Inspiration can come from anywhere; a dream, a photograph, a walk down the street you've walked a thousand times before. It's the transformation of that inspiration into an actual story that takes time and dedication.
Wherein I endeavour to share writerly advice lightened with humour, pictures and a dollop of 1930s-1940s history.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Rededication
Inspiration can come from anywhere; a dream, a photograph, a walk down the street you've walked a thousand times before. It's the transformation of that inspiration into an actual story that takes time and dedication.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Fun Friday
AS HEARD ON THE LONDON UNDERGROUND:
A list of actual announcements that London Tube train drivers have made to their passengers...
1) 'Ladies and Gentlemen, I do apologize for the delay to your service. I know you're all dying to get home, unless, of course, you happen to be married to my ex-wife, in which case you'll want to cross over to the Westbound and go in the opposite direction.'
2) 'Your delay this evening is caused by the line controller suffering from A & E syndrome: not knowing his arse from his elbow. I'll let you know any further information as soon as I'm given any.'
3) 'Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize for the delay but there is a security alert at Victoria station and we are therefore stuck here for the foreseeable future, so let's take our minds off it and pass some time together. All together now.... Ten green bottles, hanging on a wall.'
4) 'Beggars are operating on this train. Please do NOT encourage these professional beggars. If you have any spare change, please give it to a registered charity. Failing that, give it to me.'
5) 'Let the passengers off the train FIRST!' (Pause) 'Oh go on then, stuff yourselves in like sardines, see if I care - I'm going home....'
6) 'Please allow the doors to close; try not to confuse this with 'Please hold the doors open - the two are distinct and separate instructions.'
7) 'Please note that the beeping noise coming from the doors means that the doors are about to close. It does not mean throw yourself or your bags into the doors.'
8) 'We can't move off because some idiot has their hand stuck in the door.'
9) 'To the gentleman wearing the long grey coat trying to get on the second carriage - what part of 'stand clear of the doors' don't you understand?'
10) 'Please move all baggage away from the doors.' (Pause..) 'Please move ALL belongings away from the doors.' (Pause...) 'This is a personal message to the man in the brown suit wearing glasses at the rear of the train: Put the pie down, Four-eyes, and move your bloody golf clubs away from the door before I come down there and shove them up your arse sideways!'
11) 'May I remind all passengers that there is strictly no smoking allowed on any part of the Underground. However, if you are smoking a joint, it's only fair that you pass it round the rest of the carriage.'
Commenting on a complaint from a Mr. Arthur Purdey about a large gas bill, a spokesman for North West Gas said: 'We agree it was rather high for the time of year. It's possible Mr. Purdey has been charged for the gas used up during the explosion that destroyed his house.' (The Daily Telegraph)
Police reveal that a woman arrested for shoplifting had a whole salami in her underwear. When asked why, she said it was because she was missing her Italian boyfriend. (The Manchester Evening News)
Irish police are being handicapped in a search for a stolen van, because they cannot issue a description. It's a Special Branch vehicle and they don't want the public to know what it looks like.
(The Guardian)
A young girl who was blown out to sea on a set of inflatable teeth was rescued by a man on an inflatable lobster. A coast guard spokesman commented, 'This sort of thing is all too common'.
(The Times)
At the height of the gale, the harbourmaster radioed a coast guard and asked him to estimate the wind speed. He replied he was sorry, but he didn't have a gauge. However, if it was any help, the wind had just blown his Land Rover off the cliff. (Aberdeen Evening Express)
Mrs. Irene Graham of Thorpe Avenue, Boscombe, delighted the audience with her reminiscence of the German prisoner of war who was sent each week to do her garden. He was repatriated at the end of 1945, she recalled: 'He'd always seemed a nice friendly chap but, when the crocuses came up in the middle of our lawn in February 1946, they spelt out 'Heil Hitler.'' (Bournemouth Evening Echo)
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Thirties Thursday
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
We Writers Know...
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
10 Signs of a Typical Writing Day
Monday, February 21, 2011
But What Went Wrong?
Over the past few weeks I've had the opportunity to reconnect with actors I've worked with in the past. Although we spent the majority of our time rehearsing, there were stories told. Actors love to tell stories about past productions; but the stories that get told over and over again are the stories where something went wrong.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Fun Friday
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Writing Partners
I'm a lone writer. But the writing collaboration of Elisa Lorello and Sarah Girrell with their new book Why I Love Singlehood proves that sometimes two heads (or pens) are better than one. I can't imagine having the patience or the grace to be able to write a book with someone else, but these two have managed it with aplomb.
Sarah: Let me start from the beginning. I met Elisa my first week of undergrad. I was the one along the far wall of the room trying desperately to be unnoticeable. The magic started the moment Elisa had us all writing. It was brilliant. Not the writing, mind you. That was total crap. But somewhere in those first 75 minutes of class, Elisa gave us all permission to love writing as much as she did.
Elisa: Wait, I remember it differently. The one sitting in the back—that was true; but Sarah was also was the first one to approach me on the first day of class, shake my hand, and introduce herself—
Sarah: I did? God, what a dork.
Elisa: At least I thought that was you… After reading Sarah’s revised draft of her first essay, I knew she was something special—she got it.
Sarah: Flash forward three years—Elisa was my advisor for an independent study in writing style (which basically meant we got to schedule weekly time to geek out together about writing). And though I did my best not to show it, I wrote as if she were leaning over my shoulder, and revised like a madwoman before handing her a single sentence.
Elisa: Really? And yet all along, I was afraid Sarah was going to find out how little I really knew. But those weekly geek-out sessions really were fabulous.
I remember the first time I asked Sarah to critique one of my pieces. She looked at me, rather shell-shocked. And yet, she’s still one of the readers I trust most with my writing, even at its most suckiest stage.
Sarah: A year later I was living in her apartment during winter break, co-writing daily, and rationing out cookies as rewards for pages completed. Gone was the intimidation; all that remained was respect.
Elisa: And cookies. I recall lots of cookies.
Sarah: Whenever asked about drafting Why I Love Singlehood another year later—
Elisa: From two different states, mind you!
Sarah: I’d hastily add, “It’s okay, though, cause I’m co-writing it? And my friend, the uh, other writer? She’s already like, a published author.” As if that made me more legit.
Elisa: But here’s the thing: the writing process? It always worked. We were writers who engaged the craft of revision. We were constantly giving each other feedback, giving each other the credit when the writing worked, and taking the sole blame when it didn’t. We talked for hours on end about our characters, their hopes and dreams and fears and failures.
Sarah: We emailed, we google-chatted. The phone calls, when they happened, were epic. We’re talking max-your-minutes-in-one-call sort of epic. But mostly we wrote: questions, critiques, re-writes, snippets. We wrote more words about our novel than in it, and I think articulating it – literally spelling it out – made the writing stronger and the revising easier.
Elisa: Most importantly, we listened—to each other, and to our characters. We compromised. We deleted. We revised and revised and revised until we called it done, even though we learned that writing is somehow never finished.
Sarah: Forty-eight grueling hours before our publishing deadline with Amazon Encore, we argued. We spent 45 minutes arguing over three words of dialogue—I can’t even remember which three they were—but we went head-to-head, round after round. In the end, neither of us got our way; the character won.
Elisa: Looking back, I’d say it was a defining moment. We began as student and teacher (although over the years she has taught me plenty), evolved into friends, and emerged as co-authors. Put another way, as a relationship revised.
So begins Eva’s clumsy (and occasionally uproarious) search for love as she secretly joins an online dating site, tries her hand at speed-dating, and breaks her own rule by getting involved with one of The Grounds’ regulars. Soon Eva is forced to figure out exactly who—or what—is the true love of her life. Sparkling with warmth and wit, Why I Love Singlehood is a charming and insightful must-read for anyone—single or otherwise—who has ever been stymied by love.