Three

Today (Friday) was an interesting day, at least as far as writing goes. My day job required me to travel to a meeting in Exeter, so I knew I’d have plenty of time sitting on trains and I decided it was time to start fleshing out the draft of book three.

The core of this story has been in my head for some time – in fact, I remember the idea of it really seemed to creep out my lovely agent Eve White when I first met her – and I’ve been jotting down notes and fragments of it for the last few months. There have been several research trips to Bristol, figuring out the key locations, and discussions with some wonderfully helpful Police officers to explore procedures.

But today was significant milestone.

When I write, I have the dreadful habit of going directly from notes to (relatively) final text. I agonise and adjust and I subject each paragraph to many whispered readings as I go. While it may entertain my fellow train passengers to watch someone whose lips move as he tests the wording, I’m told that aiming for something as polished as this is an extremely bad idea. “It’ll take you ages to get a first draft,” they say, and I know exactly what they mean. However, it’s also the way that works for me, so “tough”.

In any event, today I set out with several pages of notes and, by the time I got home this evening, I had the first half of a scene that really pleased me. A little bit of book three now exists!

Of course, this was also the day that I received a list of final book two changes from my editor, so I’ll briefly need to pause and work through those, but it doesn’t matter – the board is set and the pieces are moving.

An Unexpected Journey

Okay, so I'm a bit of a Tolkien fan. Maybe even a huge fan. I re-read The Lord Of The Rings every couple of years and I just adore the whole, epic majesty of Middle Earth. So the release of the first film in The Hobbit trilogy was kind of a big deal for me.

I remember stealing myself for disappointment when I went to see the first part of The Lord Of The Rings, worrying that Peter Jackson might have pushed the book through the Hollywood blender. Thankfully, he stayed close to the plot and the spirit of the original, and delivered a very enjoyable series of films, despite rumoured unhappiness from the writing team about Tolkien's alleged absence of strong female characters (and the curious downplaying of Eowyn, Tolkien's strongest female character).

So this time I wasn't overly worried about The Hobbit being mauled by the movies and, as it turned out, it was really a very enjoyable adaptation. Yes, there are one or two face-palm moments, such as Radagast's racing rabbits, and the Indiana Jones sequences in Goblin Town, but these are minor points that do nothing to spoil the experience. They also seemed to please the younger members of the audience, and this seems entirely appropriate as The Hobbit was always a tale for children to enjoy.

Perhaps that's the thing that pleased me most about it – that it was generally faithful to the spirit of the original story. Where things have necessarily been changed, care has been taken to ensure that the changes don't trample the books underfoot. Even the additional plot thread of the Pale Orc uses characters and back-story created by Tolkien, weaving them into the plot to keep up pace and tension.

The film cleverly manages to bring real individuality to the thirteen dwarves, rather than treating them as a group of extras, and Martin Freeman does a fantastic job of playing the younger Bilbo. Sir Ian McKellen is on fine form as Gandalf, and somehow Andy Serkis and the FX team at Weta deliver a Gollum that inspires both revulsion and pity – an amazing achievement for a wholly digital character.

It's exciting, it's engaging, and it's visually stunning. I think my only real complaint is that we have a rather long wait for the next instalment.

Brave

I was watching BBC Sports Personality Of The Year this evening. It’s humbling to hear so many inspirational stories, in particular those of the Paralympians, who overcome so much just to be able to compete. You can’t help but feel pride in their achievement, admiration for their bravery.

But as I watched, it occurred to me that I know someone else who exhibits the same spirit, the same bravery.

My beautiful wife Anna has had a profoundly difficult eighteen months. Since she became ill last year, she has been in a constant battle with four serious medical and neurological conditions, any one of which would have stopped me in my tracks. But despite her physical pain, and the extraordinary neurological challenges she faces, she has never given up.

It’s hard to explain how proud I am of her. We’ve been together since we were teenagers, but I have never been more impressed by who she is than now. And I am certain that the same spirit and determination that drove those Paralympians forward, is in her.

She’s the bravest person I know. And if they gave out medals for resilience, she’d win gold.

Restoration

The last few weeks have been unusual, what with the hospital visits and the sudden bouts of unexpected discomfort, but despite the distractions I’ve managed to complete a reworked draft of book two.

It’s been a story of highs and lows – there was a true feeling of elation when I completed the initial draft, and a little bit of gloom when I had dismantled the “finished” book to restructure a number of plot elements – but the pieces have all come together again and, thankfully, they seem to fit.

Having gone through the publishing process with Eye Contact, I know that there are still a number of edit stages to go through, so I’m not agonising quite as much as I did that first time (otherwise I’d have been too angst-ridden to email it). As it is, the reworked version has now been sent, and I’m hopeful that it will be a stronger, more enjoyable read.

I’m certainly glad that this phase is complete and, best of all, it means I can do something I’ve been putting off for quite some time – get back into book three!

Ouch!

I've always had a thing about hospitals. I hate them. There's never a happy reason to go to them (except for the Maternity wards) and I have an absolute horror of even visiting.

So I suppose it's a good indication of how uncomfortable I was feeling that I didn't mind one bit when the ambulance came. The nice paramedics, with their fabulous gas & air, and their delicious morphine, were most welcome. I'm told that renal colic / kidney stones aren't a lot of fun and I have to say that I agree.

After a weekend in hospital, and with the pain subsided, I came home feeling fragile. Today was my first day out - it was oddly unsettling to leave the house, but it gave me a reason to get dressed and that definitely improved my outlook. Here's hoping that the worst of it is over, and my scan next week comes back with good news.

In the meantime, if anyone was planning on buying me alcohol this Christmas, please don't - I have a new favourite tipple, and it's name is Entonox: gorgeous gas & air!

Broken

It was all going so well. I wrapped up a draft of book two that I was happy with, let a select few people look at it, and collated their feedback. And then I made my big mistake.

 

I got cocky.

I started thinking about book three, confident that book two would just require a bit of editing and polishing. This is the writer's equivalent of Wile E Coyote adopting a self-satisfied smile, blissfully unaware of the huge, boulder-shaped shadow growing around him. I was completely unprepared when, out of the blue, my agent asked a question about one of the principal characters. It seemed like a straightforward "What about XYZ?" sort of question, and I remember thinking "Hmmm, that might require me to change a couple of things."

Unfortunately, once the question is in your head, there's no getting away from it. And in a story where everything is connected to everything else, changing a couple of things has quickly evolved into changing a lot of things.

I've just returned from a weekend, locked away, cutting and pasting and rewriting. It's certainly been productive – I achieved more than I hoped and I've got lots of new material – but lots more is needed. And with every change breaking something else, it feels like I've spent two days working to take something that was essentially complete, to something that looks like it has been disassembled by men with hammers.

I'm sure I had an uplifting closing-point in mind when I began this post, but for the moment it escapes me. I'm hitting the Publish button in the hope of a triumphant follow-up post, some time in the next week or so, where I share my relief that it all worked out and the loose-ends were tied up. That'd be nice.

But for now, that's all folks!

Star Wars? Star Drawers!

So it seems that George Lucas has finally decided to sell Lucasfilm to Disney, who are now rumoured to be planning a new Star Wars trilogy in 2015. To celebrate this exciting news, I thought I'd share a passage from Star Drawers, a humorous parody that I scribbled in my younger years.

In this scene, Bert "Oh-Begone" Knevil and Nuke Flyswatter visit a bar in Mos Angeles spaceport. There, they meet the roguish Hank Slowmo and the faithful Choochoo, with "hilarious results"… *sigh*

 - - - - -

“I’m impressed.” nodded Oh-Begone, “But what I really need is a fast ship.”
“That’s lucky, Grandpa...” Slowmo leaned back in his chair, “because what I really need is someone who really needs a fast ship.”
“You don’t say.” noted Oh-Begone, patiently.
“Oh but I do.” Slowmo leaned forward conspiratorially, “What’s the cargo, old timer?”
“Myself and the boy, these two droids...” Oh-Begone leaned forward, equally conspiratorially, “And no questions asked!”
“Who are you on the run from?” whispered Slowmo.
“I said, no questions asked!” replied Oh-Begone, “Let’s just say we’d prefer to avoid any run-ins with the Establishment!”
Slowmo nodded sagely. “We’d prefer to avoid any run-ins with the Establishment.” he repeated correctly, “But that’s gonna cost you some serious dough.”
“Dough?” frowned Nuke, “Damn! I only have money!”
“Don’t worry about him, he grew up on a farm.” Bert muttered, “How much are we talking about?”
“Well, I’ve got fuel costs to think about, take-off fees, landing fees, reasonable wear and tear, sales tax, postage and
packing...” Slowmo shot a sideways glance at Choochoo, “I couldn’t take on the job for less than... fifty?”
“Fifty?!” Nuke exclaimed, “Fifty?!”
“Yes, fifty.” repeated Slowmo clearly.
“Why, we could buy a thriving small business for fifty!” Nuke blustered.
“I think he meant fifty thousand.” Bert explained.
“What?!” Nuke gasped, “Why, we could buy a thriving large business for fifty thousand!”
“I meant fifty million, old timer.” Slowmo clarified.
“What?!!” Nuke gasped again, “Why, we could...”
“We’ll take it.” Oh-Begone interrupted, “Mr Slowmo, how do you feel about payment on arrival at our destination?”
“That all depends.” Slowmo shrugged, “How do you feel about Choochoo taking you out back and...” he whispered something to the old man.
“You shall have your money within the hour!” Bert stated decisively, “Come Nuke, we have things to sell!”
Slowmo watched them go, then turned to Choochoo.
“Fifty million!” he grinned, “Those guys must really be desperate, or surprisingly bad with figures... hey, this is great - I’ll finally be able to buy mother that operation she’s been needing.”
Choochoo made a guttural sound and shook his head wearily.
“She’d turn in her grave if she heard you say that!” Hank scowled, “Anyway, you run along and get the ship ready... I’ll wait here in this bar full of bounty hunters and debt collectors and quietly consider the enormous price on my head.”

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