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. I'm an on-and-off listener to The Rewatchables, a podcast offering an irreverent and amusing dissection of an old movie each week.
Recently I was enjoying an episode exploring Tony Scott's final movie, Unstoppable. I love the film. It did OK business at the box office and garnered its fair share of critical praise but it was a runaway train disaster movie and as such, didn't much trouble the end-of-year lists back in 2010. So if you've never heard of it don't feel bad. The episode's special guest was Quentin Tarantino, a huge fan of Unstoppable and of Tony Scott. Tarantino speaks at 100 miles an hour about most things film-related but he's operating at top-speed for much of the show, scattergunning stories, observations and analyses. Here's what struck me. Tarantino described himself and Scott as polar opposites when it came to directing movies. I'm paraphrasing, but the gist was this: Tarantino described himself as a director. I shoot using a single camera, he explained. Every scene you see was composed by me. I framed and arranged it, I organised it and I shot it. Tony Scott, he goes on the say, is a selector. He shoots with five, six... nine cameras at once. Other people are shooting the footage. Scott is the genius who selects the results and cuts them together. Director versus selector. An interesting distinction. It made me think about fiction writing. Much as I'd like to be a director - much as I'd love to have everything staged and rehearsed scene-by-scene before the first keystroke - I just don't seem to be able to do it. I write tens of thousands of words that I don't use; scene after scene that might end up in a book but might not. My current project is 120,000 words' worth of prose so far. I still don't think I've got it anywhere near right yet. It's exhausting, infuriating and discouraging. But I think it's about all I can do. I'm a selector, not a director. And I've gotta say, most days I wish it was different. 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 Kerry Drewery, writer of the remarkable trilogy Cell 7, Day 7 and Final 7. Her new novel is being raved about; The Last Paper Crane. You can find out more about Kerry here. Kerry Drewery: Cold Water Wild Swimming My one cool thing I'm looking forward to in autumn is literally cool.
Last year I did cold water swimming with some friends. It really pushed me out of my comfort zone but once I got into the water, I enjoyed it so much. I made some new friends too, people I wouldn't have met otherwise, and I've kept in touch with them since and chatted to them over lockdown. I've swum in warm water over the summer, but cold water is a very different thing. I'm not a fan of winter and find the long, dark evenings can be quite hard, but this is something that is often the highlight of my week. There is nothing like it. And nothing like shivering at the side of a pond in the middle of the muddy countryside, wearing woollies and wellies, and laughing with friends while sharing coffee and biscuits. Exactly one month today we get to enjoy the new adaptation of Rebecca so this seemed a good time to share an excerpt from Du Maurier's The Rebecca Notebook. I've become kinda obsessed by it over the years. One glance at the picture above will, I hope, explain why.
First, Rebecca itself. Yes, the parallels with Jane Eyre are often cited and easy to draw, but Rebecca, a masterfully written psychological thriller, deserves its place in the canon on its own merits, as does My Cousin Rachel, a novel I always think of as Rebecca's even-more-sinister step-sister. There's no arguing with the quality of the prose or the skill of execution in either book; you could make a case for asserting that its only Du Maurier's popularity - and possibly her gender - that prevent her from being more widely studied. What I love about the notebook is the glimpse we get into a great writer's planning process. It starts with the small stuff. Look: she plans in actual chapters. And look; Max was called Henry. Then other qualities emerge. The notes are sometimes brief summaries of potential action, but we get possible lines of dialogue ("lying in fifteen fathom water, sir...") and in some entries (chapters 22, 23 and 24) longhand rehearsals of entire scenes. She's also specific about the potential colour and atmosphere of scenes; we have "At any rate, strike the peaceful note..." or "Sense of foreboding." And there are reminders to fix potential problems - "Must separate these two chapters by a more intimate depressing reaction..." as if Du Maurier is recognising pitfalls even as she plans. And all this the work of a storyteller not even at the top of her game yet. Incredible, and not a little depressing given this particular writer's current struggles. Anyway, roll on October 21st. Let's hope this new adaptation does justice to its wonderful source material. |
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