I hit 50, 000 words on the evening of November 29th, which is slow by my standards, but perfectly acceptable in the scheme of things. As ever, the moment when I upload wordcount to the Nanowrimo site (painfully slow on the first and last couple of the days of November, a phenomenon we refer to as “the robust nature of the nano servers”) to get redirected to the winners page is a bittersweet one. You expect fireworks, or a party, and what you get is… well, a very nice round of applause from the Nano staff, and a couple of downloads. But then the point is not to have the world fall at your feet at the enormity of your achievement. If you’re anything like me, the end of Nano is not the end of the story. Nowhere near, in my case. Ghosts is dangling on a massive cliffhanger. The casual reader may consider that I have written myself into a corner. Not the case, kids. But if you want to find out what happens next, you’re going to have to let me know.
Work on Ghosts will now continue behind the scenes. The first draft will stay up until the new year, at which point it’s being pulled into Scrivener so I can start work on the second draft. As for the first part of the story, Pirates of The Moon – well, I have plans for that, which I’ll share with you in due course.
On the same subject, you can now view Simon Aitken’s brilliant Blood + Roses on a rental pass at the all new revamped site. I can’t recommend it enough, and I’m not alone. Critical Film called it “a turning point, for the better, in the constant evolution of the modern cinematic vampire”, and I agree. This is a great opportunity to support an acclaimed independent horror, and you should run, not walk (well, metaphorically speaking, as you’re no doubt reading this at home in your slippers with no intention of budging off the sofa) to the site and check it out.
Finally, a little self-promotion that I can’t believe slipped through the gaps. Time Out is now available to view at Raindance.TV, at significantly improved quality from the YouTube link. Those who sniff that it was only shot on Super 8 in the first place are so very missing the point it’s not even funny. Go check it out, and witness the glory. Also, we get a tiny morsel of cash for every view, so that’s nice, isn’t it?
Right, back to work. The twist I have in mind won’t write itself…
It’s always an exciting moment. November 1st. The first day of NaNoWriMo. And let me tell you, Readership, this time I was ready. I was primed. I knew my story, I knew my characters. I was plotted up and ready to go. I stepped onto a slightly slower train than usual at Reading, all the better to get a good start on the day’s wordcount. It was perfect. There was a seat with a table for my coffee, and room to perch my netbook. I had the software I needed, I had my backup strategy sorted out. I was good, as any number of eighties action movie icons would tell you, to go.
I opened my netbook. It was dead. I’d forgotten to charge it. And of course, I was on a train with no handy power outlets. Not, I have to say, the best of starts.
I coped by using my phone. I’ve quietly refined my typing skills to the point where I can double-thumb with pleasing rapidity. But even I was surprised to see that I’d managed over 700 hundred words on that first morning. It’s not an experiment I’d choose to replicate, but it’s good to know I can do it if I need to.
What this shows is that Nano is about getting the wordcount, any which way you can, in any way that suits you. Do it on the kitchen table. Do it on your lunchbreak. Do it like me, on the train or the bus. Yes, I’m still talking about writing, mostly.
Nano does funny things to your head. It makes you write and think in much longer sentences than you would normally. It’s always there, nagging at the back of the head. Have you done your words? Why haven’t you done your words? Why are you hoovering? Shouldn’t you be writing?
And the world around you becomes fair game. That funny thing the old dear in front of you said on the bus? You can use that in the book. That silly thing that happened at work today? You can use that in the book? That book you’ve been reading? You can use that in… oh, maybe not.
There are, of course, the freaks of nature that will finish Nano in absurdly short periods of time. Four days. Although there are writers on the forums that had hit 300,000 words in a week. The mind boggles and the fingers tingle at the thought of that much writing. I’m at … well, have a look to your left. See the widget? That’s how well I’m doing. At the time of writing I’m at 17,000 words, which will get me to the 50,000 word mark a day or so early, although I’m planning on improving on that. The story has a long way to go yet, and I’m enjoying the way it’s changing and reforming under my fingers. The John Carpenter influences are coming out a lot more clearly than I’d expected, which means the story is much more actiony and horrific than I’d thought. None of this is a problem. I’d planned on a big, fast-moving story. And hoo boy, that’s what I’ve got.
A gentle reminder that I’m posting every word I write this month up in the Ghosts Of The Moon link above, so feel free to read and comment. Pointing out spelling mistakes and grammatical errors will be met with hollow laughter. This is writing in the raw, Readership. Out of my head and into your hands. Fiction doesn’t get any purer than that.
OK, this has nothing to do with anything apart from the fact that working on NanoWriMo tends to tune your brain into slightly different frequencies and you pick up on connections that you maybe wouldn’t normally notice.
Also, that you write in run-on sentences more. They normally get cut in half in the edit. But anyway.
Charlie Stross recently wrote a wonderful, curmudgeonly piece on steampunk (here it is). He made the point that the innovations of the early stories have devolved into mere set-dressing. If steampunk authors took the time to look at the worlds they were building, there would be very little glamour to be had, and a great deal of poverty and deprivation. He also cracked the joke that steampunk is what happens when goths discover brown, which made me snort tea back into my mug through my nose. He called out SF sites Tor.com and i09 as being particularly to blame for the spike in interest in the genre.
This is pretty nicely timed, as Tor have just been running a Steampunk fortnight. A lot of the critical thought and articles have been on the reinvention of the genre. Amal El-Mohtar’s piece, Winding Down The House is especially good in this regard, and successfully makes the point that steampunk’s tropes and conventions really are holding things back. If steampunk is to grow and stay interesting, it needs to move away from the Victoriana/Old West/Ruritanian bit, and find new directions.
Amal points out her frustrations neatly here:
I wrote a story in what, to my mind, would be a steampunky Damascus: a Damascus that was part of a vibrant trading nation in its own right, that would not be colonised by European powers, where women displayed their trades by the patterns of braids and knots in their hair, and where some women were pioneering the art of crafting dream-provoking devices through new gem-cutting techniques.
Once I’d written it, though, I found myself uncertain whether or not it was steampunk. It didn’t look like anything called steampunk that I’d seen. Sure, there were goggles involved in gem-crafting, and sure, copper was a necessary component of the dream-device—but where was the steam? My editor asked the same question, and suggested my problem could be fixed by a liberal application of steamworks to the setting. Who could naysay me if my story had all the trappings of the subgenre?
Syria, you may be aware, is a fairly arid country. There are better things to do with water than make steam.
Both articles are worth a read, not just as criticisms of the subgenre, but as roadmaps to a new future past.
And I have an unfinished steampunk book that could use a little attention…
So, it begins again. It’s November, and my mind is on my wordcount and my wordcount’s on my mind.
The link to each day’s output will be up on the link above, so feel free to peruse and comment. It’s first draft, so of course it will be rough round the edges. Porcupine rough.
Also, I have a word count widget running, so you can follow along as I creep closer to my goal. Exciting, eh?
Updates will be brief over the next few weeks, but I’ll keep you updated as to my life during Nano. Such as it is.
We went west. We had no real plans, apart from an urge to see and experience something a little different. In the course of three days, we would find a starling church, see lions and tigers (but no bears, oh well), fall in love with a dragon and meet a god. Not bad for England in September.
We rode out early on the first day, fearing heavy traffic on a road we had travelled before that had always slowed us down. Somehow, our timing was perfect for once, and the grim weather and slow movement we had feared never materialised. The sun broke through the clouds as we reached Stonehenge.
We had driven past the stones plenty of times before, but had never stopped. It was a good time to do it. We were between coach parties, and just past the school holidays. It wasn’t empty, but there was room to manoeuvre. A bedraggled Druid and his muse manned protest signs as we went under the path to the stones. They wanted better access, and a chance to use Stonehenge in the way it had been intended – as a church. As no-one’s really sure what Stonehenge’s true purpose is, I couldn’t sympathise.
It was a warm afternoon, and flocks of starlings swooped overhead, tying knots in the air. Then, as we watched, this happened.
For half an hour the starlings roosted quietly on the stones, getting the kind of access that the Druid across the road could only dream about. I couldn’t help but feel that they were using it as a meeting place, a point of community. In their still intensity, I couldn’t help but think of them at worship.
They were gone as suddenly as they’d arrived, and we walked back to the car, thinking that we’d witnessed something a little special. It will colour the way I look at the place from now on. I have a lot of respect for the major stone sites of England, and I always leave them knowing a little less, and feeling a little more wonder.
Our next stop was an unplanned one. Stourhead is a rambling estate laid out by banker and art patron Henry Hoare in the early 1700s. The gardens are extraordinary. They’re laid out to replicate some of Hoare’s favourite paintings, and there are plenty of rolling vistas, and follies and temples peeping into view.
While walking around the lake that forms the centrepiece of the grounds, we came across a spooky tunnel carved out of the rocks. We wandered in, to be confronted by …
The statue seems to glow, somehow, although there’s no obvious source of light. It’s a great bit of theatre, and a neat surprise in a place that’s full of tricks and playfulness. Loved it. Thank you, Henry.
We stayed at The Bath Arms, a short drive from our next spot. It’s a place I can solidly recommend. Good beer, great food, sharp service and well-priced. Plug over, but really, worth a stop if you’re in the area.
The next day was a simple pleasure. A trip to the zoo. Not just any zoo, of course. Longleat. I’d never been. The famous monkey jungle has been closed for a while due to a nasty case of monkey herpes. I was a bit relieved, to be frank. I’d heard enough horror stories about how the little buggers would rip off anything on the car that wasn’t bolted down. We weren’t too keen on being attacked by rage monkeys.
However, there were enough surprises waiting for us to make the lack of monkeys a distinct no-biggie.
Once out of the car finally, we took the rest of the day exploring the ground, and found a couple of memorable places.
The cheap-looking Old Toms Mine doesn’t look like much from the outside, but it’s home to a colony of bats. Unlike most bat enclosures I’d seen, there’s no barrier between them and us. It’s basically a big dark room full of bats. And it’s wonderful. They whizz past your ears, fluffing your hair as they zip around. They perch upside down, chirping at you. They dangle from fruit laden skewers. Sometimes they fall off, landing in a comedy heap. They’re goofy, sweet and hilarious. We walked out with big grins on our faces. Anyone that has a fear of bats needs to check these little guys out. They’ll change your mind in a moment.
We went to the petting zoo. Yes, alright. We’re soppy. But we fell in love with someone completely unexpected. I had an encounter with a Giant Hissing Cockroach, so friendly and used to people that he couldn’t be goaded into hissing for me.
And then we saw him. Our eyes met across a crowded room. Our new best friend. The Bearded Dragon.
He’s dry and cool to the touch, with the softest belly. He laid in my hand, and promptly rested his chin on my thumb and dozed off. I think it may have been love at first sight.
WANT.
Heading back the following morning after good food and splendid beer at the Bath Arms (seriously, try the Horningsham Pride. I could drink it all night. Ok, I did.) we headed east, stoping off at Lacock, home of a stunning medieval abbey, and the place where William Fox Talbot made the first photographic negative in 1835.
This was a spur of the moment visit, but a big thing for both of us. TLC and I are both taking more photos these days, and although we’re digital, every shot we take owes a debt of history to Fox Talbot and his pioneering work. He took inspiration from his surroundings, and it’s completely understandable. The Abbey and it’s grounds are places where pictures jump out at you. By accident, and without foreknowledge, TLC managed to replicate Fox Talbots original photo.
As we headed for home, we felt sure that we’d done everything that we set out to do, and more. Every time we spend a couple of days touring this country, we find sights and experience that fill us with wonder and joy. This is a good place, and it’s good to be here.
I’m a mobile writer, which means I don’t have a dedicated place where I go to work. I always smile at the photography series in the Indie that shows off writer’s spaces. The places they have made for themselves where they can create a masterpiece in comfort. There’s a lot of book-lined studies in there. It’s all very cosy.
If I were ever to have that honour, I’d have to show the photographer onto the 06:56 to London Paddington and get him to take a snap of a window seat. Lord knows, I’d love a place like Roald Dahl’s shed, or Neil Gaiman’s library, but that just don’t suit the way I do things. Maybe I should try a stint of writing in the summerhouse.
Writing on a train is the best way I know of getting some no-distraction work done. I can’t connect to the internet. I deliberately use a small, light netbook that doesn’t have too many fancies, but does have a good keyboard I can happily abuse. There’s power on the train, and access to coffee, which is really all I need to at least get a handle on the writing task of the day. I’m an early bird when it comes to this particular task, which means I can get a half-hours work done at the day’s creative peak.
A mobile writer needs a sturdy bag. It’s the office, essentially. It should be able to withstand all the rigours of a daily commute, while being light and small enough to be easily portable. When I began my rambling life, I carried my 13″ Blackbook in a solid, heavy Redline bookbag that was built to withstand a low-yield nuclear strike, but very nearly twisted my spine out of true whenever I picked it up. That was a lesson learned. Only carry what you really need, not everything you think you might.
If you’re interested in the sort of thing I lug around, allow me to point you at TLC’s new photo blog. She’s taken shots of our two bags, which are strangely accurate portraits, and interesting insights into our inner workings.
We spent the weekend with TLC’s side of the family, parked in a row of 5 caravans beside a pretty fishing lake in the Warwickshire countryside. It was an excuse to chill, relax, kick back, doze out, laze around, flop about and generally be at one with nature. There were children, dogs and balls to throw at both.
Oh, and we ate and drank like champions, which isn’t too tricky when you have five barbies, assorted gas grills and fridges groaning with beer and wine. As you can see from the map, there’s a brewery just down the way, which due to circumstances beyond our control I didn’t get to visit. I was assured by the sore-headed gentlemen of the group that it was very good, and well worth a visit.
It was as close to idyllic as I’d seen in a while, and yet another example of Britain’s countryside at it’s best. There was no power or facilities other than the ones we brought with us. And yet we had a great time. I didn’t even mind blowing up the air bed with a manual foot pump.
I’d do it again in an instant – although probably not in a tent. That’s a bit too close to nature. But caravans and camper vans are great, and anyone who thinks otherwise, or grumbles at being stuck behind one on the motorway has clearly never had a fun time on a lake. Their loss.
My post on fandom a couple of weeks ago was very much coloured by the fact that I’m not part of a fan community. I thought that this would give me an objective outside view of the world. All it really did was provide a barricade behind which I could lob brickbats and snarks without fear of blowback. That’s unfair to a lot of people, and nudges me dangerously close to the kind of snobbish commentary that drives me to fizzing spasms of rage when it’s directed at something I happen to like.
I’ve decided to offer a right to reply to a friend and writer who is deeply involved in fandom. WDW runs a very well respected blog on one of the more interesting A-listers on the scene, Jake Gyllenhaal. She knows the highs and lows of being a fan, and I’m delighted to offer her a slot on X&HT in order to set me straight.
A little squib that was written and didn’t make the cut for The Campaign For Real Fear. It addresses the way we all spend so much time looking at ourselves these days – and what if one day we look and something else is looking back. It’s a common enough horror meme, I guess, but by mixing it up with ideas of infection, invasion and zombification, hopefully I’ve come up with something fresh.
Note: a horror story. Which is why it’s tucked behind a More tag.
It’s been an interesting week, filled with activity of all sorts which could make 2010 a very fulfilling year for me creatively.
First up. I hit page count on Script Frenzy. I made it a couple of days before the deadline, which is always a nice feeling. Not having to race to the line gives you a feeling that you’re ever so slightly more in control of the material, and not just lobbing random words at the screen in the sure and gloomy knowledge that they’re all coming back out when it comes to the second draft.
Writing a comic script is different from anything I’ve ever tried before. I’ve had to be much more aware of the way the story flows from page to page, keeping things moving while leaving little bits of room for the story to breathe, for the characters to come to life. Essentially, I’ve had to write 96 little stories, each with their own cliffhanger. It’s been fun, and a challenge.
The job now is to get an artist on board. I can layout and probably do character design, but I’m fully aware of my shortcomings as an artist. I know I couldn’t do the story in my head justice. Any takers out there that might be interested collaborating in a dose of decent old-fashioned skiffy?
In Straight8 news, Dom and I finally got together with the brilliant Kiki Kendrick for a morning of reshoots on our 2009 film Time Out. It’s been over a year since the initial shoot, and we’ve been trying to merge schedules for the last nine months. Third time turned out to be the charm. In an intense two hour session we nailed five shots in two locations. The film is being processed, and with luck and a fair wind we can drop these shots into our existing cut and have something we can show you in a couple of weeks.
Finally, potentially the biggest news of all. Leading Man Clive and I are collaborating with Simon Aitken, Ben Woodiwiss and Brendan Lornegan, the guys behind Blood + Roses on a feature horror, Habeus Corpus. It’s an anthology movie, and we’ve all contributed a short script. The overarching theme of the film will be “the exploitation of the dead”. Treating the dead as a resource, rather than a threat. Humanity doesn’t come out well in our tales.
We’ll be directing our own segments, apart from Ben, whose opening segment will be helmed by the mighty Paul Davis of Beware The Moon fame. I’m incredibly excited and gut-wrenchingly nervous about this. It’s a massive step up for me, and I really hope I can do it justice. It’s some comfort to do something like this with friends, though. People whose judgement and skill I trust without question.
The script is just about locked and it kicks significant barrelfuls of ass. We’re starting on the long painful task of looking for finance. It’s going to be hard work, and I know blood will be spilled. But at the same time it’s another step up, another barrier to vault.
First up. I hit page count on Script Frenzy. I made it a couple of days before the deadline, which is always a nice feeling. Not having to race to the line gives you a feeling that you’re ever so slightly more in control of the material, and not just lobbing random words at the screen in the sure and gloomy knowledge that they’re all coming back out when it comes to the second draft. 
EXCUSES AND HALF TRUTHS 