I thought of you two tonight...I thought how long it's been since starting this blog. Then I thought how appropriate it was that 4writersblock was the name of the blog ... he he he...we let our lives get in the way of our writing. There must be a zillion great writers out there with the same malady.
But there's that ol' thorny thing called survival to concern oneself with...the kids, the bills, the food...how much can we rely on our loved ones to put up with? How much are our loved ones relying on us?
Some day, boys, some day...we should make ourselves a promise. Now that there is a successful theatre company started...perhaps we should put our heads together and think "PLAYS"...
Anyone up for meet up in the pub next week?
Monday 4 May 2009
Wednesday 7 May 2008
Nuts to May
And I see that I haven't written anything in at least seven months. Both on Gabriel and also here. Fortunately in this time, I lost about 1000 words, all of which were rubbish and dug me into a hole. I have continued. Hurray.
Saturday 27 October 2007
POVs
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.
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 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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)