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Archive for the ‘Writing’ Category

To Be Me, Or Not To Be Me

Wednesday, October 5th, 2011

I’m working on a couple of writing projects right now that share little common ground with my debut book, Make a Move, and my initial instinct was to publish them under a pseudonym. However, as a self-published writer, I need all of the cross-selling opportunities I can get, and hiding those connections between books could well be shooting myself in the foot. While pen names are used for creative and personal reasons, I suspect that most are employed to satisfy a business need, specifically to allow marketing departments to keep their author brand clean, or to allow readers to understand the genre into which an author fits.

But which is it?

I ask because I’m not too bothered about my author brand. As a writer in control of my own output, I’ve no one telling me what to write, and I intend to exploit that opportunity to the point of abuse. I don’t, however, want to alienate readers by “conning” them into believing I’m only going to be one type of writer, when the next book could share no trace of DNA with the previous one. Yes, it’ll always be my voice, but is that enough?

Given the metadata surrounding eBooks – the myriad opportunities to communicate with a potential buyer before they commit to a purchase – do they provide digital-only writers with a blank canvas upon which to paint their career, or does too much freedom dilute the relationship between authors and readers, to the point that the readers lose trust and look elsewhere?

Killing the Dream

Monday, December 27th, 2010

OK, so the post title’s a mite melodramatic, but it seemed fitting given the subject matter.

When I was working on my first attempt at a novel (unfinished, never going to be) I wrote a dream sequence in which the lead protagonist examines his plight and motivations. It made me feel cheap and nasty, and not in a good way, so after allowing it to live in my Word document for 24 hours, I deleted it. I’ve never written a dream sequence since.

Now, I know I’m biased; I have no interest in dreams. I rarely remember my dreams, and those I do remember are typically memories (which I can remember when awake) or fragments of data welling up from my subconscious, which you don’t need to be a psychoanalyst to interpret. I don’t look down on people who study dreams, or believe that they offer insights into character, personal issues, the past, or the future – it’s just that I don’t believe dreams mean anything to anyone other than the dreamer. You want to tell me about a dream you had last night? Why not tell me about your commute; it’s probably as relevant to my understanding of your personality.

So, yeah, I’m a bit anti-dream in books.

I just finished a book by one of my favourite authors in which the hero gains the answer to a riddle he’s been pondering in a dream. A dream character – who doesn’t exist in the “real world” of the book, points him in the right direction.

What the hell?

With the exception of any lucid dreamers who might be reading, have you ever dreamt a scene with such coherence it could convey anything worthy of understanding that you didn’t already know?

I doubt it, which is why dreams should never be used as a device to advance plot. Not only is it a painfully tired cliché, unless your narrative requires a character to understand the relevance of a fifty-foot clown beating an ice-cream replica of Winston Churchill to death with a steroid inhaler, you’re probably faking it, and you’re definitely out of ideas.

 

Writing Skills, Publishing Skills, Selling Skills…

Saturday, December 18th, 2010

Over the last year, one theme that’s recurred on a regular basis is that of indie authors vs indie musicians/filmakers; as in, how come the indie directors and songwriters get the respect, and we don’t? At first I dismissed the phenomenon as a by-product of timing – the independent movements in those industries have been around, or at least visible, for longer, and they’e earned the respect through a number of breakout hit releases. I still think that’s a factor. Recently though, as I’ve been involved in indie music and film projects of my own, I’ve seen the phenomenon from the other side, and it’s given me an insight.

Anyone Can Play Guitar

No, they can’t. As a musician, you’ll find yourself hanging out with other musicians, so you get the impression that everyone has a degree of musical talent. Most people, however, don’t. Not because they lack the raw ability, but because they lack the time, desire, or opportunity to learn. And, yes, some people will never be able to play, because their brains just aren’t good at that kind of thinking.

You tell someone you play guitar, they assume you’re good. The same is true of film-making at any level. You say you shot a roller derby video, people assume you know what you’re doing and that the end result is going to be awesome (it is, by the way – Steve). They don’t assume it’s going to suck.

You tell people you write, they assume you suck.

Not Everyone Can Write

Yes, they can. Not everyone can write well, but they can write. Most people use a computer at home or at work, so they all know their way around Word. They can use a web browser to research as well as you can. They can spell – maybe.

And this, I think, is the key to the different attitudes the three creative endeavours receive. Musicians and film-makers are seen to have technical skills that non-participants don’t, so even if the song or film is bad, it’s better than anything the unskilled observer could produce, which translates into a sympathetic view of the work. Add to that the significant financial investment in producing anything that can be played on an iPod or a DVD player, and the creatives are further elevated in perceived stature. Ignoring my computer, which I use for lots of things, my basic home recording setup – including instruments – cost over £3000, and I’m not quite done yet. My writing setup cost about £40. I could write an amazing book and record a terrible song, and the latter would still be seen as the greater achievement, as anyone can write a book, but not everyone can play guitar.

Customer Perception is Out of Our Hands

No, it’s not. Producing an eBook independently is never going to require a huge cash outlay unless you pay for professional editing, typesetting and conversion, but even if you do, that value perception won’t be increased, as readers won’t know. The book will be better for it, but readers won’t know why, or how much you spent. A professional cover designer adds visible value, but there are great designers working at all cost scales, so no help there.

But writers do have skills that non-writers don’t: namely grammar and typesetting/eBook conversion. The problem is, these skills are being aggressively devalued, and the group responsible is, well, us.

I’ve read way too many blogs/tweets stating that grammar is an evolving discipline – that it’s alive – and that as long as communication is maintained, anything goes. Anyone questioning this stance is branded a grammar Nazi (gotta love the internet) but a thorough understanding of grammar is what separates a skilled written communicator from the rest of the population that don’t understand even basic sentence construction. It’s a skill that makes our book understandable to anyone, and yet we seem hell-bent on throwing it away. Is grammatically correct prose seen as elitist? Condescending? Not to me. I think classical grammar combined with stilted writing can alienate readers with more modern tastes, but that’s just style; the underpinning grammar isn’t to blame.

Formatting an eBook isn’t easy either. Uploading a Word doc to Amazon is easy, but taking control of how your text is displayed on an eReader requires time, effort, and a steep learning curve. It’s a discipline most people would struggle with, yet it’s another skill that separates skilled eBook writers from the crowd. So why do so few independent authors try to do a proper conversion, or connect with someone who can help them? Even eBooks from my favourite mainstream authors are riddled with formatting errors, so this is one area in which a writer can elevate their standing, yet so few try.

As modern, independent writers/DIY publishers, we do have skills – skills we should be proud of – but as long as we’re happy to allow their devaluation, or to actively participate in that process, readers and outsiders will continue to look down on our independent trade while lauding others.

And right now, as a reader first and a writer second, I can’t say I blame them.

 

Plot: The Biggest Threat to Creativity

Sunday, November 14th, 2010

Make a Move: The Second Season has been unofficially on hold for a while now, and regardless of the number of people asking for more Freddy, Jay and Holly, the person most upset about the delay is me. The problem – the blockage – is the kind of thing I imagine affects a lot of writers, so I thought I’d share. I know this may sound obvious to some, but this is the first time I’ve tried to write a sequel, so my experience in this area is zero.

Pretty much straight after I put Make a Move out, one of my editing team suggested an idea for the major arc of book two – a multi-level plot involving assassination, betrayal, abuse of power, and media whoring. It sounded just the thing for Make a Move, so I put the idea in my back head and waited for the detail to well up from my subconscious.

And waited.

And waited.

And you know the rest. The book’s dead in the water.

I was watching some great TV last night (The Walking Dead episode two, and the season finale of Dexter season 4, just in case you’re interested) and my mind was wandering on the problem with my book. I don’t know if it was the characterisation I was seeing on the screen (these really are two of the best shows in the last decade) or if I was jolted out of my creative mindset, but I realised what the block was. Although the story idea was great, and very Make a Move, it was a scenario into which I could drop my characters, but it didn’t come from the characters. The question I was asking myself was “what can Freddy do next?” instead of “what is Freddy doing next?”. It’s a subtle distinction, but to my characters, and my way of writing, it’s everything. With that idea locked in and generating no additional ideas of its own, there was no room for my subconscious to work – no creative space into which new ideas could arrive. Asking myself that question – “what is Freddy doing next?” – produced two results:

  • Firstly, it produced the answer “not this”, and that act of confirming the fallacy of the manufactured plot finally allowed me to let it go.
  • And secondly, it finally gave Freddy – that part of my subconscious that is Freddy – the opportunity to answer for himself.

And I liked what he had to say.

 

Where’s The Fun?

Wednesday, November 3rd, 2010

It’s been a long time since I felt a twinge of excitement at the prospect of watching tv, but tomorrow night sees the UK first showing of season 4 of The Big Bang Theory – a new-found favourite of mine – and Friday is the UK premier of The Walking Dead, which could be the best show of the decade, if you’re into zombies. Most of my friends who would be interested in these shows have already seen them, having watched low-quality versions from the torrents/newsgroups/bloke-down-the-pub. I prefer to wait though, as the anticipation is part of the experience; I want maximum value from these broadcasts.

It’s got me thinking, though, about the perceived value of entertainment media, and how the work of teams of talented people, over a year or more, is now considered disposable when viewed in the context of the torrent of freebies available online.

Maybe the answer is in finding a way to monetise the experience surrounding the product, rather than the product itself, but that leads me to think that the only money is in the medium – the technology – and not in the message. The message used to be everything; now it’s the added value. As an amateur writer/filmmaker/musician, it pisses me off, as it makes me think there’s no point trying to build a career out of what I love; I have to accept a conventional day job – either working for myself or a company – and relegate my other endeavours to hobbies. I’m not at that point yet, but like I said, it’s on my mind.

Today, I was asked to shoot some video for youtube, and not wanting to do a half-assed job, I offered to record some music for the soundtrack too. I love this kind of project – pure creativity, and zero business. It’ll be fun, and nothing more than that, so I’m in. I am concerned about the devaluing of creative media, and its implications for me, but maybe the bigger question should be, ignoring the wider business world for a second, what do I want my creative life to be? And this video project, right now, is it.

 

Conflict in the Comfort Zone

Thursday, September 30th, 2010

I’m conflicted.

A couple of weeks back, I started wondering if I should start submitting Make a Move to publishers again. It was never my intention to stop; I decided to put the book out myself to have some fun while waiting for responses, but the process has taken so much of my time that the submissions have fallen by the way. Then a couple of people independently asked about my submission status, and that confirmed that I needed to give it more brain time.

The problem is, I like where I am right now. Not in a “indie ’till I die!” kind of way, but I like the creative freedom that I have. I’m not a writer who worships the process; writing has always been hard for me, and I have to force myself in front of the computer most days. What I do love is how the stories and characters make me feel – how they make my readers feel. I love ideas – how they collide and coalesce into something amazing. Books let me capture these experiences and share them, but they’re not the only way.

Right now, I’m working on a script for an indie film – nothing major, just a 10-minute short – that features a band. I’m also writing/playing/recording the music for the soundtrack. Thinking about the roll-call of musicians in the fictional band, I realised that the soundtrack would need to feature the instruments they play (I have a keyboard player, there need to be keys/synths in the music). The reverse is also true; I can’t have characters playing instruments that I (or the multi-talented @theanonwonder and @jooleemarie) can’t play, as we wanted to do the music ourselves, without bringing anyone else in. I love that relationship between the reality of the music and the fiction of the film – it gives me the restrictions I need to produce my best written and musical work. The situation transcends story.

I love working this way. I fires me up. I have the best job in the world. I’m just not getting paid for it…

But would an advance on Make a Move change anything? I’d be contractually compelled to write the second season of the book, instead of being able to rely on the understanding of my readers while I get the film done. And I’d have more money, but not enough to give up my day job, which I like. I’d have print distribution, which would get my books out to more readers, but unless the goal is financial reward, more readers isn’t a goal in itself. Sales of the book are far from stellar, but I know the best way to drive more sales is to get the second book written and published, which I can currently do at my own pace.

I think the main reason I still want a book deal is that I love the publishing industry. Yes, I said it. Even though I find their output largely unreadable, and I’ve often said bad things about the way they operate and the mistakes they’re (in my opinion) still making, I love the concept of the institution of publishing. I guess it’s the same way people still see a need for the royal family; they’re a flawed institution, but they’re important just because they are. And as I love publishing, I feel like I should play my part in the big machine, even if I’m not convinced it’s the best path for my career as a writer, or for Make a Move.

Like I said, I’m conflicted.

 

Author Interview: Part Two

Monday, August 2nd, 2010

Here’s the second part of the interview (part one here). One mild(ish) expletive in this one, and a weird “postmodern” ending from Chris, which I kind of like…

Credits

  • Cameras, video editing and audio mixing – Chris Collins
  • Audio recording and editing – Julie Cunningham
  • Music – Theanon Wonder

 

Author Interview: Part One

Sunday, July 11th, 2010

Here’s the first part of the interview we filmed between myself and Theanon Wonder, filmed in the Manchester branch of Travelling Man.

It’s taken a while to finish (hence the lack of posting recently) but it was our first attempt at making a video, so we were learning along the way. In fact, we had such a good time working on this, we’re sifting through ideas for a short film to make over the summer (using better camera and equipment and mics next time, though…).

Credits

  • Cameras, video editing and audio mixing – Chris Collins
  • Audio recording and editing – Julie Cunningham
  • Music – Theanon Wonder

 

Making a Move: Finding the Tone

Friday, June 11th, 2010

Today’s post was made possible by orange Lucozade and Sky Player.

Tone’s a difficult quality to define when talking about fiction. It’s not voice – that’s how a writer says things; it’s more about what you do and don’t say. What you’re prepared to show. Whether you go all-out, or tone it down. As it were.

The tone of Make a Move evolved as I wrote, but there were rules from the start, and they shaped the feel of the situations in the book. They set expectations. Before I started writing, I had to decide what age group I was going to pitch the book at, and what I could and couldn’t get away with based on that decision. It seems naive now, but at the time it seemed reasonable to ensure that my story of killers and strippers would be suitable for young adults to access the largest readership. I hadn’t considered the artistic implications of that decision, but it made commercial sense.

The decision to avoid any sexual expletives started off as a challenge: was it even possible writing in this genre? Turns out it is, kind of. Most people swear when they’re under stress or immediate threat of conflict – it’s a way of venting the pressure – but by avoiding that behaviour I found my characters talking in a way that was confident, casual and humorous when faced with impending violence. It wasn’t being glib, it was just a lack of fear. I liked how that style of dialogue flowed, so I stuck with it. Later in the book, as Freddy struggles to deal with his new life, a theme emerged -whether it’s possible to live in a debased situation without yourself becoming debased. I realised that my goal of avoiding sexual swearing (let’s call it “the big four”) mirrored the theme of philosophical conflict in the story. Now I had to stick with it, and I did for the most part, only resorting to potty mouth on two occasions, and learning that there’s no replacement term for “shitty”.

But language isn’t the only way to cause offence; some situations or realities are fundamentally damaging to young minds, and most parents won’t want their children exposed to those concepts until they’re old enough to understand the complexities themselves. Hell – I don’t understand the complexities of the sex industry – and how people find themselves with so few choices that prostitution looks like a valid career choice – myself, and I have a kid of my own. Wait – maybe it’s wrong to say I don’t understand it, but I’m definitely not qualified to write about it with any authority. Yet here I was, setting my story in a world of prostitutes, strippers and dirty pimps…

I could be accused of ignoring the harsh realities of the lives of some of my supporting characters, of not taking their plight seriously, but Make a Move is a positive book, and my artistic choices reflected what I wanted to write about, rather than what I didn’t. Take the character of Corentin, for example – the little boy with a prostitute mother, both of whom Jay befriends in Episode Two. His situation is less than appealing to most readers, but at his age what his mother does for a living isn’t important, not when compared to seeing his first Disney film, or being treated to ice cream, or making a new friend. And that’s where my focus, as the narrator, lies.

How a character feels is so much more important to me than the facts of the plot, and not just in Corentin’s case. It doesn’t matter how complex the world I create, or how sordid the environment, those core relationships are my primary focus, no matter how freaky things get. And that’s the basis for Make a Move’s tone – that’s what makes it different. Because it’s a thriller, with nothing too thrilling happening. Because it’s set in a world of sex for sale, but it’s not lascivious. Because when people die, the emotional implications are more important than how far the blood spatters.

Because even though all hell is kicking off, it just comes down to three friends, trying to build a life and have some fun.

And that’s why it works.

Hey – I just started six sentences in a row with a conjunction. Told you I was ill.

 

Making a Move: 1, 2, 3, Go

Thursday, June 10th, 2010

Too many years ago, I was at a reading by Michael Marshall Smith, and he said it takes at least three ideas to sustain a novel-length narrative. It made sense when I heard that, and I’ve yet to see it disproved. What that meant for Make a Move, was that there was never a point where I thought ”that’s it – I have the idea for a novel”. It just doesn’t work that way for me. There was, however, a point where a number of other ideas bumped into each other and became more than the sum of their parts. That too didn’t happen instantly – it took a month or two to find a way to fit the separate ideas together into something that felt like it would work – but it was a shorter process than the collection of ideas/images/questions that I eventually fused into the book.

I Know Kung Fu

I was about five films into a Jet Li jag when I saw Kiss of the Dragon – a Luc Besson-produced film featuring a lot of people getting kicked in the head on and around famous Parisian landmarks. It was cool, if forgettable, but there was something in it that stuck with me. When Li’s Chinese intelligence operative arrives in Paris, he stays with a sleeper agent – an old man who’s been living in the city for most of his adult life, running a shop that makes and sells prawn crackers to local Chinese restaurants, whose real purpose is to provide a place to stay for agents passing through on Chinese government business. Spoiler Alert! He gets killed, and Jet Li takes his body to the steps of the Sacre Coeur and lights some incense, before running off to kick more people in the head. Nice scene, but it left me wondering who this guy was? What was his story? How many agents has he helped? I thought about a book based on the life of a sleeper agent, his excitement derived from the various operatives that land on his doorstep looking for a meal and a clean bed, but it felt flat. Without his own story, the episodic nature of the other operatives’ adventures would lack a narrative core upon which to hang, and it’d be a mess. I filed the idea away.

Sex Tourists

The first time I went to Paris, I didn’t know about Pigalle, and I ended up walking down the Boulevard de Clichy by accident. Honest. My then-girlfriend (now wife) and I had visited Montmarte, and decided to walk back down the hill toward the centre of the city instead of descending the 200-odd steps into the Abbesses metro station. I figured we’d taken one turn too far when I saw the first adult video stores, but we kept on, and it wasn’t long before we were invited, by a nice lady and her three big men-friends, if we wanted to go and see a live sex show. It probably helped that it was the middle of the day, but the situation just didn’t seem threatening, even when we politely declined the offer and headed on. It’s a strange place: filthy and sordid in all of the oldest ways, but friendly, and open, and very Parisian. I filed the idea away.

Skip To The End…

Spaced was an awesome TV show – original, funny, and intermittently moving. I bought both series on DVD on a bit of a nostalgia trip and watched the whole lot practically back-to-back. When I was done, I wanted more (they only made 14 half-hour episodes) and was feeling inspired, so toyed with the idea of trying to write a sitcom. Thinking through some ideas, though, I realised that Spaced had left me a bit flat – as the format hadn’t allowed me to get to know the characters to any great depth. They were great people, but compared to the depth of character you can mine in a novel, I just didn’t know that much about them.

That was the first time I thought of writing a book in a sit-com format, or rather, writing a sit-com in a book. I played with a number of ideas, one of which was that the setting should be aspirational in some way, which lead me to Paris as a location. That triggered a memory of Kiss of the Dragon, and how I’d wanted to explore the sleeper’s story; this idea of writing a sit-com could solve the problem of the narrative for him being too episodic, as I’d be purposefully embracing the episodic nature of the format. In the film, the sleeper’s shop is in a red-light district, but it was a nasty, cruel place with no room for humour; I ditched that, but other settings I thought about felt too cosy and sterile to produce any real drama. I think the idea of disguising the safe house as an adult cinema started as a joke, but one that had some truth to it. Those memories of Pigalle and it’s cartoony brand of naughtiness were still fresh, and as I dropped my scenario into that place – trying it out – a number of background characters arrived, and they brought friends, and scenarios, and conflicts, and humour, and cake.

Make a Move had found its home.