Wednesday, May 7, 2008

Posted @ 14:17 GMT

energy

As anticipated the Yoga class attendance was cut by half this week. It didn't help that it was a glorious evening. Summer has arrived in the West of Ireland suddenly after a long cold Spring. It's like an old and welcome friend who calls at the last minute, turns up in a flurry of hugs and smiles, and brings a couple of bottles of fabulous wine to sip languidly during a long, intense conversation that lasts (hopefully) three months.

Our teacher, Yoga Elf, goes through all the positions quickly and doesn't wait for anyone. It's either keep up or skip a couple of the in-between positions when your legs/arms/etc. are shrieking in alarm at the strange contortions.

Strangely, I find myself unconcerned if I can't do everything. I try. I aim for good form. I know with practice I will get better. In the past I would have found this a hugely frustrating experience and would have imagined what everyone else in the class thought of my performance. Wisdom seems to have finally caught up with me. I figure they're all too concerned about hitting their positions to watch me, a newcomer to Yoga.

My biggest concern about Yoga is that it will irritate my wrists and cause an RSI flare-up. If it does aggravate the situation I will have to give up Yoga, which would be a shame. Still, you do what you have to do.

A friend of mine always said that people are solar-powered, and it seems more apt when you live in a country famous for its consistent cloud cover. Once the sun appears a sense of vitality seizes you. Small boring projects that have been languishing for ages are tackled. Life, with all its twists and turns, drifts towards the positive on a balmy day. Even bad news is ameliorated by blue skies and warm breezes.

Long may it continue.

Sunday, May 4, 2008

Posted @ 11:22 GMT

four things that make me happy

At this point I've submitted to a lot of different magazines, and here are my top four favourite things that make the process easier :

1. An email receipt of submission from the market.
2. A clear guideline about how long an author should wait before querying a submission.
3. An email if the story makes it through the first round and is under consideration.
4. A response to a query about a story's status.

Number 1 almost never applies to markets that only accept postal submissions, but I really love it when I get a quick email from a market to say that my story has been received safely. The second item is not always covered in the submission guidelines of a market, and it would certainly help me a great deal if I knew when I should query the status of a submission. Of course, if number 1 occurred I'm less liable to worry that my story has disappeared into the ether, and I'm likely to give the publication more leeway.

The third item makes sense to me, but I'm surprised at the number of editors who just hold on to the story longer rather than informing the author, via a simple email, that his/her work has been sent up the chain of command. This would also cut down on emails from authors wondering what's up with their story. Finally, I appreciate that editors are busy, but responding to an email query is good form.

I don't see the point in complaining about how long the submission merry-go-round takes: I'm aware that most editors are overworked and underpaid, and I have a great deal of sympathy for their plight. Editors care about stories, and potentially could publish my writing. I respect them as a default. I strive to adhere to their guidelines for submission so the process can be as easy as possible for both of us.

I'm patient. I'm even more patient with markets that employ the above four criteria. And kudos to the publications that follow them already!

Thursday, May 1, 2008

Posted @ 15:53 GMT

life in progress

Yoga is hard.

Two days after my introduction class I'm only beginning to recover. I knew my flexibility was in dire need of correction, but the class brought home to me that I was stiffening up like Frankenstein's grandmother.

Which is a good reason to sort it out while I can.

As is the way the class is being taught by a limber elf. I worked my way, rather clumsily, through the positions next to a svelte Yoga adherent who had rubber band limbs. This is a truism of any new challenging activity: you will always begin beside an expert.

I suspect the class will shed people as it progresses. Sometimes it's too hard to feel physically humiliated on a regular basis. Especially in a room that has mirrors on two sides.

It's not like I don't feel the urge to forget or avoid the class under some pretext.

Except, I know that doing a task that is difficult, that pushes my sense of myself and my capabilities, is a positive action. I believe it's important to challenge myself. To step outside my comfort zone and area of expertise, and flounder like a newbie. It's not a pleasant experience, but it informs me of my limits, and teaches me that all useful endeavours require practice and repetition.

Just like writing. It only improves through diligence and effort, and it's important to keep pushing yourself to acquire new skills.

I look forward to the day when I can perform the sun salutation with confidence. It will take time.

Today is Bealtaine, the 1st of May. The hawthorns breathe a white mist of flowers. Haloes of virgin leaves surround the trees. The first beat of summer reverberates through my bones.

My friend Frank Darcy has set up an event via the web called To Life!, which suggests people raise a glass of their favourite tipple this evening in gratitude for their current bounty. It's a fine idea. Any of us could be gone tomorrow. We should stop to celebrate our lives more often.

Tonight I'll toast my family and friends: my best success is your love.

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Posted @ 12:39 GMT

now

Yesterday was a good day.

The postwoman delivered my contributor copies of Jabberwocky, which are very blue and striking. It's lovely to read my poem "Tattoo Destiny" from the pages of the slim volume, and remain satisfied with what I wrote.

Then I received an email from Andy Cox, editor of the British horror magazine Black Static, to inform me that he'd like to buy my short story "Vic". The deal is agreed, and payment received, which marks it as my fastest negotiation with an editor. I'm delighted "Vic" has found a welcoming home.

Otherwise I've been about the usual things, and have not felt moved to record them. I suppose I'm trying to experience these daily events, and appreciate them in the moment, rather than tallying them up afterwards.

Outside the sun shines from an azure sky dotted with suspicious clouds. Among the unruly tufts of grass in my back garden prides of dandelions patrol their domain. Their fierce golden manes swish in the wind, and attract a pair of zig-zagging white butterflies. Fans of pink blossoms wave from the tree.

Good things happen. Bad things happen. The sun rises and sets.

The garden changes with the seasons.

I write. And dream.

Tuesday, April 8, 2008

Posted @ 16:22 GMT

a splendid vision

I don't have as much time for reading as I'd like these days, which means I'm developing a hard-hearted attitude to books: if they don't grip me I drop them. This is a severe departure in attitude from my halcyon days (when I was younger and had less commitments) where I would always struggle through to the end of a novel. It also means I'm innately suspicious of bigger books. If they just cut out the lard, I think, they'd slim down quickly. Some novels on the shelves could do with a editing regime from a personal trainer.

So, when I picked up Un Lun Dun by China Miéville I thought it seemed a bit chunky for a young adult book. I was delighted to be proved utterly wrong. Un Lun Dun is a muscular novel that does not pig out on unnecessary linguistic snacks. The story is relatively simple: a London teenager, Deeba, and a variety of companions, must negotiate the hazards and wonders of the strange mirror version of the city, UnLondon, in order to save it from an evil force.

Miéville, however, is an inherently subversive writer, and using the simple quest trope he manages to upend the typical conventions of unquestioned prophecies, chosen ones, fist-shaking villains, and endless video-game tasks. The novel plays with words and meanings with a feral child-like glee, and following in the tradition of Lewis Carroll believes in the power of nonsense as an antidote to too much sense. The UnLondon of Miéville's imagination is suffused with a wild and weird sensibility, bizarre creatures, and a fascination with the detritus of our civilisation.

Miéville ponders upon the question of where does the trash of our world go, and conjures up an alternate world where everything has some odd existence. It's the purest notion of an animistic universe, and will no doubt enchant children whose view of the world remains open to possibility. It might also give children (and adults) pause for thought in a world where everything is disposable. Be careful, the novel posits, of what you discard, because it may return to haunt - or choke - you. Of course, it could be an entirely playful companion too.

What makes the book satisfying is that it fires on so many engines: not only is it Deeba's scary adventure through adversity, but it's also a bildungroman, a clever dissection of the limiting effects of storytelling formula, a clarion call for a playful and irreverent attitude towards language, and a laser-sharp examination of the lazy acceptance of social conventions that is aided by passive storytelling.

Un Lun Dun wants to engage with the reader, but it does so in a mischievous fashion. It doesn't raise these issues using brute force and preachiness, but teases the imagination awake with serious silliness. Plus, Miéville's own illustrations pepper the pages so there is little dilution of the author's internal vision of his universe.

This is a thoroughly enjoyable and entertaining novel. Read it.

Tuesday, April 1, 2008

Posted @ 17:28 GMT

grooving

Last weekend at P-Con was a lot of fun. A number of the attendees had been at Eastercon the previous weekend so it was lovely to see people again I'd normally only meet intermittently.

The organiser, Frank Darcy, helped by a capable and dedicated team, staged a relaxed and intimate convention. Judging on quickly people signed up for next year's con I'd say that the only worry that P-Con will have to consider next year is getting bigger rooms.

The GoH Catie Murphy was a lively and engaging guest, who proves that hard-working successful authors can be amenable, approachable, and wear very sexy shoes.

I was flattered that P-Con asked me to be a guest of the convention next year. I'll have to work harder to sell more in the coming year to live up to the faith the convention is putting in me.

In the meantime it's back to work and writing. It finally feels like Spring has arrived, even though it's blowy and cold. Today only the occasional cloud-shadow surges across fields brightened by sunshine. The evenings have a stretch to them courtesy of daylights savings - although it was a curse to deal with during a convention when one is normally forgoing sleep anyway.

Martin and I were discussing today that the Internet has spoiled April Fool's Day. Now, it's a case of spotting the joke, rather than being caught off-guard by it. Pity.

For some reason, I cannot shake the song "Sweet About Me" by Gabriella Cilmi from my head, even though the lyrics border on the incomprehensible in places. Still, the combination of a killer voice and a lazy groove allow me to forgive its lapses in coherence.

I picked up the new Gnarls Barkley CD, The Odd Couple, and it strikes me as a typical second album: more of the same, with a handful of stand-out tracks. I get the feeling they needed to stay in the studio a bit longer with this one. Perhaps I will settle into it more with repeated listening.

Thursday, March 27, 2008

Posted @ 15:48 GMT

In between

I'm living in the gap between two science fiction conventions: Orbital (Eastercon) in London last weekend and P-Con in Dublin this weekend.

Orbital was great: at 1,300 members it was one of the largest Eastercons in the UK for some time. There was an impressive guest list, a fantastic dealers room, and loads of interesting programming events to attend.

As with most conventions there were some issues, but the ones that bothered me were to do with the hotel itself, and not the Orbital staff, whom I found to be organised and very helpful.

From the feedback I received the panels on which I participated went well, and I enjoyed them very much. I attended panels every day of the convention, and most of them were either informative or fun. Occasionally some lagged a little, but the audiences were attentive and if given a chance could keep the ideas flowing.

One of the panels that stood out in my mind was "What Editors Do". There was a mixture of short form editors with long form editors, which was well moderated, and all the participants were knowledgeable and entertaining. I didn't check my watch once. I missed all the guest of honour panels, but heard positive reports on all of them.

I went to a panel on "The Lure of Lovecraft", which I adored because the discussion was sharp and intelligent. China Miéville proved he's not afraid to pitch his exegesis of Lovecraft's work and obsessions at a high level. Perhaps I'm alone in this but I like that he doesn't dumb down his critiques. We're intelligent people. If we stumble upon a couple of less familiar words or phrases we can look them up afterwards (or perhaps during the event considering the number of PDAs on display). Personally, I think libidinal is an adjective that should feature in texts more often.

Conventions, however, are all about the people. I love the chance to catch up with folks that I only ever meet at conventions: friends, writers, fans, con-runners, etc. It's also wonderful to engage with new people--as long as you leave yourself open to that experience. It's easy to settle with the same familiar gang, and sometimes that's what you want. Other times, it's great to seek out new people with which to discuss your interests.

I don't want to list everyone I met at the convention because that would be too time-consuming, and of course there's the fear of annoying someone by omission. I really enjoyed the company of those who spent time with me, and I hope to meet most of you again at Eastercon LX, or another convention in the future.

Friday, March 7, 2008

Posted @ 12:47 GMT

a flash sale

Today I heard from Tyree Campbell, the editor of Aoife's Kiss, that my flash short story, "Homunculus", will appear in the September 2008 edition of the publication.

Hurray!

Eastercon, or Orbital 2008 (the annual UK SF convention), is two weeks away, and I'm really looking forward to it. It's my first Eastercon, but it won't be my last as I'm already booked in for the following year: Eastercon LX.

I'm impressed with the programme for Orbital, which has panels and events running into the late evening every day. I won't be bored. I'm contributing on three panels during the convention:

At 10am on Saturday in the Commonwealth East and West room I'm moderating "The Use of Mythology in Fantasy", and will be joined by GoH Neil Gaiman, Nic Clarke, Sarah Singleton, and Liz Williams. This is a topic close to my heart, so I'm delighted I'm on the panel.

On Sunday from 1-2pm I'll be discussing "Gung Ho Comics" with James Bacon, John Medany, and Alex Ingram in the Victoria/Edward room.

Finally, much later that day from 9-10pm I'll be moderating a panel on "Roughening up Fantasy Land", with Joe Abercombie, Tanith Lee, Mike Cobley and Holly Black.

It will be a busy period, because only a few days after I return from Eastercon I'll be attending P-Con in Dublin, which should be a lot of fun. Conventions are a great place to catch up with friends, and make new ones, which is why I enjoy them so much.

Sunday, March 2, 2008

Posted @ 15:14 GMT

enunciation

Library Ireland Week begins tomorrow until March 9th, so check out what's going on in your local library. Libraries are amazing resources and deserve to be supported.

On Thursday I attended the monthly Over The Edge poetry reading at the Galway City Library. There were readings by Michelle O'Sullivan, and five writers who are taking the M.A. in Writing at NUIG this year. While I liked the work of many of the authors the stand-out for me was Moya Roddy, who is an established writer (a novel, short fiction, and poetry). Moya's work was literate and beautiful, but equally important for what is a piece of performance, Moya spoke with clarity.

Listening to the work of these writers, and those who spoke during the open mic section afterwards, I was struck by the fact that writers can do a disservice to their work if they don't pay attention to their diction. Some people put effort into their oration, while others mumbled it without any variation in tone or pace. Even a stand-out piece of literature will be defeated by a deadpan delivery.

I read a poem at the open mic session. I find it a nerve-wracking experience, which is part of the reason to do it. My goal was to deliver the poem well, and I believe I succeeded in that objective at the very least, even though I was shaking. Standing in front of people, and speaking the words you have laboured over is an act of faith (in yourself and your work). For me it's a challenge, but a good one to overcome.

Finally, I thought I'd mention that the Dublin Book Festival is taking place from March 7-9th in Dublin's City Hall, Dame Street, Dublin 2. There are a slew of events going on with a lot of fine Irish writers in attendance. Dublin bibliophiles should discover at least one interview or panel of interest.

Friday, February 29, 2008

Posted @ 15:53 GMT

knocked for six

Who can resist a post on February 29th, a day so lazy it takes four years to roll out of bed, locate mismatching socks and a dressing gown, and turn up for breakfast.

Last night I watched I'm Not There, the film written by Tod Haynes and Oren Moverman, and directed by Tod Haynes. This biopic, inspired by the life of musician Bob Dylan, is unusal because it was completed without any contribution from Dylan, and there are six actors portraying different aspects of Dylan's character (described in the film as: poet, prophet, outlaw, fake, star of electricity, and a ghost).

I'm not knowledgeable about Dylan's life, but I do have a passing familiarity with some of his music. However, I'm a fan of other films by Haynes, such as Far From Heaven and Velvet Goldmine. So, my desire to see the film was not fuelled by a need to know more about Dylan. Anyone who goes to this film with that goal might be disappointed.

From my perspective this film is primarily an examination of the elastic relationship between a creator and his work. It's a rumination upon identity, and how an artist cycles through personas as a reaction to external and internal pressures, and the effect this has upon her creative process. It also ponders the notion of artistic responsibility.

This film demands much from the audience and expects you to keep up. The different Dylan characters are rotated through the film in a non-chronological order, and seem to spring from the emotional point being studied at that section rather than from a linear framework. The effect is disconcerting at times, and some of the Dylans work better than others. Cate Blanchette's version seems to have the most screen time, and her performance is excellent.

I found the film built up into a deep and fascinating foray into the layers of a person's life (I should say, lives). It's not entirely successful, but for a great deal of the time the film mesmerised me. Haynes direction is evocative, lush, and contains a strong surreal element towards the end with Richard Gere's Dylan. I suspect people will find that persona the most difficult, but I thought it was an exegesis of the influences--historical, mythological, social, and political--that informed the basis of the Dylan creative headspace. Therefore it's quixotic and strange. Of course, since Dylan had no part in the project it might reflect a great deal more upon Haynes and his approach to creative endeavours.

Personally, I enjoyed the film but it won't be to everyone's taste. By the end I wanted to listen to lots more of Bob Dylan's music and do a bit of research on his life so I could better slot the puzzle pieces into place. I couldn't watch a film like this every day of the week, but I'm thankful this kind of experimental cinema continues to be made.

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Posted @ 19:44 GMT

a visual feast

Those of you who live in Galway, or are planning a visit in the coming weeks, should swing by the Kenny Gallery to view "The Lore of Places", 50 new paintings by Donegal artist, Brian Ferran. The images on the web site don't do the beautiful pieces credit, especially since so many of them feature gold leaf.

The inspiration for the artwork comes from Amra Cholum Chille, also known as Dallan's Elegy for Colmcille, which is one of the first datable works of Irish literature (597). Dallan says of Colmcille: "He was learned in the lore of places."

The exhibition will continue until the 13th of March.

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Posted @ 17:11 GMT

parsing the lesson

My brain is slowly recovering from the Screen Analysis Course, taught by Beth Serlin and organised by FÁS Screen Training Ireland, I attended recently.

It was an intensive six-day hothouse, which scrutinised the fundamental components of drama on a scene level, and built upon them upwards into larger chunks: sequences and acts. I was part of a lovely gang of talented writers, and together we pushed through the long, intellectually challenging days. We had writing exercises every night, and a comprehensive written assessment at the end. Although it extended our working day it meant we immediately implemented the lessons of the day.

Our teacher, Beth Serlin, was thoughtful, approachable, and possessed a thorough command of the subject. It was a fantastic, if tiring, experience. I've just finished typing up and organising all my notes (which is not something I always do). It allowed me to run through the main concepts again, and cement them in my head. It also insured that in a couple of months I won't be staring at my squiggly writing and wondering, "huh?"

It will take some time to integrate all the advice I learned, but in the meantime I now possess a practical set of tools to help me write better, more effective, screenplays. It also reminded me why I love screenwriting so much.

Of course, any programme or workshop is only worthwhile if you continue to write and build upon what you've been taught. I'm already pondering my next screenwriting project. It's an idea that's been knocking around in my head for a number of years. It would make a good summer project.

Saturday, February 16, 2008

Posted @ 18:40 GMT

run away, run away

I saw Cloverfield last night, and there were some excellent sequences in the film. However, I didn't feel particularly close to any of the characters, and I think the film depends on the audience building a rapport with the people in peril quite quickly, especially since we're in the thick of the action with them.

The central couple we're supposed to care about - Rob and Beth - never excited much interest for me. The minor characters held my attention more: Jason, Hud, Lily, and Marlene in particular. Her character hinted at a lot of complexity, which was pretty good going considering this film clocks in at a Spartan 85 minutes (if only more films would follow this lead).

There were times when the running-cam wore rather thin for me. Yet, many of the scenes of tense action were great. The tunnel scene was particularly memorable. I also loved the design of the gigantic creature, and its hideous spawn, and the fact that we never know why they turn up. No one told me that the film was about an Old One hammering its way through New York - well, that's what it looked like to me!

The ending is problematic. It fizzles out. I admire the director's decision to finish it in a rather downbeat fashion, but there is an essential element missing. The audience has nothing to hang onto, nothing to carry with them afterwards.

Despite a couple of reservations I enjoyed the film, and would recommend that people see it in the cinema if at all possible. This is a film that makes a smashing impact on the big screen, and I doubt it will translate as well to your home system, no matter how big your television.

Tomorrow I start a six-day intensive Scene Analysis course, which is being taught by Beth Serlin, and organised by FÁS Screen Training Ireland. After nine months concentrating solely on prose I look forward to turning my attention back to screenwriting. I have a number of projects that I need to rewrite, so it will be great to be immersed in scriptwriting again. I'm a big believer in continuing education. It's easy to become complacent about your skills. As you develop as a writer I think it's beneficial to have regular spot-checks, where you seek other perspectives and insights to the process. Hopefully, the course will be enjoyable and informative.

Friday, February 15, 2008

Posted @ 15:50 GMT

weird thoughts

I'm a fan of weird - the word, and what it suggests.

Its meaning is rooted in the Old English wyrd, which is associated with fate (it translates as Urðr in old Norse, which is the prophesying Norn of Norse mythology). If you look back further you see that the base *wer- means "to turn, bend".

Nowadays, weird is associated with something that seems odd, strange, bizarre, or uncanny (another fine crop of words). Its link with modern speculative fiction was cemented with the publication of the short story magazine Weird Tales in 1923.

Today, it's in vogue again with the arrival of what is termed new weird fiction. In essence, it's today's weird. It has evolved, as fiction always does, to encompass current sensibilities and proclivities. There is even a new anthology, edited by Ann and Jeff VanderMeer, with the title New Weird, and the editors are running a competition on Jeff's website to allow people to win a copy of the book.

Just this week I wrote a piece of flash fiction (not yesterday's piece) that I consider weird. In my opinion the power of weird is that it prompts a feeling of disjunction in the reader. Everything appears normal and then something very odd happens in the story. It's not enough that that the event is awful or grotesque. That brings up a different emotion. In my opinion weird is not primarily about fear, although it often evokes it as the story progresses.

For me weird fiction is the sideways step that alters your perspective of a subject. It's first reaction is surprise, quickly followed by curiosity. Weird fiction is about that moment when Alice spots a white rabbit wearing a waistcoat and clutching a pocket watch. It is a gateway to possibilities. It suggests strangeness, fluid boundaries, and that the world is not all it seems. It reminds us that our ideas and concepts are subject to sudden reversals or scary interrogation.

That's why I love the fact that at its root weird is about bending or turning. It's the warped shadow at the bottom of the garden at dusk, that's not there when you look again. It's the stretched eerie grin on a friend's face when s/he thinks you're not watching. It's the elastic moment of shock when you realise someone has died, before you pick up the ringing phone.

I aim to write weirder fiction.