A demon walked the house on New Year's Eve. Clara had seen it. Before she had seen it she had thought things misplaced. But now she knew the demon moved things. The year before last the demon had picked up a glasses case in full view, removed her glasses and worn them awhile before casting them to one side. One lens had smashed against the hearth.
The demon looked a lot like Gary. It had the same posture as him, the same way of walking. Clara knew Gary well enough to recognise the little half-smile even on a lipless mouth on a face of cracked red-black skin. When Clara had seen it last year she was certain the demon had tried to talk to her in his voice. For a while she had entertained the notion that the demon was Gary. The thought had not entirely left her.
Like a child leaving milk and mince pies for Santa Claus, Clara had left out a few things for the demon Gary this year. Nothing dramatic; a Sunday newspaper, a drink of tea without milk or sugar and the wedding ring Gary had worn when he had been alive. Clara sat and waited on the staircase, listening for the sounds of movement.
A four minutes to midnight she heard the distinct sound of newspaper being rattled. She leapt to her feet and rushed into the living room. He was there before her, his naked skin cracked like cooling lava, thumbing through the newspaper as Gary had done. Her breath caught as she looked at him.
"Gary?"
The demon Gary looked up from his reading. There it was, the half-smile, the conspiratorial look that had always passed between them... and then a nod in the direction of his hands. Clara looked. The ring was there, on the fourth finger of his left hand. The engraving could still be read. 'To have and to hold'.
"Oh, Gary..." Clara reached up to kiss him. "I've missed you. I want you back." Their mouths met. His skin was hot and almost crumbly, like hot coal. She felt the tingles of old come back to her; she had forgotten Gary had made her feel like this.
They broke apart. Gary's smile was still on his face. Throwing the newspaper aside, he pulled her in again.
After they separated for the second time, Clara felt something like coal-dust on her face. Moving to brush it away, she saw the skin of her hands start to blacken and crack. It no longer felt like skin belonging to her, more like a strange glove she controlled on the end of her arm.
"Gary, what is this?"
Demon Gary smiled again, sadly, this time, turned his back and disappeared. Clara soon followed him.
Showing posts with label short stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label short stories. Show all posts
Friday, 30 December 2011
Tuesday, 15 November 2011
November writings
It's been a busy couple of weeks in my writing life. Not only have I kicked off writing a novel for NaNoWriMo (currently about 12,000 words behind the target, at 13,000 or so), but I've started a hatful of short stories, been planning another novel and I've even been doing workshops for Wrisoc. I wouldn't say I've been rushed off my feet - but it's been good to break the day to day monotony with a couple of hours a day of writing.
Nano first. I've wanted to have a go at it for the last few years, but thanks to uni commitments I've not had the time or the patience to sit down for a month. If I could write 10,000 in a day as some do, then it wouldn't be a problem, but if I get over 1,000 that's a big writing day for me - and one that's generally taken me a couple of hours. 50,000 words in a month is just too much to ask of a Bar Exempting student who just wants to crash when he gets home. This year, though, I've managed to get a good start, even if it has faltered. And it's helped to give me a kick-start to other projects. Although the Nano novel won't be finished, there's plenty for me to plunder for other works. And thanks to write-ins, I've become acquainted with a whole new group of talented writers.
Which brings me on to my second big writing project of this month: the Wrisoc workshop. Standing in front of a seminar room of your peers can be daunting, but when you know quite a few of those people have managed those workshops themselves and there are a few people with more experience present there's an extra edge. But the workshop - focussing on clichés, their identification, and how to avoid them in your work - went well. It was a little on the short side, but that wasn't much of a worry. Hopefully, I'll get the chance to go back and do another one at some point over the next few months.
My biggest project at the moment is the anthology. Shuffle is probably the biggest writing task I've ever taken on, and I don't think I'd be able to manage it without having the help of a band of talented co-editors, who will show their value to the project when we're getting regular submissions. Although it has been tough to get people involved on the writing point of view, things are coming together and soon I should be able to go back to universities and societies to demonstrate that this will happen. Shuffle will hopefully be released next June/July on the Kindle, so if you want to feature in the anthology, pop over to the website/blog (see link to the side) and find our guidelines.
And all of this without mentioning the short stories and other novel. My writing life is busy, indeed!
Nano first. I've wanted to have a go at it for the last few years, but thanks to uni commitments I've not had the time or the patience to sit down for a month. If I could write 10,000 in a day as some do, then it wouldn't be a problem, but if I get over 1,000 that's a big writing day for me - and one that's generally taken me a couple of hours. 50,000 words in a month is just too much to ask of a Bar Exempting student who just wants to crash when he gets home. This year, though, I've managed to get a good start, even if it has faltered. And it's helped to give me a kick-start to other projects. Although the Nano novel won't be finished, there's plenty for me to plunder for other works. And thanks to write-ins, I've become acquainted with a whole new group of talented writers.
Which brings me on to my second big writing project of this month: the Wrisoc workshop. Standing in front of a seminar room of your peers can be daunting, but when you know quite a few of those people have managed those workshops themselves and there are a few people with more experience present there's an extra edge. But the workshop - focussing on clichés, their identification, and how to avoid them in your work - went well. It was a little on the short side, but that wasn't much of a worry. Hopefully, I'll get the chance to go back and do another one at some point over the next few months.
My biggest project at the moment is the anthology. Shuffle is probably the biggest writing task I've ever taken on, and I don't think I'd be able to manage it without having the help of a band of talented co-editors, who will show their value to the project when we're getting regular submissions. Although it has been tough to get people involved on the writing point of view, things are coming together and soon I should be able to go back to universities and societies to demonstrate that this will happen. Shuffle will hopefully be released next June/July on the Kindle, so if you want to feature in the anthology, pop over to the website/blog (see link to the side) and find our guidelines.
And all of this without mentioning the short stories and other novel. My writing life is busy, indeed!
Sunday, 21 August 2011
Writing update
Twelve minutes for an update. Right... I can do this...
What writing have I done recently? Not a lot. I'll be hitting the trail again tomorrow, though, kicking off Chapter 2 after starting Chapter 1 on holiday. Both Chapter 1 and the prologue need work on them (not to mention finishing), but the scene for Chapter 2 came to me today whilst watching Gladiator and feeling ill.
On the short story front, I have a few ideas to work on. I'll get round to those in due course. But first, I need to re-write The Noose after it made the shortlist for an anthology but ultimately fell short at the final hurdle. I like the idea behind it, but as it is, it doesn't quite pull it off to the extent I want it to.
The target for the week is 5,000 words of various things. Let's see if I hit this target for once.
What writing have I done recently? Not a lot. I'll be hitting the trail again tomorrow, though, kicking off Chapter 2 after starting Chapter 1 on holiday. Both Chapter 1 and the prologue need work on them (not to mention finishing), but the scene for Chapter 2 came to me today whilst watching Gladiator and feeling ill.
On the short story front, I have a few ideas to work on. I'll get round to those in due course. But first, I need to re-write The Noose after it made the shortlist for an anthology but ultimately fell short at the final hurdle. I like the idea behind it, but as it is, it doesn't quite pull it off to the extent I want it to.
The target for the week is 5,000 words of various things. Let's see if I hit this target for once.
Wednesday, 19 January 2011
Ladies and gentlemen, we are tonight's entertainment!
It'll be nice to put my feet up this evening.
That is, it'll be nice to put my feet up even if it doesn't involve watching the football. Arsenal are playing L**ds for the right to play Town in the fourth round of the FA Cup, but, despite having a vested interest, I'm not watching. Partly because I can't be bothered, partly for other reasons.
So I'm spending a rare evening engrossed in ideas. I'll be reading a bit of Perdido Street Station, China Miéville's 2001 steampunk novel, a bit of my short story collection (not a collection of my short stories, I'll hasten to add - that was a clumsy turn of phrase), and for the rest of my time I'll be submersing myself in notes and mind maps, trying to coax a story into being.
I have a couple of ideas I could go back to, but I don't really feel like it. After writing most of those stories once, I really don't fancy writing them again right now. With the last few weeks being spent immersing myself in uninspiring coursework, getting a new idea to work on will hopefully ignite my imagination. From there, who knows: I might finally rewrite Descent (to which WriSoc will be 'treated' tomorrow), or carry on with Under The Railway Arches.
Who knows, I may even motivate myself to get the rewrites published so they won't just be meaningless words on a barely-read blog.
You may not be able to tell, but I'm excited.
Sunday, 16 January 2011
A party political broadcast on behalf of the magazines of the world
Since it was first published in 2005, the Twilight series has sold (according to Wikipedia at any rate) more than 100 million copies of its five volumes. On average, each volume will have sold 20 million or more.
Whether it deserves to have sold that kind of number of copies is neither here nor there. The point is that low-brow, low-quality fluff with the same level of literary merit as the scribblings of a small child is one of the best-selling series of the decade, while talented short story writers go unnoticed in the near-backwaters of the magazine publishing world.
Many critics argue that short stories are the most pure form of storytelling. Certainly they're tighter, better plotted and often better written than all but the highest quality of novels. Short stories don't get the padding that novels get, and that alone means that they're perhaps a higher form of literature. This may sound snobbish, but it's an opinion and I certainly think that there is more than an element of truth to be found in the arguments. I can also add that, in many ways, short stories are truer to life, more episodic by their very nature and more capable of capturing that elusive sense of real life than a novel.
I'm not trying to say that novels don't have their place. They do. And it's not often you'll read a novel and think 'this should have been a short story' in the same way you might think the often. Novels are more engrossing, connect more on an emotional level. But they don't have that purity of storytelling inherent in their nature, for my liking. (I will probably hold this opinion until my primary reading is no longer the seemingly inexhaustive list of anthologies and short fiction collections I'd like to get through, and then resort to a view of novel superiority over short stories).
Short stories do have one fundamental advantage over novels in addition to those mentioned: they're short. They're easier to fit into a train journey. You can get through more in a day, expose yourself to a greater variety of world views and opinions.
So why don't people read short fiction magazines?
Remember the statistic about Twilight? In my mind there's no contest between the quality of writing in that when it's compared to the quality of leading British science fiction magazine Interzone. The quality of the writing - and, it goes without saying, the writers - is superlative. I'm not going to say they're the greatest writers who ever put pen to paper. But I am going to say that the current sales of magazines like Interzone don't reflect this superior quality. According to Gardner Dozois in The Mammoth Book of Best New SF 23, circulation of Interzone worldwide is around 3,000 per issue.
Other SF magazines don't do particularly well, either. When reading these statistics, bear in mind that these are American magazines with access to a greater market than Interzone (or, at least, that people will have heard of over there more than Interzone). Again, these statistics come from Gardner Dozois's summation of 2009 in The Mammoth Book of Best New SF 23.
The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction: 15,500
Asimov's Science Fiction: 16,700
Analog Science Fiction and Fact: 25,400
All of those magazines have falling circulations, if Dozois is to be believed (and I personally would trust him on this; he knows a great deal more than me). And the question has to be raised: Why?
Perhaps the internet has something to do with it, but the quality of free fiction there generally isn't as high (there are some exceptions, notably Daily Science Fiction, but by and large free short fiction on the internet is distinctly underwhelming). Is it cost? I doubt it; a year's subscription to Interzone is slightly more than a hardback novel while giving you so much more (around 30 short stories, with interviews, comments and reviews, all contained within 6 issues).
The answer has to be lack of exposure. One barely-read blogger with a chip on his shoulder isn't going to change the minds of the masses when it comes to magazines like Interzone (mostly because they haven't heard of it and because no one reads this blog beyond a select few). But surely somewhere like Waterstones stocking a couple of issues per branch will. Or public libraries having a copy or two lying around for the consumption of whosoever will come through the door.
Unfortunately, I doubt that this will happen. So instead, I implore anyone who reads this to separate with a little of their hard-earned money to subscribe to a fiction magazine. Perhaps this is a little hypocritical, considering that I've only just subscribed to Interzone and Black Static, its horror counterpart. But I can guarantee that it's worth it. And maybe in time word will spread, and the popularity of magazines will increase again, giving the people who work hard for what they love something back from outside, from those of us who simply appreciate good SF.
We can always hope.
To visit Interzone's website, click here
To visit Asimov's website, click here
To visit F&SF, click here
To visit Analog, click here
Whether it deserves to have sold that kind of number of copies is neither here nor there. The point is that low-brow, low-quality fluff with the same level of literary merit as the scribblings of a small child is one of the best-selling series of the decade, while talented short story writers go unnoticed in the near-backwaters of the magazine publishing world.
Many critics argue that short stories are the most pure form of storytelling. Certainly they're tighter, better plotted and often better written than all but the highest quality of novels. Short stories don't get the padding that novels get, and that alone means that they're perhaps a higher form of literature. This may sound snobbish, but it's an opinion and I certainly think that there is more than an element of truth to be found in the arguments. I can also add that, in many ways, short stories are truer to life, more episodic by their very nature and more capable of capturing that elusive sense of real life than a novel.
I'm not trying to say that novels don't have their place. They do. And it's not often you'll read a novel and think 'this should have been a short story' in the same way you might think the often. Novels are more engrossing, connect more on an emotional level. But they don't have that purity of storytelling inherent in their nature, for my liking. (I will probably hold this opinion until my primary reading is no longer the seemingly inexhaustive list of anthologies and short fiction collections I'd like to get through, and then resort to a view of novel superiority over short stories).
Short stories do have one fundamental advantage over novels in addition to those mentioned: they're short. They're easier to fit into a train journey. You can get through more in a day, expose yourself to a greater variety of world views and opinions.
So why don't people read short fiction magazines?
Remember the statistic about Twilight? In my mind there's no contest between the quality of writing in that when it's compared to the quality of leading British science fiction magazine Interzone. The quality of the writing - and, it goes without saying, the writers - is superlative. I'm not going to say they're the greatest writers who ever put pen to paper. But I am going to say that the current sales of magazines like Interzone don't reflect this superior quality. According to Gardner Dozois in The Mammoth Book of Best New SF 23, circulation of Interzone worldwide is around 3,000 per issue.
Other SF magazines don't do particularly well, either. When reading these statistics, bear in mind that these are American magazines with access to a greater market than Interzone (or, at least, that people will have heard of over there more than Interzone). Again, these statistics come from Gardner Dozois's summation of 2009 in The Mammoth Book of Best New SF 23.
The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction: 15,500
Asimov's Science Fiction: 16,700
Analog Science Fiction and Fact: 25,400
All of those magazines have falling circulations, if Dozois is to be believed (and I personally would trust him on this; he knows a great deal more than me). And the question has to be raised: Why?
Perhaps the internet has something to do with it, but the quality of free fiction there generally isn't as high (there are some exceptions, notably Daily Science Fiction, but by and large free short fiction on the internet is distinctly underwhelming). Is it cost? I doubt it; a year's subscription to Interzone is slightly more than a hardback novel while giving you so much more (around 30 short stories, with interviews, comments and reviews, all contained within 6 issues).
The answer has to be lack of exposure. One barely-read blogger with a chip on his shoulder isn't going to change the minds of the masses when it comes to magazines like Interzone (mostly because they haven't heard of it and because no one reads this blog beyond a select few). But surely somewhere like Waterstones stocking a couple of issues per branch will. Or public libraries having a copy or two lying around for the consumption of whosoever will come through the door.
Unfortunately, I doubt that this will happen. So instead, I implore anyone who reads this to separate with a little of their hard-earned money to subscribe to a fiction magazine. Perhaps this is a little hypocritical, considering that I've only just subscribed to Interzone and Black Static, its horror counterpart. But I can guarantee that it's worth it. And maybe in time word will spread, and the popularity of magazines will increase again, giving the people who work hard for what they love something back from outside, from those of us who simply appreciate good SF.
We can always hope.
To visit Interzone's website, click here
To visit Asimov's website, click here
To visit F&SF, click here
To visit Analog, click here
Friday, 14 January 2011
Long days, dark nights
It's been a stressful few days. Since returning to uni I've worked perhaps 60 hours on various aspects of uni work, and I've had very little time to myself. Last night's football was a welcome work-out to relieve stress.
Unfortunately it's likely to be the last time I play for some three months. Uni's timetable isn't conducive to any of the activities I like doing, so I won't get the chance to play and I'm also finally sorting out my long-standing knee injury. If I need surgery that'd put me out for about six months, as I reckon it's a cartilage problem that'd need more than just physio to cure. But I'm no expert, and it might just be residual problems arising from a dislocated knee.
But that pain would pale in comparison to my present workload. Two pieces of coursework, several SPSs to prepare, a dissertation and the SLO all going on at once makes for a very stressed and not particularly happy me. Especially seeing as one of those pieces of coursework is being redrafted after I made a mess of it the first time. And progress is sloooow, or so it seems; considering the volume it feels like I'm hardly making an indent.
Progress is also slow on the short stories I'm writing and the books I'm reading. I've only completed two in the first fortnight of the year (an unprecedentedly low number), and the Lovecraft collection has taken me almost 3 weeks.
I'm not sure I like Lovecraft. His style is hard work to read and he sometimes seems lazy in his descriptions. When he says something defies description it feels like a copout, and the multiple times he finishes a story in exactly the same way is just plain frustrating. Still, he has his moments.
On the short story front, I have half a dozen ideas I'm trying to work on, one of which is properly in the writing process, but it's just getting the chance. Uni is, unfortunately, a little onerous in its demands at the moment.
Unfortunately it's likely to be the last time I play for some three months. Uni's timetable isn't conducive to any of the activities I like doing, so I won't get the chance to play and I'm also finally sorting out my long-standing knee injury. If I need surgery that'd put me out for about six months, as I reckon it's a cartilage problem that'd need more than just physio to cure. But I'm no expert, and it might just be residual problems arising from a dislocated knee.
But that pain would pale in comparison to my present workload. Two pieces of coursework, several SPSs to prepare, a dissertation and the SLO all going on at once makes for a very stressed and not particularly happy me. Especially seeing as one of those pieces of coursework is being redrafted after I made a mess of it the first time. And progress is sloooow, or so it seems; considering the volume it feels like I'm hardly making an indent.
Progress is also slow on the short stories I'm writing and the books I'm reading. I've only completed two in the first fortnight of the year (an unprecedentedly low number), and the Lovecraft collection has taken me almost 3 weeks.
I'm not sure I like Lovecraft. His style is hard work to read and he sometimes seems lazy in his descriptions. When he says something defies description it feels like a copout, and the multiple times he finishes a story in exactly the same way is just plain frustrating. Still, he has his moments.
On the short story front, I have half a dozen ideas I'm trying to work on, one of which is properly in the writing process, but it's just getting the chance. Uni is, unfortunately, a little onerous in its demands at the moment.
Saturday, 8 January 2011
Mirror, mirror, on humanity's wall...
There's something so rewarding when you realise what you're really writing about. You might be writing an epic story about starships and planetary destruction, yet hidden amongst the detritus there will be the true human content of a piece, whether it's the value of friendship, discrimination and the value of equality, or the importance of being earnest (yes, that's a terrible joke, I'll readily admit it). It doesn't matter what you're writing; I'd like to think that every piece of writing has some way of reflecting on the human race, even if the author doesn't realise it.
I've been working on a piece for a month or so now, and it's been bugging me to death. It's a dark, dystopian piece that hardly reflects accurately on my normally-cheery personality, and I'd been struggling to get to grips with it. What if this isn't realistic? What if it's far too overblown and unlikely? My mind was proving more a hindrance than a help, until I realised I wasn't writing about a dystopian world. Not really.
I was writing about a human trait we all have in some form or other. Through the protagonist I was projecting a particular view on humanity, even if this was completely subconscious on my part. As a result, I expect the remainder of the writing I have to do on this particular novelette to be far easier. Well, until I have to start writing it again, of course.
I've been working on a piece for a month or so now, and it's been bugging me to death. It's a dark, dystopian piece that hardly reflects accurately on my normally-cheery personality, and I'd been struggling to get to grips with it. What if this isn't realistic? What if it's far too overblown and unlikely? My mind was proving more a hindrance than a help, until I realised I wasn't writing about a dystopian world. Not really.
I was writing about a human trait we all have in some form or other. Through the protagonist I was projecting a particular view on humanity, even if this was completely subconscious on my part. As a result, I expect the remainder of the writing I have to do on this particular novelette to be far easier. Well, until I have to start writing it again, of course.
Wednesday, 29 December 2010
Zeus Ex Machina
Zeus Ex Machina
Peter W. Wilson
Peter W. Wilson
You know what it's like, right? You meet this girl, it's all peachy, life is good. And then you do something stupid and you lose her like that. No word of goodbye, no long speech, just an angry 'we're done' and that's that. She's out of your life and not coming back.
I did that. Once. I won't do it again.
It doesn't help that the period between meeting her and losing her was the better part of three millennia and that for much of that time I was head over heels in love, blind to all the selfish bitch's faults. Hey, if anyone was at fault for the occasional argument, it was me. And I just accepted that. I'll admit now that I left the dishes unwashed every now and then and when you come home from a long day at the office you'd appreciate not having all that further work to do. Especially when your other half has spent the day lounging round the flat in his underwear watching repeats of Only Fools and Horses.
But in the end she'd decided she'd had enough. And after telling you what I've just told you, who could blame her? Ignore the fact I'd actually taken her to the Fountain of Eternal Youth back when she was a lowly Athens maiden and that I'd been taking her on an annual basis ever since. I'd just given her the gift of immortality, in effect. I'd made sure she was never out of place in the world. I'd taken her on trips to stars and planets and all that usual lovey-dovey crap. When a man promises that he'll show you stars normally he means he's dynamite in the sack and doesn't mean it literally.
I'd given her kids too, of course. Two of them, both in the last century or so. Both mortal, unfortunately; Nikos died in a car crash in Minneapolis while Chara was recently diagnosed with a rare form of leukaemia. But there's nothing I could have done to stop Nikos's passing - he was on the other side of the planet at the time, and even a god's powers only extend so far (his immediate vicinity, for example) - and I'm doing all I can for Chara. I'm taking her up to the Fountain this coming Thursday.
But no, forget all that and remember the dishes.
Also forget that I had infinite opportunity over the years to leave her for another woman. The Muses have done practically nothing since the fall of Athens, occasionally agreeing to appear in some graphic novel or other, but other than that they've been largely redundant. Calliope's been so bored that she's actually shacked up with some Norse god or other. It might be Thor. Or Odin. Anyway, my point is that there has been a supposedly better class of woman available to me, and yet I stayed with her and didn't once stray.
We'll also forget all that, and the time I forgave her for bringing that postman home.
You know what, life was far more fun when I could just say sod it and turn into a swan without having a ball and chain with a mouth on it around my neck all the time, nagging me to do those dishes.
- Zeus
Sunday, 12 December 2010
December ramblings
After recently getting practically no time to do any writing whatsoever beyond scribblings in legalese, I may finally get the opportunity to get stuck in to a meaty bit of fiction over the next couple of weeks.
I'll freely admit that I don't expect it to be any good. It'll be a matter of bringing myself back up to scratch through doing a bit of editing and tinkering before starting on anything new, but then it's hardly my fault I'm shockingly out of practice. Uni takes priority, and it will continue to do so during the holidays (the target is to do both pieces of coursework - totalling 7,000 words - and at least 3,000 words of my dissertation over the three weeks off). But with no seminars or SPSs, I stand a chance of being able to get at least one story done, and I have an idea of what that story will be.
In other news, I got a rejection the other day for a piece of flash fiction I sent off. It had been previously rejected in perhaps the most pretentious manner possible (resulting in that website going on my blacklist - no, I'm not bitter at all), so to get this rejection back was a breath of fresh air. It was helpful, pointed out the flaws they believed the story had and seemed almost apologetic that they hadn't taken it on. I'm definitely submitting there again. As for the story, it's gone off again for the final time before time is called on it and it's posted up here.
One thing about uni has been that I've been able to get plenty of reading done in the evenings, when the cricket isn't on. Recent readings have included Isaac Asimov's Complete Stories (volume 1), Stephen Baxter's quasi-history Evolution, and, for my Law and Literature module, The Trial. At some point I may review them on here.
But in the mean time, Christmas is coming. X-Factor number ones, socks from your grandmother, dodgy Christmas specials on the telly and the inevitable Boxing Day murder of an aunt by your sister after she bought the wrong colour bobble hat.
Oh joy.
I'll freely admit that I don't expect it to be any good. It'll be a matter of bringing myself back up to scratch through doing a bit of editing and tinkering before starting on anything new, but then it's hardly my fault I'm shockingly out of practice. Uni takes priority, and it will continue to do so during the holidays (the target is to do both pieces of coursework - totalling 7,000 words - and at least 3,000 words of my dissertation over the three weeks off). But with no seminars or SPSs, I stand a chance of being able to get at least one story done, and I have an idea of what that story will be.
In other news, I got a rejection the other day for a piece of flash fiction I sent off. It had been previously rejected in perhaps the most pretentious manner possible (resulting in that website going on my blacklist - no, I'm not bitter at all), so to get this rejection back was a breath of fresh air. It was helpful, pointed out the flaws they believed the story had and seemed almost apologetic that they hadn't taken it on. I'm definitely submitting there again. As for the story, it's gone off again for the final time before time is called on it and it's posted up here.
One thing about uni has been that I've been able to get plenty of reading done in the evenings, when the cricket isn't on. Recent readings have included Isaac Asimov's Complete Stories (volume 1), Stephen Baxter's quasi-history Evolution, and, for my Law and Literature module, The Trial. At some point I may review them on here.
But in the mean time, Christmas is coming. X-Factor number ones, socks from your grandmother, dodgy Christmas specials on the telly and the inevitable Boxing Day murder of an aunt by your sister after she bought the wrong colour bobble hat.
Oh joy.
Monday, 22 November 2010
The Last Question
As everyone who's ever read The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy knows, the Answer is forty-two. It didn't occur to me until last night that this is, in fact, a parody of one very particular story.
Isaac Asimov needs no introduction to the SF reader. His novels and short stories are regarded as some of the best ever written in the genre. His intelligence comes through in each of these - and what an intelligence it was. Asimov was a professor of biochemistry in his lifetime, holding a PhD in the same. But his intelligence is never overbearing, and he wrote with a warmth and wit of a kind rarely seen in modern writings.
At the time of writing, I've read only two of his novels, and have just started on a third. But I have read some 30 of his short stories, the most recent of which blew my mind. SF fans will probably have guessed already that I'm talking about The Last Question.
In it, a question is asked of a supercomputer, not once, but several times over the course of trillions of years. Each time, the answer comes back that there is insufficient data to give a meaningful answer. The question asked is, ultimately, can mankind stop the end of the universe?
Being parodied by the aforementioned Guide should say it all about the esteem in which it is held. And I won't hesitate to add my voice to the mass of those already describing it as the best short story (in my experience) ever written. Asimov himself called it his favourite. But what makes it so exciting?
Maybe it's the suspense in which we're held throughout. What is the answer to the last question? Each time it builds up and we're let down, only to be built up again for the next time the question is asked. And when the answer arrives, it's so stunning that the reader has to sit back and admire the elegant brilliance.
Then there's the sense of helplessness. The universe will end up atrophying to a state of death, existing only as space, where stars are, at best, superheavy neutron stars with negative energy. Nothing will live. And there's always this sense that there's nothing we can do about it. It reminds us that, as powerful as we may become, there's something we can't fight and beat.
My bottom line to you is this: read The Last Question. You may find yourself surprised by it.
Isaac Asimov needs no introduction to the SF reader. His novels and short stories are regarded as some of the best ever written in the genre. His intelligence comes through in each of these - and what an intelligence it was. Asimov was a professor of biochemistry in his lifetime, holding a PhD in the same. But his intelligence is never overbearing, and he wrote with a warmth and wit of a kind rarely seen in modern writings.
At the time of writing, I've read only two of his novels, and have just started on a third. But I have read some 30 of his short stories, the most recent of which blew my mind. SF fans will probably have guessed already that I'm talking about The Last Question.
In it, a question is asked of a supercomputer, not once, but several times over the course of trillions of years. Each time, the answer comes back that there is insufficient data to give a meaningful answer. The question asked is, ultimately, can mankind stop the end of the universe?
Being parodied by the aforementioned Guide should say it all about the esteem in which it is held. And I won't hesitate to add my voice to the mass of those already describing it as the best short story (in my experience) ever written. Asimov himself called it his favourite. But what makes it so exciting?
Maybe it's the suspense in which we're held throughout. What is the answer to the last question? Each time it builds up and we're let down, only to be built up again for the next time the question is asked. And when the answer arrives, it's so stunning that the reader has to sit back and admire the elegant brilliance.
Then there's the sense of helplessness. The universe will end up atrophying to a state of death, existing only as space, where stars are, at best, superheavy neutron stars with negative energy. Nothing will live. And there's always this sense that there's nothing we can do about it. It reminds us that, as powerful as we may become, there's something we can't fight and beat.
My bottom line to you is this: read The Last Question. You may find yourself surprised by it.
Tuesday, 2 November 2010
It's the gom jabbar
Another day, another rejection. Some would ask why I bother; it isn't as if I've got any proper success yet.
Ah, I say to these people (generally in an annoyingly high-pitched tone of voice), but you forget: persistence is the answer to the world's ills. Just as a persistent striker will eventually discover a chink in a defence's armour, there will at some point be an opening for a writer such as myself to get his first professional publication.
Persistence and not giving up is also important from a confidence perspective. Some people get a rejection and instantly think it's because they're not good enough, never will be good enough, etc. This isn't the case. Maybe that particular story genuinely wasn't good enough (and if you're a particularly young writer it's fairly likely to be the case, just from a lack of maturity and range in your writing), but often it's the case that it isn't the publication's style, the publication takes only the very, very best (I'm thinking Clarkesworld here - an outstanding magazine, no doubt about that, but the bar really is too high for most first-time writers), the publication is full for this month...
If you give up after receiving a rejection then you've failed the biggest test that befalls a hopeful writer. Again, this is a problem more for the younger end of the writing spectrum. Confidence is so important for a young writer, and a rejection really can knock the belief right out of you. Just think of what I said above. And also read the rejection letter/email itself. Chances are it will be form, but it'll encourage you to write elsewhere and submit again. It'll give a list of potential reasons for the rejection.
Don't fall victim to the writing gom jabbar. Keep your self-belief high by constantly submitting and resubmitting stories. When amendments are suggested (even if it is by a pretentious pillock of an American spouting psychobabble - not bitter at all...), make them and submit elsewhere. It's a long, frustrating process, but it'll happen in the end. Think positive. You're not a bad writer.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a rewrite to make on a short story. And then I'm submitting it elsewhere. Unlike others, I haven't failed the writing gom jabbar and I'll try until I'm successful.
Ah, I say to these people (generally in an annoyingly high-pitched tone of voice), but you forget: persistence is the answer to the world's ills. Just as a persistent striker will eventually discover a chink in a defence's armour, there will at some point be an opening for a writer such as myself to get his first professional publication.
Persistence and not giving up is also important from a confidence perspective. Some people get a rejection and instantly think it's because they're not good enough, never will be good enough, etc. This isn't the case. Maybe that particular story genuinely wasn't good enough (and if you're a particularly young writer it's fairly likely to be the case, just from a lack of maturity and range in your writing), but often it's the case that it isn't the publication's style, the publication takes only the very, very best (I'm thinking Clarkesworld here - an outstanding magazine, no doubt about that, but the bar really is too high for most first-time writers), the publication is full for this month...
If you give up after receiving a rejection then you've failed the biggest test that befalls a hopeful writer. Again, this is a problem more for the younger end of the writing spectrum. Confidence is so important for a young writer, and a rejection really can knock the belief right out of you. Just think of what I said above. And also read the rejection letter/email itself. Chances are it will be form, but it'll encourage you to write elsewhere and submit again. It'll give a list of potential reasons for the rejection.
Don't fall victim to the writing gom jabbar. Keep your self-belief high by constantly submitting and resubmitting stories. When amendments are suggested (even if it is by a pretentious pillock of an American spouting psychobabble - not bitter at all...), make them and submit elsewhere. It's a long, frustrating process, but it'll happen in the end. Think positive. You're not a bad writer.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a rewrite to make on a short story. And then I'm submitting it elsewhere. Unlike others, I haven't failed the writing gom jabbar and I'll try until I'm successful.
Thursday, 28 October 2010
Let's do the time warp again
I've now been back 7 weeks (to all slackers elsewhere, that's 7 weeks of intense, demanding work. Unlike your Media Studies degree), and by now I should be settled back in to the demands of Northumbria University and her LLB Bar Exempting degree. Of course, this being the fourth year the workload is now larger than an obese elephant, and it feels like I'm trying to shift it using a single shovel made of damp papier mache.
On the plus side, I am ahead with Law and Lit by about 3 weeks and the SLO's yet to really bite hard with its workload, so I've been able to get my dissertation synopsis sent off. I still have to complete my provisional bibliography (referencing about 60 cases and articles is proving to be somewhat problematic and exceedingly boring), but it's a start. Now to get cracking with the wonders of the introductory chapter. All 2,000 words of it.
Seeing as I'm meant to write about writing, I may as well give an update on that. In the past week I've managed to get one story finished and sent off (OK, it was 9 days ago, but hey), as well as make a start on another new one. I'm not much into the second of these, but that's entirely because I have a massive workload and no time at the moment.
It's also a major reason my reading volume is down this week. Normally I manage 50-0dd pages a night. This week the average has been 20, although I envisage that going up this evening after WriSoc's weekly karaoke sesh. Where we'll be doing the Time Warp. Again. The evening has the potential to be momentous, mostly because there is a chance I'll be singing. After Enter Sandman in the epic win of a fortnight ago, I need something to top that. Ace of Spades, anyone?
On the plus side, I am ahead with Law and Lit by about 3 weeks and the SLO's yet to really bite hard with its workload, so I've been able to get my dissertation synopsis sent off. I still have to complete my provisional bibliography (referencing about 60 cases and articles is proving to be somewhat problematic and exceedingly boring), but it's a start. Now to get cracking with the wonders of the introductory chapter. All 2,000 words of it.
Seeing as I'm meant to write about writing, I may as well give an update on that. In the past week I've managed to get one story finished and sent off (OK, it was 9 days ago, but hey), as well as make a start on another new one. I'm not much into the second of these, but that's entirely because I have a massive workload and no time at the moment.
It's also a major reason my reading volume is down this week. Normally I manage 50-0dd pages a night. This week the average has been 20, although I envisage that going up this evening after WriSoc's weekly karaoke sesh. Where we'll be doing the Time Warp. Again. The evening has the potential to be momentous, mostly because there is a chance I'll be singing. After Enter Sandman in the epic win of a fortnight ago, I need something to top that. Ace of Spades, anyone?
Sunday, 26 September 2010
Peter uses motivator: it's not very effective...
I've been struggling with writing for a week or so now. Ever since I finished the article about cricket, I don't think I've written a single word, and I'm not sure why. It's not as if I've not had a bit of time on my hands, outside of having a dissertation to write, but for whatever reason I've not been feeling anything like creative.
It's hardly professional of me, I know. If I'm to be professional about the whole thing I should at least sit down and work on one of the half-a-dozen stories I have on the go, even if I'm not feeling particularly motivated. But I haven't been, and those stories have been neglected as a result.
Is it a loss of confidence? Hardly. I'm still in the figjam mindset, and I know it. Perhaps it's just that I've needed a break from writing short stories for a week while I continue to digest more and more of them. Of late, I've been reading them at an increased rate as well as listening to them through the podcasts. I'm subscribed to Daily Science Fiction. It's not unknown for me to download PDFs of magazines these days. My level of exposure to short form SF is as high as it's ever been.
And having half-a-dozen stories on the go at once hasn't exactly helped matters. I probably need to focus on just one at a time before going off and writing another one. Jumping from one idea to another isn't good for an organised mind.
This is a promise to myself: I'm going to use this next few weeks to get the stories I've been working on finished. When I'm not disserting my topic, I'll be found constructing SF and horror short stories, starting with finishing the one for the 2013 anthology. This promise starts tomorrow: at least an hour of work while in uni, waiting to meet the third years.
It's hardly professional of me, I know. If I'm to be professional about the whole thing I should at least sit down and work on one of the half-a-dozen stories I have on the go, even if I'm not feeling particularly motivated. But I haven't been, and those stories have been neglected as a result.
Is it a loss of confidence? Hardly. I'm still in the figjam mindset, and I know it. Perhaps it's just that I've needed a break from writing short stories for a week while I continue to digest more and more of them. Of late, I've been reading them at an increased rate as well as listening to them through the podcasts. I'm subscribed to Daily Science Fiction. It's not unknown for me to download PDFs of magazines these days. My level of exposure to short form SF is as high as it's ever been.
And having half-a-dozen stories on the go at once hasn't exactly helped matters. I probably need to focus on just one at a time before going off and writing another one. Jumping from one idea to another isn't good for an organised mind.
This is a promise to myself: I'm going to use this next few weeks to get the stories I've been working on finished. When I'm not disserting my topic, I'll be found constructing SF and horror short stories, starting with finishing the one for the 2013 anthology. This promise starts tomorrow: at least an hour of work while in uni, waiting to meet the third years.
Monday, 20 September 2010
Or maybe not
Right, so the first draft is finished. 486 words of me spouting the usual nonsense. But it's nonsense I like. And it's nonsense I want to try to get published. With apologies to all who might actually have been in the slightest bit interested in reading it (apart from people who I live with, obviously, who might as well have a free pass to my work once I start getting vaguely enthusiastic about it), I'm going to send it off.
The editing process is starting tomorrow morning (or later this evening, once The Inbetweeners has been on telly - I have no doubt that there's a blog about them coming on at some point fairly soon). By this time tomorrow evening, it'll have gone off to the first of the three ezines I have earmarked as potentially publishing it.
Once again, apologies. I'll get to work on a different one instead, just to satisfy the masses (both of them).
The editing process is starting tomorrow morning (or later this evening, once The Inbetweeners has been on telly - I have no doubt that there's a blog about them coming on at some point fairly soon). By this time tomorrow evening, it'll have gone off to the first of the three ezines I have earmarked as potentially publishing it.
Once again, apologies. I'll get to work on a different one instead, just to satisfy the masses (both of them).
New story in the works
I've been spending the afternoon working on a new piece of flash fiction. It's been slow going, but the idea's there and I quite like it. As things stand, I'm about 250 words in to the first draft, and it should be finished before too long. I'm going to put it up on here rather than try to get it published and get paid; it's not SF (well, not strictly speaking at any rate) and if I'm honest I want to get published in SF before I get published in other genres (uni anthology notwithstanding).
With a bit of luck, the story will be finished in first draft form inside the next 24 hours, with the second draft coming along within a day after that. I'm hoping that it'll be up by Thursday. If it isn't, blame the dissertation.
With a bit of luck, the story will be finished in first draft form inside the next 24 hours, with the second draft coming along within a day after that. I'm hoping that it'll be up by Thursday. If it isn't, blame the dissertation.
Wednesday, 15 September 2010
Update v2.0
It was rejected. Not unexpected; in fact, quite the opposite considering the 0.09% success rate there. If it had been, I'd have been running through Newcastle naked (there's a sight for the ladies) or something in sheer delight. Rejection's a fairly familiar feeling at this point (and not just with the writing), so hey, I can deal.
Now I go back and start working on it again. I didn't like it in the first place, so this is a bonus. Put dissertations aside for a day and go hell for leather on this, make it commercially viable and try again. Probably not with Clarkesworld, though, as I may be setting the bar a little too high right now.
Now I go back and start working on it again. I didn't like it in the first place, so this is a bonus. Put dissertations aside for a day and go hell for leather on this, make it commercially viable and try again. Probably not with Clarkesworld, though, as I may be setting the bar a little too high right now.
And another update
As you may be able to tell, my imagination fails somewhat when it comes to titles. This has always been a problem of mine, and one I really do need to suss out. My submission to Clarkesworld has probably the worst title possible because it was one I bunged in to act as a filler while I thought of something better. Lo and behold, I failed in that quest to find a better title and it went away with a thoroughly naff title. When it comes back rejected (which will be soon - it's 9th in the reading queue at the time of writing, up 192 places from a week ago. Eh, it's just like Top of the Pops), I'll be working on that title first and foremost before going back and reconstructing the basic premise of the piece.
Fortunately, imagination doesn't fail me quite so much when it comes to search terms for my dissertation, which I got to work on yesterday with a 2 1/2 hour session searching for articles and cases. Thanks to creative thought, I managed to find 50 cases and articles, some of which I need to follow-up in the practice library once I go back in there. On the other hand, most of those articles can be read in full now, and ought to contain links to arguments made by other articles which I haven't picked up on yet. All in all, it was a decent academic day, only dampened by the PFA not getting back to me on the subject of insurance.
Unfortunately for my writing, the dissertation means that I haven't got any further with a story I'm writing for this anthology. That said, I can work on it while my many hundreds of pages are printing off for me to read. So it isn't all bad news.
I've been back in Newcastle over the last couple of days, and I've thoroughly enjoyed myself, even if the vacuum cleaner doesn't work properly. I need to sort a few things out yet (like dry cleaning my suit for the new year and washing and ironing shirts), but by and large I'm pretty much ready to go for my final year doing the LLB Bar Exempting course. It does have to be said that I don't envisage this being my last year ever at uni, as I'd quite like to go back and do a masters degree, probably in Law, and maybe get another bachelors degree (in a science, probably, seeing as I've spent the last couple of years dipping into science journals and keeping up to date with developments).
And finally, I've been reading Let The Right One In over the past couple of days. I'm not very far in (120 pages), but thus far I've enjoyed it, even if my writer's mind has taken over every now and then, looking at the occasionally clunky translated prose, thinking 'that's clumsy - I could probably do better'. But with that said, I probably couldn't write the material itself, so I shouldn't criticise.
Fortunately, imagination doesn't fail me quite so much when it comes to search terms for my dissertation, which I got to work on yesterday with a 2 1/2 hour session searching for articles and cases. Thanks to creative thought, I managed to find 50 cases and articles, some of which I need to follow-up in the practice library once I go back in there. On the other hand, most of those articles can be read in full now, and ought to contain links to arguments made by other articles which I haven't picked up on yet. All in all, it was a decent academic day, only dampened by the PFA not getting back to me on the subject of insurance.
Unfortunately for my writing, the dissertation means that I haven't got any further with a story I'm writing for this anthology. That said, I can work on it while my many hundreds of pages are printing off for me to read. So it isn't all bad news.
I've been back in Newcastle over the last couple of days, and I've thoroughly enjoyed myself, even if the vacuum cleaner doesn't work properly. I need to sort a few things out yet (like dry cleaning my suit for the new year and washing and ironing shirts), but by and large I'm pretty much ready to go for my final year doing the LLB Bar Exempting course. It does have to be said that I don't envisage this being my last year ever at uni, as I'd quite like to go back and do a masters degree, probably in Law, and maybe get another bachelors degree (in a science, probably, seeing as I've spent the last couple of years dipping into science journals and keeping up to date with developments).
And finally, I've been reading Let The Right One In over the past couple of days. I'm not very far in (120 pages), but thus far I've enjoyed it, even if my writer's mind has taken over every now and then, looking at the occasionally clunky translated prose, thinking 'that's clumsy - I could probably do better'. But with that said, I probably couldn't write the material itself, so I shouldn't criticise.
Tuesday, 7 September 2010
Submissions (not like that)
The post is starting to annoy me. Over the last few years it's been getting gradually later, which is especially annoying when you need to go somewhere but can't go anywhere until the parcel you were expecting has arrived (or, more commonly, not) with the morning post. Only it's never morning these days. It's early afternoon, which is ridiculous.
It would also be nice if Amazon actually did as I told them. I asked for the two books I ordered the other day to be packaged together. It makes sense, doesn't it? Less packaging is better for the environment and cheaper for the company itself. Apparently, though, Amazon doesn't do that, and has instead sent me them separately. Or, rather, it's sent me one and the other's apparently still en route to my front door.
As you may be able to tell, I'm a little cranky this evening. I could do with my tea, but what was promised for six is now definitely going to be ready for seven (or so I'm told). According to the person in charge, it was always going to be seven. What is this, the Wilson family equivalent of the Ministry of Truth in 1984? Blimey.
I've followed up my submission of a piece of flash fiction to a website the other day with the submission of a short story to Clarkesworld. Apparently, Clarkesworld is one of the hardest markets to crack (probably because they pay so well), but I quite fancy the challenge. So, off this story has gone, quite probably coming back in a day or two's time with a 'get stuffed' note attached. Unfortunately, rejection is likely to happen a few times over the next few weeks.
This is the writing Gom Jabbar, the acid test of whether a writer really is serious, has self-belief and is prepared to keep plugging away. In the past, I failed it - I got a few rejection slips and by self-belief was hit hard. To be fair, I was about 16. I was inexperienced and had only been writing 3 years. It was raw stuff I was sending away, and it isn't a surprise. My stuff now may not be world-changing, but it's better than what was going off then.
Unfortunately, many talented writers get their first rejection and never submit again. On the other hand, many who are convinced they're God's gift to literature receive their first rejection and do exactly the same, so there's an upside to every problem (how many are convinced the editor just didn't get their work is not something up for discussion right now). My message to the former of these two classes is to keep working at it. We're in the same boat, you and I, two (or more) hopefuls auditioning for a chance to grasp the first rung of the publishing ladder. I know that when my work's rejected I'll just be resubmitting it and working on other things at the same time.
Best of luck to you! You stand a better chance of publication than I do of getting my tea at any point in the next century.
It would also be nice if Amazon actually did as I told them. I asked for the two books I ordered the other day to be packaged together. It makes sense, doesn't it? Less packaging is better for the environment and cheaper for the company itself. Apparently, though, Amazon doesn't do that, and has instead sent me them separately. Or, rather, it's sent me one and the other's apparently still en route to my front door.
As you may be able to tell, I'm a little cranky this evening. I could do with my tea, but what was promised for six is now definitely going to be ready for seven (or so I'm told). According to the person in charge, it was always going to be seven. What is this, the Wilson family equivalent of the Ministry of Truth in 1984? Blimey.
I've followed up my submission of a piece of flash fiction to a website the other day with the submission of a short story to Clarkesworld. Apparently, Clarkesworld is one of the hardest markets to crack (probably because they pay so well), but I quite fancy the challenge. So, off this story has gone, quite probably coming back in a day or two's time with a 'get stuffed' note attached. Unfortunately, rejection is likely to happen a few times over the next few weeks.
This is the writing Gom Jabbar, the acid test of whether a writer really is serious, has self-belief and is prepared to keep plugging away. In the past, I failed it - I got a few rejection slips and by self-belief was hit hard. To be fair, I was about 16. I was inexperienced and had only been writing 3 years. It was raw stuff I was sending away, and it isn't a surprise. My stuff now may not be world-changing, but it's better than what was going off then.
Unfortunately, many talented writers get their first rejection and never submit again. On the other hand, many who are convinced they're God's gift to literature receive their first rejection and do exactly the same, so there's an upside to every problem (how many are convinced the editor just didn't get their work is not something up for discussion right now). My message to the former of these two classes is to keep working at it. We're in the same boat, you and I, two (or more) hopefuls auditioning for a chance to grasp the first rung of the publishing ladder. I know that when my work's rejected I'll just be resubmitting it and working on other things at the same time.
Best of luck to you! You stand a better chance of publication than I do of getting my tea at any point in the next century.
Wednesday, 1 September 2010
A flash of inspiration
Writers who may be reading will already have guessed what I've been writing from the title. To any non-writers who don't have a clue what I'm referring to, it's this: flash fiction.
I've taken it up as a writing exercise of late. The Sucker (see archive) is an example of this, although most of the stories I've been writing won't see the light of day in the same way, either being rubbish or experimental (or, more commonly, both).
However, I'm excited about my latest effort. My challenge to myself was to pull off a galaxy-spanning epic in 500 words, and I think I may have done something like it. OK, so epic might be stretching the definition, but the point is it has a journey longer than Lord of the Rings and a word count shorter than quite a lot of poetry. Result.
I may be deluding myself about how good it is (chances are I am, considering my record), but I feel so good about it that I've actually submitted it. Not to a place that will pay me (it's 492 words long - why would anyone in their right mind pay for a piece of fiction that long, really? I wouldn't pay to read it, that's for sure), admittedly, but it's a first submission of the summer and one of the biggest steps I've made in my writing for a while.
If it ends up not being published, I'm not to bothered. It'd be nice and a real boost ahead of the new uni year, but at the end of the day I can then bring it back and polish it further, re-write it and then try again. Part of me wants it coming back negative, just so I can do that very thing.
I'm weird like that.
I've taken it up as a writing exercise of late. The Sucker (see archive) is an example of this, although most of the stories I've been writing won't see the light of day in the same way, either being rubbish or experimental (or, more commonly, both).
However, I'm excited about my latest effort. My challenge to myself was to pull off a galaxy-spanning epic in 500 words, and I think I may have done something like it. OK, so epic might be stretching the definition, but the point is it has a journey longer than Lord of the Rings and a word count shorter than quite a lot of poetry. Result.
I may be deluding myself about how good it is (chances are I am, considering my record), but I feel so good about it that I've actually submitted it. Not to a place that will pay me (it's 492 words long - why would anyone in their right mind pay for a piece of fiction that long, really? I wouldn't pay to read it, that's for sure), admittedly, but it's a first submission of the summer and one of the biggest steps I've made in my writing for a while.
If it ends up not being published, I'm not to bothered. It'd be nice and a real boost ahead of the new uni year, but at the end of the day I can then bring it back and polish it further, re-write it and then try again. Part of me wants it coming back negative, just so I can do that very thing.
I'm weird like that.
Tuesday, 31 August 2010
Frustration
Frustration is one of my biggest weaknesses. I've never been very good at dealing with it, if I'm perfectly honest, and experience hasn't helped me mellow in the slightest when I'm genuinely frustrated. I'm still prone to shouting at something for no apparent reason, other than it's there to take my frustrations out on.
Fortunately, I do have outlets that will help me to channel frustrations. One of these is watching the Town, although this often ends in me being even more frustrated. Another is going out in the garden and booting a football about for 30 minutes. I did this a couple of times this afternoon, and right now I'm feeling pretty good.
Today's frustration came about as a result of a misbehaving story. After having an idea, I couldn't get the opening scene to do what I wanted it to. Cue me trying way too hard, the writing deteriorating and, before too long, a grunt of annoyance aimed at the computer. How hard can it be to get into the head of a mother wanting to protect her kids? It's not tough to write a good opening few lines just go get the story started, so why isn't it going to do what I want it to as it is?
Anyway, I decided to take a break over lunch, listened to a couple of short stories, had a look at what was going on in the news, and then got back to work. The story still didn't want to play ball. It felt awkward and unwieldy, and frustration again reared its head. I wouldn't be so fussed if over the last couple of days I'd been writing fluently and this was the first block I'd had for a while, but that isn't the case. It's been a tough couple of days. Perhaps it's because I've been writing from a woman's point of view. Most women would agree that I really don't know how they think. Anyway, whatever the cause, writing's been difficult this last couple of days, and so I decided to give it up as a bad job for the afternoon and do something else.
Frustration is best worked out physically, I find. There's nothing that gets rid of that anger quite like putting my foot through a football and hearing the satisfying thwack as the ball flies into the nets I still have in the back garden (and which remain there for this very reason). Before too long, the frustration had gone to be replaced with just enjoying having a ball at my feet. I was trying my usual back garden tricks - drag-backs, stepovers, flicks with the outside of my feet, using my knees and shoulders to control the ball - and thoroughly enjoyed it, if I'm honest.
It would also be worth mentioning that I probably needed the exercise. I actually had to loosen my belt for the first time ever yesterday, and I did it again this lunchtime. My target is to be in shape when uni kicks off again at the end of September so I can actually play a few games for the Gooks this season. I was going to say 'make a telling contribution' but that'd be pushing my abilities a bit far. I might play my part, but I'm not going to score and create goals by the hatful.
Another thing worth mentioning is that this evening I'll be back in front of the iMac bashing out some flash fiction. I saw a website that isn't a paying market, but which interested me and I quite fancied seeing if I could get a bit of something on there, before going back to the previous idea I was working on and also starting work on an idea for an anthology I fancy writing for.
In the mean time, tea. I'm starving.
Fortunately, I do have outlets that will help me to channel frustrations. One of these is watching the Town, although this often ends in me being even more frustrated. Another is going out in the garden and booting a football about for 30 minutes. I did this a couple of times this afternoon, and right now I'm feeling pretty good.
Today's frustration came about as a result of a misbehaving story. After having an idea, I couldn't get the opening scene to do what I wanted it to. Cue me trying way too hard, the writing deteriorating and, before too long, a grunt of annoyance aimed at the computer. How hard can it be to get into the head of a mother wanting to protect her kids? It's not tough to write a good opening few lines just go get the story started, so why isn't it going to do what I want it to as it is?
Anyway, I decided to take a break over lunch, listened to a couple of short stories, had a look at what was going on in the news, and then got back to work. The story still didn't want to play ball. It felt awkward and unwieldy, and frustration again reared its head. I wouldn't be so fussed if over the last couple of days I'd been writing fluently and this was the first block I'd had for a while, but that isn't the case. It's been a tough couple of days. Perhaps it's because I've been writing from a woman's point of view. Most women would agree that I really don't know how they think. Anyway, whatever the cause, writing's been difficult this last couple of days, and so I decided to give it up as a bad job for the afternoon and do something else.
Frustration is best worked out physically, I find. There's nothing that gets rid of that anger quite like putting my foot through a football and hearing the satisfying thwack as the ball flies into the nets I still have in the back garden (and which remain there for this very reason). Before too long, the frustration had gone to be replaced with just enjoying having a ball at my feet. I was trying my usual back garden tricks - drag-backs, stepovers, flicks with the outside of my feet, using my knees and shoulders to control the ball - and thoroughly enjoyed it, if I'm honest.
It would also be worth mentioning that I probably needed the exercise. I actually had to loosen my belt for the first time ever yesterday, and I did it again this lunchtime. My target is to be in shape when uni kicks off again at the end of September so I can actually play a few games for the Gooks this season. I was going to say 'make a telling contribution' but that'd be pushing my abilities a bit far. I might play my part, but I'm not going to score and create goals by the hatful.
Another thing worth mentioning is that this evening I'll be back in front of the iMac bashing out some flash fiction. I saw a website that isn't a paying market, but which interested me and I quite fancied seeing if I could get a bit of something on there, before going back to the previous idea I was working on and also starting work on an idea for an anthology I fancy writing for.
In the mean time, tea. I'm starving.
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