Bonus Day 2008

Today is the 29th of February.

For my next door neighbour growing up, this means it’s her first birthday since 2004.

For guys this means 'Watch out, your girlfriend could propose.'

For me it means, 'Write.' After all, these extra twenty-four hours, wedged into what has always seemed to me an unfairly shortened month, are the reason I am shooting for an average of 2732 words per day rather than 2740 words. (My cavalier rounding is a bit misleading: technically, the difference is 7.4855902 words, but let's just call it eight). What is eight words? Twice that last sentence. Or: the sum of the previous two sentences. Nothing, right?

If there's anything two months of regular writing—and running along side that: regular word-counting—has taught me, it's words accumulate best when you are writing for some other purpose. Writing to get an idea down on paper. Writing to finish a story to submit for a competition. Writing an email in response to a 'How's Things' from someone on the underside of the world.

Writing for the sake of word counts is not cool.

But there are only so many deadlines, and fresh ideas and surprise emails. Most days, it's a slog to 2732. On Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday this week I made it to 2185, 2180 and 2020 words. That’s a pretty tight cluster and a long way from target. Over these three days I worked on an average of 3 different short stories per day, adding as little as 135 words each time. While mired in these piecemeal compositions, it feels like I'm going nowhere (in three separate races). But when I stop and look at my spreadsheet on special days like this, there is movement. Overall, I tacked 4,100 words onto five different works in progress in those three days, bringing one to completion (and I finished another today).

But there is still the concern that too many of these words are bad words. That entire stories should never see the light of day. That this whole venture is doing more harm than good (to my sanity, to my writing, to my posture).

Meh. I don’t like the Craig who talks like that.

To prove to myself and to the YoaMW regulars (though nothing is called regular anymore; maybe you should be called my Extra Larges?) that 8 words a day means something, I am going to write a story 8 words at a time, with one instalment for every day of March. This will produce a 248 word story. I'm going to run it along my the top of the blog. Since it's still February, I have no idea what the story will be. That will have to come tomorrow.

Another free book

Hot on the heels of Radiohead's In Rainbows, Random House is offering Charles Bock's debut novel, Beautiful Children as a free download (for a limited time...).

I wouldn't have read the book otherwise, and now that it's sitting on my desktop in PDF format, I'm still not sure how far through I'll get (400+ pages of screen reading may take some time). Reading the comments on the Millions makes me think I won't make it past chapter one. Who knows.

The thing about free books is, it's not new. There's this place in every town that gives you books for free. It's called a library. That's if you can find the books amongst the internet terminals, magazines, sheet music, CDs, and computer games.

Jekyll and Hyde: First Digestion

Today I read the actual story (see yesterday for the prelims). As I’ve mentioned before, Marisa actually read it before me, but, sadly, I could not entice her to write a guest review. But, cunning so-and-so that I am, I asked her what she thought of the book and will now share her thoughts with the world (at least those lost souls who pass through this word vacuum).

I might feel a twinge of “Bad Craig” for doing this if it didn’t transpire that all her thoughts matched mine. So rather than a He Said, She Said, this post comprising thoughts upon a first digestion of Jekyll and Hyde is a We Said.

Reading the novella, we were both reminded of Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes stories. There are several reasons for this.

• Jekyll and Hyde was published in 1886; Sherlock Holmes first appeared in A Study in Scarlet published in 1887.
  
• Arthur Conan Doyle and Robert Louis Stevenson were both from Edinburgh, but set these particular stories in London. So there's similarities in setting and language.
  
• The authors both have three names—this is normally the sign of an assassin, but I don’t think it has bearing on their writing (DISREGARD).
• The stories are essentially mysteries, and rely on distancing devices to create mystery and tension. More on this later.

On a personal note, we both read a lot of Sherlock Holmes in September last year (like: all of the short stories between the two of us) when I was asked to write a treatment for a Sherlock Holmes PC game (which stalled through no fault of my own, or so they tell me). So old Sherlock is still fresh in our minds and it’s also something we are both familiar with: hence the shared reaction.

The thing about reading a lot of Sherlock Holmes stories in a compressed time is you start to not like them. You have to respect ACD for the laying some crucial groundwork for the crime genre and creating an immortal character (who 58% of Britons believe actually lived), but the stories aren’t action packed and rely too often on Holmes’ higher intellect to act as Deus Ex Machina and make it all work.

Reading Jekyll and Hyde for a first time, we got that same Not Liking It feeling. This may have a lot to do with the fact that we already know the twist, and to attack RLS from this vantage is unfair. But, the reader (modern or contemporary) is placed at such a distance from Jekyll/Hyde for two-thirds of the story (most of which is from the perspective of the lawyer, Mr Utterson, who would never get his own story) that Jekyll and Hyde isn't exactly gripping. The reading notes at the back of the One Book One Edinburgh edition invoke Conrad’s Heart of Darkness as a “very great” book which uses similar distancing techniques. And yes, Kurtz and Hyde are the hearts of darkness - the things we are reading in order to arrive at - the difference is that Marlow, the primary narrator of Heart of Darkness, is an interesting character. We follow him around for most of the book (and observe him out of Africa in the captain's frame narration), and it isn’t a chore. Following Utterson around, however, is.

I might return to this point, but I’m drifting away from the We Said stuff (I don’t think Marisa has read Heart of Darkness, though she has seen Apocalypse Now)

The part we enjoyed the most was when we finally get to hear from Henry Jekyll. This takes the form of a letter written in Jekyll’s last throes before giving over completely to Hyde. The first half of the letter goes into all the things a reader has been dying to know. Why he would transform himself into the amoral Hyde, how he arrived at a process, how he managed to keep it a secret etc. But the letter also maintains a level of vagueness which ensures there are mysteries which survive the end of the book (such as the actual science behind his concoction).

This wasn’t a case of the final third saving the book, however, as the letter went on too long in our opinion.

We were not amazed. We could see glimpses of a fascinating story, but, perhaps because there have been so many subsequent takes on the duality of man (and woman), this early bird looked thin and quaint.

This was just out views on a first digestion.

Tomorrow, or the next day, or whenever I feel like it actually, I will stare into the heart of darkness of Robert Louis Stevenson’s novella and see if I can’t salvage a masterpiece.

Jekyll and Hyde, almost.

Okay, I finally have my hands on my copy of the Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. But before the actual story/novella I had to read the prelims: a section entitled ‘About the Author’ and ‘Jekyll and Hyde: an Appreciation’ by Ian Rankin. I think it’s a hangover from my days as an English Lit student, but I like to read the non-fiction first to get me thinking before diving into the book for real.

I felt like I’d read Rankin’s ‘appreciation’ before, having watched the BBC documentary about the roots of Rebus (which discussed Edinburgh’s two-faced nature, Deacon Brodie and Jekyll and Hyde), visiting the Rebus at Twenty exhibition at the National Library and reading snippets of One Book One Edinburgh all in the last six months. But that’s my fault.

The ‘About the Author’ section, well, it got me thinking, but not about Stevenson or his book, but about who wrote these six paragraphs, who approved their inclusion in the edition and what they were all thinking!?!

It’s clearly intended to be an unthreatening intro, perhaps even a school-age friendly intro, which does mesh with the ulterior motive of One Book One Edinburgh: to get people reading.

But…

Actually there are two Buts…

But the first: I seem to remember reading somewhere here that this year’s book was not aimed at school children since Jekyll and Hyde is pretty dark. So I don’t see why the ‘About the Author’ section should be written in a Dick and Jane style.

But the second: such an intro might very well put readers off. If I hadn’t picked up a book for three years, but decided to give the book a go coz it free and/or people at work were reading too, I would read this section and feel insulted. Just because people are lapsed readers, does not mean they are necessarily bad readers.

I’ve looked around online and I’ve found entire texts of the novella and Rankin’s introduction, but it looks like I’m going to have to type out this jolly ‘About the Author’ thing so non-Edinburgians (is that what they’re called?) can see what I’m on about.

Robert Louis Stevenson was born in Edinburgh in 1850. His family wanted him to become an engineer so he could join the family firm. Stevenson didn’t want this. He dreamed of romance, brave deeds, adventures and new lands. However, he was a sensible boy, so he studied law at Edinburgh University. He got his degree, but he didn’t want to be a lawyer. He wanted to write books.

Stevens suffered all his life from a lung disease. He travelled a lot. He hoped to find a place with good weather that would help him get better.

He was very often ill, but he wrote as much as he could. His adventure nove, Treasure Island (1883), was a bestseller. Then he wrote a dark thriller about the difference between good and evil, Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde (1886). This book showed that he was a great writer.

In 1886, he also wrote Kidnapped, which was a huge success, and is still one of his most popular books. He wrote Catriona, a follow-up to Kidnapped, in 1893 and The Master of Ballantrae in 1889. Stevenson also wrote poetry. His best-selling poetry book was A Child’s Garden of Verses (1885).

In 1886, Stevenson went to the South Pacific, with his American wife, Fanny Osbourne, and his family. He lived in Samoa, where the weather helped him feel better. He died in 1894. The Samoan chiefs called him their “story-teller”. They gave him a great honour by burying him on top of a famous mountain.

Stevenson wrote some of the best and most loved stories in the English Language. He is still popular with readers today.

Having typed this out (275 words; I don’t know if I should add them to my tally or not), my opinion of this bio is even lower than when I started writing this blog entry. It’s not just poorly targeted, it’s poorly written. Like the dual conjunctions and ‘sensible boy’ abstraction in, “However, he was a sensible boy, so he studied law at Edinburgh University.”

Then there’s the repetition in the second and third paragraphs, the “He… He… He…”, drone, the curious comma usage, and the stupid (yeah, I’m a little riled up) generalisations (“This book showed he was a great writer,” “He is still popular with readers today”).

The Samoa section bugs me the most. Forget the fact Stevenson gave himself his Samoan name, why do we only get the English translation in quotation marks? It sucks all the flavour out of the title (which is Tusitala by the way). I can just see a sceptical fifteen year old reading this and thinking, “Big deal.”

And what was the name of the mountain? “Honour” and “famous” tell us the same thing. Doesn’t this sound much better: “They gave him a great honour by burying him on top of Mount Vaea”? So much more flavour (though I would probably rewrite the first half of the sentence too). Would “Mount Vaea” scare off a non-reader or a young reader? If it does, they wouldn’t make it past the first sentence of the actual story, which is full of uncommon words in 00’s English (“countenance”, “scanty”) and scary semi-colons (three of them).

I don’t want to pick a fight with anyone trying to spread the love of literature, but surely 275 words could have done more to illuminate this “great writer” and maybe even arouse a little wonder themselves? Sounds like a challenge… I wonder if I can work the facebook to start the revolution.

Status Report: Week Eight

Week Eight – The Stats

Weekly word count: 20,018 words

Average: 2,860 words per day (compared to 2,853 last week)

Most productive day: Sunday 24 Feb, 4,479 words

Least productive day: Friday 22 Feb, 1,754 words

Year-to-date: 159,580

Astute, regular visitors will have noticed something above. That’s right, the reappearance of Novel A in the weekly pie after a month M.I.A.

What got me to back on that particular Clydesdale? I came up with a new angle. After tapping out a few hundred words, I paused to write the following:

By jove I think I’ve cracked it. (Yes, this is how I actually write to myself.) A way to ground the story and simultaneously untether it from the pesky demands of realism… It’s unique, voice driven, speculative, out-there, heart-felt, cool. I’m there. I’m really there. Tonight I will write 6000 words. Tomorrow I will write 4000 words. In the weekend I will write Bhutan. I know the narrator’s worlds and Mike’s world. It’s time to Kerouac it out. No fear. No sunk costs.

Ahem. Well, I got to 3,000 words, then the doubt set in. Like, is it such a good idea to start so many sentences with Maybe? Wasn’t it better before I started tampering with frame narrations?

So I went back to working on short fiction. Did I chickened out? Yeah. But I’ll get back to it.

I’m writing and reading more short fiction than I have at any time in my life so far, and I’m enjoying it.

Does enjoyment = good fiction? Not always. But I don’t think you have to starve in a garret suffering from syphilis, insomnia, a broken heart and an unshakeable self-hatred to write good fiction. It might help in some cases, but I’m going to leave that as a last resort.

Nada Surf w/. Rogue Wave

The Garage, Glasgow, 23 February 2008

I have a rule which states that if a band has a song rated 5-stars on my ipod, I have to do everything in my power to see them live if they come within a 100 mile radius. The responsible song in this case is the lead single from Nada Surf’s 2002’s Let Go, ‘The Way You Wear Your Head’.

I was not without reservation. Nada Surf first broke with ‘Popular’ (1996)… you know, the song where the guy reads out rules for teenage popularity during the verse. It was a good song, but a hard formula to follow and they would have been excused for becoming One Hit Wonders—which Elektra conspired to make them, dropping their follow-up album, ‘The Proximity Effect’ because they didn’t hear another ‘Popular’. They clearly weren’t listening hard enough, because ‘Amateur’ and ‘Bacardi’ are excellent, surprising, catchy songs. (I think ‘Bacardi’ is 4-stars on my iPod, but it’s pushing 5).

My reservations regarding their gig in 2008 come from the fact that Nada Surf have lived a second life since 2002. Let Go was more downbeat (‘The Way You Wear Your Head’ aside), more sappy lyrically (e.g. ‘Inside of Love’) and 2005’s The Weight Is A Gift took it one step further (e.g. ‘Always Love’) resulting in the appearance of their songs on The O.C. and One Tree Hill. Their latest album, Lucky, is very much in this O.C. groove: mellow, melodic, downbeat.

So I was a little worried a) about the age of the clientele at the Garage last night (the tickets read “Over 14s”) and b) about the song selection for the actual gig. I mean, they do the mellow, melodic, downbeat well, but it’s less fun to stand stock still in a room surrounded by people with asymmetrical haircuts also standing stock still than to jump around to rock songs—at which point it doesn’t matter what type of haircuts people have: rock is the ultimate leveller.

Before I could find out which Nada Surf I would be seeing, there was Rogue Wave, who were very ‘O.C. Nada Surf’. I actually listened to a few of their tracks on the net before the concert to decide how punctual I needed to be… and decided there was no rush to get to Glasgow for the start of their set. But we caught most of their set anyway, along with a diverse mix of ages and surprising lack of emo fashion statements.

The problem with Rogue Wave, I think, was typified by their bass player (left), who was wrapped in a leather jacket with a big scarf over that. It can’t have been that cold up there (based on how much Matthew Caws was sweating an hour later), but he seemed to be on another planet: the least funky bass player I’ve ever seen. Contrasting with this comatose figure was the guitar tech (right) who also played all the extra parts that Studio Bands put into their songs which require extra hands to pull of live (lap steel, four different guitar tunings in one song…). This fifth member was tattooed, bearded and graying, and must have been 15 years older than the rest of the band, but he clearly loved his job. I don’t doubt Rogue Wave love the music they produce (in the studio?) and I know it’s hard being an opening band in any circumstance, but when your guitar tech is the only one sending the right vibe, something’s wrong.

Their lacking stage presence was further underlined with Nada Surf’s appearance. They are clearly a band who’ve found their groove and like what they’re doing. Unfortunately for me, this groove is the one that does not include ‘The Way You Wear Your Head’ et al. But hey, not so fast, they still have some good songs, and even the ‘Love’ songs worked well in an anthemic way. There was crowd participation (soul band two-stepping, ooh-ooh-ooohs, the cussing part in ‘Blankest Year’). And songs from the new album which had felt flat on the first couple of listens suddenly made sense live.

Somehow I’d missed the genius of ‘Weightless’ from the new album:

Behind every desire is another one
Waiting to be liberated when the first one’s sated

New light was also shone on ‘Ice On The Wing’, ‘See These Bones’ and ‘I Like What You Say’.

It wasn’t all new material though, and most of the highlights came from this older (but not oldest) material: ‘Blizzard of ‘77’, ‘Blonde on Blonde’ and the epic ‘Killian’s Red’. Oh, and the song that was stuck in my head the whole way back to Edinburgh: ‘What is Your Secret?’

They came on for multiple encores (my morning after memory is struggling to separate all the comings and goings and settle on two or three encores) was a bit contrived. Aside: an encore should be a treat, but I understand the lack of an encore would ruin most people’s nights, so a second encore must be the treat… We were a good crowd last night, but people were walking out the door when they came on for the last time… I’m glad they played all the songs they did, even working Joy Division’s ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart’ into the last song, but they didn’t have to leave and return to get us going: we were there.

Considering they didn’t play the song that convinced me to outlay time and money to go to Glasgow to see them, the concert was not a disappointment. No regrets. Just good memories.

The verdict: Eight Guitars out of Ten.

[Since this is the first time I’ve rated a concert here, I’ll explain that my scale is based on Englebert Humperdinck’s ‘Ten Guitars’, a bit of a favourite in New Zealand, frequently getting the Maori Strum treatment for an end of a party singalong. Because you can’t play half a guitar, ratings can only be in whole numbers.]

Where are you calling from tonight...

For the benefit of Nigel Campbell...


This is only the most recent visitors map for my blog (via StatCounter), but it's pretty indicative of where my visitors are coming from. I've never had anyone from the South Island of New Zealand or Africa visit. I think the South Island thing might have to do with most NZ ISP's being based in the North Island. I'm not sure how to test this. Maybe if I type "Canterbury Rugby Legend Todd Blackadder Mount Aoraki Nathan Astle Simon Barnett Many Many Sheep" I'll get some lovin' via Google.

There's no such thing as a free book (?)

I braved the wind and rain at lunch today to pick up my free copy of The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, which is this year’s choice for One Book One Edinburgh. Carrying the slim volume back to work (even with an intro from Ian Rankin, illustrations and notes for reading groups, the entire book is only 150 pages) I though maybe I could read it tonight and blog about it tomorrow. Y’know, once I’ve got a few words in the bank. The only problem is Marisa’s reading the book now. I said if she was going to read it, she had to blog about it, but she wasn’t keen. We’ll see.

Anyway, as soon as I can, I will read it (sort of re-read, seeing as how it’s one of those stories which has seeped into the loam of popular culture… example: I’m pretty sure there was a Tom and Jerry episode based on Jekyll and Hyde…) and hopefully have something to say.

I’ll try to keep my file clerk by day, deluded writer by night comparisons to a minimum.