Victory for the little writer

So, many many moons ago the nasty people at Writer's Forum declined to pay me for a story they had published (see post below)....

This was a bittersweet experience for me: on the one hand I was thrilled to be published, but on the other I was annoyed that we litle writers were seen as so dispensible and unimportant that upholding their end of the payment deal was optional.

I'm nothing if not determined and pro-active, so i logged onto moneyclaim.gov.uk and filed a court order for the non-payment, including the £30 fee for issue of the order and £20.00 to cover lost interest and time wasted spent chasing the blasted non-payment.

I had a cheque for the lot within five days.

Result!

Of course they'll never publish me again, but I can do without that sort of "help" in the early stages of my career.

Lesson learnt: writers have agents because they get screwed over a lot a lot a lot.

Show me the money!!!

You may remember this , when I was thrilled to have a story accepted for Writer's Forum magazine. My first published piece, my first step onto that first rung of the writing ladder, the slowly advancing hangover of reality when it became painfully clear that the bastards were going to rip me off by not paying me!

THREE times I've asked for the cheque now, and three times I've been fobbed off with vague excuses and meaningless promises that it will be "looked into". Latest is that I may have to contact the publisher directly myself to get it. WHY THE HELL SHOULD I?????? Your magazine published my piece, now pay me for it.

Writer's Forum ~ don't buy it! They treat their authors like crap.

Who do you think you are kidding, pikey charvas?

This has made my day!

Forward! Concertgoers put yobs to flight as band plays Great Escape
Steven Morris, Friday July 7, 2006 The Guardian

A group of drunken youths thought they had picked an easy target when they decided to disrupt a brass band's open-air concert watched by a crowd of pensioners. But they thought again when the band struck up the theme from The Great Escape and - as one - a "Dad's Army" of around 20 war veterans rose from their deckchairs and advanced towards the mob, prompting them to turn on their heels and flee.

Les Brown, 78, a former RAF pilot who served in Egypt during the second world war, said: "We got so fed up with these little toerags, some of us decided to stop them. The Great Escape music came on and I looked round and caught glimpses of other people obviously thinking the same as me. We stood up and kissed our wives and marched towards them. It felt like I was back in the war, coming up against a fierce foe.

"But we were a determined lot. We might be old, but these youngsters didn't stand a chance in hell. I've never seen a group of young men look so scared as when we started advancing."
The showdown flared in Weston-super-Mare, Somerset, on Sunday, as the yobs - aged between 18 and 25 - spilled out of pubs after the World Cup.

They descended on Grove Park, carrying crates of beer and began playing football close to the bandstand where the Redland Wind Band was entertaining around 300 people. It continued to play - until a ball was launched at the conductor, who halted the performance.
The band provided a suitably stirring tune as the pensioners, some with sticks, others on Zimmer frames, advanced on the 30-odd youngsters shouting: "Forward!" and "Away with you!" To the surprise of some, they obeyed.

John Horler, 60, who runs the cafe in the park, said: "Suddenly, about 20 of us, mostly aged 60 or 70, got up from our chairs and advanced. It was amazing - totally spontaneous - and the kids could see we meant business. It was like a scene out of Dad's Army. Maybe it was the Dunkirk spirit that spurred us all on."

Marvellous stuff!

Running

I am currently working on a piece about running & writing, how I feel the two counteract and complement one a another, how they're both hard as hell to get started at but better than almost anything else once you're in the flow.

In the meantime I recommend that you check out this excellent post, which replicates my thoughts on running almost exactly:

Hello, It's Me.: Running vs. Cycling

"I like running because it is simple and, on a good day, can free me like nothing else. Running is just about me and the machine that is my body. Although I have managed to spend a lot of money on running-related gear over the years, the only thing that is really necessary is a good pair of shoes. Well, and a good sports bra. But that's really it. [.....]

I guess I must have a bit of masochist in me too because I also really like the aspect of running that forces me to summon up from deep within the vast amounts of sheer will that are required to keep my body going even as my mind does everything in its power to convince me that I can't. It's like a battle within myself and some days it's hard to predict the outcome. But every finish feels like a victory - whether it's a race or a tough hill workout or a recovery run with Otis.

Hell, just lacing up my shoes feels like an accomplishment some days. And I'll take it. I also respect running because it's tough. And there's no cheating or in-between. You can't coast or glide to recover - you're either running or you're not. And the difference between the two is all up to me. I like that. Even though sometimes I hate it."

And this is another great post from the same blogger, again about running.


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Honorary degrees for media names. This infuriates me, it really does. Even as a twenty-one year old graduee, sitting in the convocation hall in July, hungover and dangerously over-heating in that stupid cloak & mortar board, I remember feeling a sense of complete coutrage when they wheeled some journalist I'd never heard of onto the stage, waxed lyrical about him for twenty minutes then accorded him the exact same honours as those of us who had worked for our degrees. These days I am even more irate about it: I am currently working full-time (9-5- monday to friday) and STUDYING FOR MY SECONG DEGREE IN THE EVENINGS AND AT WEEKENDS. Add to that the other stuff which is either essential (supermarket shopping, cooking, cleaning, eating, showering, paying bills, etc etc) and the self-indulgent luxury stuff (running, writing, socialising once in a blue moon, sleeping) and I am generally to be found in such a state of exhaustion that I could cry. Silly me ~ instead I should be poncing around in a wanky car a la Clarkson & wait for a degree to fall into my lap.

"Celebrating the award with [Billy Connolly] in 2001 was his wife Pamela Stephenson, who five years earlier had completed six years' study for a PhD in clinical psychology at the California Graduate Institute. In the light of Connolly's honorary degree, one really wonders why she bothered." Indeed.

Jellyfish & Labyrinth

(Sounds like a pub, that does ~ "The Jellyfish & Labyrinth" )



"In a Related Story, Keira Knightley Spotted Scouring the Beach for Buried Treasure

Guy: My gawd, what is that?
Chick: What?
Guy: This thing here. Medical waste is washing up on the shore.
Chick: What are you talking about?
Guy: Right there. It's a breast implant.
Chick: It's a jellyfish, you ninny.
Guy: I wondered why there were so many.

--Jersey shore

via Overheard in New York, Jun 26, 2006


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I am reading, and absolutely loving, Labyrinth by Kate Mosse (no, not the coke- snorting coat-hanger with the inexplicable predeliction for skanky smack-heads and curiously 24-7 child-care arrangements, thankfully. After Naomi Campbell's Swan I think we can do without anymore model-author-whatever reinventions. Although "Naomi Campbell's Anger Management Handbook" might be a seller....). Anyway, back to the book ~ it's fantastic ~ beautifully written, impeccably researched (I assume ~ I'm not so hot on the history of 13th Century France that I'd spot any glaring errors) and it's a riveting, undulating, kick-ass "girls can be Indiana Jones, too" thrilling read. I've got about 250 pages to go (it's a doorstep!)and I'm already getting sad that I'll be finished soon.

Incidentally, anyone know how to get into www.mosselabyrinth.co.uk? It's very frustrating!

I'm with the band?

Hello, you lovely helpful people,

Can anyone suggest any novels based around the following areas, as I am having difficulty finding any!

~ the music scene of the sixties e.g. swinging London, the Merseybeat scene, anywhere else.....
~ fictionalised rock / pop bands ~ preferably the sixites, but any other era / music genre also of interest.
~ any other fiction set in or around the music industry.

Alternately, does anyone have any annecdotes about the music scene of the 1960's (1963-1967 ish) that they would be willing to share? Privately and anonymously if required....

Many thanks in advance, rock on!
Kate

By Gum!

Last night I saw the single most terrifying TV advert of my life.

No, not the one with the "juddery man", or the scary BBC digital heads, or the drink-driving ones. This was an advert for anti-ageing toothpaste. Yes, indeed. Some glossy-maned "mature" lady (i.e. over 25, but probably under 40, this is TV land after all) snips how she doesn't mind the odd wrinkle or grey hair (she is, ironically, botoxed up the the hairline of her expensively highlighted Jemima Khan 'do) but when her gums started to age, well stone the crows but that was a stage too far!

Luckily some science boffins have had the foresight to invent anti-ageing toothpaste, which improves gum health by a wholly unquantifiable (here comes the science bit) "73%". 73% of what, exactly? And can we expect that soon cosmetic dentists will come forward with a further six symptoms of haggard gums, seeing as how there are a whole seven signs of ageing skin (cheers Mr Olay) and seven unsightly signs of unhealthy hair (kudos, Pantene)?

Which part of our rapidly decaying selves will be next to be hauled under the microscope for intense scrutiny and declared unfit for public view due to its failure to defy the laws of phsyics and temporal progression? Don't know about anyone else, but my inner ear canal is nowhere near as pink and perky as it was when I was 21. Gap in the market, eh?

Self portrait....

Paul Daniel's blog!

Just discovered this, and it's MAGIC (groan)...no, really, its mundanely compulsive. His account of trying to locate a candle in a powercut (Debbie was in Bristol) is epic!

You'll like it, not a lo.... (ok, I'll stop now)

Yes, I have indeed been useless at blogging of late ~ combination of things have conspired to weigh me down: essay due for the psych degree I'm studying (amost finished!), gathering careers advice for self-same impending graduation (any suggestions for job ideas for a struggling novice writer with a BA in English Lit & a BSC in psychology?! Clinical psych is the way I want to go but the training is long & poorly paid ~ although you do hit big buckeroos when you qualify.....eventually), trying to get some research done for the work-in-progress, trying to get a mozart based short story finished for a comp with a looming deadline, trying to get the planting doen in the graden that technically should have been done last month (err, whoops), training for the charity runs I've got coming up.....

....not forgetting the day job....and the family brithdays, and the cooking, cleaning, shopping, laundry, sleeping.... and (drum roll, please) rehearsing the play I'm in which goes on in about 3 1/2 weeks. I am venturing back onto the stage after two years absense due to work commitments, and whilst i am absolutely loving being back onstage (and in such a lovel cast, well written play, great directors, ace part (playing my actual age for once!) it is time consuming & i fear that this time I really have taken on too much. This might be me heading for serious exhaustion.

All of this might explain why i seeming to be edging back into the "dark place", where I haven't been for years....I am hoping this is purely circumstantial, and not a recurrence of the full-blown, debilitating depression I have suffered from in the past. Fingers crossed. Everything should have calmed down considerably in about 5 weeks time, so I'll see what happens then. In the meantime I've bought a couple of cd's of Buddhist chants, and plan to lie in a darkened room listening to them to see if that soothes me. And i've given up alcohol for the time being as i don't think hangovers help the general mind-set much.....

Speaking of depression, I hope that poor Katie Holmes doesn't suffer from it post-natally. Tiny Tom is hardly likely to provide a sympathetic shoulder to cry on, eh?


**********

As I am SO far out of the acting loop I bought myself this ~ apparently she teaches a lot of big names (although she's hardly going to put "Acting coach to the terminally unsuccessful" on the book-jacket, I suppose!) Can't tell if its helping the acting yet, but it has yielded some ideas for characterisation & scene structure which i am feeding into my writing, with pleasing results.

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(p)Rose by any other name....

This is a very entertaining article, about pseudoymns & the whys and wherefores of adopting one. I am currently writing under a pseudonym, mainly because I am fearful of being Googled by those who know me & being found wanting before I've had the opportunity to "prove" myself or test my work, but it is interesting to see the reasons why others adopt them. Some because they are (and this brings a tear to my eye!) TOO prolific. Others opt for an assumed name to disguise the fact that they are writing outside their "genre", or to prevent alienation of their readership, as in the case of the male authors of romance fiction ~ puts pay to the myth that there's such a thing as "chick lit", which I've always found to be an extremely pejorative dismissal of female authors, borne of the snobbery which decrees you are not a valid "artist" if you are making a living at it, rather than starving in a garrett with an opium addiction. Yes, a lot of so called "chick lit" is tosh of the highest order, but how come there's no equally dismissive blanketing of the testosterone-pumped likes of Tom Clancy as "dick lit" ?

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Mumsnet does exactly what it says on the tin. I stumbled upon this little gem whilst googling for roast chicken recipes (and have finally plumped for this amazing dish from Nigella) and am hooked by the banality of it all. Clearly someone thinks it's quicker to post a message asking "Sausage Casserole - what do I need?" (err, give us a minute, love, errr, you need err, .....err....nope, it's gone) than to simply google "sausage casserole" in the first place. And frankly I can't believe that no-one has previously addressed the burning issue of "Dirty nappies - should libraries deal with them?" (this is Discussion of the Day, no less). It seems that your brain really does drop out with the afterbirth ~ which is great news cos I'm planning to have a one of those things next year some time, after which I am really rather looking forward to a phase of blissed-out mummyness.

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New series of Green Wing tonight ~ can't wait! Mmmmmm, hello, Dr McCartney.......

Shortlisted.....?!

BookAngst 101: Misadventures in (Mis)representation: "PLATE OF SHRIMP [Courtesy Alex Cox’s REPO MAN, circa 1984]

'A lot of people don't realize what's really going on. They view life as a bunch of unconnected incidences and things. They don't realize that there's this like lattice of coincidence that lays on top of everything. I'll give you an example, show you what I mean. Suppose you're thinking about a plate of shrimp. Suddenly somebody will say like 'plate' or 'shrimp' or 'plate of shrimp' out of the blue, no explanation. No point in looking for one either. It's all part of a cosmic unconsciousness.' "



I arrived home from work on Thursday evening to find an answering machine message from the deputy editor of Writer's Forum, tantalisingly advising me that it was with regard to a short story I had submitted to their January competition. I rang back immediately, but sadly I was too late as they had left for the day. How ansty do you think i was for the remainder of that evening?! Thing was, I myself had pretty much fallen out of love with that particular story: I had written it a considerable time beforehand, and had really only submitted it as the entry fee included a critique and I am actively garnering feedback at the moment in order to sharpen my skills. Maybe the call was of the "tough love" variety, advising me that my writing was so dreadful I should be better employed pursuing definate proof of the existence of Nessie? (Seriously, a part of me really believed that they were going to tell me off for insulting them with such rubbish! Boyfriend eventually talked some sense into me about this, but even so, I didn't dare let myself get too excited, or even begin to imagine what the outcome might be).

And so, after a strange night of forgetting about it totally for, ooh at least five minutes at a time, before remembering with a sudden jolt of fizziness, I spoke to the lovely deputy editor on Firday morning (pacing up and down the hall, thinking, is 3 minutes past nine too soon to ring? Is four minutes past nine to soon to ring? I held out, miraculously, until 7 whole minutes past nine.) And the good news is that I have been shortlisted as a competition winner, potentially in the May issue. The bad news is that i have to compose a 50 word biog and send a photo in too ~ writing about yourself in the third person, and then selecting a photo of yourself which conveys the requisite balance of approachability, intellectualism, youth and authorly promise is quite an uncomfortable process.

Admittedly, whilst i am absolutely I am thrilled to ribbons about this, I am also feeling vaguely lost ~ at New Year I set myself a writing goal to have two pieces selected for publication or placed in a competition. I have now fulfilled this, and it is not even the end of March, so whilst I am really pleaseed with the acheivements I need to devise some new (attainable) goals in order to keep the momentum up. This is proving very helpful, especially as I have just embarked upon my first novel, which has recently changed subject matter as my original idea didn't really have a plot (a minor shortcoming for a novel?!) whereas an idea I had planned to work on several years ago resurfaced from the murky depths of my subconscious and is, if I do say so myself, an absolute cracker.

Ghosts in the Machine

This is a fascinating article from this week's Observer. I find it enough of a challenge to write my own imaginings in my own authentic voice. How difficult it must be to be the voicebox of someone else (someone you may, indeed, be struggling to like or tolerate *cough* Katie Price * cough*).

It seems a strange process, and one that reduces the writing experience to a mere financial transaction. Now I am not one of these people who believes that the only legitimate route to artistry is the "starving in a garrett" paradigm, but the ghostwriting relationship seems almost prostitutive: taking the money & going through the motions, although your heart lies elsewhere, and your "partner" gets all the bliss. Where is the creative element? Or does the creative element lie in making a string of garbled and inane reminisences into something vaguely readable, whilst simultaneously buffing the rough edges off a "personality" that may be partially formed, if not deformed? Does the ghost simply lie back, grit their teeth, hitch up their skirt and think of the artistic freedom they are buying themselves with this little pocket of financial security.

Also, Wayne Rooney getting £5million for his "autobiography"?! Wrong in more ways than I care to waste time enumerating. Although I suppose his spluttering incoherency when he gets to relating the details for the "caught shagging an OAP in a brothel" chapter might be worth a peek, if only for the schadenfreude of it all (look it up, Wayne).

This week I have been.....

Wow, I have been terribly remiss with my blogging of late! Inexcusable I know, but I have had a very busy time recently, gorging myself on the cultural smorgasbord that is the following:

1) Went to see Walk the Line. If you haven't seen it yet, then why not?! Phoenix was good, but bless the poor guy, however hard he tried he was always going to be eclipsed by the truly luminous Reese Witherspoon; she was breath-taking in both the quality of her acting & her beauty. I generally think that the Oscars are a load of self-aggrandizing artificial Hollywood onanism, but her award was most definately deserved. I was a little disappointed in the portrayal of Vivian, Cash's first wife, as it seemed very slightly sketched, a little 2-dimensional, but I suppose the focus was the love story between June & Johnny, so she became little more than a plot device. It made me slightly uncomfortable though, given that her children are still alive. How would I feel watching a cinematised version of my father cheating on my mother? Uncomfortable stuff.

2) And I also went to see this. Now I can take or leave the Boosh ~ if I'm in the room I'll watch it, and I'll chuckle, but I won't make a detour for it. But I purchased the tickets as a gift for my boyfriend, who is a big fan, and I have to say that I enjoyed it about twenty times more than I expected to (although I worry that I didn't quite always get it all, not being sufficiently well-versed in the whole Boosh mythology). I was really smitten with the "parallel universiness" of it all, as I myself am still looking for that gateway to another world, in the backs of wardrobes, through a looking glass, at the top of a magical tree. I know there's a doorway somewhere.....
However I was slightly perturbed by the VAST amount of saddoes who turned up dressed as Vince Noir. Sad, sad, sad. I'm sure that they think they are achingly hip and individual, but here's a clue guys: when there's one hundred and fifty other people in the same building dressed the same, you're pretty much kissing the arse of conformity. Grow a personality. And some better hair.

3) And watched Team America last night, which was very very funny, if a little juvenile at times. If you haven't seen it, then you need to see it, if only for the "Montage" montage....

4) And I received back my first assignment for this course, for which i scored a personal best of 90%! I feel extremely boffinesque!

5) And I've been looking at this writing site a lot, which is very interesting, informative and inspiring: Jacqui Lofthouse ~ writing coach.


6) And trying to get a bit more creative here.

Phew!

Word Cloud

With thanks to classicrockchick (http://classicrockchick.blog.co.uk/) for the link: http://www.snapshirts.com/custom.php

Elmore Leonard’s Ten Rules of Writing

That crazy goat, Synchronicity, is in my face again, as every time I turn around I stumble across the following writing advice. This suggests two things to me:
1) I am being prompted, none too subtley, to take the advice therein to heart
2) I have a duty to help perpetuate it in winging its way around the net assisting other similarly scratty, clueless authors

And so on that note I give you

Elmore Leonard's Ten Rules of Writing (read it, love it, live it)


Easy on the Adverbs, Exclamation Points and Especially Hooptedoodle
from the New York Times, Writers on Writing Series.

Being a good author is a disappearing act. By ELMORE LEONARD

These are rules I've picked up along the way to help me remain invisible when I'm writing a book, to help me show rather than tell what's taking place in the story. If you have a facility for language and imagery and the sound of your voice pleases you, invisibility is not what you are after, and you can skip the rules. Still, you might look them over.

1. Never open a book with weather.
If it's only to create atmosphere, and not a character's reaction to the weather, you don't want to go on too long. The reader is apt to leaf ahead looking for people. There are exceptions. If you happen to be Barry Lopez, who has more ways to describe ice and snow than an Eskimo, you can do all the weather reporting you want.

2. Avoid prologues.
They can be annoying, especially a prologue following an introduction that comes after a foreword. But these are ordinarily found in nonfiction. A prologue in a novel is backstory, and you can drop it in anywhere you want.
There is a prologue in John Steinbeck's "Sweet Thursday", but it's O.K. because a character in the book makes the point of what my rules are all about. He says: "I like a lot of talk in a book and I don't like to have nobody tell me what the guy that's talking looks like. I want to figure out what he looks like from the way he talks. . . . figure out what the guy's thinking from what he says. I like some description but not too much of that. . . . Sometimes I want a book to break loose with a bunch of hooptedoodle. . . . Spin up some pretty words maybe or sing a little song with language. That's nice. But I wish it was set aside so I don't have to read it. I don't want hooptedoodle to get mixed up with the story."

3. Never use a verb other than "said" to carry dialogue.
The line of dialogue belongs to the character; the verb is the writer sticking his nose in. But said is far less intrusive than grumbled, gasped, cautioned, lied. I once noticed Mary McCarthy ending a line of dialogue with "she asseverated", and had to stop reading to get the dictionary.

4. Never use an adverb to modify the verb "said" . . .
. . . he admonished gravely. To use an adverb this way (or almost any way) is a mortal sin. The writer is now exposing himself in earnest, using a word that distracts and can interrupt the rhythm of the exchange. I have a character in one of my books tell how she used to write historical romances "full of rape and adverbs".

5. Keep your exclamation points under control.
You are allowed no more than two or three per 100,000 words of prose. If you have the knack of playing with exclaimers the way Tom Wolfe does, you can throw them in by the handful.

6. Never use the words "suddenly" or "all hell broke loose".
This rule doesn't require an explanation. I have noticed that writers who use "suddenly" tend to exercise less control in the application of exclamation points.

7. Use regional dialect, patois, sparingly.
Once you start spelling words in dialogue phonetically and loading the page with apostrophes, you won't be able to stop. Notice the way Annie Proulx captures the flavor of Wyoming voices in her book of short stories "Close Range".

8. Avoid detailed descriptions of characters.
Which Steinbeck covered. In Ernest Hemingway's "Hills Like White Elephants" what do the "American and the girl with him" look like? "She had taken off her hat and put it on the table". That's the only reference to a physical description in the story, and yet we see the couple and know them by their tones of voice, with not one adverb in sight.

9. Don't go into great detail describing places and things.
Unless you're Margaret Atwood and can paint scenes with language or write landscapes in the style of Jim Harrison. But even if you're good at it, you don't want descriptions that bring the action, the flow of the story, to a standstill.

And finally:

10. Try to leave out the part that readers tend to skip.
A rule that came to mind in 1983. Think of what you skip reading a novel: thick paragraphs of prose you can see have too many words in them. What the writer is doing, he's writing, perpetrating hooptedoodle, perhaps taking another shot at the weather, or has gone into the character's head, and the reader either knows what the guy's thinking or doesn't care. I'll bet you don't skip dialogue.

My most important rule is one that sums up the 10:
If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it.

Or, if proper usage gets in the way, it may have to go. I can't allow what we learned in English composition to disrupt the sound and rhythm of the narrative. It's my attempt to remain invisible, not distract the reader from the story with obvious writing. (Joseph Conrad said something about words getting in the way of what you want to say.)

If I write in scenes and always from the point of view of a particular character - the one whose view best brings the scene to life - I'm able to concentrate on the voices of the characters telling you who they are and how they feel about what they see and what's going on, and I'm nowhere in sight.

What Steinbeck did in “Sweet Thursday” was title his chapters as an indication, though obscure, of what they cover. “Whom the Gods Love They Drive Nuts” is one, “Lousy Wednesday” another. The third chapter is titled “Hooptedoodle 1” and the 38th chapter “Hooptedoodle 2” as warnings to the reader, as if Steinbeck is saying: “Here’s where you’ll see me taking flights of fancy with my writing, and it won’t get in the way of the story. Skip them if you want.”
“Sweet Thursday” came out in 1954, when I was just beginning to be published, and I’ve never forgotten that prologue.

Did I read the hooptedoodle chapters? Every word.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

So, hands up who breaks at least five or more of those rules on a regular basis? 3, 4, 8 & 9 are my sticky points. Must try harder, as was never written on my school report as i was a swotty geek.


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I have started my first novel. Writing one, that is, not reading one. For a long time I claimed my chosen genres as plays and short stories. That's because I genuinely did not think I had the ability to write a novel. And then one day last week it struck me that not only do I potentially have the ability (although I'll be the first to admit that there is a hell of a lot about the craft that i need to learn) , but I possibly have more ability than some of the people who have inflicted their tripey writing on the masses. However, as with all good theories it can only be proven once rigourously tested , and so I put my fingers to the keyboard and got started. I am very very excited about it, although I really don't have a plan as such ~ I do have a lot of interesting ideas and thoughts which seem to have a commmon thread running through them, and although I don't quite know exactly how (or indeed if) they will all link up. but I feel inspired and motivated, and I'm hoping to surf on this crest for long enough to get enough words down to make make it a viable pursuit. Wish me luck, i'll post regular progress updates.

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This has made my day! I spent much of my adolescence dressed as Betty Boo, and am thrilled to see her making a comeback. Bit disconcerting that she spent her wilderness years writing for the Tweenies, though....Am also slightly surprised to discover, whilst googling for images of the Boo-tastic one, quite how many people have named their pets "Betty Boo".

Ivor Cutler

Hard on the heels of the sad passing of Linda Smith, I noticed this in the Guardian today: http://arts.guardian.co.uk/news/obituary/0,,1725309,00.html

I was only recently introduced to Ivor's work by my partner; a genuine one-off, his work was was surreal, humourous, disturbing and magical.

How sad that we have lost yet another of our authentic & original voices. The front line against the reality TV army of clones is diminishing rapidly.....



Ivor Cutler
January 15 1923 – March 3 2006

" Poet, singer, writer, composer, humourist and painter, Mr Cutler, as he liked to be known by those he didn't know him well, touched and changed the lives of many people and elicited great affection from his audiences and pupils. He will be remembered with great fondness."

(Biography by Martin Pople at Serious)

Linda Smith

Just a brief post to express my sadness at the passing of comedian Linda Smith, who died of cancer on Monday at the age of 48.

Whenever I happened to catch her on radio or TV I would vow to seek her out more often (which, regrettably, I rarely got around to), as she was never less than elegantly sharp, observant and amusing.

A favourite quote, with apologies for the paraphrasing as this is from memory:

(Speaking about Jeffrey Archer) " I am loathe to grant him the oxygen of publicity. I'm not that keen on him having the oxygen of oxygen".

A sad loss indeed.

One small step.....

Yesterday I received an email stating the following:

"I'm pleased to inform you that a poem you entered in firstwriter.com's Fourth International Poetry Competition has been selected as one of ten Special Commendations. You can see the winners and a list of the Special Commendations (including your selected poem) at http://www.firstwriter.com/competitions
/poetry_competition/previous_winners/4thpoetry.shtml.

Your poem will be published in a future issue of firstwriter.magazine. At that time, you will receive a firstwriter.com voucher worth £20 / $30."


This is my first real success, and I'm not sure how to react to it. I can't quite shake the feeling that there may only have been 13 entries to the competition in total, and I came 13th! But it looks like things are on an upward swing, and I'm feeling very excited, positive and motivated. I am starting to believe that I can actually do this....

(PS: I write under a pseudonym, so you won't recognise my name on the list of commendations. I'm so very very shy, you see......)

I have just discovered, and am now hooked on, this website, by author Kate Harrison (gotta love a woman called Kate!). It was recommended in an article in Mslexia magazine (a source of invaluable information to me) in an article on blogging which appeared just about the time I was setting up my blog. This is one of the things I love about writing and creative processes, the synchronicity that pops up out of nowhere and convinces you that you're on the right creative path. There's been a tonne of these recently, and yes I am digressing, but its all very circular, so I'll end up back where I started by the end of this post...

...Anyway, I happened upon the Mslexia blogging article in synchrony with my decision to start blogging as a route to developing a degree of writing rigidity, and since I've started my blog I've been looking at other to see what sort of things other people are doing. Now, I compulsively check Stephanie Klein's blog (Greek Tragedy) , partly because she's become one of the most successful bloggers, with a huge following and a book deal in the bag, but partly also because I am intrigued by the emotional nudity of it. I know it's probably a transatlantic culture gap, but I am sometimes surprised that someone would lay themselves so publicly bare. Sometimes I have to look away. But that's by the by. I noted recently that Stephanie was writing about the many unfinished creative projects she has started, and moves on to say that "I have more books on how to write than books written by actual proper authors. Though this has changed lately. I read more now, not about writing, but actual writing." (http://stephanieklein.blogs.com/greek_tragedy/2006/02/obsession.html). That stopped me dead in my tracks. Read it again: she has MORE books about writing than not about writing!

Then I started to think about how many books I own about writing. At a rough estimate I'd say I have about 20 of them. I have never finished a single one of them, and a fair few of them have never been opened. So why do I keep buying them? I buy them because I remain convinced that somewhere, in one of these books lies the Holy Grail of authorly success, the secret that will catalyse the creation of my magnum opus and catapult me into the literary stratosphere. Obviously as I never read past page 12 of these books this secret will need to be absorbable via a process of osmosis, but my faith in finding this sneaky little short cut has soldiered on unabated. Clearly all published and successful writers have unpicked the lock and gorged themselves on this feast of a secret [mixing my metaphors much?!], and they are jealously guarding it from us "little people".

Since I caught the blogging bug I have been obsessively reading other writer's blogs, thinking this may be an alternative route route to unearthing the big, bad writing secret. So I was relieved to read that Kate Harrison also "spent almost as much time surfing the web reading other authors’ success stories, as I did writing the book. It was an addiction – I felt that it might somehow show me some secret strategy to find an agent and a publisher!" http://www.kate-harrison.com/

And actually, I have discovered the secret to writing success.

But, before I let you in on this tricky little enigma, can i just get you to think of those magazine headlines that scream out dirty promises such as "Weight loss secrets of the stars", "Revealed: the new diet that REALLY works", "Get into that dress! Fool proof slimming tips that blah blah blah blah!"? So you buy the magazine, rush home and tear it open and find that..... that it's your old friend, the "eat less, exercise more" equation? Well, the reason for that is that using up more calories than you take in is the only realistic way to lose weight. sad but true.

Ah yes, the writing secret. It goes like this (drum roll, please):

Write, read, edit. Repeat as necessary.

That's it. Get words onto the page. WRITE! You will never be a writer if you do not write. For what would they publish? Your grocery list? Write! It will be crap to start with. All first drafts are. And that's OK because no-one need ever see it. It is difficult, and embarrassing, but writing is words on a page and they ain't going to get there by themselves.

Lesson over. Now go and do something to make yourself proud.

Writer's blog

When I started blogging I had no real idea how to go about it. What would I write? Would people read it? How would I know if people read it? If no-one read it what was the point ~ vanity? fear of mortality? arrogance? If I did get any readers, would they be perturbed by the amount of rhetorical questions I posed? What would they do if they were perturbed? How would I know? Did it matter?

So, one day, after several months of skating around and rejecting the blog idea every time it tapped me on the shoulder and cleared its throat, I was struck with the idea of creating a hook to hang my blogging hat on. Rather than regale what could eventually become literally tens of people with details of my relationship woes, friendships dilemmas, & choices of lunch-time sandwich, I would tickle two birds with one feather and make my bog the story of my journey towards becoming a writer. This was quite the most original concept ever, an idea so damned spanking it had its own card in a SoHo phone booth ("do you like blogging? Attractive slim blog will do EVERYTHING and MORE! Reasonable rates, ring this number and prepare to be blogged every which way!"). It was a win-win-win situation: I would be incentivised to write regularly, what with the bells and whistles of flashy-splashy HTML being so much more enticing than my boring old journal and fountain pen. It's one of the few solitary pleasures that can be indulged at at work, without anyone knowing (list of others available on request...). I'd slowly but surely build up a steady fanbase, helpless to resist the satiny-like smoothness of my prose, my cap-askance quirky outlook and heeeelarious observations on the inconguity that is the monde du jour. And from there it would just be a hop, skip and a jump to the kind of publishing deal that would leave future generations asking "Stephanie Klein, who she?!"

It all seemed so darned easy, easy i tells ya.....

......and then I discovered that Richard Herring had had had the nerve to nick my idea before I had even bloody well thought of it.....

ah well, read his blog here:
http://www.richardherring.com/warmingup/

It's good.

And she's hooked to the silver screen

Life on Mars (?)

I'll admit it. I am totally obsessed with this show (BBC 1, Mondays at 9pm, but hurry cos there's only two more epiosdes to go!)

For those people who are, quite literally, Martians, it goes something like this: 2006 copper gets hit by a car & finds him self knocked slap-bang into the middle of 1973, nylon shirt and all. He is simultaneously existing in a coma in 2006, and is therefore kept pretty damned busy negotiating the minefield of questionable ethics and rule bending of the Manchester Met of thirty odd years ago, answering phone calls from 2006 via unplugged phones, fending off the (frankly terrifying and satanic) test card girl who seems hell-bent on talking him into death whenever he falls asleep (just as soon as she's shafted that pesky clown by blocking his third nought on the diagonal) and contemplating showing his night-stick to the comely WPC Annie. Golly.

And as if all that weren't enough, there's the curiously monikered, beer-swilling, bird-leering, suspect-bashing DCI Gene Hunt, a prehistoric behemoth in bell bottoms & y-fronts who is to forensic science what I am to, err, forensic science. (I secretly think he's Sam's dad, but that's another story). Oh, and is it very very wrong that I actually find him far more attractive than the rather anodyne, by-the-book, green tea drinking (probably) Sam? I swear I can smell the Brut.....

How do I love thee, Life on Mars; let me count the ways: I love the writing (funny, accurate, sharp, suspenseful), the characterisation, the acting, the narrative, i love 1973 (the year I was born, which means that sadly whilst Sam may wander past a boyhood version of himself I'll never be spotted moseying past in my pram, as the time frame apears to be in the early half of the year, if references to the Grand National & the Manchester Derby are flagging realtime, so I am not yet born. And didn't ever live in Manchester. Hey ho...). Most of all I love the music. 1973 saw two of my favourite albums from a favoured artist (David Bowie: Aladdin Sane, featuring the song that changed my life, The Jean Genie, & Hunky Dory, the latter bearing the title track of the show) , and each episode sports a tie-dyed rainbow of rockign tunes by the lies of The Who, Thin Lizzy, Roxy Music, Cream. Ooh, and the trailer! Immigrant Song by the Zep, never the wrong choice!

Well done, Auntie Beeb, with Life on Mars and Doctor Who you are truly spoiling us with delectable TV drama. Now if only we could find a way for Sam to bump into the Doctor, eh?

Blockbuster indeed.

talk to the hand....

Overheard in New York

(www.overheardinnewyork.com)

I cannot recommend this website highly enough (along with its sister site Overheard in the Office). Since I first stumbled upon this a year or so ago I have read it with zeal. Maybe its because I, like so many of my peers, have been brought up to believe that there is nothing hipperthan a Noo Yawk ‘tude, but the reported snatches of conversation are by turns funny (intentionally or otherwise), frightening, surreal, enlightening and curious. One side-effect of the writerly affliction is a tendency to eavesdrop on others: it helps tune the ear to the cadences and incongruity of naturally occurring conversation, gives you an insight into the banal and bizarre happenings of individuals lives, and may just unearth that anecdote which sparks or redirects your next narrative.

A few of my favourites, all credits to Overheard in New York (www.overheardinnewyork.com):

November 05, 2004
Sadly, This Isn't Fiction Either

Woman: Do you have a non-fiction section?

Book guy: Well, everything that's not fiction is non-fiction. [Over] there's cooking, and there's history.

Woman: No, that's not what I asked. Do you have a section for non-fiction?

Book guy: Well, there are no non-fiction novels. Everything here that's not a novel is non-fiction.

Woman: But you don't have a non-fiction section?

Book guy: No. Everything that isn't fiction is non-fiction.

Barnes & Noble, Staten Island

Overheard by: Dr. Ballon

July 14, 2005
Pissed Off v. Pissed On (Worst Aesop's Fable Ever)

A handicapped client has had to be restrained for assaulting a staff.
Co-worker #1: Your behaviour was completely out of line. You hit me, tried to bite me and pissed all over my leg. How would you like it if I pissed on you if I was angry at you?

Client: I wouldn't like it.

Co-worker #1: Hey [Jake], when you are angry at your girlfriend, do you piss all over her and try to bite her?

Co-worker #2: No, I don't. We talk things out and listen to each other. Why did you piss on us during the restraint?

Client: You guys were not listening to me.

2a Ormonde Avenue, St. Catharines, Ontario, Canadia

July 06, 2005
Wednesday One-liners for the Kiddies

Girl: Mommy, what's the opposite of hair?

86th & Broadway
Overheard by: Stuart Weisberg


Boy: Mommy, how many hours are in a mile?

44th & 8th
Overheard by: BBW

May 07, 2005
Presenting Our Catch Phrase for the Day

Woman #1: Ah, look at those beautiful puppies.
Woman #2: Puppies are bullshit.
Bay Ridge

You make me feel like writing....

What's lovely is that I don't have to panic. Usually, on the verge of a No 1 record - which is what I think this is going to be - I'd have been a basket-case. I'd have been under sedation. But I'm 57. I've been there before. I'm really happy with my life: this is all a bonus anyway. You have to admire the Madonnas and the Eltons, who keep managing to make themselves popular, although I personally wouldn't want to go on a TV show with Eminem, or write a sex book, and I mean that in the nicest way. People like me and Cliff are patient and wait for the opportunities. I'm like a painter, who tries to amass a large amount of material, so when the retrospective is held, there's a lot of work there to be judged. Meanwhile, I enjoy a sort of freedom inside fame. I don't get spotted.

Leo Sayer, talking to Oliver Burkeman in The Guardian 8/2/06
http://www.guardian.co.uk/g2/story/0,,1704762,00.html .

This really cheered me up ~ I am inexplicably warmed to see Leo Sayer making a comeback. Not just because he's an all-singing, all-dancing, fun-sized pop minstrel, but because he has such a positive attitude, even after all those years without a great deal of commercial success. "I'm like a painter, who tries to amass a large amount of material, so when the retrospective is held, there's a lot of work there to be judged": he's playing the long game, focussing on the work and not the fame. That's one of the reasons I enjoyed reading this so much today ~ a reminder to me to focus on amassing a substantial body of quality work, rather than chasing that elusive publishing deal or competition win. Truth will out, and in the end work worthy of reconition will be recognised. And so says Leo. All together now:"You've got a cute way of talking..."

******************

Got some feedback on a piece I submitted to Jacqui Bennett Writers Bureau (http://www.jbwb.co.uk/ ~ recommended), and although I didn't make into the competition "mentionables" the critique I requested made interesting reading. I feel the ned to request critiques of this type as I am far too chicken to present my stuff to someone face to face (and far far too terrified to take the resultant criticism with a non-wobbling lip). It's a story I've been hawking around for a while (mainly because it's one of the few complete pieces I have!), and I have taken the comments on board, rewritten and tweaked where necessary and resubmitted it to a further competition. After that it will be time to put the old war-horse out to grass once and for all, but the lessons I am learning from the feedback is definately helping me to tone and tighten the unslightly bulges and flab.

On the plus side I was told that "Your story is written in a way that quickly draws the reader in to become involved [...]. That is important, for character-identification is such an important ingredient." However, "I did find [...] that several aspects are over-described and would benefit from some pruning." Me! Over-wordy! Fie on you!

Working lunch

Offices. We all know that what passes for coruscating badinage in the soul-sapping abyss of the average office bears little relation to anything that could realistically be termed "interesting conversation" in any other circumstances, but can anyone explain why the following must occur on a daily basis:

1) Someone answers the phone with "Good Afternoon" instead of "Good Morning", and is instantly met with a guffawing chorus of "I wish it was!".

2) You ask someone if they want a drink (of the tea/coffee variety) and are met with "Yeah, I'll have a gin & tonic ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha................." (particularly popular after 3:30pm on a Friday)

3) Drinking a glass of water evokes a chorus of "Oooooh! De-toxing are you?? Few too many last night, eh? Eh? De-toxing, eh?" Repeat to fade.....


And why is lunch ("is it almost time for lunch?", "what are you having for lunch?", "I don't know what I fancy for lunch", "maybe I'll work through lunch", etc, etc, etc) a source of perpetual fascination for all office hostages? Maybe it used to be the most exciting part of the working day, but with non-stop internet access feely available at your desk there's got to be something more to office life than egg savoury sandwiches?

Don't Dream it, be it"






I haven't written much so far this year. I spend a lot (and it is a lot!) of time thinking about how my life will be when, how I'll feel, how I'll live & what I'll write about when i am a writer, but for some reason my brain doesn't compute that being a writer is dependant on writing. If don't write ~ ever, anything! ~ then I am not a writer!
I am currently using a forward time-line hypnosis technique, which aims to plant images of yourself in your subconscious at various future points (1 month, 1 year, 3 years, and so on) doing what you desire and aspire to, the premise being that your subconscious cannot tell the difference between a real and an imagined event. So, if my sub-conscious is tricked into believing that I am a diligent and committed writer, well then that is what I'll end up being. Is it working yet? Well, I've only been at it 2 nights (and both times I think I fell asleep ~ or maybe i just "tranced out"?!) so it's too early to say, but hey, I'm here typing this, so looks like I am making some progress......

Hi,
After many years of prevarication I am now aiming to pursue my literary ambitions with serious dedication and application.
This diary is where I will chart my progress, recording my successes, rejections, triumphs and struggles.
Hope you enjoy it ~ all comments welcome!
Cheers,
Kate K