Okay so I went away for a couple of weeks to explore Tasmania with my wife. I had hoped to do little entries here via the app, but very early on I realised mobile coverage down there is terrible in most places so it never happened. I did keep a journal however and I will sporadically type the entries up and post them here for those who are interested.
For now I just want to mention the reading I did while I was down there. The bulk of it was catching up on Nightmare Reader No 1 and the issue of Lightspeed Magazine I got as a bonus for backing Nightmare on Kickstarter (it was the October 2010 issue). I started with Nightmare and it was more than worth my paltry $3 pledge, which is a bad way of saying it was a solid literary journal with great stories. The one that’s stayed with me the most is Afterlife by Sarah Langan, which uses ghost children and ‘crossing over’ to present a tragic picture of very real woman whose non-supernatural plight was the genuine cause of distress if not horror.
Which leads to the interesting article at the back of the journal, The Other Scarlet Letter by RJ Sevin, discussing just what Horror is as a genre and why so many people shy away from the word. It essentially argued that the word has become tied to the schlock-horror side of the genre so people tend to assume anything else that might be described that way shouldn’t be. It made me think about how I view or have viewed Horror as a genre and I certainly used to connect it with schlock and gore; I only read my first Stephen King novel last year because to me he was the guy behind those B-grade movies I had no interest in seeing. How wrong was I?
I then moved to the idea that Horror was a strange subset of SF and Fantasy as any story within it would belong to one of them. This is further blurred by figuring out where the line between SF and Fantasy actually lies, sometimes it’s clear but others are almost indistinguishable. Hence Neil Gaiman can win major awards for all three genres for the same book. Genre is weird, and infallibly malleable. So now I tend to be a bit more open-minded on the subject.
After all, the stories in Lightspeed are technically SF but the ones in that issue had a bigger impact on me in terms of horror and mental disturbance than the actual horror stories in Nightmare. Particularly the reprint of Tight Little Stitches in a Dead Man's Back by Joe R Lansdale, which was a post-nuclear war story of a man wracked with incredible guilt featuring creatures that cross zombies with Triffids in that the plant kills you then takes over your body … yeah. It gripped me, with both hands and freaked me out. Then there was the man trapped in space forced to rationalise cannibalising his cryogenically frozen crew mates and so slowly went mad (in The Taste of Starlight by John R. Fultz). That was peculiar and chilling but his failure to even consider other options (there was at least one I can think of) weakened the whole impact for me.
On a completely different note the other thing I read during the holiday was JM Barrie’s play A Kiss for Cinderella, which I found at the Salamanca Markets for $2 (a 1937 hardback edition, $2, who was I to pass that up?) I wasn’t really sure what I was in for when I started it but I don’t think I was counting on it being as good as it was nor raising interesting questions in my head. I can’t even decide how to classify it, more problems with the whole question of genre.
It’s about a young woman in London during the Great War who is secretly looking after a group of orphans by scraping away and working at what she can. She’s one of those heart-of-gold waifs with an infectious charm that you expect from the man who gave us Peter Pan’s Wendy. She meets a policeman who is under the suspicion she’s helping Germans (only one, a four-year-old orphan so he doesn’t mind) and of course the two fall in love in that awkward Edwardian British way.
There’s a bit more to it than that including a delightful dream sequence where she fulfils her Cinderella persona, but I don’t want to get into the plot. The interesting thing for me was how Barrie had presented the script. It didn’t simply have dialogue and stage directions, it had narrative within stage directions so anyone reading the script is privy to information not presented to anyone merely watching a performance of it. We’re told of how the policeman met JM Barrie and discussed with him the question of true love for instance. We also understand why the dream sequence goes the way it does which would not be evident without his comments.
Of particular importance is the end however. It could be taken to be the expected happy ending but for one of these comments in the stage directions which is almost entirely ambiguous but seems to imply a very bitter twist to the whole thing. Which would give anyone mounting the play a big decision to make. It’s not a method I think I’ll ever employ but it’s certainly an interesting one and kept me thinking about something I might otherwise have glossed over as a light entertainment.
Keep dreaming!
Tuesday, 26 February 2013
Monday, 28 January 2013
Childhood Inspirations - Part One
We recently rearranged some furniture and moved books around – including our collection of children’s books. Lots of gems in there. And it got me thinking about how if childhood is our most formative period – which it must be if you think about it – the books I most loved then must have played a role in who I am today, particularly in terms of my literary interests and practices. So what were they?
Early on I suspect the big names were Where the Wild Things Are, as discussed in a previous blog, and the Mr Men books. Particularly, Mr Nonsense, Mr Impossible and Mr Muddle … read into that what you will. And of course books like The Balloon Tree and There’s a Monster in my Bathtub – more the former – began to instil in me that sense of wonder beyond the ordinary world.
But when I think about this, which I actually do far too often, it always comes back to Hugh Lofting’s Doctor Dolittle. My mum had three old hardbacks: Dr Dolittle’s Post Office; Dr Dolittle’s Zoo and – my absolute favourite – Dr Dolittle on the Moon. I was absolutely captivated. They’re charming stories and the whole concept of the way the animals work together and communicate really captured my imagination. And any tale that includes a pushmi-pullyu has to be good doesn’t it?
I remember excitedly finding three more of his books in a second-hand bookstore. They were possibly my first exciting finds. And besides the wonderful animal characters and fun whimsical plot ideas, there’s the Doctor himself. A quiet man who loves animals and learning things and working things out who has wonderful adventures – without needing anyone else; I think that spoke to me too. It’s okay to be quiet and studious, and here in books wondrous things can happen and I could have the adventure too.
The other most important book in my childhood would have to be a collection of Greek and Roman Myths. They were written in an engaging way without too much of the overemotional complications and they stuck to heroes or warning tales like Arachne – no divine sexual exploits or matricides. I read that book multiple times and I very rarely read something more than once. Gods, heroes, evil kings, monsters … everything my imagination continues to play with today.
Of course, then came The Hobbit and The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe which are discussed enough. Besides, while I loved both it was The Fellowship of the Ring a year later that really got me going. But, funnily enough, I didn’t read any of these till I was a teenager. Actually, I didn’t sit down and read The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe till I was 21.
Which reminds me of the third and final book from childhood I’ll mention for now – The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. I can’t remember if it was the first or second Narnia book I read, the other being The Silver Chair, but it was the one that truly got me. A voyage on the high seas encountering amazing creatures and battling evils, internally and externally (looking at you Edmund). And the magic … well, here was possibilities. Here was the land of faery.
I took that voyage, like I took the trip to the moon with a quaint vet who could talk to animals, and I’ve been voyaging off ever since.
Keep dreaming.
Early on I suspect the big names were Where the Wild Things Are, as discussed in a previous blog, and the Mr Men books. Particularly, Mr Nonsense, Mr Impossible and Mr Muddle … read into that what you will. And of course books like The Balloon Tree and There’s a Monster in my Bathtub – more the former – began to instil in me that sense of wonder beyond the ordinary world.
But when I think about this, which I actually do far too often, it always comes back to Hugh Lofting’s Doctor Dolittle. My mum had three old hardbacks: Dr Dolittle’s Post Office; Dr Dolittle’s Zoo and – my absolute favourite – Dr Dolittle on the Moon. I was absolutely captivated. They’re charming stories and the whole concept of the way the animals work together and communicate really captured my imagination. And any tale that includes a pushmi-pullyu has to be good doesn’t it?
I remember excitedly finding three more of his books in a second-hand bookstore. They were possibly my first exciting finds. And besides the wonderful animal characters and fun whimsical plot ideas, there’s the Doctor himself. A quiet man who loves animals and learning things and working things out who has wonderful adventures – without needing anyone else; I think that spoke to me too. It’s okay to be quiet and studious, and here in books wondrous things can happen and I could have the adventure too.
The other most important book in my childhood would have to be a collection of Greek and Roman Myths. They were written in an engaging way without too much of the overemotional complications and they stuck to heroes or warning tales like Arachne – no divine sexual exploits or matricides. I read that book multiple times and I very rarely read something more than once. Gods, heroes, evil kings, monsters … everything my imagination continues to play with today.
Of course, then came The Hobbit and The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe which are discussed enough. Besides, while I loved both it was The Fellowship of the Ring a year later that really got me going. But, funnily enough, I didn’t read any of these till I was a teenager. Actually, I didn’t sit down and read The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe till I was 21.
Which reminds me of the third and final book from childhood I’ll mention for now – The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. I can’t remember if it was the first or second Narnia book I read, the other being The Silver Chair, but it was the one that truly got me. A voyage on the high seas encountering amazing creatures and battling evils, internally and externally (looking at you Edmund). And the magic … well, here was possibilities. Here was the land of faery.
I took that voyage, like I took the trip to the moon with a quaint vet who could talk to animals, and I’ve been voyaging off ever since.
Keep dreaming.
Saturday, 26 January 2013
Brief recount of last nigh
I have some posts planned for here so expect a bit more activity in coming weeks. But for now I just want to quickly mention last night. I went with my lovely wife to see Neil Gaiman at the City Recital Hall. It was a fun and inspirational event as he read from two forthcoming books and generally said entertaining things. Fourplay was also in attendance and played a couple of tunes - including the Doctor Who theme - and also accompanied Neil as he read one of the books. They also accompanied him as he sang the FireballX5 theme song which was fun.
The Ocean at the End of the Lane is the main novel he read from and we luckily got a sample to keep. It's an adult novel but the narrator is remembering events from his childhood so there's a mix and young feel. There's no mistaking the sense of dread floating over the black humour and jokes about burnt toast. The first three chapters have definitely got me hooked, bring on June and the full release. In the meantime ...
Keep dreaming.
The Ocean at the End of the Lane is the main novel he read from and we luckily got a sample to keep. It's an adult novel but the narrator is remembering events from his childhood so there's a mix and young feel. There's no mistaking the sense of dread floating over the black humour and jokes about burnt toast. The first three chapters have definitely got me hooked, bring on June and the full release. In the meantime ...
Keep dreaming.
Sunday, 6 January 2013
New Start and Thanks
So it's back to work tomorrow and hopefully that will also mean getting back into the swing of things in general. After the success of November, December was ... well it was mostly a write-off. But, new year, new start.
The only other thing I really have to say at the moment is thank you. Yes, you reading this. Thanks for reading this. Thank you everyone who showed support for me last year and is continuing to do so now. This year I aim to give you all something more to show for it. Watch this space.
Till then - Keep dreaming!
The only other thing I really have to say at the moment is thank you. Yes, you reading this. Thanks for reading this. Thank you everyone who showed support for me last year and is continuing to do so now. This year I aim to give you all something more to show for it. Watch this space.
Till then - Keep dreaming!
Tuesday, 25 December 2012
Joseph's Story
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 son. How was I meant to deal with that one? I was still getting my carpentry up to scratch, setting myself up in life and now I have to look after not only a baby but a divinity? Come on. Still, when a glowing celestial being appears in your bedroom and tells you that’s how it is, you don’t argue. Sure I could have argued I was now insane, but that would mean she was too and that didn’t add up. Besides, insane people don’t think they’re insane – do they?
Anyway, any doubts I might have had about my sanity or the general nature of reality got burned away that night the baby was born. She was so brave, my little love. The innkeeper’s wife kept me outside while it happened, I avoided the temptation to talk to the cattle, that would’ve been nuts but they were the only ones there. Then. After, well, it got crowded.
I’d just met my little boy, by proxy at least, when this noise erupted. The sky was rent with this singing, unlike anything I’d ever heard. The voices were so clear and resonant and – commanding. When it became as bright as day at the same time, I knew it was back and it had brought friends. A whole host of glowing beings; flying this time and worshipping the little bub in my wife’s arms … I was more worried about her to be truly honest. She was covered in sweat and looked absolutely exhausted. Utterly beautiful though, so happy, so content, so very much in love with her son. And when she looked up and smiled at me, gripped my hand – let’s just say there was a lot of love in that little huddle. Enough to make the angelic chorus outside seem almost natural.
I wasn’t as impressed when the shepherds turned up. I’d never seen so many of the uncouth vagabonds in the one place before. It stank more than the oxen; I understood then why baths were invented and never begrudged one ever after. All these rough and ready blokes, some with scars from fighting wolves of all things, all gathering round my wife and son … it’s not something you normally want to happen. But the looks on their faces – they didn’t even notice my love, or me. Just him, the divine son.
They didn’t hang around but they got very excited and promised to tell everyone they met they’d seen the Son of God. I thanked them very much, but who listens to shepherd talk anyway?
After that life just seemed to go on. We settled into a new house in Nazareth where people couldn’t do the math about wedding and son’s birthday. Some strange men turned up one year, gave us some really expensive presents – for the King of Kings of course. I asked if they’d mind changing his nappy while they were at it but they declined.
So there you have it, the birth of my first son – so to speak. Like I said, I know a lot of people won’t believe it, but that’s what happened. If you ever meet him, you won’t be so surprised. He has that way about him.
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 son. How was I meant to deal with that one? I was still getting my carpentry up to scratch, setting myself up in life and now I have to look after not only a baby but a divinity? Come on. Still, when a glowing celestial being appears in your bedroom and tells you that’s how it is, you don’t argue. Sure I could have argued I was now insane, but that would mean she was too and that didn’t add up. Besides, insane people don’t think they’re insane – do they?
Anyway, any doubts I might have had about my sanity or the general nature of reality got burned away that night the baby was born. She was so brave, my little love. The innkeeper’s wife kept me outside while it happened, I avoided the temptation to talk to the cattle, that would’ve been nuts but they were the only ones there. Then. After, well, it got crowded.
I’d just met my little boy, by proxy at least, when this noise erupted. The sky was rent with this singing, unlike anything I’d ever heard. The voices were so clear and resonant and – commanding. When it became as bright as day at the same time, I knew it was back and it had brought friends. A whole host of glowing beings; flying this time and worshipping the little bub in my wife’s arms … I was more worried about her to be truly honest. She was covered in sweat and looked absolutely exhausted. Utterly beautiful though, so happy, so content, so very much in love with her son. And when she looked up and smiled at me, gripped my hand – let’s just say there was a lot of love in that little huddle. Enough to make the angelic chorus outside seem almost natural.
I wasn’t as impressed when the shepherds turned up. I’d never seen so many of the uncouth vagabonds in the one place before. It stank more than the oxen; I understood then why baths were invented and never begrudged one ever after. All these rough and ready blokes, some with scars from fighting wolves of all things, all gathering round my wife and son … it’s not something you normally want to happen. But the looks on their faces – they didn’t even notice my love, or me. Just him, the divine son.
They didn’t hang around but they got very excited and promised to tell everyone they met they’d seen the Son of God. I thanked them very much, but who listens to shepherd talk anyway?
After that life just seemed to go on. We settled into a new house in Nazareth where people couldn’t do the math about wedding and son’s birthday. Some strange men turned up one year, gave us some really expensive presents – for the King of Kings of course. I asked if they’d mind changing his nappy while they were at it but they declined.
So there you have it, the birth of my first son – so to speak. Like I said, I know a lot of people won’t believe it, but that’s what happened. If you ever meet him, you won’t be so surprised. He has that way about him.
Thursday, 13 December 2012
NaNoWriMo Reflection
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 I didn’t always get to fix what I knew I was doing, but I could at least recognise they exist for when I go back for the rewrite. “Fix it in post,” was my wife’s declaration whenever I voiced a doubt about anything.
The biggest issue for the rewrites will actually be the timing of events; I have a few plot lines running and they do crossover but I have characters meeting another character on an island when they were still on a different island for another three days in their story. Bit of a physical impossibility but not a major drama believe it or not.
Another thing I noticed was, in writing with more abandon and with the aim of meeting a word count within a strict time limit, things got more fleshed out. I started to get the feeling the first part that I wrote over months beforehand was a pasty skeletal figure next to the NaNo passage. I’m quite sure some of what I wrote in November will disappear entirely by the final draft, but I think the lack of momentum in the earlier stages led to a more fragmentary narrative which may need beefing up.
Finally, and somewhat obviously, the whole process reminded me of the most essential thing – for me – about writing: how much I enjoy doing it. Sure, there were times when I was struggling and just forcing myself to keep putting words down, but even doing that brought a sense of satisfaction. And breaking through those stages to the really good bits where things flew along (notably so did the action) was a great feeling.
So, thank you Office of Light and Letters, it may seem a strange thing to some but NaNoWriMo is a wonderful initiative. I’ll see you in November.
Keep dreaming.
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 I didn’t always get to fix what I knew I was doing, but I could at least recognise they exist for when I go back for the rewrite. “Fix it in post,” was my wife’s declaration whenever I voiced a doubt about anything.
The biggest issue for the rewrites will actually be the timing of events; I have a few plot lines running and they do crossover but I have characters meeting another character on an island when they were still on a different island for another three days in their story. Bit of a physical impossibility but not a major drama believe it or not.
Another thing I noticed was, in writing with more abandon and with the aim of meeting a word count within a strict time limit, things got more fleshed out. I started to get the feeling the first part that I wrote over months beforehand was a pasty skeletal figure next to the NaNo passage. I’m quite sure some of what I wrote in November will disappear entirely by the final draft, but I think the lack of momentum in the earlier stages led to a more fragmentary narrative which may need beefing up.
Finally, and somewhat obviously, the whole process reminded me of the most essential thing – for me – about writing: how much I enjoy doing it. Sure, there were times when I was struggling and just forcing myself to keep putting words down, but even doing that brought a sense of satisfaction. And breaking through those stages to the really good bits where things flew along (notably so did the action) was a great feeling.
So, thank you Office of Light and Letters, it may seem a strange thing to some but NaNoWriMo is a wonderful initiative. I’ll see you in November.
Keep dreaming.
Wednesday, 31 October 2012
NaNoWriMo Eve
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.
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.
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