Giant Squid Creations

I know many will not believe my story; I can barely believe it myself, but it happened nonetheless. I’m not even sure where to begin telling it. She meant the world to me, still does, but when she told me she was pregnant then claimed it was God’s will so I shouldn’t be upset … and that she was still a virgin anyway – well, it was pretty hard to take. At least I thought she should be honest with me. Still, I loved her and didn’t want her to suffer for some mistake. I was going to break it off quietly, let her find a way out on her own. Then he, she or … I guess it, came. Now I know people won’t believe this. I walk into my room and there’s this person in there and it scared the daylights out of me. Possibly because it was like daylight only human shaped; bit more freaky than an intruder and somehow more convincing when they claimed to be a messenger from God. Turned out she wasn’t lying, the pregnancy was God’s will and she was still a virgin. I was going to be the step-dad of God’s

It’s been a long while since I wrote here but I’m back. The main delay was of NaNoWriMo as I worked away to write 50,000 words in November and get The Scarlet Ring really on its way. I have to say it was a fantastic experience and I’m very happy with myself for completing it successfully. It showed me a number of things, the first and most important one being that I can apply myself to write something and if I do it will actually come along. I went into it with the first part of the story written and a rough plan as to where the middle part was going, and while it dragged at times it generally came along fairly well and developed in new ways as it did. Characters suddenly sprung into existence which meant things shifted course ever so slightly and new scenes ran their course. I also noticed certain pitfalls I kept falling into and phrases I was clearly far too keen on using which I might not normally pick up on if writing more intermittently. Unfortunately with the looming deadline

So tomorrow is the beginning of National Novel Writing Month. 50,000 words to be written in just 30 days. It's a challenge, it should be fun and it's the kick in the pants to get things going I've been needing. Prep is going all right. I have some plotting worked out - it's allowed - and I'm going to do a bit more shortly. Just finishing up getting my work area fairly clean so it's not distracting. Got coffee supply and tea, might need to invest in some nuts to munch, keep the grey matter ticking. Got tunes aplenty, from classical to rock depending on my mood, and the sound system is good. Yup, I think I'm ready. Wish me luck, and to anyone else doing it, good luck! Keep dreaming.

When Delibes' ballet Coppelia featured in ABC Classic FM's Classic 100 The Music of France it reminded me that I had written a response to Hoffmann's story, on which the ballet was based, so I thought I'd share it with you now. Warning - spoilers. You can find the story here . Hoffmann sets up the situation and the theme of the story straightaway through three letters. The first tells us of the terrible events in Nathanael’s childhood and the possible reappearance of the villain of those events in his life. The second is the rational explanation of Clara dismissing the whole Nathanael’s fears to his own mind and in the third he accepts them. The rest of the story revolves around, to a large degree, the irrational fears he has and the rational explanations that may dispel them – if they are irrational. We read how his conviction in the mystical is so fired up, and Clara’s adamant rationality is so fixed, that he almost comes to blows with her brother. This ends with

Thought I might do a quick review of what I've been reading this month - if for no other reason than keeping it clear in my own head. I already mentioned the Elric novels so that was a big portion of it. The other big one was Robert Chamber 's The King in Yellow . I got this from the University of Adelaide ebook site as it was mentioned in terms of Weird fiction and having influenced HP Lovecraft. It was weird all right but not always in the sense of the supernatural genre. It's a collection of short stories, the first four of which make reference to a fictional play, the eponymous King in Yellow. This play is so artistically wrought that anyone who reads it, or at least the second act, is mentally disturbed by it or downright insane. This concept Lovecraft liked and he referenced the play or the places mentioned in it a few times. He also liked some of Chamber's style at times. The rest of the stories in the book, which make up the other two-thirds or so, have n

I said in a previous post that I might write about the Elric novels I've been reading and to stop myself from debating whether I will or not I am. Many of you will already know something about them even if you've never read them but for those who don't I'll give a quick idea. Elric is the last emperor of Melnibone, an ancient and decadent empire. He can summon aid from demons and elementals and has a sword of mystical origins which forms a love-hate symbiosis with him. All of this is part of Michael Moorcock's multiverse where Elric becomes just one facet of the Eternal Warrior. It's epic fantasy but in episodic form. Every novel (of the first five which is all I've read so far) is divided into three and each section is its own story which was published in a slightly different version (or not) in journals. At least that's how they're designed. So the chronology occasionally jumps slightly but the stories do follow one after the other even if some

So I've been thinking today about my playwrighting and where it's going/hasn't been going. Aside from numerous personal factors, I think one reason so little happened for as long as it didn't, was that I can never seem to produce anything that would be deemed a full-length play. This strictly speaking shouldn't really matter - Samuel Beckett only wrote one, his first. After that his works got shorter and shorter as he tried to produce a pure theatrical image. However, outside festivals of 10-minute plays and the occasional special event of one-act wonders there's little call for shorter works. But I've also realised I'm not interested in writing a long play. I have stories to tell and theatrical images to attempt, and my style of telling these stories is generally very quick. My longest play actually suffers from its size I think - that and it has a light and a dark side that don't mesh. What does excite me is an idea I've tossed around in my

Just spent a few wonderful days relaxing with my wife on the South Coast. We needed a getaway so we took one. We stayed at Bewong River Retreat which is a series of bungalows right in the bush. It's designed for couples - no kids allowed - and I'd certainly recommend it if you want to get away from the world. It really does feel like you're in the middle of the bush, largely because you are. There are birds aplenty, kangaroos all around and even some wallabies. It's also right on the river. While there we went for a bit of sightseeing and saw Green Patch, which is just idyllic, and Sanctuary Point. There were many birds and another wallaby but the echidna was the biggest thrill. It was by the side of the road at the end of a National Parks road and was very intent on some tasty ants so didn't mind us at all. I managed to get some writing done too, adapting an earlier version of a scene in The Scarlet Ring and writing the following scene which I had no idea ho

This is my initial thoughts on the story, nothing too in depth. Warning, big spoiler, if you want to read the story do that first. It's here . The beginning of this story reminded me somewhat of Gormenghast but with a more literal take on the idea of Titus Alone . Its mouldy, decaying castle is viscerally described and the infinite loneliness of the narrator is palpable. The nature of this castle with its immense forest is kept a mystery, but there is a hint that not all is as described when we're told the narrator believed himself young because he remembered so little. A failed memory and a life in a place that seems to exist outside the real world. Only when the escape is made – and leads not to a high tower above the forest, but ground level in an aged churchyard does the mystery of the castle, a veritable crypt, become clear. From there it’s clear what must happen, the narrator must learn it is a dead thing crawled up from its grave, but Lovecraft spins the discovery ou

So I have a couple of plans in mind and I'm going to commit them to this blog to make sure I stick with them. There's one about my playwrighting and one about The Scarlet Ring. The thing with the playwrighting is I did actually finish two one-act pieces this year and since then both have sat on my computer not bothering anyone or finding out if they're any good - let alone trying to come to life on the stage. So the plan is a play reading picnic in the park. People will gather, some volunteering to read, others just coming to enjoy the event and join the discussion, then while a picnic lunch is eaten the two plays will be read out. Then as we digest the food everyone who wants to can give some feedback on the plays. That should at least give me the basis for a second draft. That's the plan. A date will be set soon and people will be invited via Facebook, so if you're interested watch that space. It'll be in Sydney in case you're not. Plan two. I've

So this is just an excerpt of a rough scene early in the novel. I'm sharing it because it has the first appearance of a lute player Tomorillo, who was inspired by Tom Dickins and his music. The three acolytes sat at a table across from the hearth, warming themselves from the twilight chill and waiting for more people to come in. Hanissa sighed; it didn’t feel right to be here, doing nothing. Darian had made the plan, go to the inn where Calestra had been last seen, ask people who had seen her if they knew where she’d gone; simple enough. She knew it was logical, and Alisan certainly liked the idea, but ... it meant being here, in the village, surrounded by people. “Cheer up lil’ sis,” Alisan gave her a nudge with a tankard of ale, “it’s just one night. We’ll find where she’s gone and be on our way.” “On our way where?” Darian said. “Chances are we’re going to be in villages for a while, maybe even Esst, if not some other city. You’re going to have to come to grips with it Han

I thought it might be worthwhile to cast a reflective eye over some of the things I read during the first half of the year. A number of things really don’t require much discussion; I was just catching up with what many people already know. I finally caught up with the first two Discworld novels for instance, although I’m loathe to admit I actually expected a bit more from them – possibly the vice of too much success. I also read Game of Thrones , in some ways bowing to peer pressure but seriously, it’s right up my alley anyway. It truly is epic in scope, while remaining character-orientated and is just generally beautiful fantasy. I was less impressed with the TV series I hate to say, I enjoy it but it just skips too quickly over things and doesn’t give the depth that makes the book so good. Very recently I read Marianne de Pierre ’s YA novel Burn Bright , and I didn’t waste much time finding, buying and starting its sequel Angel Arias . This is undeniably YA but that really doesn’t

Time to catch up with a few events of recent times. First off, Supanova . I went to this with Sam last Saturday at Olympic Park. There weren’t too many celebs we were that interested in so it was a good chance to enjoy the rest of the event properly. We started off with a publishing seminar where we heard some useful things from Garth Nix as a successful author with experience in the industry and from a couple of publishers. The bookseller representative I have to admit thought she had more useful info than she did and showed her distinct dislike of e-books a little too clearly. Anyway it was useful and we later had a chat with Caroline Lowry of D-Publishing who is likely to hear from me again when I finish something worth publishing. From there we met up with our good friend Erin, moseyed about the stores, listened to Christopher Lloyd answer some fairly inane questions (for the most part) and met a few more people. Artists’ Alley was of course home to some interesting and inspirin

I wrote this a couple of days ago but I’m finally putting it up. I wasn’t sure whether to write a blog about the passing of Ray Bradbury but the Sydney Morning Herald online tipped my hand. Bradbury was without a doubt a master storyteller and a prolific one. He created worlds and ideas with clarity and precision. It’s not stretching anything to say he was one of the greats of SF – by which I mean Speculative Fiction, not just science fiction. What drives me to write this however is not simple memoriam but an element of disgust with SMH for its reporting of Bradbury’s death; a brief paragraph followed by a reprint of an opinion piece arguing that Bradbury was not a ‘literary’ SF author but the king of ‘pulp’. A simple short obituary would’ve sufficed but to spare the effort they rerun something that ends by saying “The king of pulp [Bradbury] lives.” I ask you, is that appropriate? Now, the piece was not disparaging of Bradbury overall but it did seem to argue against his skills

So there's this development in the creative scene called crowd funding. Many of you may well have heard about it; it's been around for a while now, someone I went to uni with has even used it. But it's come more strongly to my attention through projects by Amanda Palmer and Tom Dickins - names that have popped up once or twice in this blog before. Amanda's in particular is turning heads as it has raised well over half a million and is still going. For those who don't know what crowd funding is, here's the basics. There are websites, two that I know of, Kickstarter in the US and Pozible in Australia, I'm sure other countries have them too, where artists from any creative medium can propose projects they are trying to get up. Using Tom as an example, he wants to make an album but has zero money and no backing from a label or anything. So, he's put up a project on Pozible and told his fans about it who have spread the word too. When they go there they can

As most of you will already be aware, Maurice Sendak died last night at the age of 84. There has been quite a huge outpouring of grief and reminiscence since, so in many ways it could be said I’m jumping the bandwagon here, but I want to put my two cents in. I think it fascinating that this man’s death is getting such a reaction; after all his best known work – the only one I know about – was a short children’s book written decades ago. But it’s that very book causing such a stir, because what a book it is. I know next to nothing about Maurice Sendak; I believe he was a wonderful man with great creativity and a way of looking at the world we should probably all envy. But for me to write anything more about him would be wrong, I simply don’t know. But I do want to talk about Where the Wild Things Are. This book must have been one of the first I remember reading, and re-reading and re-reading. It’s easily one of the most important books of my childhood – even more important than the po

It’s been a few weeks since I blogged, shame be upon me, but my how time flies. There has been some progress on some projects, a bit of a personal insight and a minor bit of excitement. The last one first, I wrote a review for one of the albums I’ve bought through Classicsonline and it was selected as one of the best customer reviews in April; bit of a thrill I must confess. You can read it here . As for progress, the most exciting for me has been coming up with a plan and a plot outline for the first book of a trilogy I’m writing – The Scarlet Ring. None too surprisingly it’s a fantasy story set in a world I’ve been devising for over a decade, off and on. Mostly off for a long time, which is fine as it’s given me the chance to do a revision of everything and focus the world from the sprawling chaos I had to a more distinct and workable form. And the story I started in that world almost a decade ago is finally taking shape! The pieces started falling into place only in the last cou

So, I have been on a plane – twice. It’s actually quite exciting in its way, seeing the world below; Sydney at night became colonies of fireflies and the clouds in the daylight were mountains of ethereal wisps floating on shadows above the ground. Take off isn’t great on the neck however. Not much to say about airline food, they were only short trips. The tea is pretty average, but QANTAS did give us a very nice biscuit. My holiday was a relaxing and fun week during which we covered a lot of ground exploring the beaches of the Northern Rivers, driving through some villages and dropping by Nimbin for some shopping. There’s also a very good local art gallery there I recommend to anyone passing through. Currumbin Wildlife Sanctuary is also well worth the time to explore, say hi to the tree kangaroos for me and watch out for the dragons. Seriously, during the week we saw so many water dragons – at my aunt’s house there were little ones we’d watch over breakfast, running about a stone w

Perhaps it’s genetic; the evenings begin to cool, life begins to slow and we crowd round the fire to hear the storyteller conjure up new worlds from the flames, exciting our imaginations and reminding us of who we are. Perhaps I’m just odd; but whatever it is, autumn is here and as the cool evening breezes blow round me in the dying golden light I feel a stirring in my mind. Dreams awaken and I’m suddenly impelled to do the things I should’ve been doing all summer – writing, rewriting and actually submitting works to potential publications! It’s early yet and my first attempt met with an unexpected setback. I thought I’d typed a story up but it turns out I hadn’t; so task one is to do so. That’s The Truth of Dragons , the first piece I completed as a married man and there are a few places I’m thinking of sending it to; watch this space. The second, ongoing, attempt met with a bit more luck. The Tale of Five-Fingered Jack (working title) which I started on New Year’s Day finally has

I just read Craters , a short story by Kristine Kathryn Rusch and it's left me feeling very thoughtful. It's a near-future SF piece about a journalist going into a refugee camp in an age where everyone has microchips inside them for identification and the war on terror is in disturbing place. I'll try not to give any spoilers - to read it yourself go here http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/craters/ While I'm not sure Rusch was deliberately writing a dystopia it certainly is one. I should probably explain what I mean by dystopia, it's not that common a term ironically enough. The best explanation is an example, the archetypal dystopia is George Orwell's 1984 . Essentially they're opposite of utopias; where society has turned to some other thing, a controlled status quo. The core dystopias include Huxley's Brave New World , Vonnegut's Player Piano and Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451 . These all show an imperfect world where free thought and act

As we bid farewell to Janus for another year I figure it's time to consider the first month. The biggest highlight for me would have to be the Dresden Dolls' concert; it started with a far too short set by The Jane Austen Argument, those two are such beautiful souls and talented musicians. Then came the Bedroom Philosopher with his line of musical comedy and self-deprecating humour that tickled my fancy; but of course the Dolls themselves rocked out the house for a long time. Seeing them work together on stage, the level of communication and trust between them was as amazing as the music itself. And seeing Brian Viglione play drums is entertainment in itself. In terms of my writing the year is off to a shaky start but it's still a start. The tale of Five-fingered Jack is developing in bursts and is the first completely new creation of 2012. Working on it has also confirmed my process involves some planning ahead and some improvising. More improvising around a set plan so

On the second day of the year I went with Samara to collect our Christmas presents to each other, our Merlin passes. These are yearly passes to several attractions including Sydney Aquarium, Oceanworld, Sydney Wildlife Park and Centrepoint (sorry, Sydney Tower Eye ... cause that's such a catchy name). We got our photo pass at the last of these then went up the elevator, popped our ears a few times, and had a look about. I'd never been up there before and it really is a gorgeous view and it was such a clear day too. I suddenly thought how cool it would've been to have been up there while they were filming the helicopter scene in The Matrix so we had a look to spot the roof Neo landed on. It looks a little different but we found it all right. Afterwards we quite naturally went to Kinokuniya for a bit of a browse. On the $10 sale table a book caught my attention and I had to buy it. Terry Brooks' Sometimes the Magic Works is a look at his writing life