King Street in South Shields this very night. It looks a lot more magical in real life than these mobile phone pics can portray, but I thought I'd post them anyway. When I saw this display, I immediately thought of someone from my new story who would have loved to have been with me, staring up at the lights. My problem, if I can call it that, is conveying scenes such as these, and also conveying properly the wonder felt by someone at the very moment she beholds them. Not during, not after, but at the very moment she would first see these lights. This is where my fantasy training would come in: I know I would have to believe it first before I could describe it. I would have to see it for myself. Then I must become the person I am portraying. The reader has to believe, too, that he/she is there, looking up at the lights. Wonder must be universal, it must be contagious, passing from the writer's vision, through the eyes of the person in the story and into the mind's eye of the reader.

Difficult.

But you have to believe you can do it. More than that: you have to know you can do it. This doesn't mean that you will never do it if you do not know if you can. It simply means that you must learn how to do it.

Practice and study.

Practice doesn't always make perfect. Nobody ever achieves perfection - not even me, your resident raving loony perfectionist! But practice helps you achieve a state of mind that allows you to write in a more lucid, more eloquent, way.

Studying your favourite writers always helps. Ask yourself how they would have done it. If they have done something similar, ask yourself how you yourself would have done it instead - what would you have done differently.

Then try it. And keep trying it until you believe you have done it the best way you can. Your only worry after that will be that it is good enough to get you published. Lol! That's worry enough! But at least you will have given yourself a better chance.

Postscript to 'Cold, is Wisdom'

I've mentioned writer forums a few times as I've gone along, and I did so again in a recent post. Seriously, these days an unpublished writer must expose their work to opinion, and writer forums are the best medium for doing this. It's pretty hair-raising having a bunch of guys you hardly know kicking seven bells out of your masterpiece, I can tell you. But you must do it, and you must give your opinion on the work of others. It helps enormously, and you won't regret it, I promise you.
In time, though, the novelty and hard work wears off and it wears you down. And no matter how good a writer you become, and no matter how good you are at critiquing the work of others, there is a limit. A shelf life applies - and it applies to everyone. You have to watch for this, be aware of this. Never let it go on too long. Your own writing must never suffer, which it will if you stay a part of forums for too long. All forums must recycle their writers and critiquers. If they don't, something is going wrong.
My time in forums was largely productive and happy, and I did get some lovely emails from people who believed they got published after taking on my advice. This was for short story work at Critters, as Critters is/was primarily a short story forum. I don't get emails any more from Bedtime-Story; it's a dead site, and I can't change my email address on the reader contact option. Jeez, I had some marvellous feedback over time, and one Italian guy thought my Christmas story was the 'bees kneeze' as he put it when his grandson had just been born and he was going to save it for when he was old enough to understand it - it still makes me smile to think of it. But it was all practice, and that is what you have to remember: it is all practice, real practice. At some point, you have to stop. I will never exchange my experiences for anything, and I've had some really rocky moments for sure. Forums will never hold the same attraction as they used to, but I'd advise any unpublished writer to find one and put themselves out. There are two such forums on my 'links' list - Critters and Litopia. Join them both. You won't regret it.

Great expectations (revisited...)

Hmmm. Every now and then I find myself reading Great Expectations. Dickens' greatest work, in my opinion. The amount of observation and human interaction within the tale is huge. Colossal. I do wonder if this is my prop for my latest work. It must be - I can't think of any reason for doing it.
Of course, I can't write in the same way - I'd be laughed at, for sure, as the moderness I'm trying to create would jar with the ancient-speak of Dickens' time. Funny, but I rarely think of Sword, now, where the ancient-speak, the cod-mediaeval language, was so apparent. I had thought of myself as the new Tolkien, but was writing a mixture of Peter Pan and King Arthur - a heady mix that, perhaps, was always destined for failure! The sense of failure was acute, so maybe it's no wonder I rarely think of it - it hurts too much to keep dipping into it.
Now, writing about Newcastle and some of the happenings I've discovered/created, I've become quite divorced from writing anything other than my version of a modern English tale. Not even Dickens can get me to write in ancient-speak. Except, of course, where it is called for as part of the story's own ancient history. Failure, which is so easily attainable in the publishing world for an unpublished writer, will cut me hard. As tough as I am on myself, I'm pretty soft when it comes to the failure of rejection. I really don't want to place hurdles in front of myself, when I don't need to.
No, I'm actually looking at Dickens as part of my human interaction education. Newcastle, after all, does feel like a Dickens setting. But it's not just Dickens, though - Banks and Koontz have their own charming wizardry when it comes to conversation and perceptive observation. I know what I like, and these three authors are/were at the top of the tree. Great teachers all.
Hopefully, I've been paying attention...

Cold, is wisdom...

'Beauty is truth, truth beauty' said Keats, and the truest words I have ever heard or read in my so-far unsuccessful writing life.
Thinking about things as I do, always searching for the exact thought, the exact mood and word to illustrate my thoughts, I do sometimes wonder whether I'm doing things right, or whether I'm just doing things my way, which may cause me to do things wrong. I mean, can you stop yourself from doing the wrong thing when everything you do, become or create, is so subjective? In other words, how do you know that you know the truth about yourself, about what you do?
Of course, if you want to be original, or believe in your originality, then perhaps you can be afraid to take advice, or if not afraid then wary. In seeking advice, you may instead become someone else, or a projection of someone else. Like the plague, this must be avoided.
I do believe I'm more wary than afraid - I did wander through writer forums for a while and sought advice, knowledge, that was different from what I knew myself. Quite often, I would challenge what others said or did, in the search for knowledge. Looking back, I guess I didn't actually take much advice, filtering out stuff I disagreed with, or stuff that I just couldn't verify in my head.
Reading as many classics as I did (accidentally, as I didn't know what I was reading at the time and usually went from how they felt, as opposed to their standing in the literary world), I wonder if I only ever read what I wanted to read and was somehow forming an instinct of my own, and not an instinct influenced by other tastes.
For example, as a child, I was given 'Kidnapped' as a Christmas present. I could never get past the first chapter. I would rather have read Peter Pan over and over again, than go through a work like 'Kidnapped', which I must confess remains unread by me to this day.
Instinct.
That word again.
The biggest word in any writer's dictionary. The truest word. If you don't have it, you will write nothing. At least, you will write nothing of note.
Perhaps I will never write anything of note. Because I may not have the right instinct. But I do have one, I can see that. It has caused me to choose what I'm writing now. And to choose carefully who I will allow to review it.
If I'm right about what I'm writing, then I'm more than likely right about who will critique my work. If I am right about who will critique my work, then I'm more than likely right about my writing.
Instinct.
I hope I have it. I hope I have it right.

I've been tagged!

The fabulous writer, Most Glamorous Harris, has tagged me. How can I resist! It will, after all, lighten up my blog...

This is how it works: Display the award. Link back to the person who gave you this award. Nominate at least 7 other blogs. Put links to those blogs on your blog. Leave a message on the blogs of the people you’ve nominated. You can only answer in one word.

Whaaaat! One word?????? Me? Sheesh! Oh well, 'ere goes....

1. Where is your cell phone? Bedside

2. Where is your significant other? Somewhere

3. Your hair color? Brown

4. Your mother? Dead

5. Your father? Dead

6. Your favourite thing? People

7. Your dream last night? Resonant

8. Your dream/goal? Publication

9. The room you’re in? Bedroom

10. Your hobby? Music

11. Your fear? Ignominity

12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? London

13. Where were you last night? South Shields

14. What you’re not? False

15. One of your wish-list items? Shirt

16. Where you grew up? South Shields

17. The last thing you did? Phone

18. What are you wearing? Jeans

19. Your TV? Toshiba

20. Your pet? Cat

21. Your computer? Fujitsu

22. Your mood? Pensive

23. Missing someone? Incredibly

24. Your car? None

25. Something you’re not wearing? Socks

26. Favourite store? Waterstones

27. Your summer? Wet

28. Love someone? Passionately

29. Your favourite color? Blue

30. When is the last time you laughed? Recently

31. Last time you cried? 2006

I tag Rich, Solvey , Sarah , Maryan ,
Sonya, Jen, WordImp
You have to play. There’s no gypsy curse, just a witchly hex!

The colour of my life

...is blue.

Blue

All the world is watching Harry Potter!

Except me... I haven't read any of JKR's books about the boy Harry, and another Harry Potter film is on tv tonight that must go unwatched. Ha! I will watch the X Factor and the Xtra Factor, instead. Great stuff! Nor have I read any of Philip Pullman's, nor even M G Harris (one chapter of Joshua and I took a deep breath and reluctantly closed the book). Shocking, I know - especially concerning Most Glamorous Harris' Joshua Files. I don't dare read them, as I can't allow any influences beyond those that excited my latest work. And I can't watch any of the films before I have read the books. What an austere world I'm creating for myself.
"Let there be light," he says, God-like, to himself.
But I'm gonna have loads of fun when I do sit down to read them, and enjoy the films after that. Can just imagine it: me with a load of books and dvds, a huge bottle or two of bacardi, lots of coke and ice to help it all go down nicely. And a barrel full of curry to keep me going! I'll probably peg out at the end of it all. Maybe I'll do a Samuel Beckett: 'Oh, what a morning'-zonk!
Somebody save me!
Someone?
Anyone?
Huh - no-one!
Hmm....

Chasing Shadows

Enough of the music, damn you, Pete! Well, actually, I can never get enough of the music, just I need to begin the writing again. Writing must take centre stage. I'm there with the second chapter - I know where it's to be situated, and who is within it. I just needed to sort out a couple of things in my head. One of these 'things' was the lack of movement, something so apparent I missed the fact that it wasn't there! I felt its absence, though, and solvey confirmed it in his appraisal. A writer needs readers, but readers have to be chosen carefully; Noel The Ultimate Proofreader is one, and Solvey is another. I will call on Rich for his opinion, too, if he could give it and Maria, if the publishing world can spare her for a mo! Like music, you can't get enough of the good stuff! And the beginning is so important - it must be right. But time is everyone's opponent, and maybe this just can't be done. The very reason I'm not reading anyone else's may be the same reason everyone can't read mine! Writing life...
It has taken me quite a while to get in the right mode to revise chapter two, but I feel I'm just about ready to begin it. And once chapter two has been completed, my readers will be allowed to tear me to shreds! Yep, I'm very much aware that I'm not the complete writer I thought I was. Growing up, in a way. Growing better, though, is quite another matter!
But it's fun - I'm enjoying writing this book. There's more freedom in it than there was with Sword. Freedom to kill myself off, if I'm not careful, which is why I was in no rush to write when what was needed was thought.
So: writing very soon.

C'est Chic!

Just caught an advert on tv which carried a guitar riff from the absolute master of disco stomping music - Nile Rodgers. He of Chic and Sister Sledge - and, of course, Bowie's Let's Dance album. The song was Thinking Of You, and God did this bring back memories!
Suddenly I was on a magical mystery tour of youtube, flying through Le Freak, Good Times (my personal favourite), I Want Your Love, He's The Greatest Dancer, Automatic from The Pointer Sisters, Let's Groove from Earth Wind And Fire and I just went on and on, like some kind of demented butterfly flitting from song to song. Was there ever a better bass player than Bernard Edwards? RIP bro!
These were just such joyful tunes from a particularly happy time in my life - it was all parties and laughter, having a good time. Good Times was the phrase, and the song is just a dream from the time itself. (Hey Maria, can you imagine salsa-ing away to this kind of stuff? Le Freak really cuts it.)
Nostalgia got to me tonight, and it was great. Flashes from the past. Memories from the future - as I will always remember these times many years from now.
I've posted up a video of Thinking Of You from youtube. To everyone I've known, who I know, and who perhaps I will get to know, I'm thinking of you. Turn it up and listen!

Stardust and Dreams

Things happen. They take over your thoughts. They wander through your head, and like moonbeams they flicker before your eyes in the darkness of the night. Images of who I am, who perhaps I want to be, and who I may become. And I found myself listening to a Michael Hedges recording of Baby Toes on youtube. A typically odd title from someone who had so much soulful meaning in his work.

Spacial, beautiful, challenging.

Tonight, the world has changed.
Autumn falling with the rain.
Dreams wishing inside your heart
In a world full of Stardust and Dreams.
Elusive illusions:
I am
And I am nothing.
Elusive illusions,
Burning a hole in the ground
Where I may fall

Go listen to it. It's the one that lasts 3mins 10secs.

A day in the life of a fantasy fiction writer. This one, anyway! :-)

The Answer's Out There

Guess I've been pretty quiet, lately. You can blame my writing for that - though there's nothing to actually 'blame'. I've just had my head in the clouds, dreaming of the future, and trying to unlock that huge door in front of me to see what's there, beyond. I've got enough, now, to write the second chapter again, and I've removed from the opening page of the book the quote from Eleanor Rigby (the song). Putting the little nursery rhyme at the beginning changes the whole complexion of the tale - it is more personal now. A problem this caused me was the very real question of 'who is the story about?' In the end, I have conceded that it is about more than one person, though the true hero is the hero, not the heroine. I get a feeling that the heroine will steal the show - if I'm lucky. I still feel that I can write parts of the other chapters better - I guess I will always feel that way. But it's fun, and I don't feel as serious as when I was writing Sword. I am, perhaps, not as intense a person as I was, but who am I to judge that!! I hope it reflects in this story, anyhow.
Huh, me relaxing as a person is about as real as a chat room. But then again, chat rooms exist, so where does that leave me? Thinking again!
Oh, and I've joined the Michael Hedges facebook group. Take a trip!

The Times They Are A-changing

Well, I've picked up my bag and bits of things from my desk and left. I met some lovely people, some of whom I hope will be friends forever. Life isn't all about money. And, I guess, so it shouldn't be all about dreams.
The real reason I took the job on was that it was in Newcastle. I rather hoped it would help with inspiration and atmosphere for my book. Sometimes it worked - one thing I got right was the rain, as it rains almost every day in Newcastle. And the weather changes every five minutes. But the summer put paid to the atmosphere, and I do feel it is probably a book that can only be written in the autumn and winter. Autumn and winter are almost here, and I feel I'm beginning to think like some kind of writer again.
Newcastle has such a dark past, frequently related to the monarchy and the government, and surprising you with its effect on national history. And boy, did I get a shock when I entered the graveyard of an ancient church. I had never been there before - only viewing it from the outside. But they've given it a makeover, and one day the gate was open. Something was there that was the very image of what was in my head!
There is a Dickensian feel about the place that appeals to me - jeez, you can be walking along a modern part of Newcastle and suddenly a dark, ancient brick building will loom out of the ground, and you look up at it and wonder. Time doesn't stop - it talks to you. And everything seems so tall and the streets so narrow, you wonder why - what needed to be done so quickly, in such haste, that caused people to do this.
Maybe I can reveal it...