Last night was audition night, and we now have officially cast Irma Vep. Jak and I guffawed heartily throughout - none of that poker-faced professionalism for us! It was so great so hear the lines spoken aloud by voices other than our own, and most amusing to watch the chaps auditioning drape themselves about one another as they endeavoured to be man and wife.
And this Sunday coming I shall be going up to sing at Wembley, oh yes. It's going to be a long old day, but singing with over 6,000 others is going to be summat special to be sure. Note to self: remember ticket.
On a less positive note, I have had yet another rejection - this time from Woman's Weekly. As ever, I shall not be disheartened and the unloved story will be stuck back in the post to someone else. I will not be defeated!
Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
Monday, 9 May 2011
Thursday, 7 April 2011
The Hunt for the Grey Wolf (and other stories...)
So, it’s been ages and ages and ages and ages and ages. I’m sorry. But golly gosh how busy I have been!
Where once there were just a couple of 7ft mummies, there is now even more weirdness. There is currently a wooden alligator (or crocodile, the jury’s out) living under my coffee table. Let me rewind a tad and fill you in.
There has been much in the way of organising and arranging various quirky oddities for Irma Vep. As I may or may not have mentioned, there are many literary and film references within the play, with the majority of films alluded to either being Hitchcock or of that ilk, or B-movies. So Jak and I have decided to draw heavily on that influence for our set and costumes, and as such we’ve designed everything to be entirely in shades of grey like a black & white movie (apart from a brief sojourn into Glorious Technicolor in act 2).
We also want everything, in a nod to all things gothic horror, to be slightly sinister. The man of the house is an Egyptologist and one of life’s globetrotters, so we want his drawing room to be full of souvenirs from his travels, but all of them need to be just a little bit menacing.
This, we are certain, is a marvellous idea – clever, witty, a little bit unusual, even if we do say so ourselves. What we hadn’t thought about was how tricky it was going to be to dress the set and find props that are suitably disquieting whilst only being black, white or grey in colour. As such, most of the bits and pieces we have found, we are having to paint, and anything we can’t find, we are having to make.
This is fine, it’s fun and interesting and it’s stretching my creative capabilities, but it means that our houses are full of peculiar items and in my case, a ‘craft corner’ overflowing with pots of paint and bags of ripped newspaper, and a fridge filled with tinfoil-wrapped crockery containing various shades of grey paint, a tub of wallpaper paste and a large lump of clay. Not a lot of room for food. I will tell you about my various crafting exploits shortly, but first to explain Gregory, the crocodator (or alligile if you prefer).
It all started when we were trying to find a wolf. All we wanted was a stuffed grey wolf. A simple ask, or so we thought, but it turns out they’re rather like hen’s teeth. Between us we have tried taxidermists, prop hire companies all around the UK, various museums, the National Theatre props store, and I even spent a useful half hour on the phone with the props mistress at the Drama Centre, but all to no avail. Even a trawl around the wonderful junk (treasure) shops of Hastings came to nought. The hardened treaure-traders of the town all sucked air through their teeth, hunched their shoulders and shook their heads in the manner of a man looking, with some pleasure, at another chap’s kaput car engine. No words were needed, their gestures said it all – ‘you’ll be lucky’.
So we gave up.
And then we saw Gregory. It was love at first sight. We may not have a wolf, we will have to resort to our Plan B, which is funny, possibly funnier, but still not our Plan A, but we do have an alligile. With a little bit of wood stain and TLC he will make a marvellous footrest for the man of the house – jaws yawning in a threatening manner.
Another set dressing idea is to have many masks hanging on the walls, from around the world – African, Asian, Hindu, Native American, they’re all there – but again, none will be overly friendly in appearance. Obviously there was no way that we were going to be able to buy any of these so I am making them out of papier mâché and clay. I have several in various stages of completion on my dining table, and these are another two that I’ve completed already. Don’t laugh at my painting skills, I am not one of life’s painters – just remember, no-one’s going to get close enough to examine the minutiae!
Another thing I’ve had to make is a hat – out of a net curtain. We have decided to style one of the characters as something of a Miss Havisham - bitter, bridal and a little bit dusty. Her dress is being made by our costumier, but the hat fell to us. It needed a veil, hence the net curtain. For a while, it did indeed look like a hat with a net curtain stuck to the front, so I pulled everything apart, cut everything up with scissors in a brutal, no-nonsense, irreversible fashion, and started from scratch. Here is the hat. Again, in the same way that I am not a painter, I am not a milliner, but it should serve its purpose.
On a non-theatre note, I have written some more stories and have three out in the world at the moment – one with Woman’s Weekly, one with The Weekly News and one with a competition.
And I have finally got Hearts & Finds on Etsy up and running and have also got some of my products in the gift shop I work in too, which is most exciting! And I’ve sold some – which is even more exciting!
Where once there were just a couple of 7ft mummies, there is now even more weirdness. There is currently a wooden alligator (or crocodile, the jury’s out) living under my coffee table. Let me rewind a tad and fill you in.
There has been much in the way of organising and arranging various quirky oddities for Irma Vep. As I may or may not have mentioned, there are many literary and film references within the play, with the majority of films alluded to either being Hitchcock or of that ilk, or B-movies. So Jak and I have decided to draw heavily on that influence for our set and costumes, and as such we’ve designed everything to be entirely in shades of grey like a black & white movie (apart from a brief sojourn into Glorious Technicolor in act 2).
We also want everything, in a nod to all things gothic horror, to be slightly sinister. The man of the house is an Egyptologist and one of life’s globetrotters, so we want his drawing room to be full of souvenirs from his travels, but all of them need to be just a little bit menacing.
This, we are certain, is a marvellous idea – clever, witty, a little bit unusual, even if we do say so ourselves. What we hadn’t thought about was how tricky it was going to be to dress the set and find props that are suitably disquieting whilst only being black, white or grey in colour. As such, most of the bits and pieces we have found, we are having to paint, and anything we can’t find, we are having to make.
This is fine, it’s fun and interesting and it’s stretching my creative capabilities, but it means that our houses are full of peculiar items and in my case, a ‘craft corner’ overflowing with pots of paint and bags of ripped newspaper, and a fridge filled with tinfoil-wrapped crockery containing various shades of grey paint, a tub of wallpaper paste and a large lump of clay. Not a lot of room for food. I will tell you about my various crafting exploits shortly, but first to explain Gregory, the crocodator (or alligile if you prefer).
It all started when we were trying to find a wolf. All we wanted was a stuffed grey wolf. A simple ask, or so we thought, but it turns out they’re rather like hen’s teeth. Between us we have tried taxidermists, prop hire companies all around the UK, various museums, the National Theatre props store, and I even spent a useful half hour on the phone with the props mistress at the Drama Centre, but all to no avail. Even a trawl around the wonderful junk (treasure) shops of Hastings came to nought. The hardened treaure-traders of the town all sucked air through their teeth, hunched their shoulders and shook their heads in the manner of a man looking, with some pleasure, at another chap’s kaput car engine. No words were needed, their gestures said it all – ‘you’ll be lucky’.
So we gave up.
And then we saw Gregory. It was love at first sight. We may not have a wolf, we will have to resort to our Plan B, which is funny, possibly funnier, but still not our Plan A, but we do have an alligile. With a little bit of wood stain and TLC he will make a marvellous footrest for the man of the house – jaws yawning in a threatening manner.
Another set dressing idea is to have many masks hanging on the walls, from around the world – African, Asian, Hindu, Native American, they’re all there – but again, none will be overly friendly in appearance. Obviously there was no way that we were going to be able to buy any of these so I am making them out of papier mâché and clay. I have several in various stages of completion on my dining table, and these are another two that I’ve completed already. Don’t laugh at my painting skills, I am not one of life’s painters – just remember, no-one’s going to get close enough to examine the minutiae!
Another thing I’ve had to make is a hat – out of a net curtain. We have decided to style one of the characters as something of a Miss Havisham - bitter, bridal and a little bit dusty. Her dress is being made by our costumier, but the hat fell to us. It needed a veil, hence the net curtain. For a while, it did indeed look like a hat with a net curtain stuck to the front, so I pulled everything apart, cut everything up with scissors in a brutal, no-nonsense, irreversible fashion, and started from scratch. Here is the hat. Again, in the same way that I am not a painter, I am not a milliner, but it should serve its purpose.
The most recent task Jak and I have undertaken is some publicity photos for the next theatre What’s On magazine. I have to write about the play but we needed a directors' photo to go alongside the blurb, and we decided that we wanted to hint at the content of the play without giving too much away. So we decided to have our photo taken in a Hitchcock style – black and white with lots of shadow. And to keep it as tongue-in-cheek as possible, we borrowed a couple of fur coats from the costume department, slapped on some 1930s make-up and got a fellow actress and hairdresser to style our hair. Mousse + hot rollers + hairspray = hair helmet. Here is the finished result!
So there you have it, that’s the latest in the Irma Vep Land. Next thing is to finalise the artwork for the poster and programme, but that’s next week. This weekend, between making masks, I shall mostly be painting my kitchen, just for something different to do!
On a non-theatre note, I have written some more stories and have three out in the world at the moment – one with Woman’s Weekly, one with The Weekly News and one with a competition.
And I have finally got Hearts & Finds on Etsy up and running and have also got some of my products in the gift shop I work in too, which is most exciting! And I’ve sold some – which is even more exciting!
Monday, 21 February 2011
Mummy, mummy, mummy
Woe is me. I’ve had a couple of rejection letters back from People’s Friend and Take a Break, and I now eagerly await my rejection letter from Woman’s Weekly, which I’m sure is just days away! Back to the drawing board – I need to conjure up another story or two from my flagging imagination and whisk them out into the world.
I had a peculiar yet productive weekend. Sunday was a day of conveyor belt pattern cutting for the crafty items I’m making. I have called my little sideline Hearts & Finds (because I like making heart-shaped things and I decorate them with stuff what I have found – see what I did there?!), and have set up a shopfront on Etsy.com – although it’s entirely empty at present. I shouldn’t be too long before I have some completed items to upload for sale.
And on Saturday Jak and I had a very useful meeting with Charlie, the young artist who’s helping us with our Irma Vep publicity and programme. He was splendidly enthusiastic and I am feeling most positive about the artwork aspect.
And on Saturday Jak and I had a very useful meeting with Charlie, the young artist who’s helping us with our Irma Vep publicity and programme. He was splendidly enthusiastic and I am feeling most positive about the artwork aspect.
The other thing Jak and I did on Saturday, was start creating two sarcophaguses (or should that be sarcophagi?). Having made back boards out of 7’ tall sheets of cardboard, I wrapped myself liberally in chicken wire to create a shape and then lay on the cardboard whilst Jak staple-gunned the wire in place around me. For any drama-exercise enthusiasts out there, this is a much better trust game than falling backwards and hoping someone catches you.
So anyway, once we had built our ‘skeletons’ we set about papier-mâchéing them – slimy work and I got through several pairs of rubbery gloves. But even if I do say so myself, by the time we’d finished they looked pretty darned good. We’ll have to keep building them up over the next few weeks and eventually, once we’re happy with the shape, we’ll start on the painting. For the next few months Jak has to live with two enormous mummy coffins in her living room. I imagine she’ll enjoy the company, but I’m as certain as can be, she won’t share her KitKats.
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The middle |
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| The beginning |
 |
| The slime |
Monday, 7 February 2011
Nibbly
My life feels full to bursting at the minute. In an ideal world I would be able to organise my days in neat little lists, lots of straight lines and lashings of order. But it never seems to work out that way. I currently have several little nibbly bits going on that I can’t pin down in my brain, but still, better full than empty, better busy than bored.
Nibbly bit No.1: I have a new client. This is quite exciting as I have been gradually doing more and more hours for a local newspaper and, although this is great because it’s relatively guaranteed income and has become my financial bread and butter, I had recently started to feel like all my freelance eggs were nestling in just the one basket. So this new client is a glossy local magazine and I’m writing their property page for the next couple of issues. That’s why it’s nibbly. It’s not certain that after these two articles that I will get any more work from them. I hope I will, but you never know.
Nibbly bit No.2: I finally seem to be getting my writing mojo back – about flipping time! I hesitate to use the word ‘rattle’ as it sounds hasty and rough around the edges, but last week I did indeed ‘rattle’ off a short story as I surfed on a rocking wave of inspiration. I posted it on one of the writers’ forums I’m on and received great feedback. So I tidied it up based on everyone’s critiques and this afternoon will be sending it out to Take a Break to see if they’ll take if for Fiction Feast. I also have two other stories that I sent out last year that were rejected (leaving me not defeated but momentarily deflated), so I’m also posting those out to Woman’s Weekly and People’s Friend. So this is nibbly because nothing’s guaranteed and I have to sit on my hands and wait to hear from others. No control.
Nibbly bit No.3: I have joined a choir. Oh yes, because writing and theatre just isn’t enough for me, I’ve become a member of Rock Choir. It’s great fun, although there is an awful lot of ‘dancing’ – you know the thing, gospel swaying and clapping, and a little bit of salsa stepping thrown in for good measure. Thing is, I have two left feet. Try as I might, there is a connection missing between my brain and my feet, so any kind of dance movement invariably ends in me treading on a neighbour’s toe or simply falling over. But I’m prepared to stick it out because the singing is fab and the people are nice and the choir master is a talented loon, which I appreciate immensely, and in May we’re going to be singing at Wembley. Oh yes. But this is nibbly because at some point I’m probably going to have to stop choir so I can concentrate on Irma Vep rehearsals, but I don’t know for definite and I don’t know precisely when, and I don’t think I really want to.
Nibbly bit No.4: Speaking of Irma Vep, things are now truly underway. We have enlisted our costume maker and will be accompanying her at some point to a fabric warehouse in London – muchos funos. I have, I hope, also enlisted the talents of a young artist to design the artwork for posters and programmes, but we haven’t had full discussions yet. Jak and I have started making a list of set dressing and flats we need to order, and know a handy man with a handy brush ready to paint them and make them look glorious. And we have found a wig big enough for a man’s head – it’s not the right colour or style, but it’s progress. But this is all nibbly because auditions aren’t until May so we can’t firm up many of the things we want to firm up – actors, for example.
Nibbly bit No.5: Jak and I went to the 2012 planning meeting for the theatre a week or so ago. This is just all-round NIBBLY because we put forward six plays we wouldn’t mind directing, but we haven’t read any of them yet, and we haven’t even started rehearsals for 2011 yet, and it’s just really difficult to think ahead to next year when this one’s only just started.
Nibbly bit No.6: You may recall that last year Jak and I had a little sewing lesson, in order to know how to use a machine so we can fix costume boo-boos during Irma Vep rehearsals. Well, the other day I had another sewing lesson and learned how to make cushion covers, so now I have many cushion covers. And this got me thinking about making things to sell for a little bit of extra income, and so I spent the weekend making heart-shaped lavender bags, which are looking pretty good even if I do say so myself. But this is nibbly because I can’t decide where to sell them. There’s a website I found that I can set up a little shop on, and I could try to see if the lady who owns the gift shop I work in on Tuesdays would take a few, and if she did then I could see if other shops might take them, and I could also maybe get a stall at craft fairs. But I don’t know yet, and I need reassurance from someone in the world that they’re good enough to sell anyway. Nibbly, nibbly, nibbly.
So there you have it, my nibbly life. If anyone has any tips on how to un-nibbly it, I’d be more than happy to hear from you.
Also, on a little extra positive note - Darker Shores swept the board winning various awards at the theatre's end of year 'awards', including best set and best technical - I'm sure it won other things too but I can't remember exactly what, it did remarkably well anyway. And I won best actress for my role in Skylight! How thrilling is that?! So, all's well that ends well.
Nibbly bit No.1: I have a new client. This is quite exciting as I have been gradually doing more and more hours for a local newspaper and, although this is great because it’s relatively guaranteed income and has become my financial bread and butter, I had recently started to feel like all my freelance eggs were nestling in just the one basket. So this new client is a glossy local magazine and I’m writing their property page for the next couple of issues. That’s why it’s nibbly. It’s not certain that after these two articles that I will get any more work from them. I hope I will, but you never know.
Nibbly bit No.2: I finally seem to be getting my writing mojo back – about flipping time! I hesitate to use the word ‘rattle’ as it sounds hasty and rough around the edges, but last week I did indeed ‘rattle’ off a short story as I surfed on a rocking wave of inspiration. I posted it on one of the writers’ forums I’m on and received great feedback. So I tidied it up based on everyone’s critiques and this afternoon will be sending it out to Take a Break to see if they’ll take if for Fiction Feast. I also have two other stories that I sent out last year that were rejected (leaving me not defeated but momentarily deflated), so I’m also posting those out to Woman’s Weekly and People’s Friend. So this is nibbly because nothing’s guaranteed and I have to sit on my hands and wait to hear from others. No control.
Nibbly bit No.3: I have joined a choir. Oh yes, because writing and theatre just isn’t enough for me, I’ve become a member of Rock Choir. It’s great fun, although there is an awful lot of ‘dancing’ – you know the thing, gospel swaying and clapping, and a little bit of salsa stepping thrown in for good measure. Thing is, I have two left feet. Try as I might, there is a connection missing between my brain and my feet, so any kind of dance movement invariably ends in me treading on a neighbour’s toe or simply falling over. But I’m prepared to stick it out because the singing is fab and the people are nice and the choir master is a talented loon, which I appreciate immensely, and in May we’re going to be singing at Wembley. Oh yes. But this is nibbly because at some point I’m probably going to have to stop choir so I can concentrate on Irma Vep rehearsals, but I don’t know for definite and I don’t know precisely when, and I don’t think I really want to.
Nibbly bit No.4: Speaking of Irma Vep, things are now truly underway. We have enlisted our costume maker and will be accompanying her at some point to a fabric warehouse in London – muchos funos. I have, I hope, also enlisted the talents of a young artist to design the artwork for posters and programmes, but we haven’t had full discussions yet. Jak and I have started making a list of set dressing and flats we need to order, and know a handy man with a handy brush ready to paint them and make them look glorious. And we have found a wig big enough for a man’s head – it’s not the right colour or style, but it’s progress. But this is all nibbly because auditions aren’t until May so we can’t firm up many of the things we want to firm up – actors, for example.
Nibbly bit No.5: Jak and I went to the 2012 planning meeting for the theatre a week or so ago. This is just all-round NIBBLY because we put forward six plays we wouldn’t mind directing, but we haven’t read any of them yet, and we haven’t even started rehearsals for 2011 yet, and it’s just really difficult to think ahead to next year when this one’s only just started.
Nibbly bit No.6: You may recall that last year Jak and I had a little sewing lesson, in order to know how to use a machine so we can fix costume boo-boos during Irma Vep rehearsals. Well, the other day I had another sewing lesson and learned how to make cushion covers, so now I have many cushion covers. And this got me thinking about making things to sell for a little bit of extra income, and so I spent the weekend making heart-shaped lavender bags, which are looking pretty good even if I do say so myself. But this is nibbly because I can’t decide where to sell them. There’s a website I found that I can set up a little shop on, and I could try to see if the lady who owns the gift shop I work in on Tuesdays would take a few, and if she did then I could see if other shops might take them, and I could also maybe get a stall at craft fairs. But I don’t know yet, and I need reassurance from someone in the world that they’re good enough to sell anyway. Nibbly, nibbly, nibbly.
So there you have it, my nibbly life. If anyone has any tips on how to un-nibbly it, I’d be more than happy to hear from you.
Also, on a little extra positive note - Darker Shores swept the board winning various awards at the theatre's end of year 'awards', including best set and best technical - I'm sure it won other things too but I can't remember exactly what, it did remarkably well anyway. And I won best actress for my role in Skylight! How thrilling is that?! So, all's well that ends well.
Wednesday, 3 November 2010
It's too early for the hangover!
Oh... my... life. It's just over two weeks until curtain up on Skylight and it can’t come soon enough. It’s been immensely hard work one way and another, and not just because I've had so many lines to learn and the play is technically incredibly tricky, what with the cooking and everything – other factors, theatre-related and otherwise, have played a big part in making the last few months a less than wonderful experience.
It upsets me that I haven’t been able to enjoy the rehearsal process this time – normally it’s what makes the whole thing worthwhile. I suffer so badly with nerves that, believe it or not, being on stage in front of an audience is not why I do this, it’s terrifying, and curtain calls are my bête noire – I’d rather just finish the play and go home or up to the bar for a gin, without all that bowing and clapping nonsense! Fun rehearsals, a challenge and the chance to wear wigs and false eyelashes(!) have always been the draw for me – and although it’s been a great challenge for sure, for one reason and another it's fallen flat this time. They say, when you don’t enjoy something anymore, stop doing it, but unfortunately when you’re tied into it like this you can’t just walk away.
Right now, even though it hasn’t finished just yet, I’m in that ‘hangover’ phase – you know, when you had one (or several) too many the night before, and this morning you’re holding your aching head and rocking back and forth, swearing ‘never again’. I wasn’t planning to act next year as I want to concentrate on directing Irma Vep, but at this point, I feel like I don’t ever want to act again – my stress levels are at an all-time high and my finger nails are being bitten shorter by the day. I’m really hoping that’ll pass as acting’s been part of my life forever and I would hate to lose it.
Whinge, whinge, whinge!
I am, however, looking forward to immersing myself in the directorial side of things next year. I am currently getting to write, albeit not ‘properly’, as I’m putting together the audition notice. It’s a fine line between conveying your enthusiasm for a play and encouraging people to audition, and being overzealous and sending folk running for the hills. I hope I get the balance right!
Also, I’m enjoying a book by one of my favourite authors at the moment – Jasper Fforde. As a rule I find it hard to read when I’m learning lines, but as my lines are learnt now and I must derive pleasure from somewhere, I have picked up an old favourite. If you consider yourself a writer in any capacity, or simply love words and literature and you have never read any of his books before, you absolutely must. The man is a genius – if I’m not laughing at something funny, I’m marvelling at something clever.
Finally, I joined the Rach Writes Inaugural Writers’ Platform-Building Crusade the other day, a marvellous idea and a lovely way of knitting together the blogging community - pop along and join. And welcome to my newest followers who've found me via the Crusade!
It upsets me that I haven’t been able to enjoy the rehearsal process this time – normally it’s what makes the whole thing worthwhile. I suffer so badly with nerves that, believe it or not, being on stage in front of an audience is not why I do this, it’s terrifying, and curtain calls are my bête noire – I’d rather just finish the play and go home or up to the bar for a gin, without all that bowing and clapping nonsense! Fun rehearsals, a challenge and the chance to wear wigs and false eyelashes(!) have always been the draw for me – and although it’s been a great challenge for sure, for one reason and another it's fallen flat this time. They say, when you don’t enjoy something anymore, stop doing it, but unfortunately when you’re tied into it like this you can’t just walk away.
Right now, even though it hasn’t finished just yet, I’m in that ‘hangover’ phase – you know, when you had one (or several) too many the night before, and this morning you’re holding your aching head and rocking back and forth, swearing ‘never again’. I wasn’t planning to act next year as I want to concentrate on directing Irma Vep, but at this point, I feel like I don’t ever want to act again – my stress levels are at an all-time high and my finger nails are being bitten shorter by the day. I’m really hoping that’ll pass as acting’s been part of my life forever and I would hate to lose it.
Whinge, whinge, whinge!
I am, however, looking forward to immersing myself in the directorial side of things next year. I am currently getting to write, albeit not ‘properly’, as I’m putting together the audition notice. It’s a fine line between conveying your enthusiasm for a play and encouraging people to audition, and being overzealous and sending folk running for the hills. I hope I get the balance right!
Also, I’m enjoying a book by one of my favourite authors at the moment – Jasper Fforde. As a rule I find it hard to read when I’m learning lines, but as my lines are learnt now and I must derive pleasure from somewhere, I have picked up an old favourite. If you consider yourself a writer in any capacity, or simply love words and literature and you have never read any of his books before, you absolutely must. The man is a genius – if I’m not laughing at something funny, I’m marvelling at something clever.
Finally, I joined the Rach Writes Inaugural Writers’ Platform-Building Crusade the other day, a marvellous idea and a lovely way of knitting together the blogging community - pop along and join. And welcome to my newest followers who've found me via the Crusade!
Monday, 11 October 2010
Spaghetti-flippin'-bolognese
It’s official – I am sick, sick, sick of spaghetti bolognese. As you may or may not be aware, Skylight (for which I am currently in rehearsals) requires me to cook on stage and create a meal of spag bol. Fortunately I am the only person required to eat it, as I believe it may taste nasty (I’m not the world’s best cook), but already the smell makes me queasy. It wasn’t my favourite meal to begin with, but I fear that cooking it several times a week, and it’s only going to get more frequent as the run approaches, is going to ruin the dish for me FOREVER. At the moment, at the end of each rehearsal, the director scoops up the results of my culinary experiments into his Tupperware and takes it home for his tea – I’m wondering how long it will be before he too is sick of the taste/smell/sight of it.
There are several practical considerations that have had to be overcome with this cooking-on-stage malarkey. For starters, the script requires me to chop an onion, but they make me weep and I can’t risk washing my contact lenses away in a flood of tears – so I am now using dried onions, which have to be soaked in boiling water and which, incidentally, smell extremely bad. I also have to chop a chilli pepper. The director has caved, finally, and provided green rather than red chillies. Seeing as in the second act I do have to eat some of the stuff, it’s vital to make it as mild as possible – a coughing fit would detract from the drama methinks (or perhaps add to it if I’m having an off night). But still, green chillies are hot to me – yesterday I was very careful during the scene not to put my fingers near my eyes or mouth once I’d finished with the chopping, but forgot when we were taking a break and had to run off sharpish for a glass of water. Talk about a situation ripe for disaster. We also nearly had a burning issue with the sauce and, although I am meant to ‘forget’ about the pasta boiling, I constantly have one eye slightly askance at the stove, just in case the water starts to erupt over the top of the pan. I am doing my best not to think about the myriad of things that could go wrong.
On another note, it’s been a while since I’ve spoken about The Mystery of Irma Vep, the play my friend Jackie and I are directing next year. Since I last wrote in June (can’t believe it’s that long ago!) things have moved on leaps and bounds. For starters, Jak, who is the queen of minutiae, did a marvellous job of a props list and a ‘dream’ budget. There tends to be a set budget at the theatre, regardless of the production, but thanks to Jak’s eye for detail we were able to prove that we would ideally need a slightly higher budget, in order to produce the play of our dreams, and we found out a week ago that it’s been granted. We had started to think of get-rich-quick schemes, including a bake sale in the foyer, but fortunately we, and the punters, will be spared this horror.
This is a huge weight off our minds, as we desperately wanted to be able to get some fantabulous costumes specially made. The play is a quick-change piece, with two male actors playing eight roles, including women – nearly all the costumes need to be adapted for quick-change and the dresses have to have ‘boobs and bums’ sewn into them. We’re setting it in the 1890s, which means floor-length hemlines, leg ‘o’ mutton sleeves and high necklines – in other words, a lot of fabric and a lot of expertise in their creation. All being well, we have found a willing costumier.
Not only do we need costumes, we also need costume doubles for rehearsals. The changes are such an integral part of the production that we want our actors to be able to rehearse in dress almost from week one. Because of this, we also needed to secure a much earlier audition date than would normally be needed, to give the costumier time to make the muslins before rehearsals start. Fortunately, we’ve managed to move the audition forward by a few months, which will give the costumier plenty of time to work her magic, and the actors a good amount of time to get familiar with their lines so they can be book-free asap and get to grips with their pretty frocks.
There’s so much to think about, and I don’t feel that I can give it my full attention at the moment due to Skylight. But the light is starting to show at the end of the tunnel for that. Come December I’ll be able to start concentrating on Irma V in earnest.
Also come December, I plan to start writing again. I had another rejection letter the other day, which was disappointing. They didn’t say why it wasn’t right for them, which leaves me in the dark somewhat, but them’s the breaks. I’m not disheartened – I never thought for one moment that this was going to be a walk in the park. I think, for now, I will swap over the stories that have been rejected and send them out again. I’m not sure they’re right for the publications, but I’d rather have them out in the world than not, and I’ve no time to write anything new at the moment. My poor brain is full to the rafters with lines and spaghetti-flippin’-bolognese.
There are several practical considerations that have had to be overcome with this cooking-on-stage malarkey. For starters, the script requires me to chop an onion, but they make me weep and I can’t risk washing my contact lenses away in a flood of tears – so I am now using dried onions, which have to be soaked in boiling water and which, incidentally, smell extremely bad. I also have to chop a chilli pepper. The director has caved, finally, and provided green rather than red chillies. Seeing as in the second act I do have to eat some of the stuff, it’s vital to make it as mild as possible – a coughing fit would detract from the drama methinks (or perhaps add to it if I’m having an off night). But still, green chillies are hot to me – yesterday I was very careful during the scene not to put my fingers near my eyes or mouth once I’d finished with the chopping, but forgot when we were taking a break and had to run off sharpish for a glass of water. Talk about a situation ripe for disaster. We also nearly had a burning issue with the sauce and, although I am meant to ‘forget’ about the pasta boiling, I constantly have one eye slightly askance at the stove, just in case the water starts to erupt over the top of the pan. I am doing my best not to think about the myriad of things that could go wrong.
On another note, it’s been a while since I’ve spoken about The Mystery of Irma Vep, the play my friend Jackie and I are directing next year. Since I last wrote in June (can’t believe it’s that long ago!) things have moved on leaps and bounds. For starters, Jak, who is the queen of minutiae, did a marvellous job of a props list and a ‘dream’ budget. There tends to be a set budget at the theatre, regardless of the production, but thanks to Jak’s eye for detail we were able to prove that we would ideally need a slightly higher budget, in order to produce the play of our dreams, and we found out a week ago that it’s been granted. We had started to think of get-rich-quick schemes, including a bake sale in the foyer, but fortunately we, and the punters, will be spared this horror.
This is a huge weight off our minds, as we desperately wanted to be able to get some fantabulous costumes specially made. The play is a quick-change piece, with two male actors playing eight roles, including women – nearly all the costumes need to be adapted for quick-change and the dresses have to have ‘boobs and bums’ sewn into them. We’re setting it in the 1890s, which means floor-length hemlines, leg ‘o’ mutton sleeves and high necklines – in other words, a lot of fabric and a lot of expertise in their creation. All being well, we have found a willing costumier.
Not only do we need costumes, we also need costume doubles for rehearsals. The changes are such an integral part of the production that we want our actors to be able to rehearse in dress almost from week one. Because of this, we also needed to secure a much earlier audition date than would normally be needed, to give the costumier time to make the muslins before rehearsals start. Fortunately, we’ve managed to move the audition forward by a few months, which will give the costumier plenty of time to work her magic, and the actors a good amount of time to get familiar with their lines so they can be book-free asap and get to grips with their pretty frocks.
There’s so much to think about, and I don’t feel that I can give it my full attention at the moment due to Skylight. But the light is starting to show at the end of the tunnel for that. Come December I’ll be able to start concentrating on Irma V in earnest.
Also come December, I plan to start writing again. I had another rejection letter the other day, which was disappointing. They didn’t say why it wasn’t right for them, which leaves me in the dark somewhat, but them’s the breaks. I’m not disheartened – I never thought for one moment that this was going to be a walk in the park. I think, for now, I will swap over the stories that have been rejected and send them out again. I’m not sure they’re right for the publications, but I’d rather have them out in the world than not, and I’ve no time to write anything new at the moment. My poor brain is full to the rafters with lines and spaghetti-flippin’-bolognese.
Wednesday, 15 September 2010
ET go home!
My posts are a little scattered at the moment - apologies for that. I’m working a lot, which is great, but it leaves me little free time, and what free time I do have is being taken up with rehearsals and line-learning. One of my fellow actors and I recorded our lines last week, so now even my car journeys are all about the play – when I wake up in the morning, it is with the fuzzy residue of odd sections of monologue in my head – I feel like I’ve been taken over by an unwelcome alien. Sod off and let me sleep in peace ET!
Our new actor started with us on Monday, after our previous ‘Edward’ decided, quite fairly, that Skylight was one play too many for his busy teenage life. It’s a relief to have the new guy on board, but something of a drag to have to go over the six weeks of wasted rehearsals again – not his fault, of course, and he seems to pick things up quickly, so I have moderately waist-high hopes that rehearsals for the two scenes I share with him will be less like pulling teeth than last time.
On Saturday I had the most amazing day in London. My lovely friend Alexis took me for lunch at Tate Britain, which was delicious, highly recommend it, and then – the highlight of the day for me – we went to The Globe to see The Merry Wives of Windsor. It was my first time at the theatre and it is safe to say that I was blown away.
The structure itself is impressive and really does make you feel like you’ve stepped back in time, and the acting, as you would expect, knocked my socks off. The director created a colourful and fabulously fun production with some lovely touches and details that were hilarious. And seeing as how they are so limited with what they can do set-wise, they made very clever use of the space with some nifty little twists. Alexis and I are planning to book up to see everything they do next year – I am newly excited about Shakespeare and want more!
After the theatre we went to Tate Modern – again, another first for me. I have a friend who is doing an MA at Goldsmiths and spends much time at the Modern – I fear I will have to sit down with her and ask searching questions, as I found that much of the work, particularly the installations, left me confused, bemused and unmoved – particularly the heap of old clothes pinned to a wall by a garden statue. It was all a bit far-fetched for me – I had never thought of myself as someone who only liked ‘pretty’, recognisable pictures, but perhaps I am. Mind you, splotchy bowls of fruit and brown-gravy depictions of historical scenes also leave me cold – so maybe I’m just a fussy so-and-so!
And finally… I had my first rejection letter yesterday. I feel surprisingly unfazed by it – possibly because I had just assumed that is what I would get. I feel that I have been initiated into the world of the professional fiction writer. However, the editor who wrote to me did say that although the story I had sent wasn’t right for them, she enjoyed reading it and thought it was well written, and has asked me to send some more of my work. I have no doubt that everyone receives such platitudes, but regardless, it did go some way to softening the blow. So now I just have to find the time to write something else to send… hmm.
Our new actor started with us on Monday, after our previous ‘Edward’ decided, quite fairly, that Skylight was one play too many for his busy teenage life. It’s a relief to have the new guy on board, but something of a drag to have to go over the six weeks of wasted rehearsals again – not his fault, of course, and he seems to pick things up quickly, so I have moderately waist-high hopes that rehearsals for the two scenes I share with him will be less like pulling teeth than last time.
On Saturday I had the most amazing day in London. My lovely friend Alexis took me for lunch at Tate Britain, which was delicious, highly recommend it, and then – the highlight of the day for me – we went to The Globe to see The Merry Wives of Windsor. It was my first time at the theatre and it is safe to say that I was blown away.
The structure itself is impressive and really does make you feel like you’ve stepped back in time, and the acting, as you would expect, knocked my socks off. The director created a colourful and fabulously fun production with some lovely touches and details that were hilarious. And seeing as how they are so limited with what they can do set-wise, they made very clever use of the space with some nifty little twists. Alexis and I are planning to book up to see everything they do next year – I am newly excited about Shakespeare and want more!
After the theatre we went to Tate Modern – again, another first for me. I have a friend who is doing an MA at Goldsmiths and spends much time at the Modern – I fear I will have to sit down with her and ask searching questions, as I found that much of the work, particularly the installations, left me confused, bemused and unmoved – particularly the heap of old clothes pinned to a wall by a garden statue. It was all a bit far-fetched for me – I had never thought of myself as someone who only liked ‘pretty’, recognisable pictures, but perhaps I am. Mind you, splotchy bowls of fruit and brown-gravy depictions of historical scenes also leave me cold – so maybe I’m just a fussy so-and-so!
And finally… I had my first rejection letter yesterday. I feel surprisingly unfazed by it – possibly because I had just assumed that is what I would get. I feel that I have been initiated into the world of the professional fiction writer. However, the editor who wrote to me did say that although the story I had sent wasn’t right for them, she enjoyed reading it and thought it was well written, and has asked me to send some more of my work. I have no doubt that everyone receives such platitudes, but regardless, it did go some way to softening the blow. So now I just have to find the time to write something else to send… hmm.
Friday, 16 July 2010
'Are you ready for your close-up?'
It's been a funny old couple of weeks. I've been working a lot, which is great - it's always a comfort when you're a freelancer to see a few pennies rolling in!
I have found the time for a creative venture or two, although unfortunately no writing. I have spent a large chunk of my day today critiquing the work of fellow writers on the forum I'm a member of - it's been fun, and hugely interesting, to read so many pieces of great writing, so many individual takes on everyday ideas, and so many unique ideas turned into clever stories and moving poems. I feel very honoured to be able to share my work with such a talented group of people. Not that I have any to share so far this month! Perhaps tomorrow I will find some time to sit and write something of my own.
I went pottery painting last week - it's a lovely way of passing an afternoon. There is a small and friendly farm shop near my home, where I'm now something of a regular. They set me up with my little table and my paint and brushes, supplied me with some marmalade on toast (an excellent source of energy when painting), and away I went. I have taken photos of my finished items, but they're a present for someone, so I shan't post the pics until the present has been given, just in case I spoil the surprise! I met and chatted with some nice people during the course of my afternoon, as when folk pop in for a cup of tea, they invariably wander over to take a look at what you're working on and conversations ensue. One lady I spoke to was a self-confessed Bloomsbury addict and we had a great chat about Vanessa Bell and Virgina Woolf, and it made me keen to get back to Charlston Farmhouse, which, if you haven't been, is a truly inspiring place.
Also last week, I went to see a play called The Boy Juliet. It's basically Shakespeare in Love, but unfortunately without Joseph Fiennes. It was a good production, the set was very clever and held it's greatest surprise until the end, when the back panels, which for the duration of the play had been the rough wooden boards of a barn or similarly rustic rehearsal room, opened out towards the back of the stage, revealing a misty darkness lit by a line of tea lights. The cast walked away from the audience and out into the darkness, the candles, of course, denoting the edge of a different stage, as they commence their production of R&J to a different, imaginary audience. Very clever indeed. The script (by Royce Ryton) was basic and slapstick in places, but produced laughs and did its job. Perhaps not the highest praise, but I think I've seen plays and read scripts that have been cleverer and made more of the English language. That said, I've also seen a lot worse. A terrible play called The Man Who Left the Titanic, springs to mind.
I went to see this a couple of weeks ago, and actually left at the interval in favour of going to the pub for a gin. The play was a two-hander, about Bruce Ismay, he of the White Star Line who hopped off the literal sinking ship into one of the lifeboats. The script contained no drama, but appeared to be merely a vehicle to convey the facts of the case. The performances were lack-lustre and the actor playing the ghost of Andrews did an excellent job of carrying the show, as Bruce himself seemed deeply uncertain of his lines in places. It's a touring production - should you find it coming to a theatre near you any time soon, I'd be inclined to give it a miss. The pub was much more entertaining.
This week I went to the photographer's studio to have my photo taken for the publicity for Skylight. I have never sat for a professional photo before and found it to be an unusual experience. There were lights upon me from many angles, and a silvery space-age contraption that looked like it had been designed by NASA, was stuck under my chin. The resulting photos, however, made me wish I could take all the lighting and photographic paraphernalia with me everywhere I go, as they clearly work miracles. Once the poster has been designed and I have a copy in my hot little hands, I shall scan it and upload it here so you can enjoy my discomfort. First rehearsal on Sunday - I'm feeling quite excited about it.
I have found the time for a creative venture or two, although unfortunately no writing. I have spent a large chunk of my day today critiquing the work of fellow writers on the forum I'm a member of - it's been fun, and hugely interesting, to read so many pieces of great writing, so many individual takes on everyday ideas, and so many unique ideas turned into clever stories and moving poems. I feel very honoured to be able to share my work with such a talented group of people. Not that I have any to share so far this month! Perhaps tomorrow I will find some time to sit and write something of my own.
I went pottery painting last week - it's a lovely way of passing an afternoon. There is a small and friendly farm shop near my home, where I'm now something of a regular. They set me up with my little table and my paint and brushes, supplied me with some marmalade on toast (an excellent source of energy when painting), and away I went. I have taken photos of my finished items, but they're a present for someone, so I shan't post the pics until the present has been given, just in case I spoil the surprise! I met and chatted with some nice people during the course of my afternoon, as when folk pop in for a cup of tea, they invariably wander over to take a look at what you're working on and conversations ensue. One lady I spoke to was a self-confessed Bloomsbury addict and we had a great chat about Vanessa Bell and Virgina Woolf, and it made me keen to get back to Charlston Farmhouse, which, if you haven't been, is a truly inspiring place.
Also last week, I went to see a play called The Boy Juliet. It's basically Shakespeare in Love, but unfortunately without Joseph Fiennes. It was a good production, the set was very clever and held it's greatest surprise until the end, when the back panels, which for the duration of the play had been the rough wooden boards of a barn or similarly rustic rehearsal room, opened out towards the back of the stage, revealing a misty darkness lit by a line of tea lights. The cast walked away from the audience and out into the darkness, the candles, of course, denoting the edge of a different stage, as they commence their production of R&J to a different, imaginary audience. Very clever indeed. The script (by Royce Ryton) was basic and slapstick in places, but produced laughs and did its job. Perhaps not the highest praise, but I think I've seen plays and read scripts that have been cleverer and made more of the English language. That said, I've also seen a lot worse. A terrible play called The Man Who Left the Titanic, springs to mind.
I went to see this a couple of weeks ago, and actually left at the interval in favour of going to the pub for a gin. The play was a two-hander, about Bruce Ismay, he of the White Star Line who hopped off the literal sinking ship into one of the lifeboats. The script contained no drama, but appeared to be merely a vehicle to convey the facts of the case. The performances were lack-lustre and the actor playing the ghost of Andrews did an excellent job of carrying the show, as Bruce himself seemed deeply uncertain of his lines in places. It's a touring production - should you find it coming to a theatre near you any time soon, I'd be inclined to give it a miss. The pub was much more entertaining.
This week I went to the photographer's studio to have my photo taken for the publicity for Skylight. I have never sat for a professional photo before and found it to be an unusual experience. There were lights upon me from many angles, and a silvery space-age contraption that looked like it had been designed by NASA, was stuck under my chin. The resulting photos, however, made me wish I could take all the lighting and photographic paraphernalia with me everywhere I go, as they clearly work miracles. Once the poster has been designed and I have a copy in my hot little hands, I shall scan it and upload it here so you can enjoy my discomfort. First rehearsal on Sunday - I'm feeling quite excited about it.
Thursday, 1 July 2010
Inspiration blockage
I have an idea for a story - it's full of joy, sorrow, history, romance, familial duties and pressures, teenage rebellion - it has potential I think. But can I write it? Can I heck as like.
I've started - there's an opening to be sure, but now what? I've written a couple of middling paragraphs, shuffled them around a bit. And I know how I want it to end, but haven't attempted to put that down on paper as yet. It's like doing a dot-to-dot with an invisible pen.
I need to write this story - it is too early on in this fledgling fiction writing career of mine to be thwarted by writer's block and a lack of inspiration. The question is, do I slog away at it, or do I put it to one side and try and write another?
On a different subject - rehearsals for Skylight will be starting in just over two weeks, and the issue of publicity has arisen, i.e. the poster/flyer/programme image and the photographing thereof. Turns out, the publicity image for this particular play is... my face.
Hadn't reckoned on that.
I've started - there's an opening to be sure, but now what? I've written a couple of middling paragraphs, shuffled them around a bit. And I know how I want it to end, but haven't attempted to put that down on paper as yet. It's like doing a dot-to-dot with an invisible pen.
I need to write this story - it is too early on in this fledgling fiction writing career of mine to be thwarted by writer's block and a lack of inspiration. The question is, do I slog away at it, or do I put it to one side and try and write another?
On a different subject - rehearsals for Skylight will be starting in just over two weeks, and the issue of publicity has arisen, i.e. the poster/flyer/programme image and the photographing thereof. Turns out, the publicity image for this particular play is... my face.
Hadn't reckoned on that.
Monday, 21 June 2010
What NOT to do
Okay, I'm not anywhere near the point of approaching an agent to represent me - I think it's safe to say that's a good couple of years down the line (unless I surprise myself). However, I shall be referring to this blog - SlushPileHell - daily, for handy tips on what not to write in my query letter.
It's very funny, so if you want a good laugh you should definitely check it out - my favourites thus far are June 20, 11, 8 & 3, and May 30, but they're all cracking in their own way.
I'm a novice, I admit, but I like to think I have enough common sense not to make mistakes like these. But then I guess they thought that too...
It's very funny, so if you want a good laugh you should definitely check it out - my favourites thus far are June 20, 11, 8 & 3, and May 30, but they're all cracking in their own way.
I'm a novice, I admit, but I like to think I have enough common sense not to make mistakes like these. But then I guess they thought that too...
Sunday, 20 June 2010
Six fingers and one thumb
So here's something I've been wondering - how do people prefer to write and why?
All the way through my last OU creative writing course, we were told again and again, write in your notebook, but I have to be honest (now that the course is finished and I can't be berated) and say that my notebook is sadly bereft of scribblings.
It isn't that I don't have ideas, and it isn't because I don't know how to hold a pen, and it's not because my handwriting is illegible - I just find the pen and paper system extremely longwinded.
I know there are writers out there, famous, prolifically published ones, who write in ratty old notebooks, piles and piles of them, until they've produced their masterpiece. But then what? I'm assuming they go back to the beginning and start typing it all up. Which seems to me to be a bit of a waste of time.
That said, I also imagine that may well be an excellent way of starting the editing process and the ideal time to begin cutting paragraphs and waffle. So perhaps I'm missing a trick...
I am an advocate of typing from the get-go - albeit inexpertly with only six fingers and one thumb out of my available eight and two, in a configuration that would make a typing teacher cringe and clench. I'm not sure if I type faster than I write with a pen, but I think, psychologically, that I feel I'm achieving something more quickly by seeing all those neat black lines appearing on the clean white screen - even if they don't make sense!
I'm thinking of investing in one of those little A5 laptops to use as my 'notebook' - small enough to carry around, which will hopefully encourage me to jot down ideas the moment I have them, rather than carrying them around in my head until I find a moment to sit down at my laptop and write. Until then I shall keep my redundant notebook and pen in my bag, just in case.
All the way through my last OU creative writing course, we were told again and again, write in your notebook, but I have to be honest (now that the course is finished and I can't be berated) and say that my notebook is sadly bereft of scribblings.
It isn't that I don't have ideas, and it isn't because I don't know how to hold a pen, and it's not because my handwriting is illegible - I just find the pen and paper system extremely longwinded.
I know there are writers out there, famous, prolifically published ones, who write in ratty old notebooks, piles and piles of them, until they've produced their masterpiece. But then what? I'm assuming they go back to the beginning and start typing it all up. Which seems to me to be a bit of a waste of time.
That said, I also imagine that may well be an excellent way of starting the editing process and the ideal time to begin cutting paragraphs and waffle. So perhaps I'm missing a trick...
I am an advocate of typing from the get-go - albeit inexpertly with only six fingers and one thumb out of my available eight and two, in a configuration that would make a typing teacher cringe and clench. I'm not sure if I type faster than I write with a pen, but I think, psychologically, that I feel I'm achieving something more quickly by seeing all those neat black lines appearing on the clean white screen - even if they don't make sense!
I'm thinking of investing in one of those little A5 laptops to use as my 'notebook' - small enough to carry around, which will hopefully encourage me to jot down ideas the moment I have them, rather than carrying them around in my head until I find a moment to sit down at my laptop and write. Until then I shall keep my redundant notebook and pen in my bag, just in case.
Saturday, 5 June 2010
Self-publishing - friend or foe?
The sun is glorious, there's not a cloud in the sky, the sea is like a mill pond, and I am sitting at my desk, working and missing it all. Such is the life of a freelancer. This has made me bitter, so I'm going to have a rant. Please forgive me in advance.
I'm currently proofing a manuscript that makes my heart cry. I'm always torn when I receive work that I don't rate. I'm full to the brim with admiration for the author, who has devoted their time and soul and managed to set their ideas down on paper and complete a book. I'm only too aware this is no mean feat - I've been writing and rewriting the first three chapters of my humble offering for about 6 months now. I'm struggling to get off the starting blocks, finding that my need to edit and proof as I go (an occupational hazard) is slowing me down and drowning my creativity. This is something I'm working on.
But the flip side to this admiration is when the work I read (in my opinion, obviously) is not good. The majority of manuscripts I proof are self-published, which doesn't surprise me as I fear no agent or editor would touch them with a barge pole. Plots are as leaky as the Titanic, if there is a plot at all. I have found Ann Summers shops, AK47's and drug addict-riddled high-rise flats lurking in Victorian England settings - honestly, don't even get me started on that one. Grammar and spelling are hurled by the wayside - what happened to polishing your work before you send it out?
A common problem I find, particularly with children's novels and sci-fi, is a complete inconsistency in the spelling of invented names and places. Seriously, how hard is it to make up a name and write it down on a piece of paper, so that you ensure you spell it the same way throughout the book? I have found myself, on more than one occasion, creating glossaries for the author so that if there is a sequel, they have a point of reference for their own creations.
I can't begin to explain how much it frustrates me. Mainly because it's such a colossal waste of my time and I don't get paid nearly enough for the amount of basic work I have to do to make the manuscripts make any kind of sense (which is surely the job of the author?). But there's a small part of me that is frustrated because I know, if only I could get past my bad habit of editing myself, I could do better! That's not a boast, I would put money on the majority of people out there who call themselves writers being able to do better also.
So my thought for the day is this - is self-publishing a good way to go? Personally, I would rather write something and take the agent route. If I'm told that my work is no good and unpublishable then I will feel sorry for myself for a while then move on. I would rather that than think my work is amazing when it isn't, publish it myself because I'm so convinced the world will want to read my words, then sell five copies to close family and friends who tell me it's great because they feel they have to, not because it really is. It's like the people who audition on X Factor because their mum and dad have told them they're the next Whitney Houston. Simon Cowell tells them, actually, you're distinctly average, and mum and dad (or gran) come barging in, affronted, and pick a fight, telling the expert he's wrong.
My feeling is, listen to the experts - if your writing is good, they will tell you that and they will help you. If they reject you, there's a reason for that. Take a step back, look at your work objectively and honestly, and fix it. Then try again.
And my tip for the day is this - if spelling and grammar are not your strong points, that's okay - but buy a book on punctuation and learn it. Some people find it easy, others don't, but if you're writing a book, you need to know when to use a full stop or a comma or a colon; you need to know when to put your punctuation within quotes or without; you need to know when and how to use an apostrophe. Spare a thought for the person who's going to be proofing your work while the sun is shining outside. It's also the kind of thing that will help an agent decide whether you're worth representing. They get so many manuscripts that a missed apostrophe in the first line could send your book into the bin.
Okay, I'm clambering down from my enormous horse now. I shall return my attention to this overly complicated book, with Regent's Park spelled Reagents Park (come on!). Fortunately, my friends are arriving in an hour or so to rescue me, and we're going for a picnic on the beach, so all is not lost!
I'm currently proofing a manuscript that makes my heart cry. I'm always torn when I receive work that I don't rate. I'm full to the brim with admiration for the author, who has devoted their time and soul and managed to set their ideas down on paper and complete a book. I'm only too aware this is no mean feat - I've been writing and rewriting the first three chapters of my humble offering for about 6 months now. I'm struggling to get off the starting blocks, finding that my need to edit and proof as I go (an occupational hazard) is slowing me down and drowning my creativity. This is something I'm working on.
But the flip side to this admiration is when the work I read (in my opinion, obviously) is not good. The majority of manuscripts I proof are self-published, which doesn't surprise me as I fear no agent or editor would touch them with a barge pole. Plots are as leaky as the Titanic, if there is a plot at all. I have found Ann Summers shops, AK47's and drug addict-riddled high-rise flats lurking in Victorian England settings - honestly, don't even get me started on that one. Grammar and spelling are hurled by the wayside - what happened to polishing your work before you send it out?
A common problem I find, particularly with children's novels and sci-fi, is a complete inconsistency in the spelling of invented names and places. Seriously, how hard is it to make up a name and write it down on a piece of paper, so that you ensure you spell it the same way throughout the book? I have found myself, on more than one occasion, creating glossaries for the author so that if there is a sequel, they have a point of reference for their own creations.
I can't begin to explain how much it frustrates me. Mainly because it's such a colossal waste of my time and I don't get paid nearly enough for the amount of basic work I have to do to make the manuscripts make any kind of sense (which is surely the job of the author?). But there's a small part of me that is frustrated because I know, if only I could get past my bad habit of editing myself, I could do better! That's not a boast, I would put money on the majority of people out there who call themselves writers being able to do better also.
So my thought for the day is this - is self-publishing a good way to go? Personally, I would rather write something and take the agent route. If I'm told that my work is no good and unpublishable then I will feel sorry for myself for a while then move on. I would rather that than think my work is amazing when it isn't, publish it myself because I'm so convinced the world will want to read my words, then sell five copies to close family and friends who tell me it's great because they feel they have to, not because it really is. It's like the people who audition on X Factor because their mum and dad have told them they're the next Whitney Houston. Simon Cowell tells them, actually, you're distinctly average, and mum and dad (or gran) come barging in, affronted, and pick a fight, telling the expert he's wrong.
My feeling is, listen to the experts - if your writing is good, they will tell you that and they will help you. If they reject you, there's a reason for that. Take a step back, look at your work objectively and honestly, and fix it. Then try again.
And my tip for the day is this - if spelling and grammar are not your strong points, that's okay - but buy a book on punctuation and learn it. Some people find it easy, others don't, but if you're writing a book, you need to know when to use a full stop or a comma or a colon; you need to know when to put your punctuation within quotes or without; you need to know when and how to use an apostrophe. Spare a thought for the person who's going to be proofing your work while the sun is shining outside. It's also the kind of thing that will help an agent decide whether you're worth representing. They get so many manuscripts that a missed apostrophe in the first line could send your book into the bin.
Okay, I'm clambering down from my enormous horse now. I shall return my attention to this overly complicated book, with Regent's Park spelled Reagents Park (come on!). Fortunately, my friends are arriving in an hour or so to rescue me, and we're going for a picnic on the beach, so all is not lost!
Saturday, 29 May 2010
Desperately seeking young, vibrant writers’ group!
I’ve read in various different places how important it is as a writer to join groups and communicate with fellow writers. First and foremost because writing can be such a solitary pastime, but also because you can give and receive valuable feedback. I’ve really enjoyed that aspect of my OU course and will miss it now that it’s coming to an end – my final assignment is in the polishing stages and I plan to send it on Tuesday. Not nerve-wracking at all then.
To take the place of the course, I have been lucky enough to join the lovely Get It Write online group run by Amanda Brittany, in order to hold on to that ‘we’re all in this together’ side of the creative process! I’ve also been curious about ‘real life’ writers’ groups, where you actually meet face to face with your compadres. My friend Susannah tracked one down and on Thursday night we went along to see what was what.
Hmmmmm… T’was an experience to be sure, but not quite what we were after. It was a little bit ‘blue rinse’ to be honest, with S and I feeling rather watched, as if to see what ‘the youngsters’ would do next. When we spoke eloquent sense it possibly came as a surprise, and we were crowded and manhandled by a somewhat overbearing Fleet Street sports reporter. The best laid plans and all that…
So we’re back to the drawing board on that one: Desperately seeking young, vibrant writers’ group! There is however the possibility that S has found us a book club to join – she’s working well! We shall find out in a couple of weeks if that too is overly cobwebby and crusty for our tastes, but until then I’ll endeavour to be optimistic.
To take the place of the course, I have been lucky enough to join the lovely Get It Write online group run by Amanda Brittany, in order to hold on to that ‘we’re all in this together’ side of the creative process! I’ve also been curious about ‘real life’ writers’ groups, where you actually meet face to face with your compadres. My friend Susannah tracked one down and on Thursday night we went along to see what was what.
Hmmmmm… T’was an experience to be sure, but not quite what we were after. It was a little bit ‘blue rinse’ to be honest, with S and I feeling rather watched, as if to see what ‘the youngsters’ would do next. When we spoke eloquent sense it possibly came as a surprise, and we were crowded and manhandled by a somewhat overbearing Fleet Street sports reporter. The best laid plans and all that…
So we’re back to the drawing board on that one: Desperately seeking young, vibrant writers’ group! There is however the possibility that S has found us a book club to join – she’s working well! We shall find out in a couple of weeks if that too is overly cobwebby and crusty for our tastes, but until then I’ll endeavour to be optimistic.
Thursday, 20 May 2010
Hello, good evening and welcome
Well, I have set up my blog. Here it is. Pretty innit?
I have spent today in the throes of task avoidance, with a manuscript (unfortunately not mine) to proof, and a final assignment for my course to be edited. Instead, I went into town and bought some boxes to organise things in, some new photo albums (2 for 1 so obviously irresistable), and a large bag of Doritos. All important things, I'm sure you'll agree.
But this afternoon I did eventually knuckle down and edit my assignment. I had to cut vast amounts to fit the word limit so I imagine my plot line is now reminiscent of a leaky seive, but nonetheless, it is done. Still a couple of weeks till it's due in so I can look at it again next week and grapple with it some more. The manuscript will have to wait until tomorrow as my head is full of cold and I've had enough now. Spending money I don't have earlier took it out of me and I need a lie down. And I might do some knitting. Yes, I knit, what of it? Don't judge me.
Fred is calling, it's tea time and I am being an unfit mother by ignoring him. I must be off to fulfil my maternal duty before he jabs me with one of his pin-like claws.
I have spent today in the throes of task avoidance, with a manuscript (unfortunately not mine) to proof, and a final assignment for my course to be edited. Instead, I went into town and bought some boxes to organise things in, some new photo albums (2 for 1 so obviously irresistable), and a large bag of Doritos. All important things, I'm sure you'll agree.
But this afternoon I did eventually knuckle down and edit my assignment. I had to cut vast amounts to fit the word limit so I imagine my plot line is now reminiscent of a leaky seive, but nonetheless, it is done. Still a couple of weeks till it's due in so I can look at it again next week and grapple with it some more. The manuscript will have to wait until tomorrow as my head is full of cold and I've had enough now. Spending money I don't have earlier took it out of me and I need a lie down. And I might do some knitting. Yes, I knit, what of it? Don't judge me.
Fred is calling, it's tea time and I am being an unfit mother by ignoring him. I must be off to fulfil my maternal duty before he jabs me with one of his pin-like claws.
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