What’s in a name?

With two works-in-progress, both starting to come together, I’m currently stumped by that age-old issue: the title.

Should it be short and sweet, or descriptive? Should it be tantalisingly obscure? Or bare bones simple?

This was an issue that I grappled with a bit when naming my novel ‘The Artemis Effect’, and I think it’s fairly clear that I went for the hopefully tantalisingly obscure in that case! In fact, there wasn’t a simple word or phrase which would sum the story up, so I looked for a unifying theme: in that case, the goddess Artemis, who is not only sometimes associated with the Moon, but is also a protector of women in childbirth, of wild places, and has a hunting aspect which seemed quite appropriate.

Both the new works are collections, so it’s a little more tricky. The first, which has been taking up a great deal of my available time, is an anthology of women writing about their experiences of motherhood. It’s a diverse, exciting project, with artwork, poetry, essays, short fiction and interviews. But should we stick to a simple descriptive word for the title, or go for something more descriptive of the contents?

The second is my own collection of short stories. They are generally fantasy / sci fi based, but again fairly varied. I’m thinking vaguely of plumping for a title which is lifted from a line of poetry, but perhaps that’s just a bit too artsy-fartsy. Other great collections I’ve read are either straight down the line “Collected works of….”, which of course rather assumes that you have heard of the great ….., or are pretty obscure. Think ‘Kiss Kiss’ by Roald Dahl, or ‘Sexing the Cherry’ by Jeanette Winterson.

I’d really love to know what you think. Does an intriguing title ever grab you forcefully enough to make you want to read a book? Or would you prefer to know what you’re getting? Can a long title be a turn off as you browse the multitude of work out there? All help appreciated!

You said it, Mick

‘I can’t get no…satisfaction.’

How true. I have been pondering whether we are destined to go through life in a state of vague dissatisfaction. As my partner said when I expressed this to him, it’s a thought that Alain de Botton would be proud of. If any of you have read his work, de Botton does seem to have a strange affection for the melancholy and bleak, seeing an acceptance of the less glamorous aspects of life as a necessary part of achieving happiness. To paraphrase him dreadfully, if we expect life to be the gold-plated, celebrity perfect version, then we are bound to be disappointed. Accept that it will be more ordinary, and there is less to get annoyed about.

It’s a viewpoint which I suspect fits quite well with Buddhist theology as well, although I’m certainly no expert. However, I do know enough to say that part of the practice of Buddhism seems to be letting go of the ever grasping, materialistic and sensory ego, which drives us all the time, and feeds our dissatisfaction with the world.

The dissatisfaction I’m talking about though isn’t one which is concerned with money, or status, pretty things or pretty people. It’s about having a strange inner need to do certain things, that I fancy doing just because I want to. There is always a nagging dissatisfaction that I can’t get to them fast enough, complete them as well as I would like, or do them as well as others I admire. I suspect that I have a tendency to bite off more than I can chew! I seem to manage to gulp most of it down though, somehow.

My dissatisfaction is in fact probably the thing which drives me to keep producing creative work, whether it’s writing, painting, design work or whatever other thing I decide to try my hand at. I’m sorry to say that lack of any previous experience doesn’t seem to actually deter me from trying anything: I’m currently up to my ears in bits of shredded magazine, as I’m working on some collages. Never done it before? Never mind. It can’t be that hard! After all, if it’s only for my own satisfaction, then if I stuff it up, then that’s OK, I figure. I’ll learn every time, and maybe those mistakes will fuel sufficient dissatisfaction with the result that I’ll be spurred to on to something better.

A strange cycle of creativity perhaps, but perhaps dissatisfaction isn’t an entirely negative emotion after all.

Golden Flash

I weep for my race. Mute, ancient, unseen, we are slowly plucked from the earth. A tortuous, babbling end to fine minds.

Through an eternity we have watched the stars turn, traced the perfection of their mathematical arcs, wondered at creation. We had all the time in and of the Universe to think – we thought.

Being our planet, lodged and rooted in the rocks, we are a geological race; our synapses golden, nerves of bright copper. Blind to one another, we are yet vibrantly aware of our companions. Slow discussions through the ages: philosophy, poetry and sweet pure mathematics.

Now all that is changed, in a flicker of men faster than the flash of a super-nova. No more than a prickle at first, an itch on our skin, they scampered about in their frenetic, pitiful way, and we paid them no mind.

Then one of our minds started to fade, its golden neurons thoughtlessly mined away, descending into nonsense and confusion. We weep for that mind, and yet cannot assist, cannot prevent the erosion of our people.

The scars of men’s building and digging spread unchecked across our face, myopically delighting in their unfound riches.

If they slow their scrabbling and scratching long enough to consider the current of our pulsed and electric thoughts, will compassion outweigh greed?

A different WIP

For the last few months, I’ve been a busy bod. Not only have I been looking after my tiny son, designing gardens and trying to keep myself sane and fed, but I’ve also had two writing works in progress.

One of them is my short story collection, which I have mentioned fleetingly on this blog, and which is well underway. Like my novel, ‘The Artemis Effect’, it is loosely defined as science fiction, but with more stories leaning perhaps more towards the quirky than traditional scifi. No doubt I’ll blog about it more as it develops and grows.

The other is a project which doesn’t really fit into the loose themes I’ve established in this blog, which is why I haven’t chatted about it before. However, it is really stretching me as a writer and so that journey could be worth discussing.

The new work is an anthology, bringing together many talented writers and artists. In a complete departure from my other work, all the pieces will be discussing motherhood, in its glorious complexity and with frightening honesty. The journey started when I became a mum, and found that it’s a relationship that is dealt with very shallowly in popular media. Now that I have a baby, apparently I am only now interested in nappies, shopping and my post baby body. Other women I have discussed this with tell me that the conversation doesn’t really improve as our children grow.

The more I started to look into it, the angrier I became. The density of information which descends, most of it unsubstantiated, seems calculated to bewilder and pressure mothers. That the best role model we can aspire to is apparently a ‘yummy mummy’ I find patronising and frankly rather offensive. The genuinely complex feelings we have around raising children are sometimes blanketed by a sentimentality which stifles a real discussion.

So – we’re trying to put together an alternative viewpoint. I’m gathering work from women with a whole range of different experiences, from all stages of the motherhood. There will the essays, artwork, poetry and interviews.

I’m learning lots of new skills, and it looks like it will be a hell of a ride, rather like motherhood itself, but both will no doubt be eventful journeys!

Season’s change

The first sip

of fresh washed autumn air

brings mushrooms

pup-nosing

through summer’s crust.

Eucalypts release and relax,

lounging dourly

between exotic’s

frenetic fractured

pointillism.

Spun bright and settling

by a gauze drape of breeze,

cool as a headmistress’ fingers.

Magpies hunt

and warble their joy

in the season’s discards.

Selling the Man (or Woman)

I read an interesting article in ‘The Age’ recently about the strange cult of celebrity which has risen up around writers. You can have a squizz at it here.

You could argue that there is a strange cult of celebrity around practically anyone (with a large enough voice and publicity machine) for no very good reasons, but in this case I’m fascinated by two ideas: firstly that people are genuinely interested in writers as people; and secondly that part of this interest seems to focus around the writing process itself.

I don’t know about you, but what interests me about my favourite authors are the things they write, rather than the people behind the stories. I’m happy to hear a tidbit of two if there is something genuinely fascinating about them, but if they are normal, middle class people, with a normal family and a nine to five job, well, that’s fine, but I’m much more interested in the strange and exotic fruits of their imagination. Frankly, even if they live in a commune, work as a bear trapper and moonlight as bellydancers, I’m still only going to be impressed by their writing if it strikes a chord with me. That said, I suppose one of the reasons many writers blog is presumably to feed the thirst for more information.

The second issue, that of trying to find out what “is the mysterious alchemy that transforms a hazy idea into 300 pages of gripping prose,” seems to be grasping at straws a little. It’s a kind of magic, and the best part about it is that it is a magic that’s unique to every individual. I understand that Thomas Wolfe wrote his work standing up, leaning his paper on the top of the fridge, but funnily enough, that’s not going to work for everyone. The wonderful thing about writing is that it is something wrestled from your own subconscious, and we need to find ways to make that wrestling as productive as we can.

I’d love to hear what you think about this. Are you curious about the people behind story? Does knowing more about them make you more likely to read their work? And have you found inspiration in hearing how others go about it?

The next big thing

Although I have been sadly remiss in letting this go, I was flattered, chuffed, humbled and generally pretty cheery to be tagged as one of the authors in ‘The Next Big Thing‘ by the very talented Marc Schuster, for my debut novel, ‘The Artemis Effect‘.

It’s a lovely way for us to share some of the books we have really enjoyed. Having spent some of this afternoon in the garden enjoying our gorgeous autumn weather, I can’t help but think of it in terms of the jungle, which my garden is increasingly resembling. Sometimes the big plants shade out the small, which may be especially lovely things, and this is perhaps a way of letting in a bit of light, and bringing them to other’s attention.

As presumably I can’t tag Marc Schuster’s ‘The Grievers’ back, much as I enjoyed it, I’d like to tag the following from my recent reading:

‘Fires of Justice’ by Sabrina Garie. This is an erotic romance, but with a fun and highly cohesive fantasy element. It is, in short, a romp and I’d highly recommend it to anyone who needs to escape, in te words of Tom Lehrer, ‘their drab, wretched lives.’

 

‘Rich Pickings for Ravens‘ by Tom Conrad. A truly unusual and funny who-dunnit, starting with the lead character’s death, and his subsequent quest to find out who killed him, and why.

 

‘The Prince of Graves’ by W.E. Linde. In the tradition of Tolkien, this fantasy novella is the first part of what will be a truly epic trilogy of books. Amazing battle scenes by an author who obviously loves the genre.

 

 

I look forward to seeing their recommendations, and also your opinions of these books if you’ve also been lucky enough to give them a go!

Interviewed

Just a quick follow up on yesterday’s post.

All went well, thankfully, and now I have about an hour and a half of recorded material to go through and draw out a good story. Although I did have some formal questions, mostly they were useful in terms of forming my thinking, rather than what we actually spoke about.

It was genuinely inspirational to speak to some one so committed and passionate about what they do. I think I might have to make a habit of it!

Interviewing

One of the projects I’m working on involves me carrying out some in depth interviews. I have a great subject coming to speak to me tomorrow: a fascinating person who will have a lot to say, I think. My only issue now is that I’ve never done this before!

I guess we’ve all got to start somewhere.

The great thing is that my interviewee is a lovely, down-to-earth person who will I suspect be fairly tolerant if I’m not a really polished interviewer. I have been trying to do my research though, and also thinking about some of the techniques of great interviewers on television. So far, it seems like the following are decent suggestions for conducting a good interview:

• Decide what you want to find out – it is a portrait of the person, or their opinions, or their knowledge?
• Keep the questions simple. Those which are too long winded and multifaceted can not only confuse the interviewee, but also allow them to distort things around to their pet topics.
• Remember that although it can be useful to show empathy in an interview to build trust and understanding, the interview is not about you.
• Ask open ended questions – how, why and ‘tell me about’ – to bring out more of the story than a simple yes/no response.
• Ask ‘forward’ questions. That us, prompt your subject to think about what they will be doing or are excited about for the future, or where they see the area in question developing.
• Find out what they are passionate about.
• LISTEN! Don’t be afraid to change the direction of the interview if something fascinating comes up.

As a novice at this, I’d love it if anyone has any further suggestions or insights!  I’ll let you know how it went…

What We Do by Marc Schuster

Reblogged from A Side Of Writing:

I think a lot about order and chaos and our relationship to both and how the world in my mind is not the world in your mind and never will be no matter how hard we try. To express ourselves, to listen, to understand each other. We’re born into a world that makes no real sense initially, at least not to us, because all we know is that it’s colder than it was in the warm wet place we just were, glaringly bright by comparison, and filled with loud, horrible noises.

Read more… 501 more words

A fantastic post by Marc Schuster! Sometimes I need that bit of inspiration to keep writing...