I've done another scene which is really only the first part of the pizza night. The pizza night happened in the month before my brother died. I think. I'm not sure I'll ever know for sure. It's really hard to write this night. There was so much that happened. (This is the night he left me on I95 and I was chased for at least a half mile by one of three men who tried to get me in their car. Thank god I was in better shape than he was...I think he was worried his friends might leave him behind. He kept looking back which gave me a few extra yards on him each time he lost concentration. Once I got close to lights, he gave up.)
Anyhow, as this is the third bit I've written it's starting to become apparent that my whole point of view is me-focused. And I'm finding that a little worrying. So I guess that's what I'm gonna be asking Mike and Vincent about the next time we meet. I think I need to question what perspective I want to use. I'm sure they'll have some good advice.
Saturday 27 October 2007
Saturday 20 October 2007
Wednesday 17 October 2007
This has very little to do with anything.
Getting out of the rain yesterday evening, I stepped into HMV and taunted myself with their DVD sale. I didn’t buy anything – I’ve half got out of the habit, but I still amble around the shop identifying things I would have succumbed to in more impetuous days.
As usual, I picked up a few things and looked at them with my carefully cultivated almost-indifference. Anything to waste time until the weather improved: New releases, half-price boxed sets, the usual things. I read the backs of them, the lists of special features which I know I would never actually watch. There was a copy of Halloween which boasted seven hours of special features. Seven hours, a good night’s sleep.
As I was about to leave, gratifyingly empty handed, I spotted a new release of Sin City on DVD by the front door. Idle curiosity made me pick it up, that and the shiny tin-packaging which clearly appealed to some latent magpie-like tendency within me.
I wasn’t going to buy it – I thought the original version of the film was rubbish; a pointlessly slavish attempt to replicate the look of a comic book which was in turn, a slavish attempt to replicate the look of a 1950s film noir. It was a like a photocopy of a photocopy, a dumb film whose only understanding of the noir genre was that it was in black and white. But I was curious and looked at the box just to see how it tried to justify its new incarnation – two discs, a new cut, hours of new extras, a big badge saying “Comic Book Violence Is Cool”.
Not the badge. That part wasn’t true.
“That’s amazing.” Someone said.
They said it two more times before I realised that they were addressing me.
I turned to see a large man standing beside me, jabbing a thick finger at the DVD case in my hand.
“Amazing.” He said again. Three syllables emphasised as though they were three words.
I didn’t say anything. I just blinked at him stupidly.
“I’ve had it for three years.” The man said, “I got it when it first came out in America. Over the internet.”
He was probably quite a young man, but he was enormous on all three axes. A black leather raincoat parted either side of a bulbous T-shirted stomach; lank black hair parted either side of a bulbous smiling face.
A good natured smile; remarkably so given the film he championed included a scene in which Bruce Willis stamps repeatedly on someone’s genitals.
“It’s really interesting too.” He enthused. “Loads of special features. Behind the scenes things. Amazingly interesting.”
I adopted one of those mask-like expressions which substitute a growing sense of panic for something which might resemble a smile. Blindly, almost mechanically, I replaced the disc-box on the shelf, noting the light in the man’s eyes dull fractionally as I did so.
“It’s a classic.” He said, but he was loosing his impetus.
I didn’t have the heart to contradict him. Not that I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, more that I didn’t want him to hurt me in some sudden outbreak of geek rage.
“Amazing.” He said finally, and it almost sounded like a question.
I retreated out of the shop and into the rain.
It was still raining, when I passed the entrance to the shop again after buying some provisions from Sainsbury's.
He was still there, hovering near the display rack, hopefully swaying towards anyone who so-much as hesitated near the discs. The security guard in turn watched him obliquely, as though trying to calculate if the number of sales the man had inadvertently prevented constituted theft.
For a brief moment, I felt a little guilty. And for a briefer moment still, considered going back into the shop and buying the DVD, wretchedly conceding to pity.
But as I said, I’ve half got out of the habit of buying DVDs I don’t need or want. So I went home instead.
As usual, I picked up a few things and looked at them with my carefully cultivated almost-indifference. Anything to waste time until the weather improved: New releases, half-price boxed sets, the usual things. I read the backs of them, the lists of special features which I know I would never actually watch. There was a copy of Halloween which boasted seven hours of special features. Seven hours, a good night’s sleep.
As I was about to leave, gratifyingly empty handed, I spotted a new release of Sin City on DVD by the front door. Idle curiosity made me pick it up, that and the shiny tin-packaging which clearly appealed to some latent magpie-like tendency within me.
I wasn’t going to buy it – I thought the original version of the film was rubbish; a pointlessly slavish attempt to replicate the look of a comic book which was in turn, a slavish attempt to replicate the look of a 1950s film noir. It was a like a photocopy of a photocopy, a dumb film whose only understanding of the noir genre was that it was in black and white. But I was curious and looked at the box just to see how it tried to justify its new incarnation – two discs, a new cut, hours of new extras, a big badge saying “Comic Book Violence Is Cool”.
Not the badge. That part wasn’t true.
“That’s amazing.” Someone said.
They said it two more times before I realised that they were addressing me.
I turned to see a large man standing beside me, jabbing a thick finger at the DVD case in my hand.
“Amazing.” He said again. Three syllables emphasised as though they were three words.
I didn’t say anything. I just blinked at him stupidly.
“I’ve had it for three years.” The man said, “I got it when it first came out in America. Over the internet.”
He was probably quite a young man, but he was enormous on all three axes. A black leather raincoat parted either side of a bulbous T-shirted stomach; lank black hair parted either side of a bulbous smiling face.
A good natured smile; remarkably so given the film he championed included a scene in which Bruce Willis stamps repeatedly on someone’s genitals.
“It’s really interesting too.” He enthused. “Loads of special features. Behind the scenes things. Amazingly interesting.”
I adopted one of those mask-like expressions which substitute a growing sense of panic for something which might resemble a smile. Blindly, almost mechanically, I replaced the disc-box on the shelf, noting the light in the man’s eyes dull fractionally as I did so.
“It’s a classic.” He said, but he was loosing his impetus.
I didn’t have the heart to contradict him. Not that I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, more that I didn’t want him to hurt me in some sudden outbreak of geek rage.
“Amazing.” He said finally, and it almost sounded like a question.
I retreated out of the shop and into the rain.
It was still raining, when I passed the entrance to the shop again after buying some provisions from Sainsbury's.
He was still there, hovering near the display rack, hopefully swaying towards anyone who so-much as hesitated near the discs. The security guard in turn watched him obliquely, as though trying to calculate if the number of sales the man had inadvertently prevented constituted theft.
For a brief moment, I felt a little guilty. And for a briefer moment still, considered going back into the shop and buying the DVD, wretchedly conceding to pity.
But as I said, I’ve half got out of the habit of buying DVDs I don’t need or want. So I went home instead.
Tuesday 16 October 2007
The Guardian's Digested Reads Read Aloud
The 2007 Booker Shortlist has spawned The Guardian Digested Reads, oddly enough on the BBC website - right hand nav. Anne Enright's The Gathering gets my vote for the most amusing...
Thursday 11 October 2007
Drowning in words
Didn't get much done at the pub.
'Much' isn't the right word.
'Petanque' is the right word, and I deleted that on the bus going home.
I replaced it with a paragraph though, so that's a plus. Did another few hundred words in various grabbed moments during the week.
'Petanque' was the right word because it gave me a believable reason to cause an argument - which was needed to create a certain emotion in order to enable a certain event. I'm quite proud of the chapter as it stands.
I just took the opportunity to read it out loud. I always do that - it emphasizes clumsy sentence construction, repeated words and confused tenses.
D, V and I met at the odd little pub on the island. Mostly D and I ranted about work. V has produced a couple of printed volumes on lulu.com of his spooky kids story, one of which my wife will proof read so he can enter it in a competition. It reads so smoothly, it's a hugely assured piece of work. I'm enjoying reading this draft. D made a few points on the portion of the story she's read. V always looks a tad nervous during criticism. We discussed a mini-story that D had written - she's going to be writing several of these in order to frame her screen play. Told me another extraordinary episode on the way home in the car. She's a great raconteur.
Just posted the updated work to google docs. Have extended the outlines of the next two chapters too, so I should be able to knock them off - if I get organized enough to find some reliable time! I had intended to write this afternoon, but - with awesome timing - I had a bit of a work related problem that absorbed my time. That and listening to OUFC managing to grab a 3-3 draw having led 3-0 at half time.
But! I take strength from my ability to sit down for 20 minutes and get out 600-700 words. Surely that means I can do 1800 in an hour... so another 30 hours should see the novel complete.
'Much' isn't the right word.
'Petanque' is the right word, and I deleted that on the bus going home.
I replaced it with a paragraph though, so that's a plus. Did another few hundred words in various grabbed moments during the week.
'Petanque' was the right word because it gave me a believable reason to cause an argument - which was needed to create a certain emotion in order to enable a certain event. I'm quite proud of the chapter as it stands.
I just took the opportunity to read it out loud. I always do that - it emphasizes clumsy sentence construction, repeated words and confused tenses.
D, V and I met at the odd little pub on the island. Mostly D and I ranted about work. V has produced a couple of printed volumes on lulu.com of his spooky kids story, one of which my wife will proof read so he can enter it in a competition. It reads so smoothly, it's a hugely assured piece of work. I'm enjoying reading this draft. D made a few points on the portion of the story she's read. V always looks a tad nervous during criticism. We discussed a mini-story that D had written - she's going to be writing several of these in order to frame her screen play. Told me another extraordinary episode on the way home in the car. She's a great raconteur.
Just posted the updated work to google docs. Have extended the outlines of the next two chapters too, so I should be able to knock them off - if I get organized enough to find some reliable time! I had intended to write this afternoon, but - with awesome timing - I had a bit of a work related problem that absorbed my time. That and listening to OUFC managing to grab a 3-3 draw having led 3-0 at half time.
But! I take strength from my ability to sit down for 20 minutes and get out 600-700 words. Surely that means I can do 1800 in an hour... so another 30 hours should see the novel complete.
Saturday 6 October 2007
Wednesday 3 October 2007
Squeezing it out
Managed to squeeze out six hundred words in 20 minutes while waiting for the Bigger Boy during his swimming class. Almost finished with this chapter, another ten minutes will end it. Maybe more, depends what feels right to build up to the accidental dangerous incident.
I hope that V and I will get in a decent writing session tomorrow at the pub. Couple of pints of beer, couple of hours, couple of thousand words, I reckon.
I took an anecdote from the real world (about the Smaller Boy) and inserted the words into Mum's mouth when she's talking about Michael (he's just stalked off in a slightly unexplained mood). I have to say that it doesn't work, which is annoying. I'm just trying things on, bit like hats in a mirror.
Had another story in my mind this week. Post-global warming, the north pole is nice and warm. Civilization is based on the north pole. But the lack of CO2 emissions is resulting in the world cooling again and their world is threatened by encroaching ice. Do they pollute to restore their climate equilibrium or move towards the equator, discovering relics of our civilization. Whatever.
V reminded me that there are plenty of other projects we need to revisit when Gabriel is done, including my murderous marketing conference.
I hope that V and I will get in a decent writing session tomorrow at the pub. Couple of pints of beer, couple of hours, couple of thousand words, I reckon.
I took an anecdote from the real world (about the Smaller Boy) and inserted the words into Mum's mouth when she's talking about Michael (he's just stalked off in a slightly unexplained mood). I have to say that it doesn't work, which is annoying. I'm just trying things on, bit like hats in a mirror.
Had another story in my mind this week. Post-global warming, the north pole is nice and warm. Civilization is based on the north pole. But the lack of CO2 emissions is resulting in the world cooling again and their world is threatened by encroaching ice. Do they pollute to restore their climate equilibrium or move towards the equator, discovering relics of our civilization. Whatever.
V reminded me that there are plenty of other projects we need to revisit when Gabriel is done, including my murderous marketing conference.
Wednesday 26 September 2007
Disappointed
I searched the web over the weekend to find a contact for an old friend of my brother's. I thought for sure that I'd found him, but he's not responded to my email. I guess there's always the possibility that it got caught in spam or he simply hasn't gotten around to replying. Or maybe he just doesn't want to go back there.
I've decided I have to build a timeline, not so much for telling the story of his life in a linear fashion, but just so that I can talk around the pictures in my mind. V had mentioned Solaris as an example of where the protagonist struggles with whether his memories are true of his wife -- so much of what I remember now is purely in my head and as old as I was when he passed away. But another theme which obsessed me today was whether people attract their fate by virtue of their make-up or their early life experiences, or whether fate simply deals some people better hands than others.
All day long I kept thinking it might be the former -- how else can you explain that my most positive friends have the most fulfilled personal, professional and family lives. That said, all my most interesting, deep-thinking and probably most intellectual friends do not. It's not about THINGS...it's about how happy they are with their own lives, how they fit in the world, how the world fits them.
I guess I'll just have to toy with that catnip for awhile...
I've decided I have to build a timeline, not so much for telling the story of his life in a linear fashion, but just so that I can talk around the pictures in my mind. V had mentioned Solaris as an example of where the protagonist struggles with whether his memories are true of his wife -- so much of what I remember now is purely in my head and as old as I was when he passed away. But another theme which obsessed me today was whether people attract their fate by virtue of their make-up or their early life experiences, or whether fate simply deals some people better hands than others.
All day long I kept thinking it might be the former -- how else can you explain that my most positive friends have the most fulfilled personal, professional and family lives. That said, all my most interesting, deep-thinking and probably most intellectual friends do not. It's not about THINGS...it's about how happy they are with their own lives, how they fit in the world, how the world fits them.
I guess I'll just have to toy with that catnip for awhile...
Tuesday 25 September 2007
This is not a blog
This is a writer's diary. The word "Block" refers to my group of writing friends as I've never experienced "writer's block".
Over the last few years, I've been doing some writing. A few scripts with my writing mate V, a whole novel-sized story and two or three short stories. Until a couple of years ago, I used to meet regularly with C, V and D but then V went off travelling and C got a life and D got busy with career and family and ... not sure what happened to me.
V and I carried on collaborating though.
So, the group (well, three of us, C couldn't make it) met up last night in the Rose and Crown and we talked through our projects.
D is planning a script based on an aspect of her family. V has written two largish stories. He's refining one for a competition.
I have recently re-addressed myself to a story idea I had a few years ago. I've produced about 9000 words so far, and I'm aiming for about 60,000. My last exercise ended up at 140,000 - of which about 60,000 were superfluous and the rest pretty dodgy.
I am not going to discuss the story here, rather my diary will focus on the writing process.
D and V had a few comments. V is keeping a reading diary which I'll get to see when I've finished. V and I share the same habit of ploughing through to the end and revising from scratch rather than continuously iterating.
Pace is fast. Good. I am deliberately moving forward quickly.
My main character (Gabe/Gabriel) acts younger than his stated age. This is hardly a surprise as he started aged 11 and then I changed it for reasons I can't remember to 13 (I think it was because I was thinking about adding some sexual tension). I will change him back to 11 as when I wrote out the entire plot I didn't use the sexual tension angle.
Gabe feels lost. He's supposed to be, but I think I've overdone it as the readers felt lost. Consequently the characters come as a bit of a surprise and required both D and V to look back. This will be addressed in the revision, as of now all characters are in play. (Except Uncle Nicholas and I know him well - and he's well telegraphed).
Gabe's mum is blurry. She is, dammit. I didn't do my homework on her at all. She needs a back story to shape her character and bring her out of 2 dimensions. Heck, all I thought about her is that she's the organized one in the marriage (given that Daniel is a boffin and an academic) and is "commercial". I decided last night that she runs a clothing boutique in Oxford. Summertown, I think. It's an area I know about and it suits her personality - and it reinforces her desire to look chic, but never quite managing to do so because she's so busy. It also says something the history of the brothers Nicholas and Daniel Letrange. I know that they have a French father who came to the UK - probably during the war, maybe as a child of ten-ish - but were brought up as British.
Strong relationship between Gabriel and dad (Daniel). Good, the book has this as a key relationship. If I can't do that, I may as well give up.
Both commented on the jerky scene shift from the home to the Cowley Road. This is not explained and never will be. It is a feature of the book that will happen two or three times more but will come to seem natural, I hope. I know that it's not handled well and I'm hoping that my experience with the characters of Mike and Gabe and the phenomena that accompanies them will come to me more naturally.
This week I am unlikely to get any writing done. However, V and myself are aiming to manage a couple of hours at his local pub on the Island where I should be able to knock out a couple of thousand.
Over the last few years, I've been doing some writing. A few scripts with my writing mate V, a whole novel-sized story and two or three short stories. Until a couple of years ago, I used to meet regularly with C, V and D but then V went off travelling and C got a life and D got busy with career and family and ... not sure what happened to me.
V and I carried on collaborating though.
So, the group (well, three of us, C couldn't make it) met up last night in the Rose and Crown and we talked through our projects.
D is planning a script based on an aspect of her family. V has written two largish stories. He's refining one for a competition.
I have recently re-addressed myself to a story idea I had a few years ago. I've produced about 9000 words so far, and I'm aiming for about 60,000. My last exercise ended up at 140,000 - of which about 60,000 were superfluous and the rest pretty dodgy.
I am not going to discuss the story here, rather my diary will focus on the writing process.
D and V had a few comments. V is keeping a reading diary which I'll get to see when I've finished. V and I share the same habit of ploughing through to the end and revising from scratch rather than continuously iterating.
Pace is fast. Good. I am deliberately moving forward quickly.
My main character (Gabe/Gabriel) acts younger than his stated age. This is hardly a surprise as he started aged 11 and then I changed it for reasons I can't remember to 13 (I think it was because I was thinking about adding some sexual tension). I will change him back to 11 as when I wrote out the entire plot I didn't use the sexual tension angle.
Gabe feels lost. He's supposed to be, but I think I've overdone it as the readers felt lost. Consequently the characters come as a bit of a surprise and required both D and V to look back. This will be addressed in the revision, as of now all characters are in play. (Except Uncle Nicholas and I know him well - and he's well telegraphed).
Gabe's mum is blurry. She is, dammit. I didn't do my homework on her at all. She needs a back story to shape her character and bring her out of 2 dimensions. Heck, all I thought about her is that she's the organized one in the marriage (given that Daniel is a boffin and an academic) and is "commercial". I decided last night that she runs a clothing boutique in Oxford. Summertown, I think. It's an area I know about and it suits her personality - and it reinforces her desire to look chic, but never quite managing to do so because she's so busy. It also says something the history of the brothers Nicholas and Daniel Letrange. I know that they have a French father who came to the UK - probably during the war, maybe as a child of ten-ish - but were brought up as British.
Strong relationship between Gabriel and dad (Daniel). Good, the book has this as a key relationship. If I can't do that, I may as well give up.
Both commented on the jerky scene shift from the home to the Cowley Road. This is not explained and never will be. It is a feature of the book that will happen two or three times more but will come to seem natural, I hope. I know that it's not handled well and I'm hoping that my experience with the characters of Mike and Gabe and the phenomena that accompanies them will come to me more naturally.
This week I am unlikely to get any writing done. However, V and myself are aiming to manage a couple of hours at his local pub on the Island where I should be able to knock out a couple of thousand.
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