The Word Cloud

There's a blog I sort of follow by name of Catherine, Caffeinated wherein our perky blogger gives amusing but useful views on self publishing, marketing, promotion, etc. Her latest post gives the results of a survey of self published authors and, bearing in mind there are many Cloudies contemplating the self-publish route, it may be worth posting the link here. See what you think...
http://catherineryanhoward.com/2012/05/24/wait-until-you-hear-this-the-taleist-self-publishing-survey/  

http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2010/feb/20/ten-rules-for-writing-fiction-part-one Sorry if this is a repost but I think it’s worth a look – especially if your fave author is on the list. The only rule they appear to (mostly) agree on is to read lots…I’m intrigued to know if there are any that anyone thinks are total bullshit…I spy plenty…

This has nothing to do with writing, but I had the strangest thing happen today, and I'm sure it's pretty unique.

It is well documented that if you want to write you need to read, read and read!!!

As much as this is a big help along the path to writing, it is far from the definitive source for all new writers. Reading a book that I really enjoy makes me want to keep reading, it does nothing to stimulate me into further action in my own writing. When I pick up a book that disinterests me I can instantly see the negatives in my own work and I can adapt that and think how I don't want my manuscript to turn out.

The biggest tip I can offer is observation. Observe your surroundings, family, neighbours, events and the best for me is strangers. Family and friends become predictable over time. Strangers when studied for a brief moment can bring a smile to the face of your characters, can reveal things you had not thought about. Take notes on your fellow passengers on planes, trains and buses on your commute to work. Study your work colleges.

Remember, what you are reading has already been written. Observation is the key!

Reading does help in lots of ways in how to present characters, how to direct your own thoughts and can be an escape for writers block. Writing about an observation a day can help you grow your own characters storyline.

People have told me how much they enjoyed my book, but how do I manage to summon such emotion and characters in what I write. I'm not married and don't have children, so how did the events in my book come to me. I can say that I have read a lot and enjoyed 90% of what I have read, but I believe that spending a few moments each day, observing people helps develop characters and when you have your characters they write the book for you.

I have a friend who read my book and came back to me very confused. He said that he hadn't understood what at all was happening. I didn't explain anything to him but asked how long it had taken him to read the book, he told me a few hours. It is only 147 pages long so if you read fast you can probably achieve this in a few hours. But take some time during that process to observe what is happening. When you sit with a book and have time to read, it's not a race, but if you feel it is and you're the only participant then you can't lose.




  

At the moment I feel like my life is made up of a series of deadlines. Deadlines for short stories, deadlines for finishing a big edit of my MS, deadlines for my driving theory and deadlines for my master’s dissertation.

Deadlines, Deadlines, Deadlines. It’s enough to give me an ulcer.

In order to try and prepare myself to reach these deadlines I have put together a few helpful tips on how to cope with an impending deadline and thought I would share.

·         Break it down – every giant job can be broken down into a series of smaller jobs. This will make it easier to manage and you will feel more in control and successful when you finish a job.

 

·         Reward yourself – when you finish a small job reward yourself. This will help to keep you motivated and feel under less pressure.

 

·         Keep a clear list of where you are and where you need to be. – stay updated on your progress especially if you’re juggling multiple deadlines. This can also be called a timeline.

 

·         Plan your time – ties into the above point but it is important enough to be a standalone point as well. Careful planning of time means less chance of a meltdown later. Keep these plans fluid though as sometimes life happens and you can’t always stick to rigid plans.

 

·         Always keep a backup – this isn’t just for deadlines and is a good tip in general. Back everything up. Then if your computer explodes you’re not back at square one with the deadline much closer.

I hope these tips help you with your deadlines.

Anything to add please do!

Looking at a crap week ahead....and I can look back at a crap week behind me...

Tomorrow will be bad and the day after will probably be worse...and the rats keep winning the rat race...




These blogs will be retired after a few days on the blog list to a Forum thread in the Coffee Break section.

Vote please.

...

1. One day a Jew, a Hindu, and a Celtic ( or insert footy team of choice) supporter all arrived at their hotel to find that there had been a mix-up with the bookings, and that there was only one room left for them to share. The manager explained that this room only had two beds, but that there was a barn at a neighbouring farm which the farmer, an old friend of his, would let one of them sleep in free of charge.



They complained a bit, but since there was nowhere else to go, the Jew graciously said he'd sleep in the barn. The Hindu and the Celtic supporter were just settling down to sleep in their room, when there was a knock on the door. It was the Jew.

'I'm sorry,' he said, 'but there's a pig in that barn and because I'm Jewish I feel uncomfortable about sharing the barn with it.' 'No problem,' said the Hindu. 'I'll sleep out there instead.' So off he went to the barn, leaving the Celtic supporter and the Jew to share the room.

They were just settling down to sleep, when there was a knock on the door. It was the Hindu. 'I'm sorry,' he said, 'but there's a cow in that barn and because I'm a Hindu I feel uncomfortable about sharing the barn with it.'

The Celtic supporter grudgingly agreed to give up his bed and stomped off to the barn leaving the Jew and the Hindu to share the room. The Jew and the Hindu were just settling down to sleep, when there was a knock on the door.

It was the cow and the pig.

 

2.

 

The nun teaching Sunday School was speaking to her class one morning and she asked the question,
'When you die and go to Heaven...which part of your body goes first?'

Suzy raised her hand and said, 'I think it's your hands.' 'Why do you think it's your hands, Suzy?' Suzy replied, 'Because when you pray, you hold your hands together in front of you and God just takes your hands first.' 'What a wonderful answer!' the nun said.

Little Johnny raised his hand and said, 'Sister, I think it's your feet.' The nun looked at him with the strangest look on her face.

'Now, Little Johnny, why do you think it would be your feet?'

Little Johnny said, 'Well, I walked into Mummy and Daddy's bedroom the other night Mummy had her legs straight up in the air and she was saying, Oh ! God, I'm coming!' If Dad hadn't pinned her down, w we’d have lost her.'

3.

A man seeking to join a south Texas Sheriff's Department is being interviewed.
The Sergeant doing the interview says: "Your qualifications all look good,
but there is an attitude suitability test that you must take before you can be accepted.”

Then, sliding a service pistol across the desk, he says: "Take this pistol and go out and shoot six illegal aliens, six meth dealers, six fundamental religious extremists, and a rabbit.

"Why the rabbit?" asks the man

"Great attitude," says the Sergeant. "When can you start?"

 

 

 

The screenplay for Henry Hathaway's enjoyable action romp North To Alaska (showing this Friday at 11.05am on More4) is credited to  John Lee Mahin, Martin Rackin and Claude Binyon, but there was also some uncredited work done on it by this week's screenwriter, Wendell Mayes. I could have written about it's primary screenwriters (although I've already covered Mahin) but I've been wanting to talk about Mayes for a while and you can't guarantee when an appropriate film will crop up.
I've got a soft spot Wendell Mayes, largely because he had a formidable career despite not writing his first film till he was in his late 30s (there's time for me yet!). Mayes specialised in adaptations, something he seemed to regret in later years putting it partly down to cowardice (in interview with Rui Nogueira for Backstory 3). He usually worked alone (his first film, Spirit of St. Louis with Billy Wilder being the exception), and where his films are credited to multiple writers they were on the project before or after him. I would characterise his films as mostly being 'men's pictures, not necessarily action but based around male casts. Probably his best known action picture is the Poseidon Adventure, a film which he requested to leave and was replaced by Stirling Siliphant (who I really must write about one of these days). That I think is indicative of Mayes' preferred style, possibly his best films are his three collaborations will director Otto Preminger, with whom he enjoyed a good working relationship. While the third of their films, In Harm's Way, is far from perfect, the other two are simply superb, Anatomy of a Murder is a recognised classic, one of the best and most morally ambiguous courtroom dramas ever. Advise and Consent is far less seen, I only watched it myself recently, but it is a brilliant film, dark, intelligent and one of the earliest times that homosexuality was dealt with in a mainstream Hollywood film. It is a movie that respects the intelligence of the audience and expects you to follow it rather than spelling out every syllable. 
Mayes was also ahead of the Hollywood curve with one of his last films. Mayes first pitched his Vietnam movie Go Tell the Spartans in the early 70s when no studio would touch it. It was finally made in 1978, one of the first films to deal seriously with the conflict (Deer Hunter was released the same year and Apocalypse Now the year after), and it still stands as a thoroughly intelligent look at the war's origins, far less flashy than the better known movies that followed it.
Mayes' popularity died out in the early 80s but he seems to have dealt with this as calmly as he dealt with the difficulties and disappointments of working in Hollywood, it was all just part of his career, and there are few writers who have left such a varied and yet uncompromising body of work. 

I have got myself into increasing messes.  Last Monday I went for a walk in the country instead of going to work   (I genuinely thought it was my day off and  got to Cudham, near Downe, before I realised my mistake)
To make amends, I said I would help out at a poetry group.  The subject is the Industrial Revolution.   I can find many poems and poets who were not too keen on the enterprise, but nobody who supported it.   For example,  can anybody think of any poems that support Free Trade?  All the major poets seem to have been opposed to the whole thing.  Blake, Wordsworth etc.
Does any poet or a famous poem come to anybody's mind?  
I know word clouders will immediately point me in the direction of the writings of Thodolphus Trubshaw  and produce copious examples of his output but this will not help my already shaky reputation. 
Things with e.bay have not abated.   A work colleague has suggested that the Russian mafia are involved.    I am contemplating returning to drink!!

3 Weddings & a Funeral & so much more on Santorini

On our 5th day, we took the local bus from our coastal village resort to the main hilltop town, which is a jigsaw of narrow winding streets, small houses, hotels and churches clinging to the sides of steep volcanic rock and overlooking the magnificent oceanic caldera.

We'd gone to wander and wonder at the massive eruption and tsunami of centuries past, which had changed the shape of the island and probably also wiped out the Minoan civilisation on nearby Crete.

Atlantis?

We climbed the first road from the bus station to the main square, intending to get our first view of the caldera and the smaller islands - two of which had formed part of the original island and two new small volcanic creations.  However, our attention was diverted for a while by an unexpected display.

Three oriental couples were being wed - a romantic scene of white gowns, pink roses, confetti and champagne.  It warmed our hearts to witness this young love.  But then in stepped the Greek dancers to draw the happy couples into Greek circle dancing, including the lively Zorba's Dance.  The square is cobbled, the ladies wore high heels and none of them looked at all comfortable performing in public these alien dances.  Our hearts went out to them and the magic of the moment disappeared in a wisp of smoke.  Elegance and romance were destroyed.

Oh well!  We returned our attention to the beauty which volcanic destruction and man's ingenuity had eventually created.  Around every corner were magnificent views and interesting sites such as donkey trains ferrying people from the small port far below up to the town.  These patient animals are treated better nowadays, but one could not help feeling sorry for their days of tedium and toil.  We recalled the donkey ride up into the mountains of Spain on our long-ago honeymoon and our own young love.

Returning to the village, we stopped off at a taverna for a light lunch and a cooling beer, to find ourselves surrounded by a funeral wake for an old lady who had recently passed away.  In the space of a couple of hours we had witnessed two of life's staging posts and were reminded of the importance of living each day to the full.

We certainly did this on Santorini.

We'd been greeted on the steps of our small hotel by three lovely young Greek ladies and immediately felt welcome and totally at home.  It was to be the start of two weeks where a relaxed pace of life under the sun rejuvenated and inspired.  The muses were around in the background and a few notes were made; a few ideas generated.  This was sufficient and reassuring, but it was, in the main, a time for simple, shared experiences.  It was a time for creating happy memories; for fun, laughter, kindnesses and instant bonds of new friendships.  A time, also, for eradicating recent concerns from our minds.

The wonders of nature were all around and were encapsulted on a sunset cruise around the caldera on a wooden caique.  It was strange to realise that we were sailing on sea where the centre of the island had once existed and to think again of what must have been terrifying events.

The sunset was beautiful, but even more magical was the full moon viewed as we reached the steps of our hotel.  It hung low over the sea - an enormous deep orange globe emitting a soft glow; quite breathtaking in its natural beauty.

Being an old romantic, I saw this as a special moon; a good omen for our shared future.  We cannot know at what stage we are in life between our own wedding and our eventual funerals, but Life in the present is ours to live to the full.

~~~~

Finally - a 'Solitaire', (ref. OFP's Malta blog). 

She was a sweet, tiny French lady for whom I made room on the bench at the bus station.  She engaged me in conversation.  A widow, she'd been holidaying alone on Santorini for eight consecutive years and loved the island.  Alas, she thought that this would  be the last time, as she was very old.  I admired her spirit and hoped that our brief conversation had alleviated her obvious loneliness in some small way.

Here it is. I found it. A short story, which I do not usually write for I am far too long winded, I wrote as a young teenager. I never realized how poor my writing was.. 

  

   "My grandson's, Nick, birthday is tomorrow and I had told him I wouldn't be able to make it However, since our funding is gone, I'm free to go.”

   "Makes sense to me Taran," Mark said with a smile. "I know he'll be glad to see you. By the way, do you want me to put the bone where we found it?"

   "No," Taran said after a short pause. "I would like to have another look at the cave before we leave it so I guess I'll do it. Thanks anyway."

With a shrug of indifference, Mark gave a mock salute and started walking back towards base camp which lay just over the next sand dune. Taran watched him until his dark head disappeared behind the small dune. With a deep sigh of sadness or regret, he pulled the small piece of bone from his pocket. Softly, almost reverently, he rubbed his thumb across the engraved symbol on its surface. The bone was chipped in places but the symbol was still intact. He thought that it was one of the oddest things that he had ever seen.

   "Could be runic I guess," he whispered to himself, "wouldn't stake my life on it or anything."

With a slight smile touching his lips, he started on his way to the site where they had found the piece of bone. Since they had only found it about six hours ago, they had not had time to try carbon dating or anything that would tell them the approximate age. Mark had suggested runic and so far Taran was forced to agree with him.

    "Nice piece of work," he whispered, "looks as though it was burned in. I wonder what temperature it takes to burn bone?" With another heartfelt sigh, he shoved the bone into his pocket and continued on his way. If he was lucky, Jurnee Chaves would still be at the site.

Cairo, Egypt  5:00 (Dig site}

Jurnee Chaves, a twenty year old amateur archaeologist, was kneeling in the sand peering intently at what she had just discovered. It was a stone tablet about the length of her forearm and thirty centimeters wide. The interesting part was the symbols inscribed on it. Using her thumbnail as a guide, she counted seventeen symbols separated into four groups.

 

   "I wonder what it's supposed to mean." She murmured to herself as
she stood with the tablet in her hands.                            

   "Jurnee," someone yelled from behind her. The man’s rough voice startled her and she dropped the tablet that she had been holding lightly in her hands. The quiet of the underground cave was shattered.

   "Sorry," Taran whispered after a tension filled moment. He knew she had a razor edged tongue that could cut even a grown man down to about an inch tall for even he had not been spared its sharp edge.

   "Right," Jurnee muttered. "It's too late now. That rock was the key to that bone we found and you have just destroyed it. I hope you’re happy."

   "It wouldn't have mattered anyway," Taran said softly, as he knelt to inspect the remains of the tablet, "we can't dig anymore. Our funding has been cut."

   "Ludlow?"

   "Yep," was his reply, "leave it to Iain to do something like that. You're right by the way."

   "What?" Jurnee asked with a frown.

   "Look," he said touching a piece of the broken stone, "this symbol here looks a lot like part of this symbol on the bone."

   "Bindrune," she whispered as she looked at the bone.

   "What's a bindrune?" Asked Taran with a frown.

   "A mixture of runic letters," Jurnee said with a smile, "I read a little about them a couple of years ago. People used them for luck, protection-"

   "Predicting the future?" Taran added with a sarcastic smile. "My grandson is big on this stuff. Maybe he would like this piece of bone?"

   "No!" Jurnee shouted. Realizing how panicked she sounded, she tried again with a lower voice. "Sorry. But you use someone else’s runes. Besides, we don't even know who these belong to."

   "Fine," Taran said with a wide smile. Tossing the bone on the ground, he continued, "Let’s go."

   "First I want a rubbing of that tablet."

   "You think you can put it back together?"

   "Sure," Jurnee said with a smile, "maybe even translate it."

   "Okay," he said with a shrug. He didn't continue until after he stood. "Jurnee?"

   "Yeah?" She asked without looking up.

   "Be back at base camp no later than two hours from now, alright?"         

   "7:00?" She said with a look at her watch. "Why?"

   "Because you never know what's out here after the lights go out." With a laugh, he turned and walked to the ladder that would lead him back to the surface and out of the underground cave.

   "It's not going to work Maitland," Jurnee whispered after Taran had left. Looking around, she reached for her backpack. "I'm not afraid." Hearing a slight noise, that wasn't repeated, she froze, "Who's there?" She called out. To her relief, there was no answer. As she pulled the tracing paper and charcoal from her pack she whispered, "Just the wind."

Base Camp, 5:15

     Mark sat back into his chair and smiled. He had just managed to get Taran Maitland a seat on the last flight to New York. It was unfortunate that it was the last flight to New York because now he would have to wait until the next day to go home. What made it strange to him was the fact that it was going straight to New York with no stopovers. Mark slowly started to lose his smile and a frown settled around his forehead. It all seemed a little too easy to him now.

   "Knock it off Short," he admonished himself softly, "there's no reason to worry. We were just lucky. Fate! That's all it was."

   "What's this about fate?" Taran asked from the doorway. Mark could see the sand that clung to legs of his pants. Without even asking, he knew where Taran had just come from.

   "Nothing," Mark answered, "I've got some good news pal."

   "You got my flight?" Taran asked with a smile.

   "Bingo," Mark answered as he leaned forward in his chair, "it leaves in two hours. Can you be ready by then?"

   "Sure! I’ll go pack now," turning as he spoke; he reached for the door handle. Pausing, he spoke, "in an hour or so go check on Miss Chaves okay?"

   "She at the site?"

  “She found a tablet with some runic writing on it. She thinks that she can decipher it. So, I told her that she can stay there for awhile.” Taran said with a smile. There was no reason to say that he was responsible for breaking it.

   “Great!” Mark almost shouted, his eyes shining with excitement. “Call Mr. Ludlow and –“

   “Iain won’t care,” Taran interrupted with a raised hand. “Our funding is cut and I doubt that any kind of discovery will change that now.”

   “So what do we do?” Mark asked, his eyes losing the shine. “I’m sure that piece of bone is pretty valuable.”

   “Sure,” Taran agreed with a nod and a sardonic smile. “Anyway, I’ve got to leave soon but I will see you before I go. Right?”

   “Right Maitland,” Mark said, trying to force a smile. “By the way, I’m going to stop and see Jurnee before I leave. Would you like me to come and get you when I go?”

   “Ah,” Taran whispered as he started out the door. “Sure. Just give me an hour or so.” With that, he left.