Author Intrusion

Saturday, September 27, 2008

Narrative fiction and human nature

I'm just about to zip down to the train station. Only time today to leave you with a quotation from Ursula K. LeGuin:

"There have been great societies that did not use the wheel, but there have been no societies that did not tell stories."

I love this quote. Buried in it there is a secret about what it is to be human.

Friday, September 26, 2008

The Big Smoke

Tomorrow I am heading down to London for a visit to Ealing Studios and, more specifically, Living Spirit Pictures. I'll be meeting Chris Jones, director of Gone Fishing, among other films, and co-author of the Guerrilla Film Makers' Handbook.

Ever since I got hold of a copy of the Guerrilla Filmmakers Handbook, I've been fascinated by Chris's career. It seemed to me that he was thinking outside the conventional and choosing his path to fit himself rather than forcing himself to follow the usual path.

Anyone who knows me will understand how closely that philosophy matches my own. As a dyslexic, I've found this to be a liberating approach. When I first met Chris, a couple of years ago, I was interested to learn that he too is dyslexic. Perhaps it shouldn't have been a surprise.

Chris's excellent blog is here

Thursday, September 25, 2008

Author Intrusion - what is it?

What is 'Author Intrusion'? A couple of people have asked me, so it seems time to tackle the question.

Imagine a reader, sitting on a bus, nose buried in a novel. There's a magic in good story telling. It has the power to take that reader away from the place she is sitting. She is no longer commuting to work. She is in Africa. Or America. Or the future. Or wherever the story is set. The bus, the seat, even the words printed on the page dissolve and she sees, with her mind's eye, the events of the story unfolding before her.

It is a trance-like state. It is one of the hallmarks of good story telling. It is also one of my goals as a writer. But the spell will be broken the moment the reader becomes aware of the presence of a writer who does not belong in the story. This is what I understand by 'author intrusion'.

There are many ways in which an author can intrude. For example, the narrative informing the reader of information not known to the point-of-view character. Or the inclusion of words and images that have no place in the world of that story. Or when the writer tries to be too clever with elaborate stylistic flourishes.

My general advice is to avoid author intrusion. But there are no rules in creative writing and there will be cases where it works well.

If you haven't already seen it, make a point of watching the movie 'Stranger Than Fiction'. It is a story about stories. It contains a line which is an example of one of the best known forms of author intrusion.

"Little did he know that this simple, seemingly innocuous act, would result in his imminent death."

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Dyslexia Benefits Writing

A couple of days ago, I mentioned three things going on in my life as a writer. One thing that has happened, one that is happening and one that might happen. But my fiction-writer's instinct held me back from telling you what they actually were. Sorry about that.

So here is the middle of the three - the thing that is happening. I am in the process of writing a book about dyslexia.

Having searched the shelves for information on the subject, I've found titles on 'beating dyslexia' on 'overcoming dyslexia' even on 'curing' it. The books may be excellent, but the titles don't make much sense to me.

Dyslexia isn't a disease. It is a pattern of brain hard-wiring that confers a mixture of problems and benefits. I spent many years trying to 'beat' my dyslexia, trying to look less dyslexic. But pretending to be what you are not is a recipe for stress. What I really want is to enjoy being what I am. To do things that use my dyslexic-wired brain to its best advantage. That is the road I've been on for the last 10 years. And that is the subject of my book.

I'm 30,000 words into it now - though I feel sure I will need to edit those back by about a third. I don't know how long the finished thing will be. Perhaps 40,000. A slim volume. But shorter is probably better for most of my intended readership.

In these days of word processors, dyslexia doesn't have to me much of a disadvantage to the writer. But could it be an advantage? I think so. It has the potential to give the writer a different take on the world. It can make the writer's voice sound distinctive and original.

Everyone has the potential to develop their distinctive talents and faculties - whether they are dyslexic or not. To borrow a metaphor from the writings of Baha'u'llah, these qualities are like buried gemstones. The trick is to figure out what they are and to work at mining them out.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

What is the best time of day to Write

I'm not a morning person. Not by preference. But my daughter is now in a new school and has to get up much earlier, so the timetable of the whole household has shifted. The result is that I am up and ready to write by 8.15am.

This brings me to ask: when is the best time of day to write? Over the years of being a writer, I have got into the habit of starting at 9am and writing through to mid day, then doing other tasks in the afternoon. This pattern seems to work for me. Perhaps the mind is fresher in the morning. But my feeling is that we can write and be creative at any time of day - so long as we train ourselves to do so.

My advice: set up a routine and keep to it. Perhaps you are able to give 20 minutes a day to writing. Perhaps you can give several hours. Whatever your timetable, if it is regular, your brain will learn to click into action. Even if you don't feel creative when you pick up your pen or power up your computer, the words will be there as soon as you start to write.

The one time of day I try not to write is in the late evening - because when I do that, I can't turn off afterwards and the result is a sleepless night.

Monday, September 22, 2008

In the Ear of the beholder

Here is a confession: when I write, I speak the words out loud. Yes, I'm the guy who moves his lips when he reads. And when he writes.

Then, when I've finished a chapter, I read it through out loud again. This is part of my editing process. I'm looking for rhythms and patterns of sound that don't work. By the time a bit of writing is finished I will have read it many times in this way.

I relate to stories through sound. I hear them in my head. I speak them. I note them down. They are sold as written things. But their true home is in sounds.

Which is why I am so excited today. Because my novella THE MENTALIST is coming out as an audio book. I can't wait to hear it.

What about pictures? People have sometimes been kind enough to describe my writing as filmic. Do I see the story unfolding in my mind's eye, as well as hearing it with my mind's ear? I'll have to leave that for another blog post, as there isn't a simple answer.

Sunday, September 21, 2008

Baha'i blogging workshop

To judge by this blog, I seem to have gone into deep hibernation for the last few months. But it is time to lumber out of my cave, stretch my blogging muscles, give a bear-like growl and get on with it.

The reason for my long silence... I haven't actually been sleeping in a cave. Some exciting stuff has been going on in my life as a writer. Suffice it to say there have been some interesting developments. One thing that has happened. One that is happening and one that might (fingers crossed) be about to happen. I'll say more in future posts.

How come I have chosen this moment to get back to Blogger? Yesterday I had the good fortune to attend a very interesting workshop on blogging, put on by the National Spiritual Assembly of the Baha'is of the UK. It was inspiring. And so... inspired with enthusiasm (if not ability) I am back.

Many thanks to Barney and Rob, who led the workshop. Bloggers par excellence.

Thursday, February 21, 2008

Intergenerational Readers' Group

Last night I went to sit in on a readers' group meeting in West Bridgeford, NOTTS.

Wow. What can I say? An extraordinary group of insightful readers. A mixture of teenagers and elderly readers, each bringing their own views and experience to bear on reading and discussion about books.

A fifteen year old told me afterwards: 'If someone tells you they don't like reading, it is because they have not found the right book yet'

Now THAT is insight.

Friday, February 15, 2008

For One Day Only

Friday, January 25, 2008

The Curse of the Creative Itch

What is it with me? I had five must-do projects already. But here's the thing - you never know were a new trail will lead. And you can't pass one by untried.

It's like when I'm writing long fiction. I have a general idea of where I am going. But if new characters pop up out of nowhere and do unexpected things, I'm too curious to stop them. Is that any different from the situation where I have five projects on the go and a sixth flits into view? I have to follow. Both cases are manifestations of the same character trait. Creativity, I like to call it. Lack of focus is what others say.

So there I am, having a perfectly rational week, editing the book on dyslexia that I stumbled upon writing just before Christmas, when a shape shifts on the periphery of my mind. Not an idea - that would suggest something formed. This is a half-formed thing, or less. Suggested initially by another writer, Ms D.

Well, Ms D. and I batted this formless thing back and forth across the Internet for a couple of days and it started to have shape and colour. And wouldn't you know it, I now have six must-do projects to follow and I'm grinning with the pleasure of discovery.

That creative itch.

Sunday, January 13, 2008

Gone Fishing

There are two unusual things about writing this film review. The first is that Gone Fishing is a short. The second is that I have to declare an interest. I’m an associate producer - one among a very large number of others.

But then, there are plenty of unusual things about this movie. Shot in widescreen by a hugely experienced director of photography, Vernon Leyton, it presents itself as a Hollywood epic. But no Hollywood moguls were behind its creation. Last year, Chris Jones, of the Guerrilla Filmmakers Handbook fame, sent out word that he was going to make a short film good enough to win an Oscar. Anyone who wanted to be involved had only to donate £50 and become one of the associate producers. If they were film professionals, they could give their time and expertise as well. All for free, of course.

It says much about the character of Chris Jones and the strength of his vision that the money came flowing in from around the world. So did the people. And last night hundreds of them, along with many of the great and the good, attended the world premier of Gone Fishing at BAFTA in London.

The film follows an elderly man who is coming to terms with bereavement, helped by a young boy and their shared love of fishing. It was the cinematic scale of the movie that hit me first - the epic widescreen vistas, the depth and subtlety of colour, the crisp and powerful soundtrack. The gravity of Bill Patterson’s performance as the bereaved man is beautifully counterpointed by the innocence of the young boy, played by James Wilson.

But all this cinematic and acting excellence would be useless if the story itself failed to deliver. The magic of narrative is, and always has been, its ability to take an audience from their ordinary lives and immerse them in another world, in other people’s emotions.
To do this within 10 minutes is a big ask. Perhaps that is why so many short films are deal with shock. Easier to write a short about vampires or suicide than one dealing with subtle emotional transitions.

And yet Gone Fishing delivers an emotional load that matches its aspirations. I, along many others in the packed audience, laughed in moments of humour and felt the prickle of forming tears as the story delivered its promise.

If you have a chance to see this truly beautiful short film, grab it. And watch out for Chris Jones in the future. If he can deliver this in 10 minutes, what will he be able to do in a feature length movie?

Thursday, November 29, 2007

Dyslexia and Emotional Memory

This is a question that has been puzzling me for years. If you know anything about the dyslexic brain - either as an expert or an owner - please take a moment to write a comment below.

It's like this: I am dyslexic. I have a cluster of abilities and disabilities that fit beautifully with the classic description of the condition. But I also have one or two other attributes that seem far enough off the norm to be noteworthy, which I haven't seen mentioned in books on dyslexia. One of these is an ability to recall emotions. I call it 'emotional memory'. It is tied closely with a very strong sense of empathy - whereby I tend to pick up on other people's emotional state very easily.

I use this in my writing, of course. If I am writing about a character in a certain situation, I find I know what they would be feeling and start to feel it myself. Then all I have to do is write it down. Not always pleasant for me, but it seems to work.

I have asked experts if this emotional memory is related to dyslexia. They say 'no'. But I am not so sure. I have known several highly empathetic dyslexics. Also, I'm not sure that this would be easy to test in a scientific study. And even if it could be tested, it doesn't relate to the process of learning to read and write, so may not be of interest to the educational establishment.

So how about it? Are you dyslexic? Do you find you know what people are feeling before others do? Or maybe you are a dyslexic and don't pick up on other people's feelings. Either answer would be interesting to me. Are you an expert on dyslexia? Have you read a study on this subject that concludes one way or the other? Any input would be valuable.

I'm looking forward to hearing from you.

Dyslexia and Disability

It happens like this: I'm filling in an application form for a job or a writers' residency or anything that I really, really want. I go through all the stuff about qualifications and experience and why I'm the perfect person for whatever it is. And then I get to a box marked 'Disability'.

The organization I am applying to will probably have a policy of interviewing all the disabled candidates who can tick the other required boxes. Dyslexia is officially a disability. If I put a tick there, I am extremely likely to make it to the next stage.

And I should be able to tick the box. I have problems with my short term memory. I can't sequence events very well or know when a word is misspelled or remember people's names or hold visual information in my head or track the flow of time. This is my dyslexia. It is an inherited cluster of problems. A specific disability.

But...

I don't regard myself as disabled - whatever the official description of dyslexia may say. Sure, I'd like to be able to remember stuff better and do all those neat things with time that everyone else seems to manage without effort. But I wouldn't give up my sense of three dimensional space - which seems to be another of the cluster of dyslexic attributes. (I won't call them symptoms). It is the way I experience the world. It is a sense akin to touch, in that it can feel textures. Akin to sight, in that it operates over any distance. X-ray sight, in that it can penetrate walls and ceilings, experience the texture of the bricks or slates I know to be on the other side. It is an abiding sense of the shape and feel of the spaces all around me.

What about that box on the form? Maybe I put a tick in it and write a note on the side to explain. Assuming they can read my bad handwriting.

Sunday, November 18, 2007

Those CAN awards

A picture, they say, is worth a thousand words. Of course, that may have been said by a visual artist, rather than writers. But who knows?

Anyway, here is a picture from the recent Leicester International Short Film Festival. It shows Gav, Alex and myself proudly holding the two awards won by Pixacillus. Bav, unfortunately had had to leave before the pic was taken.

Self satisfied? Maybe. Can you blame us for enjoying the moment?