer is Bill Bryson.  I write memoir and I've been blogging for ten years. I’m interested in writing a humorous literary travel memoir. Hello, I’m M---- and I don’t read. I don’t really write either. WHAT? What the hell are you doing here? This guy is never going to be any help to me. Cue eye-rolling, not-so-suppressed sighing and general outrage from me. I could not fathom what this man was doing in a postgraduate writing course and I took it as a personal affront that he did not have the dedication that I did.