Just write!

I've often wondered about the great authors of the past. About whether they knew they were writing something that would be viewed as great. Did they believe it would be great, or did they hope? I know that Tolkien never expected to be published. I also know that he was 62 when the first part of The Lord Of The Rings was published in 1954. What on earth happened (or not) that it took that long? Well, he was married with a family, he was a professor of English, delivering classes and lectures, he wrote other stuff including The Hobbit, so it can be seen that he lived a very full life. Although he couldn't have foreseen the effect his work would cause from the 60s onward, I would hazard a guess that his preparation in life was leading to it. Tolkien was working on a great piece of writing - consciously working on what he subconsciously believed was a great work. It is the only explanation I can give for his writing of the epic and beautiful story he wrote for us. He couldn't know, but his subconscious did, his instincts did.
How about his contemporary and friend C. S. Lewis - did he know how great his own work would be viewed? When we speak of The Chronicles Of Narnia, did he believe that people would speak of it as they do? And how about J. M. Barrie? Or Lewis Carroll?
Dickens? Now here is a writer who wrote a lot of things, brilliant things.
And in the modern world, how about Iain Banks, or Dean Koontz?
Is it belief, confidence, or hope? Modesty would say hope, or even belief. Definitely not confidence - no-one can be confident that they are writing a great work. The thing is that you go ahead and try. Something is telling you that you must try.
Self-doubt, of course, can and will creep in. There may be less of it if you are already published, or have been given a guarantee of publication, but it will creep in with its own depth at some point. That is a human reaction - a subconscious kick in the pants not to let your standards drop. If you have ability, I don't believe it is a self-doubt about your own ability. It is an instinctive, subconscious reminder not to let your standards drop. Failure is only a complacent pen-stroke away.
I think you have to believe you are a writer. I think you have to do the preparation which will help ensure that you are shown as a writer. I think you have to follow your own muse and write what you believe you should write - hopefully, that should ensure the individuality of your work, and help you to stand out from the crowd. I think you should listen to your contemporaries - it's a rare contemporary who would wish you ill-luck, or deliberately give bad advice, and you will know these people, or your instincts will, for sure. You need support - all of the greats have had their critics: Tolkien, Dickens, Keats to name a few, have all taken shots to the heart. Why shouldn't you? And you only have to witness the criticism levelled at JK Rowling to know what's coming whether you make it or not.
In short, I believe that you should do what you feel you should do. As best you can. Believe in yourself. The rest, for good or bad, is out of your hands. Why worry about that?

One idea reveals another

Having discussed my new ideas (with myself), and not having written further than the prologue and first two chapters, I then found another idea lurking inside my head. It's a good one, and also an old one i.e. it's been used before and is probably necessary, in that it provides an authentic link between what I'm doing and what has been reported in alien sighting history as fact. I'm writing science-fantasy, but there is factual content contained in what I'm attempting to do.
It's been fun, and also frighteningly difficult, tying up all of the different loose ends. Each of those first three chapters contains links to the other two, and establishes a beginning and a firm base upon which the rest of the story can grow. It's taken such a long time to get to this point, and I almost ruined it after reading something else. Now that I'm back on the right road again, I'm detemined that nothing will go so wrong again. Noel the Ultimate Proofreader has suggested that maybe now is the time when I should be approaching agents. Agents do, after all, prefer to be involved in their clients' projects, and this would be a help, not a hindrance.
Noel is usually right - I actually can't remember him being wrong! I'm not averse to this, but I'm really not sure which way to go: the writing is in its early stages, although the planning and thinking is not. I do feel that maybe I need to wait until I'm a bit further down the road, where I can prove that the story is one worth taking on, and that I can actually write it.
Noel has also asked me if I believe it should be written alone. It's a big project, and I'm expecting to write at least another book after this one. You might think that that was a strange question to ask of me, but as I've said before, Noel is no ordinary proofreader and he doesn't spare a thing. He asks what has to be asked. I've given other writers a hard time when critiquing their work, so why should I be treated any different.
I said to Noel that you could ask a million writers to write it, and maybe only five would write it properly. And each of those five would write it in exactly the same way, so it would be difficult to find someone who could help. Difficult, though not impossible. You have to remain openminded in everything, or you will eventually get it wrong.
All sounds a bit precious, doesn't it? Ha - 'My preciousssss!' I'm wearing this new story around my neck like a ring on a chain - only I'm not about to take it to the Crack Of Doom to destroy it. And if an agent likes it, and offers to take it on, would I howl and say 'He wantssss it, my preciousssss!'
Jeez, I'm cracking up...

In The Shadow Of Peter Pan

Way back, when I was struggling to come up with a style that worked for me in writing Sword Of Isgarion, I was advised to write some short stories a) to improve my vision of story-writing i.e. beginning, middle and end; and b) to possibly help create a fan base if any of them were published.
The Christmas story on the Bedtime-Story website was the very first of my short stories. When I look at it now, I can see what I could have done differently every time. But it was a great help in getting me started.
My main impetus for coming up with an idea was to scan newspaper, magazine or teletext headlines and see what I could come up with as an alternative story. My own take on Bowie's cutting-up of newspaper text and rearranging them into a different order for use in songs.
Of all of these stories, the one that intrigued me most was the one I didn't write: In the Shadow Of Peter Pan. A piece of fan-fiction with a different and sinister slant. I decided I wasn't ready to write it, was never sure that I'd be able to sell it (it being fan-fiction), and I was at a point where I needed to begin writing Sword again. So I never got round to it. I still have no idea when I would ever get round to writing it, but every now and then I will find myself thinking about it.
I do feel that we are all in the shadow of Peter Pan. That we all would live forever or never grow old, given the chance. And that this is part of the subconscious mystery of art: why we do it. It is a form of expression, for sure. But I believe it is the driving force in the recording of history, in recording the development of human existence. It's just a belief, and not a theory that can be substantiated by me. I don't think that art has been viewed entirely in that way - as the driving force. Probably, I feel, because it is seen as a subconscious process. Like my theory on instinct, I believe it is much more conscious than that. It is there for us to use, or control. We know, understand, that the recording of history has been changed, modified, to suit the purposes of whoever changed it - or we know that it hasn't been recorded at all, or fear that it might not. Art is smart! In my story, so was Peter Pan's shadow. We are all in the shadow of Peter Pan.

New ideas

Ran into a couple of old friends today, one of whom nearly died last year after suffering a brain seizure of some kind. He looks fine now. There's a bunch going out on Friday night and they wondered if I was coming. I couldn't say no ;-) I'm under doc's orders not to drink for a month or so, so I shall exist on orange juice or water on Friday. Should be fun, though I will feel out of it without being out of it.
This is good, writing-wise, as I'll be taking a proper night off: I've had a couple of new ideas for my latest work and I need time to consider their effect. It looks like a further bout of planning will be necessary. I'm not too concerned - if the next three chapters turn out as good as the first three then I will be extremely happy. I've got a feeling I may be writing everything in waves, as opposed to writing clean through. We'll see.

Perhaps I should explain...

A friend who works down London way came up to Shields for a flying visit.
"Here, Pete - have a read of this and tell me what you think." And he gave me a book, entitled 'The Damned Utd'. The story of Brian Clough's 49 days in charge of Leeds United, written from the point of view of Cloughie himself. I couldn't resist.
The book was a great read. I can recommend it to anyone - and it's a must-read for anyone with an interest in football.
The problem was that I picked up some of the writer's style and transferred it to my own. The effect was poor when mixed with my own, and that was what caused me to become angry with myself after reading the second chapter of my latest work.
I can read newspapers, magazines, teletext, trawl the internet and even critique stuff without being affected in a literary sense. Anything in book-form and I'm immediately affected by it.
One for the men in white coats! I won't do that again.

Belief, not hope

About a week ago, I looked at the beginning of my latest work. As much as I was pleased with what I'd done thus far, I knew that there would be some things I wouldn't be too pleased to find. I wasn't wrong. After moving things around, deleting, adding back, putting in something new, then re-reading it all, a slight feeling of depression came over me. I couldn't put my finger on it - well, I could really: I was more angry with myself than feeling depressed. I was horrified at some of the mistakes I'd made. Great ideas almost ruined by some shoddy thinking.
I immediately rang Noel the Ultimate Proofreader and asked him not to read what I'd given him as I had made some changes and was planning more changes. I think Noel had second-guessed me (I've done this before) and he was pretty casual about it: he hadn't read anything and was busy, so wouldn't for a while. Thank heaven he hadn't read it.
A couple of days later, I looked again at what I'd done. Still some rather moderate writing in places. So I changed things some more.
Last night, I was rewriting again. At about 1.40 a.m., I was copying the revised prologue and first two chapters onto disk. At last, I felt I was getting to the heart of what ailed things.
The result today is that I was dying to read what I'd done, and I felt in a much more buoyant mood. I've kept away from it, though. Friday night will be my next look. But I already know that I won't be disappointed. All of the ideas I'd had during the prolonged and intense planning were all there. Initially, they had been moderately executed in places, but they were at least there. But the last few days had seen them come to life. There was a soul there. I could see it, feel it.
Reflecting on all of this, I wondered if I was again doing what I always seemed to enjoy doing: being hard on myself. Noel has mentioned this to me quite a few times. After all, leaving my work alone for a while was actually part of the writing, a part of the plan. Fault-finding is a part of the plan.
For the first time, I don't feel in any way scared of my new story. I'm looking forward to it because I'm feeling so much happier about it. I really do believe that I will stand and not fall with my latest work. It's not just a hope that I feel.
I hope!

Pavarotti

As soon as I heard about the death of Pavarotti, I hightailed it off to Youtube to watch one of my favourite music videos: Pavarotti singing with James Brown. As ever, I found myself smiling all of the way through. Can you believe it? Two of the most recognisable and iconic songsters ever to have graced the musical stage, singing together on the same stage. Bowie's thoughts on texture being the most important ingredient in music are heard coming to pass in a rather unlikely, but emphatic, way. It doesn't get much better than this. The video has now been added to my blog playlist.
I'll shut up now and let you listen...

The gods are probably laughing

Just been to sfsite, and had a read of yet another flamewar. Seems like where there is a forum there is a way. I like sfsite - there is a wealth of information there for any reader. But I get the feeling the place is shrinking. This always seems to happen where the 'live' online usefulness to the writer has begun to wane, or where the site gives the impression that it is more important than the writer, or its members. Couldn't say whether any of that is the case there. I haven't been there long enough, and I've also stayed out of discussions recently. I've seen what happens too many times when they get out of hand, and there are plenty enough dead websites around (or not!) to illustrate the future of an overbearing hand. I even had someone interrupting a conversation I was having about Tolkien, with someone sticking a link concerning Tolkien in the middle of the conversation, with neither a 'please' or a 'may I' while doing it. Arrogance defeats any argument. It also defeats any purpose.
There is a lot of bitterness at sfsite, illustrated in discussions there, that SF is not regarded as literary work both within the publishing industry and by the reading public. This appears to be reflected in fact, as SF writers tend to win SF awards, but not the literary awards these days. Probably sets the tone for the site. I always feel that sites need new members and new moderators regularly. Change helps change. Not always for the good, but usually for the good - and that's all it needs, really: change.
Anyway, enough of that. Here was an argument that centred aound someone apparently trying to bury someone else's argument by quoting some notary from somewhere, and then the other person replying that they obviously can't sustain their own argument so they have to quote someone else, thus giving rise to the idea that they don't have thoughts of their own. And it went on and on. This was by no means the longest argument I've seen there - one or two appeared to have been rethreaded in order to allow more space to accommodate them!
Now, I myself quote the odd (famous) writer or musician. Ha! I've even quoted Noel the Ultimate Proofreader. But I do it sparingly, and only in support of my own on-going journey. I ain't never gonna put someone down by quoting someone else - you know: look at me, I know more quotes and references than you, so you really should be listening to what I'm saying!
I believe firmly that any kind of artist should learn from someone. You need someone, or some thing, to refer to, that actually means something to yourself. But I also believe even more that this is all secondary to yourself. No matter how great the artist you admire, or teacher, they are not more important than yourself. You have to regard yourself as the new standard bearer, that you are the one who is carrying the baton while you have the ability, and/or the inclination or momentum.
Always give credit where it is due. Never not do this. You will create dark corners in your own mind, and they will shade things where there is no need for it.
But always stand up for yourself, give yourself due credit, and say and do what you believe in. Do it for the right reasons. Create your own world.

Closer

I haven't looked at my latest work for over a week, nor have I written anything during this time. I have been thinking about it a lot, going through a scene or two, a few words or ideas here and there in my head.
I want to look at my work, but I won't until I feel I have to. There is a difference.
I will know when I can't sleep for thinking about it. That's the usual sign. Then I look. Soon, perhaps. It will take over and I keep writing until I come to a natural end somewhere. Stephen King calls it 'filling a hole', or something like that. Not sure if that's how I'd describe it, but we all get these points of stopping, of reflection, where you look back, look forward, and see how it's all going, or gone.
Coming soon to a laptop near me!

Reflections, reflecting...

I was hoping Man United would take my mind off things today. They did, but in a slightly depressing and negative way. We were rubbish up front - that, and some sterling defensive play by Citeh, conspired to produce our first defeat of the season. If we don't start scoring then we will lose a few more. I took some stick today - I had no defence and my team had no forward line. Enough! I can't think about it any more.
As consolation, I briefly thought about picking up my latest work. But only briefly. Give or take a word or sentence, those first three chapters will be the ones landing on an agent's desk- though it will be months before I approach agents with them. Still, they are as complete as I can get them as an introduction to the rest of the story. I believe in them as a true beginning. I've spent a lot of time on them, though I know that time itself is only part of the answer. I will do nothing more on them for at least a week - unless Noel the Ultimate Proofreader comes back to me before then. Noel's enthusiasm after listening to me read parts of the beginning down the phone tells me something. But the reading of it will be the real proof. He never sees what isn't there, only what is and what can be. A professional's eye. False praise never works - except to ensure that you are never published. True praise, and true criticism, can't ensure that you are published. But they will undoubtedly help.
I feel strongly about what I'm doing. If I can't get there with what I'm doing now, then I can't see how I will get there with anything else. That may not be a true reflection of how things really are, or will be. It could be just a reflection of how I feel about what I'm doing right now. Is that how everyone who writes should feel? Maybe if it means that much, then yes it is.
Just me, reflecting...

A moment of truth

So then, I've been up to Noel the Ultimate Proofreader's house in Newcastle, complete with box of chocolates for his wonderful wife Chris (who gave me a scolding for doing this!) and with a disk containing the prologue and first two chapters, and some other chapters.
For me it's a moment of truth, as I feel that this is where I really need to dig deep and determine whether all of the plans I've made were good ones, and whether my writing has come up to scratch.
I'm not going to do this right now, though. I'm going to wait for a few days and give my brain a rest and just let it all sink in. What I've done and what I'm going to do.
I passed a comment to Noel that I was unsure whether the ending of the prologue led well enough into the first chapter, or that the first chapter began well enough after the ending of the prologue.
Noel said: 'Give your agent something to do, Peter.' Which made me laugh. If only!
I always feel I have to cover everything and leave nothing to chance. That's why I'm not going to do anything for a while in order to give Noel an opportunity to read what I've done and come up with his own observations.
I'm pleased with what I've done so far, packing in a lot of information into these initial chapters, telling virtually nothing and showing a lot - at least, I think so, which is where this rest will come in handy. I'll see things more clearly when I go back to it.
I really do wonder how long it will take me to write this story, and how far into it should I wait before sending the beginning off to agents.
There, I'm getting ahead of myself again. Stop it.
Now, where's that CD I just bought?

A taste of Peru!

I was talking to a couple of friends in Ocean Road, South Shields, when some rather lovely music drifted towards us. As one, we all stopped talking and began to listen to the band playing live in the street between The Ship And Royal and The Criterion pubs.
The music reminded me of Santana, with its bongo drums and clear melodic guitar - though it had a gentler feel.
In the end, I couldn't resist and I went over. Yep, they did have CDs for sale, so I bought one. Andean Lounge it's called and cost me ten quid. Worth it if it is as good as the live stuff. The band's name is Kalx, and the album was mixed in Newcastle, would you believe, at the Diablito Studios.
The first track is called Grito Del Diablo - Scream of the Devil. Nice!
I'll let you know what the album's like as soon as I've heard it.