Dirty Projectors are an art-rock band from Brooklyn. In 2017 they decided to record Rise Above, a album that covered all the songs from Damaged, the 1981 debut album by hardcore punk-icons Black Flag.

Except here's the thing: although they were familiar with Black Flag's album, they decided to record their version without re-listening the source material. Instead, their album would be based only on their memories of the original. They'd filter Damaged through a sieve of time, recollection and perspective, and then they'd use the instruments they had at hand to recreate what they could of it. What came out was a ghost of Black Flag's original: stripped back, fuzzily-remembered elements reborn in a more acoustic context. It's a neat idea explored in this Indyweek article.

It got me thinking about writing equivalents. What if one tried rewriting a poem from memory? A short story from memory? Could the experiment create something of legitimate value? Hmmm. Not likely, but it's a prospect that led me to another thought experiment: what if one tried writing a story using the hazily-understood narrative framework of another tale? It would have to be a story-shape that was incompletely perceived, filtered through one's own perspective. It'd be - ahem - Damaged.

Then I figured out how it could be made to work. You could choose the soundtrack to a film or TV show that you hadn't seen and, using the aural cues and track titles only, build and write a story that matched the shape as well as the colour, texture and tone of the music you were listening to. You might hear threat, suspicion, conflict, retribution or triumph. You could build something new.

I've chosen a composer and a soundtrack and I'm listening now as I write.

I know nothing about the show (movie? TV drama?) and I won't be sticking it into a search engine and corrupting my perception, so no hyperlinks folks. It's called Nox. It might be notoriously bad, renowned in some way beyond my ken... I just don't know. It's French, so the track titles don't help much (with a few brave exceptions - 'Morgue' for example, 'La sextape de Julie' or 'Face a face: Catherine vs Nox.') I have mood and tone (this is the music for a psychological thriller, surely) I have character names and I have disturbing-looking scenes accompanied by dissonant piano and strings.

What I don't yet have is Julie's sex-tape scene sorted out... 

On exactly this day last year, I used a September Shorts to explore remakes. In the final line of the post I employ what my kid calls a "tutty-eyeroll"; that is, a sniffy, despairing and critical reference to something (as in 'Boris Johnson, eh?' tutty-eyeroll.) In the case of last year's post, my tutty-eyeroll was directed at a potential remake of The Princess Bride, which at the time was on the cards.

Yeah well more fool me because over the last couple of days I've rewatched the movie with my nine-year old and (*klaxon*) I've CHANGED MY MIND. That's right, I reckon TPB is ready for a remake. ​

Here's three broad reasons why, just to get us started:

1. By vocally opposing remakes we give the impression of being hopelessly devoted to the past, determined that culture should remain fixed. And we create canonical texts not based on their objective quality but on the fact they have a strong emotional resonance connected to our own childhoods. You can't touch that, we say. I loved it as a kid. Well your wasting you're time because...

2. Being a fan of a movie, book film or franchise does not give you a stake in it. You don't part-own TPB because you watched it incessantly in your early teens. Creators are free to do what they want with it. If you're a consumer and you don't like it - take your business elsewhere.

3. The remake doesn't erase the original. If you're so precious about the first version of the story, don't watch the second.

OK. Now four more reasons specific to The Princess Bride movie itself. My daughter really enjoyed the film, btw and I still love it dearly. But I have to admit, seeing it through her eyes, there are things that a remake could helpfully address.

4. "Buttercup doesn't do anything," my daughter observed, unprompted. "She just sits around." When the rodents attack in the fire swamp, she actually stood up and roared at the screen, "Do something! Help him!" as the princess cowered. Damn right, I thought. "Pass me that pitcher, farm boy" is about as assertive as she gets and that's in the opening five minutes, after which she's shuttled around, scooped onto horseback, ridden here and there and dragged running by the wrist. "But she's just one character," you might say. To which I say yeah but she's the title character.

5. TPB features an all-white cast in an all-white world. Not unusual for the eighties, but an opportunity waiting to be taken now. 

6. The sets are as shonky as hell. The cliffs of insanity look like something out of Tom Baker-era Dr Who. 

...and:

7. Mark Knopfler's soundtrack of parping synths and farting fanfares is rubbishy low-budget guff. And I'm speaking here as someone who had the OST on cassette tape and listened to it on his walkman while trying to sleep back in the day.

That's it - that's all I've got. So if you've perused the arguments above and find yourself simmering with barely contained contempt... well, fair enough each to their own and all that, I'm a big boy and I can take criticism.

​Join and orderly queue and send me your tutty-eyerolls. 

As part of this year's September Shorts I've asked writer friends to contribute posts inspired by the title One Cool Thing. They'll be telling you about one cool thing they're looking forward to as Autumn approaches. It might be a book or movie, a tabletop or computer game, an event or visit to a special place, a chance to achieve something... or perhaps even an exciting new project.
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Today is the turn of the multi-talented Curtis Jobling, writer of the Wereworld novels as the Max Helsing series, as well as his extensive work on TV and film. What a guy! You can check out his website here.

​Curtis Jobling: Root

It's no secret I'm a bit of a tabletop boardgame obsessive, and lockdown provided my family with plenty of opportunities to play old favourites and new alike.

I've had ROOT on order since the beginning of the year, but believe it's been stuck in production limbo. Thankfully, it finally arrived this week, and we get to crack open the box as the dark nights set in.
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It seems the perfect game for us to play this Autumn, set as it is in a woodland with its shifting seasons and factions competing with one another. It's for two to four players, and although the manufacturers suggest it's ages 10 and up, players have said 14 is a more reasonable age to get one's head around the rules. You take on the role of one of four groups, battling for dominion over the forest - the Maquise, the Eyrie, the Alliance and the Vagabonds - with game characters including cats, hawks, foxes, rabbits, lizards, raccoons and the like.
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So put that boring old Monopoly set away, and check out something new. It really is something of a golden age for tabletop boardgames...

This is scattering of some of the 50 cards that come in Chuck Klosterman's Hypertheticals: 50 Questions for Insane Conversations. Can't say I've ever used these cards in the way the creator intended - not being one for that toxic combination of (a) dinner party and (b) parlour game - but I enjoy having this on my writing shelf nevertheless. It sits alongside Yorke's Into the Woods, Wendig's Damn Fine Story, King's On Writing and the wonderful Apple Cider Vinegar for Health by Britt Brandon.

One of those is a joke. (*pause - looks to camera*) Wouldn't waste my time with John Yorke's book in a million years.

So yeah Klosterman's Hypertheticals are tremendous fun. And rather then convince you through the power of badly-written prose, I thought I'd let the product speak for itself.

​Have a go at this one. It has a delightfully chilly feel to it, like its the beginning of a Roald Dahl short story:   

As part of this year's September Shorts I've asked writer friends to contribute posts inspired by the title One Cool Thing. They'll be telling you about one cool thing they're looking forward to as Autumn approaches. It might be a book or movie, a tabletop or computer game, an event or visit to a special place, a chance to achieve something... or perhaps even an exciting new project.
​
Today is the turn of Marie Basting, Associate Lecturer in Creative Writing at Manchester Met and author of the charmingly bonkers Princess BMX! You can check out Marie's website here.

​Marie Basting: Colour

One cool thing I am looking forward to this autumn is the colour. Amber leaves scrunching underfoot, the chestnut tree's orange canopy burning proud above and bracken turning rust, before returning to the earth, ready to restart nature’s cycle.

Autumn takes me back to my childhood. The smell of damp leaves and bonfires, sweet toffee apples that hurt your teeth and of course the slippery pavements as rain turned the trees' rich offering to mush.  I’d shuffle along behind my brother’s pram, staying close to the garden walls where the leaves sheltered, churning the sludge with my wellies while Mum called impatiently from the pelican crossing, warning me of the perils of hidden dog poo. There was always dog poo.

But that’s autumn, I guess. A mixed blessing that comes with a definite sting.  Rich hues dulling replaced by darkness; the early morning chill soon a bitter frost.

It won’t stop me looking forward to it though because I know this brief glimpse of colour is what gives me strength. What carries me through another winter until Spring brings new colours.

​New things to look forward to.