Working Through the Block

Well, not exactly a block. I've been stuck for days - *blushes* more like weeks - on the same sequence I'm trying to add into the rewrite of Stars. I thought I was finding it difficult because I lacked the excitement of creating new work - or maybe I was missing the pressure of a deadline (see How Do You Keep Going When Nobody Cares? below) - or possibly just being lazy.

All those things are probably true, but what I've now realised is that I was mostly finding it tough because the passage was wrong from the start. It wasn't working, and I needed to approach it completely differently. Somewhere inside I knew that all along.

As soon as I saw that, I was able to rewrite most of it at a sitting. Now I'm poised to move on. Yay!

The question is, was it a waste of time crawling more and more slowly up that blind alley, or did I need to do it in order to see the right path? Far from being redundant, was it actually necessary?

One thing I'm sure of: if you stick at it, you never stop learning.

Hunger Games vs Twilight

Well? I know which I prefer ... In fact, the one is so much better than the other in my opinion, I never even thought to compare them until I saw this article in the Metro.

I first heard about the Twilight novels from an American friend of mine, before they'd reached the UK. Her passion for the series was a foretaste of what was about to hit us, and when they were published here I read the first book.

I could see why it was popular, and I'm all for books being popular. Twilight has done for YA publishing what Harry Potter did for books for younger readers - even stolen one of its stars - what is it about Patso that links him cinematically to death? I also thought it was profoundly silly. I mean, a brooding, sexy but chaste vampire who is all but unattainable and glitters, for goodness sake ... I could almost forget we're reading about the undead, and think instead it's a teenage girl's dream of a rock star. But like I said, don't knock it. Clever stuff.

Hunger Games, on the other hand, is seriously good. Like all the best dystopian fantasy, it grows out of the development of aspects of our own society, in this case - amongst other things - social division, screen violence and the reality show. It engages completely, with skilful writing, believable characters and a tense plot.

As a reader, no contest between the books; nor as a writer: I know which I would like to emulate. And I also know which I would prefer a daughter of mine to read. The society Suzanne Collins writes about may be sick, but her heroine Katniss is feisty, resourceful and honest; and her book makes you think, rather than wallow in sentiment.

But hold on a minute ... I'm not the target audience here. Teenage years are a time for many things, including being silly. I seem to remember it was rather fun.

Perhaps I should remember my age and shut up ... and also be grateful that at least two authors are doing their bit for the popularity of the book.

Hooray for Quentin Blake stamps!

I was chuffed to send out a sample stamped with one of these brilliant Roald Dahl designs. I can't help feeling my submission will do so much better with sympathetic franking.

I am right, aren't I? I'm not being pathetic?

What are your submission superstitions? I never re-send returned samples, however recent or pristine. I just know they will have absorbed the negativity, and the next person will be able to tell. Of course it's a terrible waste, but I recycle them by printing rough drafts on the other side ... Hang on.

What if the bad vibes seep through?

So much to worry about ...

How do you keep going when nobody cares?

Maybe I could have put that better. I'm sure somebody cares. Your mother, your partner, your dog. My cat likes it when I write. It means I sit in one place, and he can play the try-to-get-on-her-lap game ... but I digress. Those are not the people I meant. What I actually meant to say was, how do you keep going when the publishing industry doesn't care? When there are no deadlines?

I suppose what would be helpful now would be for me to give some sage advice, but I don't really have any. This was more on the lines of a post to open up the subject for debate. If you have any thoughts, I'd love to hear them.

I suppose what most of us do is try to create artificial deadlines - artificial because it won't actually make any difference to anyone else if we don't meet them. Nano functions like that, and other co-operative ventures between writers. I set up little personal deadlines. The only people who will be affected at the moment if I don't finish my current book are my children, who will never inherit the royalties - but I doubt that's keeping them awake at night.

That was one of the benefits of doing an MA in Writing: plenty of deadlines then, and stimuli ... but now it's over, and most of us, apart from the one or two who got agents and/or publishers (it did happen) are finding it hard to keep up anything like the pace.

Of course you're doing it because you enjoy it - even when it's the most frustrating thing in the world. When the plot's hit a wall and the characters won't speak to you, and when you realise you've got to rewrite the whole s***ing 60,000 words. And that's when one of the people who does care (see above, but probably not the dog) will say "But it's just for fun, isn't it?"

And underlying it all, the elephant in the room if you like (sorry Sally), is the real question: if nobody cares, how long before you stop altogether?

Scribbling with Light

I didn't take my camera with me to the firework display, otherwise I'd post a pic.

Maybe that's just as well. Others more skilled than me will be showing images of dark skies lit up by chrysanthemums of fire ... pictures which say everything but nothing about what it was like to be there at the time: a shower of silver that was both a tree and a waterfall; a cluster of sparks scurrying across the sky, squealing like aliens; the warmth of the mug of mulled wine and the closeness of friends. And above all the experience of what is essentially a performance in time, which has everything to tell us about the importance of pacing and of building to a climax: the anticipation after each lull of a bigger and louder display, until the conclusion which fills the sky and makes you feel as if you are being hammered into the ground with sound.

How disappointing it would be if it wasn't like that.

'The Vampire Angel Syndrome' - on the naming of books

I made that up. Just to catch your eye. Another one I like is 'The Skin is Sweet but the Flesh is Bitter.' I overheard someone say it once - they were describing the experience of eating a kumquat - and I've always known exactly the kind of story that would go with it, if it were the title of a book.

How important is the title of your novel? Very, very important, once it's published. I imagine the reasons are self-evident, and because of that everyone wants a say: editors, marketers, sales reps ... So is it worth agonising over the title of your unpublished MS, given that it's almost bound to be changed if you get a deal?

I think yes. After all, it has to do the same job on your behalf in the slushpile, as the final title will on the bookshop shelf: say to someone who might otherwise pass it over: "Pick me up! Me! Me! You know you want to."

My titles could be improved. The second one, Better than Stars or Water, has been in place since the book was conceived. It's a line from the poem which inspired the story, and as such I'm rather fond of it and like the reference it makes. It's performed quite well getting the novel a first audience, but I doubt it would survive the critical eyes of a marketing team. It's too long. The giveaway is that even I tend not to use the full title. I shorten it to "Better that Stars," or worse still "The Venice book."

The titles for my first novel have been pretty dire. I never use them when talking about it. I've had plenty of better ideas. They must have been good, because I check them online, and find they're already out there attached to published books.

There wasn't much left, as you can see from this selection of working titles:

Peregrin Zefyr and the Alloid Invasion (sounds like a West Country book about World War II)
Peregrin Zefyr and the Ratsnatcher (sounds like something from the Victorian slums) 
Peregrin Zefyr and the  Cosmic Ratsnatcher (too cumbersome)
Peregrin Zefyr and the Timesnatcher
Peregrin Zefyr and the Timehiker

... getting there, but you must be able to see the theme that's holding us back. Peregrin Zefyr (usually shortened to Zeff) is a central character, but it's a mouthful. Eoin Colfer can get away with Artemis Fowl, but, well, he's Eoin Colfer ... and you've got to worry when people keep spelling it wrong.

I finally sent the sample out under the shortened title Timehiker, and got a request for the full MS. And - here's the fortuitous bit - it was referred to in error by the agent as TimehikerS.

Timehikers. Brilliant. I think I'll go with that ... for the time being at least.

Of Star Wars, Shakespeare and Ancient Egypt

Well I didn't see that coming ... and I promise that is absolutely the last soothsaying joke you will read in this blog. Well, almost.

It's a while since I've posted: blame the demands of Antony and Cleopatra. As you can see, in the end my appearance was more by Darth Maul out of Obi Wan Kenobi.

In fact, I wasn't the only Star Wars character in the dressing room. We also had a giant Ewok

and Princess Leia.

As for Jabba, Yoda and R2D2 ...

And what was it I failed to foresee? Actually nothing to do with the play - except for the odd fact that it's not the first time good news about my attempts to get published has sneaked up on me while I've been looking the other way because of a performance. All of a sudden I've got interest in my first book - now provisionally called Timehikers - from two directions. Yay!

I can't say any more at the moment. You'll have to watch this space ... although of course I know already how it's all going to turn out (sorry).

PS Thanks to my fellow actors for letting me include their images, and to Owen Benson for letting me use and abuse some of his photos of the play (apologies for the cropping)