Today

I'm not sure what today will bring. I know I have to revise my beginning. And the Wizard Of Oz is on TCM at three. Hmmm. I'm going to do what I feel like doing, and see where it leads. I hope that it allows me to think freely and come up with whatever changes are necessary. Some of the writing is good - I won't discard everything. Maybe I won't discard most of it. I just don't know right now. Once I've read it over, I'm going to think, and to read my notes.
Not sure why I feel like this about chapter two. We'll see.

A walk in the park

The South Marine Park, to be more accurate. Sometimes I just have to go for a walk down the sea front, invariably wandering through the South Marine Park first, then along the pier for a while and back through the North Marine Park. As it was raining today, that's what I did. (I like to walk in the rain, as there's nobody else there.) While walking, I spoke to Noel the Ultimate Proofreader on the phone, and discussed a million things such as reading, writing, football, horse racing, my new job and fish and chips in Berwick. The fish and chip supper usually comes after a trip to Lindisfarne. We've decided that we must get to Lindisfarne soon, if only for the fish and chips.

I, personally, need to feel Lindisfarne's icy wind tearing at me before I begin writing again, blowing away the mental cobwebs inside my head. The chances are, though, that we won't go there for at least another month. I will have begun writing again long before then. Not that I ever stop writing - most of it swirls around inside my mind. Just the physical act of writing will begin again soon.

Noel asked me not to be too hard on myself. Ha! I wouldn't be me if I didn't blast myself about something. He's right, of course. Publish or be damned, that seems to be my motto. At the moment, I'm damned. I love the story I'm currently writing. So maybe I shouldn't feel damned at all. I'm fortunate. No doubt about it. My fear is that it never sees the light of day. I will write it all, eventually. One day, the first book will be finished. I know how the story ends, so my writing will be geared to reaching that conclusion. The ending of book one has unanswered questions which lead into book two. Book three is there. I've almost got it.

Soon!

The Art of Zen Buddhism

Now and again I find myself watching a gardening programme. Half-watching, mostly, as I'm not a gardener, and I don't have a garden. Unless it's Monty Don: the David Attenborough of the gardening world. I'm not joking - this is a seriously dedicated and knowledgeable guy. I didn't take too much notice of him, at first, but he seemed to crop up everywhere, until eventually he grew on me. Some of the social projects he has been involved in deserve maximum respect. He comes across as an ok kind of guy. The real thing.
Last night, Monty was in Kyoto, looking at representations of Zen Buddhism in the garden. I know nothing about any of it, but I watched out of curiosity. The best bit was inside some kind of shed, where a stone nestled upon a gravel bed, with rings shaped into the gravel as if emanating from the centre of the stone - like a drop of water falling into water. Or maybe a stone falling into water. Apparently, and this may only have been Monty's interpretation, this piece of still life was meant to capture the idea that even the tiniest action brought about some kind of reaction.
This got me thinking. The idea is connected to movement: action and reaction. The piece of art was still life, in the sense that it just seemed to be a still life of itself, and not connected to movement. I know it's a matter of interpretation, but I found myself wondering why didn't they use water, with drops of water falling into it? Or stones falling into it. I've a feeling it would have been quite a soothing experience if water had been used - more musical, perhaps, and spiritually more quiet than the still life, if not more quiet physically. Reaction, to the action of sound and movement. Close your eyes and you can still picture it and hear it.
Nothing wrong about exploration, or discovery. Nothing at all. But when it falls as flat as that? Hmmm...

The Demon Drink!

Friday night was a good night. Not a great one - there weren't enough of us out to make it that - but I enjoyed it very much. Boy did I suffer for it on Saturday. This has been a bit of a lost weekend, with my mind drifting in and out of a million things. Maybe I needed it mentally, but physically I just can't take too much alcohol these days. And then there was the obligatory curry to follow! I must have drunk gallons of water between then and now.

Submission time awaits: having got the latest Writers' and Artists', I'm about to embark on a journey that might drive me to more of the Demon Drink. Only, I doubt I'd live long enough to see the end of the submission process.

Guess I should just stick to water, and fruit juice. A healthy attitude towards a potentially unhealthy situation!!

Oh, and I've stuck my pic up, having been asked a couple of times for it. Ah, the wonders of mobile phone technology. I'm not one for Facebook 'n' stuff, so it's on here instead.

Make mine a treble

Expectations, dreams, hopes - they can lift you up on some kind of high. And then, for whatever reason, it just doesn't happen. Things just don't work out. What then? What do you do? What on earth do you do?

I feel like that right now. I haven't even been rejected by anyone. I'm only at the beginning of the submission stage, yet it feels like I'm at the end of it.

Sometimes you look out of the window at night, at the lights and the darkness that is the sky, and you wonder if this is how your life will be defined. Ha! Here lies someone who tried!! Not: here lies someone who was successful, or here lies someone who did something worth remembering.

I really do believe I've written something I would've been happy to buy for myself. More than anything else I've written. Perhaps that's why I feel so grim about it all.

Tomorrow, I go to Newcastle - to buy some clothes, to buy MG's Invisible City, the Writers' and Artists' Yearbook, too, and to visit Noel the Ultimate Proofreader. Hoping my mood will have lifted by then.

Rejections are the most awful things: you have to send off to quite a few agents, so if you are rejected, it turns into some kind of snowstorm savage enough to cut you in two.

Ultimately, you do it to yourself; you only have yourself to blame, in the final analysis. Of course, we can all get published: we can either pay for it, or self-publish. But let's not go there. It's not an option - at least, it's not my option.

Snowstorms in February. In my head.

To the future...

Actually, it's the past that deserves a toast. I really can't remember how much work I've done in order to have come up with this story. I seem to have been working on it for at least a year, and it has probably been longer than that. I've no idea, either, whether it is any good, or publishable, or even readable, though I do have two opinions from Solvey and Noel the Ultimate Proofreader. They both give me hope!
I guess I probably haven't been working on it half as much as I should have done, nor put as much thought into it as I believe I have done. I've simply done what I've done, for better or for worse.
I remember describing my story in this blog as 'off the wall'. It still stands. Both Noel and solvey have the beginning of it. They may think so, themselves, but haven't said it. I have notes and further chapters. There is so much of it still to write.
But now is the time I have to seriously think of, and come up with, a synopsis and proposal. Then I have to find agents to throw them at!
I don't expect to be published; the chances are I'll just get rejection slips. I've actually had some good replies in the past with other works, but a no is a no, in reality. And if the reports of agent work-overload are true, then perhaps all I have to look forward to are rejection slips.
But off I go in search of an agent. It will be a lot more fun than I've painted in this post, just the fear-factor is kicking in.
Wish me luck!

The Man Who Fell To Earth

The scene in the above-named movie that struck me the most was where my superhero of all time, David Bowie, was sitting in front of a bank of TV screens, watching everything on all of the channels.
That's how I felt last night.
The thought had entered my head a few times, too. Blow me, but there it was: The Man Who Fell To Earth, on TV. Except, it was almost over. A good job, too - I had work to do!
Amazing, really, but evenings often see me with the TV on any one of a hundred channels, my laptop buzzing away in front of me, my notes on my latest work to hand, a few texts flying back and forth on my mobile, and thoughts of the future wandering through my head.
Last night was no exception to that, except that I was in the middle of a much-needed 'sort' of the beginning of my latest work. I knew I needed to be more clear in my mind as to what was going to happen next, so I set about writing some more notes as to the more immediate course of events. Time flew by, and I noticed The Red Carpet was on one of the channels, showing footage from the BAFTAs and the Grammys, and I watched some of it. At about 5 am, I called a halt to everything. I am a whole lot clearer as to the next chapters up until about chapter 12. I did get a feeling that things were happening too quickly in the story, and I had a feeling I wasn't leaving room for the flashbacks, and the introduction of certain people needed to be handled properly. But of course, these were notes, and the ideas held within them, once expanded, should cause the 'quickness' feeling to disappear. I'm writing more economically in this modern fantasy than I would in sword fantasy, so I must remember not to worry too much about things like that. I'm using a different style, after all.
5 am and I didn't feel at all tired. But I knew I'd better get some rest. You don't know when it's going to catch up with you. Or how.
I will write again tonight. It's fun, though full of uncertainty. Not uncertainty about the story - it is there in my notes, at the very least, and is also there in conversation, and the part that both Noel and Solvey have got. It's the uncertainty that I should do it justice that gets to me. It's not a short story (when I write down things I have yet to introduce it seems to stretch into infinity), and there is more than one book. I've been patient enough to allow it to evolve to this point. Impatience will see it fail.
If that happens, then I will fall to earth.

Errol Flynn

The name itself has a touch of class about it, a certain ring. Like Elvis Presley, Marilyn Monroe, for example.
I get to see Errol Flynn later today in The Sea Hawk. Such a fine actor, and I guess the ladies of his day flocked to the cinemas just to see him up there.
For me, Errol was the greatest of male Hollywood stars. Not many male leads could hope to follow such an act, though some have done so. If you have an actor in the mould of Errol Flynn, then you have a great one.

Munich Disaster Remembrance

I wasn't born when the plane crashed at Munich. My mother used to say that I was 'born with it', though. She was right.
Such a wonderful evening of remembrance for all who died, or were injured or affected by the disaster. Some of the things I saw or heard were very moving and I was glad I stumbled upon it on one of the channels. So I stayed there, entranced, watching it all. There was even a Caribbean-style song about Manchester United! A number one, if ever I've heard one.
A great night in front of the box. A great night. And a sad one, too. I'll not forget it.

The Fourth Protocol - ahem, sorry - Chapter...

I had already written up part of a scene, as I have done others. This one in particular, I believe, is part of the true fourth chapter and the movement into the main narrative of the tale. Which it was, originally - I just put in another chapter, which has now been placed further along the tale. What I have to do is match the beginning of the chapter with this part. I've typed them up, and now begins the task of weaving them into one. Lots of thinking. I have also written some other scenes and notes to go along with them, and after them, so I have plenty to work on right now. That is my immediate goal.
At some point soon, however, I'm going to have to work on the synopsis and proposal. I've studied these areas as much as anyone can, but I'm only moderate at them. One of those things, I suppose. Noel the Ultimate Proofreader and Solvey, no doubt, will come up with better than me there. Boy, I hope they do!!! Should be fun!

While the iron's hot...

I was logged in after talking to solvey (he of the maggot farm blog here), so I thought: 'Why not?'
Solvey has just revised the prologue and first three chapters of my latest work.
We had a great conversation, not just about that, but it revolved around it. What surprised me was how much we agreed on what was wrong: very little, in fact, in both our eyes and more or less the same points gave us problems. But only one or two points - a point of order concerning one sentence, and a dip in the narrative that could have been lifted by more of a show, and a bit less of the tell.
Of course, there may be more to come when solvey reads it over some more. But he liked it, and said so without any prompting - and the absence of any 'at first glance' crit-problems gives me great cause to hope I've got it right. First impressions are usually the best ones - solvey's more than most. He wasn't lead reviewer at litopia for nothing. A good first pass by solvey is as good as it gets.
I'm not out of the woods, though: Noel the Ultimate Proofreader has his copy, too.
Two reviews by two professionals. See, I do take advice: I'm not writing it on my own, after all!
Only a few chapters more and I'll be sending it off. Not quite the end of January, but setting deadlines is a must. I got this far doing it.
Another month should see at least two chapters. At that point we will talk about proposals - even if it's to say 'Not yet.'
But I do feel that I'm in there pitching for real now.

Blogged out!

Actually, I've blogged back in. And a belated Happy New Year to everyone.
I did believe for a while that I was heading in the right direction with my latest work. However, just as I was about to send work-in-progress copies to Noel The Ultimate Proofreader and to Solvey for their opinions, I realised that the direction I was taking was not the best way to go. Reintroducing someone from the prologue this early via the fourth chapter was actually going to detract from the reader's bonding with the hero of the tale. Three chapters with him was not enough, and I was shifting away from some expected, imminent action at too early a point. This is not a short story, and I shouldn't be making shortcuts to other people in the tale, however important they are to it.
The chapter I'd written feels good, and I will hopefully add more to it later, but it's too early to introduce it.
The hero's journey must take precedence for now.
And I feel better now, too.