Verbal gymnastics

Curiosity's the reason for this particular post. I really would like to know what others think about a style of writing I can't stand. 

Actually, that's too harsh. I may not like it, but I'm not about to assemble the villagers, pitchforks and flaming torches to go hunting Markus Zusak down to that burning windmill on the hill. He doesn't deserve that.

But I've just finished reading The Book Thief and on almost every page I came across a sentence using words and phrases that pulled me right out of the story and made me think only of the writing. Instead of focussing on the characters and what was happening to them, all my attention went to such constructions as:

Breath collapsed from Schmeikel's mouth. It collapsed down his throat.

A single word leaned against the girl.

Fingermarks clutched the book.

A patch of voice escaped his mouth.

And my (least) favourite:

Her nerves licked her palms.

In every single case, I knew what was meant. But in every single case, it also stopped the flow of the flow of the story. I was out of the book, not in it. And I know as I write this that people could come back with a list of authors recognised first and foremost for their 'style': Hemingway, Raymond Chandler, Annie Proulx, Mervyn Peake... 

So I suppose it all comes down to personal taste. (Doesn't everything?) But I'd have liked The Book Thief an awful lot more if Markus Zusak had toned down the verbal gymnastics.

I do like his website, though.

https://www.markuszusak.com/

Draft 1, Book 2. Talk about tough! – Rowena House

It’s done! A 77,300-word first draft of the seventeenth century witch trial novel-in-progress is now backed up, awaiting printing and the start of the development edit.

What a blooming marathon. Five years almost to the day from starting the research seriously until I typed 'The End', even though I'm calling it 'An End' out of superstition.

Everyone says the second book is tough. Boy, they aren't kidding.

The biggest creative eye-opener of finishing the full draft was an entirely unexpected release of pent-up creative thoughts which arrived in a rush AFTER I spent a week tweaking the resolution. Years of fiddling with single sentence commercial pitches fell away, replaced by a solid plot one-liner (15 words).

More importantly, a character one-liner arrived out of the blue, too, which, with hindsight, I can see is the heart of the story, the universal wood hidden within the story trees. The specific character journey on which I had been fixated turned out to be a metaphor for something simpler. Wow. Good to know.

I’m going to stick my neck out here and say that feeling confident about the ending at this stage represents progress since (from memory) I didn't figure out the grand finale of The Goose Road until the end of the first of two rounds of development edits.

Back then, I had the luxury of working with a wonderful cohort of fellow writers on the Bath Spa MA, plus the insight of the inestimable Marie-Louise Jensen, my MA manuscript tutor. The Goose Road then went through a second development edit, requested by Mara Bergman, my editor at Walker, before she bought the manuscript. 

You could therefore say it's too soon to congratulate myself on reaching An End for Book 2 when I’ve no idea what the future holds for this story. Reworking the synopses has, however, been encouraging.

Which ever way I look at them, An End is satisfying. The rest of the story needs at lot of work to get there, but it is a worthwhile place to arrive at. Thus, An End has resolved a deep-seated worry of mine for the past five years that there wasn't a real story within the history I’m re-writing.

Basically, I’ve been afraid each iteration of ‘the story’ was a bolt-on, something to carry the external plot, and the protagonist merely a vessel for that plot. The universality of the character one-liner therefore came as a shock as well as a huge relief. There is a story in there after all.

The other main lesson I’m taking from finishing Draft 1 is just how much perseverance it's taken. The trade publishing environment has got even more precarious in the past eight years since The Goose Road came out, with advances apparently even smaller than they were, or non-existent. Thus the juicy carrot of an (imagined) paid publishing contract which kept me going last time simply isn't there. OK, this manuscript might get published, but there’s a good chance it won’t, and even if it is, we all know that’s no guarantee of anything in terms of marketing or sales.

On the upside, self-publishing has all but shed its second-hand status in the intervening years, so that option is now a matter of personality and whether one can handle all the marketing involved. Having perservered thus far, I guess I will just press on and worry about all that later.

Meanwhile, a delightful and very welcome surprise since I locked the manuscript away for the requisite four-to-six weeks is news that Sara Grant is publishing an editing guide with Writers & Artists, The Ultimate Guide to Editing your Novel, coming out in June. 

My copy was instantly on pre-order. The advice from her and her fellow tutor/mentors at Book Bound and Scooby were the foundations for developing The Goose Road into its publishable form. I've every confidence that Sara's new guide will become a bible for loads of us, me included.

What else to say in this pause between drafting and editing? 

Draft 1 owes its existence to a bunch of writing gurus, which I've talked about here for years, including Story Grid, Save the Cat for Novels, James Scott Bell's oeuvre, John Yorke's Into the Wood, Robert Mckee' Story, John Truby, and Will Storr to name but a few. Jeff Lyon's patterns of decline and elevation are also a good way of thinking about character development, imho. 

I'm also reviewing my own OCEAN-based personality profiling system - that's the Big Five personality traits openness, conscientiousness, extraversion/introversion, agreeableness, and neuroticism - which I developed for The Goose Road and blogged about here yonks ago. I've changed computers since then so these ABBA posts turned out to be the best archive for all that work!

This time, I'm linking OCEAN person-based traits to my protagonist's social identity as a lawyer, imagining how his in-group's group think about witchcraft influenced him, both in terms of his beliefs and his behaviour. I think this is going to be super instructive for the development edit, and I'll blog about that in the future.

So, there we go. Eighteen years of writing fiction on and off, and I can says with confidence that everyone sticking with their Book 2 is a hero. Solidarity to y'all. And a huge hat-tip to every author with a shelf full of titles. Awesome, guys. Just awesome.

@HouseRowena on Musk’s cess pit

Rowena House Author for a live Facebook diary about the WIP 

PS Apologies again for the lack of photos. I've got loads to upload, but whenever I try a big Google message shows up and just sits there, blethering about accessing cookies. Also, it's Easter Sunday and my dog is telling me in no uncertain terms I've been on the computer long enough. 

All the best!

Ever feel like you're in the Truman Show? by Lu Hersey

 I'd only gone for a walk to get some steps in after a busy day. Crossing a field on the way back home, I ran into a woman called Cathy, who needed directions. Or did she? 

Looking back, it's possible Cathy had set a trap to lure me into her alternate universe, forcing me to question the nature of reality - but she started off by asking for directions back to Glastonbury High Street. Despite her apparently normal (well, normal for Glastonbury) attire, and soft Canadian accent, before she even began her Do You Know What's Actually Happening In the World? speech, I'd mentally planned a route home that would avoid me having to walk with her.

What's Actually Happening In the World? began quite subtly. How did I find the vibe on Glastonbury High Street? Did I notice some low energies there? 

I mean, there are usually a few noticeable mental health issues going on, too many terrible bongo players, and a lot of people with terrible dress sense - but that's Glastonbury and I wouldn't want to be that judgemental. Not sure she even waited for my reply before she carried on to the next question. Had I noticed the frequencies up on the tor? Because, she said, that's where the higher energy is found. 

I started to feel uneasy. How long was this energy zapping conversation going to continue? Several minutes passed by while she talked higher frequencies, before reaching the first major point of her view of How Things Really Are. 

The nub of it was that they (whoever they are, they came up a lot...) are desperate to hold on to all the power, but those who see how things really are (that's Cathy and people like her) know that a paradigm shift is coming and they will lose the fight. 

The following half hour (it might have been only five minutes but it was starting to feel like eternity) was mostly about who she considered they are in this alternate world. Barack Obama - yes, the former president of the USA - started all the evil. Apparently he was the worst. Whereas Trump isn't that bad. He's right about climate change, it doesn't exist - it's them that control the weather. 

You can't be serious, I said, forgetting my veneer of polite. Cathy was unfazed. She told me she'd once thought just like poor, unenlightened me. But now she knows about the huge weather making devices in various remote places that they use to control the climate to induce fear in the population. I blinked in disbelief. You'd better believe it, it's true, she said. All enlightened people know it to be true.

I glanced longingly at the gate out of the field as she moved on to the subject of coronavirus. You guessed it. They released that into the world deliberately to control us all. By this point I was horribly fascinated, like a rabbit watching a dancing stoat. How could this seemingly normal woman, who had worked most of her life in a bank on Vancouver Island, possibly believe all this? You think? I asked.

Of course. They designed the vaccine to kill half the population, in case I hadn't realised. Hadn't I noticed how people were suddenly getting ill and dying? 

People were always getting ill and dying, I said, fidgeting and trying to edge away. She ignored me. The Good News (FINALLY, she was reaching the climax of her world view) was that there were enlightened people whose eyes had been opened, who knew what was going on, and there are more and more of these people every day! In fact The Enlightened (obviously including her) were half the population now, because of the paradigm shift. Believe it, open your eyes! she said. 

Fortunately for me, she could put me in touch with some people who understood, who had the knowledge from civilisations that had come before like Atlantis and Lemuria, and the shift was coming. Let me tell you some good people you can google later, she said. She gave me a couple of names to look up, which I've since forgotten. I had to be quick though, because apparently they kept taking these enlightened people's websites down. Thanks I said. I really need to go now. 

But when I got home, I did look them up, out of curiosity. She'd told me to keep an open mind. To open my eyes. And you know what? Sure enough, these people were in touch with the ancient Lemurians and Atlantians and could read the stars. And they had massive followings, because strangely they hadn't taken their websites down after all. 

Try to imagine for a moment that she was right. Who's to say who's being gullible and who knows what's really happening? I considered the possibility that nothing is how it seems, and I'd go as far as to say it's not unreasonable. Yes, we get a very distorted, one sided view of the world through the news. 

But it's one thing to acknowledge the news is distorted, but a very different thing taking the quantum leap to believe Trump is good and Obama bad, and that anyone who's had a vaccine is now under their control. That in the paradigm shift that's coming, the ancient Lemurians and Atlantians can lead the way to a new world.

What chance is there for anyone writing dystopian fiction these days? In a world filled with power-mad oligarchs, is Cathy's view any stranger than reality? Maybe we're all caught up in a real life version of the Truman Show and it's time we broke through the illusion to find those enlightened ancient Lemurians to follow. Or maybe we simply understand that Cathy's world view is a new folklore/religious belief in the making - because the world is potentially ending and people are looking for an alternative way of living. The Cathys are looking to the returning Lemurians and the Elon Musks are looking to Mars for escape. Maybe we need to work with what's actually here and try and fix the world we have? 

All I can say for sure is if I see Cathy again, I'll hide behind a bush.

Lu Hersey

Website: lu-hersey.com (site coming very soon, mostly about my books and sadly nothing about Lemurians)

Patreon: Writing the Magic

Substack: An old hag's snippets of folklore, myth and magic

Threads: luwrites

🦋: luwrites

This is how we're going to make you redundant, please let us show you. By Steve Way

 

It seems that many of us are worried about the impact of AI and associated technologies on our craft and livelihoods, particularly as authors. I thought you’d like to know about another situation occurring in my corner of another profession, teaching. Like me, as with the other ways in which the carpet is forcibly being pulled from underneath us, it may make you laugh or cry.

I get much of my work from an agency based in Madrid. Recently they sent out a round robin email inviting my colleagues and I to attend an online presentation of their new chatbot, which students can call whenever they want to have a conversation in English. I couldn’t help feeling that it was like inviting the Luddites to a lecture on ‘The care and maintenance of textile machinery’. Please let us demonstrate the technology that is going to make you redundant!

I read recently about a study in Japan the found that people under 20 preferred learning from a chatbot, whereas the over 20s preferred learning from a human. Although I’m not a WASPI like my wife my state pension has been deferred (could I be Waspish?) but I hope that there’ll be enough over-20s to keep me going for a few years yet.

Another change the agency has made, also based on AI, has made me wonder if I’m willing to sell my soul to the devil. At the end of each term, we’ve always been expected to write a report on each student’s progress even though a) they don’t pay us for the extra and considerable amount of time this takes to do so and b) the students are predominantly extremely busy executives who hardly have time to attend the lessons, let alone read anything not directly work related. Indeed, two of my favourite long-standing students have previously suggested that I used ChatGPT to complete their reports. It turns out in their case it’s an example of be aware of what you wish for. Possibly because the agency got fed up with chasing us up to do the ####ing things and because it sounds like results were far from standardised, we now have a list of options to click on based on their progress and then, if we wish, their AI churns out grandiose paragraphs that fill in all the gaps. Now in theory we can fill in the gaps ourselves but the click here, here and here option takes a tiny fraction of the time it takes to do so.

In the past, when I’ve been knowingly wasting my time writing these reports, I’ve been constantly thinking about how I could be doing something worthwhile instead, such as doing some of my own writing, which I at least hope has some use or purpose. It’s for this reason friends I have chosen the click here approach for this term’s reports. I hope you won’t consider me completely tainted and cursed.

PS I wrote this on my own!

The Biggest Breakfast, written and illustrated by Richard Jones, reviewed by Pippa Goodhart

 

This beautiful new (hardback) picture book from Richard Jones is a simple joyful story of animals and food, giving and receiving. And counting. But the counting, if you want to engage with it, comes in doublings of numbers to dramatic effect.

The child narrator meets a little blue bird, and offers crumbs to be pecked from a hand. 'See you tomorrow'. And next day the bird is joined by two mice. The day after that, by four squirrels. And soon the breakfast feast is getting out of hand with increasing numbers of wolves and elephants and puffins and ring-tailed lemurs and round-bellied frogs in a glorious gate-fold -

It's all a bit much, so, next day, the child stays in bed, wondering, 'Who will make breakfast for ME?' Just then there was a knock at the door ... '  And you can guess who come, delivering '1 huge, ginormous, delicious breakfast!'

 

AI can't replace a real donkey, or art made with love.

 It's the 13th, the new date for my post, and I apologise for missing my previous ones. As I have just remembered, I am rushing to write something. The birds are singing outside my window - I can hear wood pigeons and crows and a blackbird nearer me, and traffic, and very soon I will get washed and dressed and walk five minutes to the local primary school, where there will be a donkey. It is the Christian feast of Palm Sunday, when traditionally Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey, and every year, in our village, one of the parishioners of the local Anglican church brings her gentle donkey and we walk from the school to the church singing hymns and waving Palms. I absolutely love donkeys, and it is really the only time every year I get to see one up close and pat it. I am so excited! This year, because I am trying to improve my drawing skills, I am going to bring a sketch book, and will try to draw it too. 

Two of my books were used by META to develop their AI , and I have signed petitions and contacted my MP about how wrong and unfair it has been that artists and writers and other creative people have effectively had their work stolen and copyright laws ignored. It was already very hard to be a creative - our income is already very unpredictable and we are increasingly competing with celebrities for contracts. Smaller publishers are struggling and it can feel like AI is the last nail in the coffin, and I definitely think big publishers need to step up and treat their writers and illustrators better, and their shareholders should respect and care equally, if not more, about the writers and illustrators and publishing staff, who create the books, than their profits. There are days when I feel really bleak about it all. But, maybe it is the thought of seeing a real donkey in less than an hour, but today I feel more hopeful.

I may have to think about different ways to earn money in the short term, but I don't think AI can ever replace our human need to create and encounter human art, and I don't think you can ever stop creatives creating, and I have hope that this is not going to be the end, but perhaps heralds a change. I have been watching the BBC programme 'Make it at Market' and have felt heartened by the number of creatives who are making things and selling them, and how the actual act of creating by one person, rather than AI, empowers both them and others.  I don't want to buy AI generated art. I have ordered an embroidery kit from one person on the programme, and I am looking forward to using it. I am looking forward to actually getting a pencil and sketchbook and trying to draw the donkey today, and although it won't be in any way as accurate as a photo or an AI generated image, I hope that it will communicate something about how much I love it, and I know that just looking carefully at it as I draw it will do me good, however embarrassing the result. When I go to a school soon, or do a workshop at a festival, I want to communicate the joy of creating. When I read a book, I want to read something written and drawn by a real person. When I express what I really feel I change myself, I grow as a person.   I think people will always care more and long more for human-sized art, which really comes from the heart, and the people who make it. It's good for humans to tell and listen to stories, and no computer programme (which apparently is terrible for the environment in itself) can ever compete to art made with love, or with the sound of real birds singing outside my window, or a real little donkey in a school playground, or hopefully, an imperfect drawing which will attempt to show how beautiful it is.

Fridge Philosophy Part Two by Lynda Waterhouse

 

 I posted Fridge Philosophy Part One in 2011. I still have the same fridge although like me, it’s now a little rusty round the edges, but still functioning. Some of the same magnets remain but there have been some additions.

Lately I’ve found myself staring at my fridge door in preference to looking at the news. My eyes skimming over the rust and dust and focusing on the magnets searching for clues.

Clues for what you may ask.

The meaning of life? The essence of myself? The remembrance of things past? Or simply the urge of the collector to ogle their horde?

Consider the Fridge.

There is the vibrant ‘The Springtime of Flight’ by Tirzah Garwood. This painting was one of a series of stunning works made in her bed during her final months in a nursing home. She is gaining more recognition as an artist in her own right and not simply as the partner of a well-known artist. She reminds me to always try to capture the beauty of a fleeting moment.

Close by is a black and white still from the first comedy film ever made in 1895: ‘The Sprinkler Sprinkled.’ It was created by the Lumière Brothers. A souvenir from a recent visit to the Musée Lumière in Lyon. Watching the film made me smile. Laughter is timeless.

There are a couple of magnets featuring Frederick Prince of Wales, the eldest son of George ll and the father of George lll. A cultured and artistic man who, to put it mildly, was not liked by his parents. He died prematurely at age 44. His son became King George lll and Frederick is a forgotten footnote. I am fond of Frederick and the way he parented his own son with love and attention.

The cat by Elizabeth Blackadder is there because my life contains a black and white cat. Mimi, whose tail you can see, is the latest tuxedo cat who came into my life when her previous owner went into a care home.

Whenever I look at a Holbein drawing or painting I am awed by the freshness and humanity he depicts. Holbein is my direct line to humanity.

John Singer Sargent’s portrait of Dr Pozzi stands on my fridge as a reminder of the Sargent and Fashion exhibition at Tate Britain. So good that I visited it twice. It was thrilling to see Ellen Terry’s Lady Macbeth costume beside the painting and to stare in horror at the glistening green beetles sewn into her gown.

The woman dressed in black with the large white collar reminds of how I marvelled at Frans Hal’s addition of a fly to the painting, some kind of memento mori I supposed until the fly moved. Life does sometimes imitate art.

The Paolozzi magnet came from an exhibition of his work in The Whitechapel Gallery. Many years ago I was fortunate to meet with Paolozzi and he gifted me a maquette of an alligator called Meezles as he liked my idea for a story about a boy with measles who travels to a mysterious land and meets the strange creatures, Meezles and Scarletina. The idea of writing a story about measles was rejected as being ridiculous as vaccination had everything under control. Art does sometimes imitate life.

What secrets does your fridge contain?