Rain Landscape, Vasily Kandinsky
On my facebook profile I follow the the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. It was a magnificent idea on my part, it allows drops of the sublime to be seen each day. The painting above is today’s offering, and it is somewhat wonderful.
Otherwise, it is Sunday, with lots to do before Christmas. There is so much not getting done today! Hope you’re having a lovely day.
Nuala Ní Chonchúir, short story writer, novelist and poet, who blogs at Women Rule Writer, has set up a blogging scheme called The Next Big Thing, a platform for writers to promote some aspect of their work. Nuala’s short story collection Mother America was published to great critical acclaim this year and for her Next Big Thing blog post, she chose to write about her as yet unpublished novel Highland. Here, I give you a few details about my work in progress.
What is the working title of your book?
The current title is April Fools. It is a novella about the day before a Taoiseach resigns, when one of his inner circle goes through the day carrying out a last instruction that he doesn’t agree with, but feels obliged to carry out. He needs to decide what he believes in and what he will or won’t do, and what he decides ends up having a huge impact on the rest of his life.
Where did the idea come from for the book?
I had wanted to carry out a book set over a short period for quite some time; my first book, The Stone, was set over two generations with a huge range of events to cover, so narrowing my focus to one day was in fact almost refreshing. I also was speaking to someone who worked in an overseas bank who was able to tell me several secrets I never would have guested about Irish politics; all of which got my imagination working.
What Genre does your book fall under?
Political thriller would be the easiest fit at the moment.
Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?
I love this question! The main character is a very fashion conscious Irish man in his mid-thirties, so I would put James McAvoy in that role.
So this isn’t gratuitous at all.
What is the one sentence synopsis of your book?
A political fixer has 24 hours to move millions of euro, hide the greatest sins of a Taoiseach and to save his own soul, and maybe even do all three.
How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?
I started writing while on maternity leave, and continued writing while my son was very young. Editing has taken much longer as my free time grows less and less, but I hope to have it ready for review by his first birthday in March of 2013.
What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?
Most political thrillers are spy thrillers that contain elements of political corruption, such as Le Carre or (save me) Jeffrey Archer, so there isn’t a lot to compare with there. This book would make the most allusions to Orwell, however.
Who or what inspired you to write this book?
I wanted to describe the process of political destruction that was apparent in Dublin at the time, from the point of view of an outsider, and also to record the failure of a political construct that would soon not be seen any more. I was also very angry at the damage that was being done, and that was why I decided to write this.
What else about the book might pique the reader’s interest?
The irreverent, sarcastic, and knowing narrator that reviews Irish society with in a clear-eyed manner. He is the most narcissist creation I have ever written and I’m half in love with him myself.
When/how will it be published?
I have two avenues open to me at the moment; via an interested Irish agent and also via the excellent website www.youwriteon.com, which has access to British agents and publishing houses. I’m also considering e-readers and the like, as it is an expanding market that might work very well for this type of work.
In which our author gets all self-righteous. Bear with me on this one….
Right. Christmas is good, but if you are like me (and God help ya if you are), sitting down to a huge celebration of the season only really happens if I feel I”ve earned it. So what I have here are a list of small good deeds that I can do between here and Christmas Day that will make life easier for those around me just a tiny, tiny bit.
Right, so that”s nine. If people did just one of these, think of the difference that would make to the world. What I would love is not if this post went viral, but if the idea did. Think of it, try to do one small good deed a day. I bet you could. I really bet you could, without any thought. Gwan. Gwan gwan gwan!
Oh yeah. That”s my house.
I keep getting bothered these days by the nature of Time, or more exactly, the nature of Now. Here is Now, as in this moment is the present apex of the liner passage of events we call current. However, go back five years and that was now. Go back twenty and there it was again. Our parents were once the generation of Now.
‘How abut ye?’
So were their parents, and theirs before them.
The Then of Now is a Was….
So Now isn’t fixed. Instead, it seems to be completely flexible and movable, despite the assurance we have that we are the Now, we are the current understanding of the universe. We’re like insects on the surface of a river, floating downstream, surprised that the world changes around us when the stuff under our feet remains (to us) the same.
Yeeehaaaa!!!!
So there is clearly a huge something of life we’re missing, some element of our perception completely unaware of a huge force in the Universe. We’re missing a huge something here. Or now.
Oh, why is my humble brain bothered with such things? I’m never going to be able to do anything about it, it is beyond me and my upright ape ability. Arragh here! Good night.
Today we had a cookie exchange at work so I set myself to make some of my biscuits. I made the dough Sunday, and left it in the fridge overnight to chill, with the hazelnuts and chocolate ready to go;
Biscuit dough from the fridge
Trays with parchment paper ready to for the dough
Now out of the oven!
The final results!
Seeing as I’m on a very strict diet for the foreseeable future, taking part in a cookie exchange might be considered a bad idea. But it was totally worth it….
I’ve gotten a bad review on Amazon. A really really bad review. Here it is;
“This is NOT a finished book, but a collection of ideas that someone intended to use in the writing of a book. Initially, I thought it was written by a young person, or someone whose native language was much different from English, with the bizarre use of language, grammar and punctuation, but now I know that it’s not a book at all. There are odd half-finished scenes, action jumps from place to place incoherently, when I started reading I kept going back to see if somehow I had missed some reference or connection…pointlessly, there is no connection between sentence, paragraph, or chapter.
I guarantee you, if you make the mistake of purchasing this book, not only will you lose your money in a most egregious way, you will, as I have, lost your most precious asset, your time.
I almost didn’t write this review, as I feel that any writer who would be satisfied with this…whatever it is, must surely be severely compromised in some way, but I had read a review that said it was a great read and felt I should write a review that will help potential readers to make a better decision.”
Wow. Goodness. I’ve sat and been quite taken aback by the strength of feeling attached to this, which surprises me. I would have expected indifference, but the anger of this is really quite something.
So what can one say? Writers of much more skill and fame than I have received scathing reviews, and in fact the more successful a writer is the more eagerness is there to show how awful their work is. So I suppose this is just to be expected. This is par for the course.
From Cellar Door Pictures.
Running when you’re fat is an exercise in hope. You have to do it to get fitter, but you look terrible. One day I will feel like this when I run:
For the moment, however, I look like this:
Still, I loved being out there again. Wonderful feeling to move with speed again, I felt lucky. The problem is in my head. I think that as I am not photogenic, that I am unpleasing to look at when I exercise, that I should hide away, should refrain from this side of life. Why? Who on earth would be offended by this? I know that society insists in a variety of ways that women must be decorative and that they fail if they don’t. It seems to be one of those times when I police myself and censor myself rather than any specific real concern.
Still…..
He’s asleep, and the hubby isn’t home for at least an hour. Time enough to have a literary affair?
The problem is, I have no idea how long my little boy will sleep for. And I am somewhat tired after my eight hour day plus commute. So having a go at writing isn’t appealing.
Actually, I’m lying. I just don’t think I can do it. I have two major themes to incorporate into the text. Changing a draft seems like getting a marching band to suddenly change the order of progression while it is still moving. I am not sure how. Can’t I just surf Twitter instead?
Will we ever get wise? Our processing of information, does it ever improve? Can we see more or ever get better with regard to our perceptions? Science would say no. Our synapses deteriorate over time and use. Old pathways degenerate and new ones don”t come about. Minds become static, fail and fall away.
So how come we still dare hope for change? Why are we so foolish as to imagine that we can change, either personally or as a society? We run through the same routine day in and day out, but do we learn anything? Do we see anything? Do we break out of the chains that bind us?
Every single time I”ve grown as a person, it has been through a painful experience. Learning new perceptions always comes from old ones being pulled painfully away. I will cling to pokie slots my childish nature until the last possible moment and will look back on earlier times with nostalgia, regret. The same goes with a society; it will cling to a childish belief until it has to, must, move on to a more adult view, especially if it is formed from false first principles.
Ireland, you”ve killed again. This time a woman who took two days to die as priority was given to the contents of her womb. A sad, stupid sullied death born about from an infection in our blood, our minds and our sad, worthless history. I”m old and going gray and I have no faith in you any more, but you still manage to sadden me with your pointless behaviour. So much for you and your lauded principles.
Ah here. Here”s a pretty tune to take our minds off this. Night all.
I have written a novella while on maternity leave, as regular readers will know. I’m supposed to be editing it at the fallow periods like lunchtime and bus trips, but the fact is I tend to use those periods to stare blankly into space. (“What’s your favorite humming noise? Mine is buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…”)
I’ve managed to do some this lunch time, however. Seeing the ideas I have begin to form on the page is a pleasure, a real pleasure that comes from the center of the brain. But its taken a long time to get the will to do that, as I have been avoiding it. Too hard and no fun! But when I am there, and I can objectively survey the work I have done, I can reject the childish notions I’ve put down on the page and instead show a mature version that thinks of those who will be reading this. Remember, no one wants to read your work. No one wants to work through a difficult obscure prose style or a character that holds no water it is so weak. Your work should persuade your reader to keep reading, to see it and to be greedy for it. That’s why writing is when you get to do whatever you want. Editing is when you reflect the world outside your mind and do what it wants.
Writing is Childhood. Editing is Maturity. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go stare into space. Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz………………