Crocodile Tears versus Voodoo Babysitter
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Freeeeeaaakky dream
It can be quite boring listening to people describe their dreams. It's like when people reenact funny scenes from a TV sitcom - it's only a pale imitation of the genuine experience. However, this one was so weird I have to record it for posterity, even if it's just my own personal posterity.
I was on some sort of archaeological dig. I can't remember if I was wearing Indiana Jones-style clothing, but I really hope I was. I think I was at least wearing dusty headgear of some kind. I was led into a cave to view the latest find: an ancient and mysterious creature.
The creature was languishing in a rusty metal bathtub. It was large enough to fill the entire bathtub, it was shaped like an electric shaver and it was covered in a thick layer of primordial slime. The longer I looked at it (from a safe distance) the less sure I was that it was animal and not machine. The head of the animal/machine was bulbous and dark, and covered in slime/glass like a cockpit. Inside the head was a small white spaceman floating around in black space.
When the creature saw me it began to thrash around wildly. I waved hello, matching its excitement so it wouldn't get offended and attack me. The head/cockpit split open and the spaceman floated out towards me. When it got closer and removed its helmet I realised it was a woman with curly red hair. She seemed a practical, scientific sort. She explained to me that I was special and they wanted to make me the first person to be physically modified so that I emitted no carbon at all. I was quietly excited to be chosen; I felt like I could be at the forefront of human evolution.
Cut to some sort of archaeological staffroom: I was told that the creature was extremely dangerous, and that the operation they suggested was surely going to kill me. It was suspected that the creature was part of an alien cult. I was alarmed: how was I going to get out of the operation without raising the ire and the vengeance of the slimy primordial creature/machine?
Slash and burn
Several of my friends have asked me how my meetings with my publisher are going, and I've intended for weeks now to write about this. I've only had two meetings: the first with several editors and publishers, and the second just with my editor.
I was extremely nervous before that first meeting. I probably couldn't have even told you exactly why I was so anxious. I might have been worried that I was about to be told truths about my writing I couldn't handle. I've never been part of a writing group, or done a writing course, so I am quite unused to direct and rigorous critique. When I have shown my writing to friends, they have usually been so supportive I've had to beg them to say something (anything!) negative.
It turns out I shouldn't have worried. Sitting around with a group of adult professionals discussing my novel was one of the strangest and most gratifying experiences I've ever had. Nice things were said. Constructive things were said. Wild suggestions were made regarding which voice I should write in, and the relevance of whole chapters were questioned. The entire thing was picked at until it felt there was little that shouldn't be changed. It was great! Everyone on the room was taking my writing seriously enough to discuss it. The characters and place that had lived only in my head and on my laptop for so long suddenly had a life outside of me. It felt for the first time like there was a chance that these characters could be real for other people in the way that they are entirely real people to me.
Since then I have been slashing and burning and re-writing left, right and centre. It was like I was waiting for permission to shake things up. Rather than being painful it has been a real relief to take a hammer and chisel to my manuscript, like I'm freeing something that's still half-buried under rubble.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Monday, September 14, 2009
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