Monday 30 November 2009

Seen one of these before?


Just got my transcript externally validated. :) Just into chapter five. But four and five and part of three are all being deleted. Went off compleely the wrong way. Well, not quite deleted, but removed definitely.

The aim is to get the whole thing to about 100,000 - 120,000 words. NaNoWriMo was just the beginning... Maybe I'll have a 2010 one next year. Wish me luck.

Keep smiling,
Sx

Monday 23 November 2009

Philosophy

I have a new favourite quote. My old favourite was from Plato's republic:


"My dear Socrates, if you produce theories of that sort, you can’t be surprised if most decent people take their coats off, pick up the nearest weapon, and come after you in their shirt sleeves to do something terrible to you!"


My new favourite is from Nozick's Knowledge and Skepticism:


"If, as is likely, these explanations do not help, please use your own intuitive understanding of subjunctives 3 and 4."


Keep smiling,

I am.

Sx

Sunday 22 November 2009

NaNoWriMo Extract

I said I'd put a bit up and I never did, this is a small extract from Chapter One.

"‘Shit I’m sorry Lil’ he lied convincingly ‘I don’t know why I did that’

She bent down to collect her books before she answered.

‘I do’ she send venomously, ‘it’s because you’re a disgusting fucking prick who couldn’t care about anything except yourself. I’m not going to fucking shag you, not today, not tomorrow, not fucking ever’

Elliot started forwards

‘Oh come on Lil, it was an accident’

‘Don’t you fucking dare come near me’ she snarled ‘I’m not one of your disgusting slutty harem, I will not be fucked and I will not be fucked with. By you or anybody else.’

People were starting to appear at the entrance of the corridor as Lily’s voice grew in volume and in pitch. Elliot wished that he had shut her up quietly before.

‘Chill Lil’ he tried to sound nonchalant in front of the growing crowd. Lily glanced up at them, then back at Elliot as she realised he was trying to maintain some sense of dignity in front of his friends.

‘Piss off’ she spat, then she turned and walked away, the crowd parted to let her through and the instance she was it swarmed into the corridor and Elliot was swallowed up by a mass of people. At the forefront was Mike Flanders, he was the centre mid field of the college football team and he’s always been the one that Elliot had taken to parties. Mike liked a good party, they suited each other well Mike and Elliot, two perfectly coupled wingmen. There had been jokes floating around about a bromance between them, they indulged this after they realised that girls seemed to like the idea. Suffice to say, Mike was the other cool kid on campus.

‘What was that about?’ he asked Elliot cautiously. Elliot rolled hi lower lip into his mouth and bit down with his upper teeth.

‘Lets walk’ he said, and they set off. Nobody else in the crowd even tried to follow them as they walked away from them. It was obvious to all watching that something very serious was happening between them It wasn’t, Elliot was trying to make light of it all. ‘I’m trying to sleep with her.’

‘Trying?’ Mike reply was sarcastic and amused, ‘good job there mate, she hates you.’

‘I know she does’ came Elliot’s lucid reply, ‘but that doesn’t mean that she won’t’

‘You know El’ said Mike, ‘it normally does.’ Elliot didn’t say anything, he didn’t even look at Mike. ‘Anyway man, why would you want to? Yeah she’s pretty fucking hot but she’s not going to be up for anything is she? She’s a total stuck up bitch!’

‘Yeah’ Elliot agreed, ‘but that’s sort of part of the attraction isn’t it? You know, the whole forbidden fruit thing’

‘El,’ Mike said, ‘there is no point in chasing after the forbidden fruit if you know it’s just an apple, there are hundreds of apples out there, most of them are much nicer than…’

‘Mike,’ Elliot interrupted him, ‘I think you might be stretching this metaphor past breaking point.

Mike laughed and Elliot joined in with his cold smile. They turned the corner and stepped outside together then leaned back against the wall just inside of the No smoking zone. They both found their cigarettes and lit them before either said anything else.

‘You’ll never do it mate.’

‘No?’ was Elliot’s quizzical reply.

‘No’

‘You’re sure’

‘Yes,’ Mike was smiling back at him, ‘I think I know what’s coming next’

‘Want to bet on it?’ Mike’s grin widened

‘I was right. Why don’t you give me twenty quid now? Elliot’s smile broadened to match Mike’s. He took a drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke directly into Mike’s face."


I'm writing more, well, er, now actually.

Keep smiling.

Sx

Thursday 19 November 2009

A change is as good as a rest?

You be the judge, a change from writing leads to the beginnings of a sketched self portrait.

Hmmm, I think I might go back to writing now...

Wednesday 18 November 2009

Ah, Hello...

I would be writing more of my NaNoWriMo story but unfortunately I've lost my notes... My room isn't even that untidy today! Grrr, but yesterday I was sorting some university paperwork so it might have been tidied away. It'll be around here somewhere...

*sighs hopefully*

I think I'll go through my first chapter (completed at 14,191 words) and find something suitable to put up here, it's been a while since I treated this blog to some of my work. I really should find those notes and get on actually, hmmm, this will teach me for trying to plan a story rather than just writing it. In the mean time take a peak at what came through the post...

It's (if you can't tell) a poster for an independent film by Erik Beck, the man who brought the world Indy Mogul, which in turn bought me top Celtx and the creation of my first script and with the script came a renewal of writing. I owe a lot to that man, but I settled for a donation for his film, and LOOK! He's still sending me goodies! The film is called 'Father Son Run' and the plot synopsis and extra information is on the website. I'm going to look for my notes, then possibly writ something on Kant.... hmmm, decisions.

Keep smiling,
Sx

Tuesday 17 November 2009

Hello there!

Finally remembered my password back into this thing. Appalling isn't it, I've only been gone for a week and my memory's shot! Orkney was amazing, it was so beautiful, too beautiful to ever try and capture.

You should go sometime.

You should take me with you.

Seriously, I want to go back. My friend's family that I stayed with were terrific, they were lovely and welcoming and it was amazing watching them. They're like a little team, a true family unit!


Unfortunately due to my absence my NaNoWriMo stats have gone up the pictures... I started off the month looking quite impressive but gradually I've slipped back.. Time to jump back up on the horse methinks. Take a peak at my stats here. I'll get there, don't worry.

On my way up to Aberdeen I was toying with a plot idea. What do you think:

People leave notes to each other when they go don the shops to buy milk etc, right? How about a married couple, one a night nurse and the other a machine operator who work completely different hours and pretty much all of their communication is done in this way. It'll provide a look at the characters' social lives, work patterns. Subtle hints at deceit and lies, maybe a big climatic finish which doesn't end on a scrawled note on the kitchen table.

Any thoughts?

Sx

Thursday 5 November 2009

Ah look...

This may be my last blog for a week, if I find internet on my mobile I'll blog from there but even if I manage that I doubt I'll have much storytelling to show. In the first two days of NaNoWriMo I wrote over 12,000 words which means that even as I have not written anything in the past two days, and only a little on the third due to University, packing and bonfire restrictions I'm still above target.

But not for long I fear. Also my twitter isn't responding to my texts. I probably haven't died, even if I don't update.

You keep smiling, I'll keep writing.

Sx

*UPDATE*
Twitter feed working again, watch THAT SPACE ------>

Tools of the trade. Part two.

Do they counts as tools of my trade if I am not getting paid for what I do? Maybe not but no matter.

As well as my bundles of paper, pencils and ink I can type. The words here are a bit of a giveaway...

I normally type my scripts up first time without drafting them on paper first. For this is use Celtx which I discovered through Indy Mogul, which I discovered when researching ageing techniques to be used in a script that was, at that time being typed in a Microsoft Word document. Celtx really is very impressive, it's free but has all of the formatting needed for several different writing mediums. I predominantly use, because of the nature of the things I write, the screenwriting template.

I could (probably) honestly say that I would not have written my first script if it wasn't for that program, not sure I could have hacked hitting the 'tab' key in word to get the correct formatting all those times!

When I'm typing up second drafts, o9r sometimes first drafts of stories I normally use Word for Mac on my rather aging desktop, :( or open office on my quite flash Acer Aspire One.

Look to the twitter page over the coming week, I'm off to a place above Scotland. Waited for this a long time, very happy. Maybe I'll bring some stories home with me. We'll see...

How's everybody doing with National Novel Writing Month?

Keep smiling,
Sx

Tuesday 3 November 2009

Short story

This is the story I typed whilst sitting in the back of the shop at work. One of the nice people who work nearby told me about the Guardian short story competition so this is what I submitted. They didn't get back to me though... even to tell me it was rubbish!

"Practice.

This wasn't personal. In no way whatsoever was this personal. This was purely and simply practice. I'd watched him carefully for three days, on the beginning of the first day he was a random name in the phone book and now I knew him in ever single conceivable way other than talking to him. I knew about his kids, his divorce and his job. I knew what his passport number was, his past month of bank transactions, and his national insurance number. I knew where he worked, what mistakes he'd made and who he'd pinned them on. I knew that he drank whisky, but only ever at weekends, that he never crapped at work because he was scared of contact with the same toilet seat shared between the rest of the firm and I knew, most importantly, that this rich, important, suited fellow took a short cut from his work to the car park through the dimly lit gap between old derelict bar and a closed bakery.
That was where I was waiting. I wasn't particularly conspicuous, just leaning against the door jam, a lit cigarette dangling from between my lips. I could have looked like the barman on a sneaky fag break if it wasn't for the fact that the bar had been shut for over a year now. That was a bit of a stroke of luck, and one which I was fully prepared to take advantage of. The alarm on my watch beeped gently, once. I dropped and stubbed out my half finished cigarette and, breathing out the last of the smoke I pushed the door open and stepped into the bar.
He would be here soon.
I walked down the corridor and through the door into what used to be the kitchen. It had been gutted, the ovens sinks and counters all ripped out, simply leaving the plain whitewashed walls. And a tripod. I walked over and flicked the camera on and checked the LCD display, it covered an entire corner of the room. The image was dull though, there was only a single dim light dangling in the centre of the room. The film wasn't going to be much use like this. I checked it over hurriedly then flicked the night vision switch on. The screen was bathed green but at least I could now make out some more definition. I pressed the record button, I doubted I'd have time to do it later. The rest of the room was empty, clean. My watched beeped again.
Two minutes.
I swallowed and fumbled with my gloves, black leather. They caught on my sweaty hands but eventually I forced my hands into them. My mouth was dry, I wouldn't be able to speak, I grabbed at my water bottle, gulping a few mouthfuls of water. I blinked a few times, trying to clear my head. My watched beeped, for what I knew was the last time this night.
One minute.
He was leaving his work in one minute, he'd be here in around twenty to thirty seconds after that. I reviewed my plan. It was quite simple really, grab him in the alley, force him into the bar, talk to him, ask him any number of inane questions, then shoot him. That's all this was, practice. The questions themselves weren't important tin themselves but I wanted to know how I would react, hence the camera. Much better to find out my stumbling blocks now with a randomly chosen stranger than in an actual job. I'd practised before, but that had always been with cadavers, and I was eager to find out how I'd react to something that could talk back, something that could beg.
I waited behind the door, listening, my right hand gripped the handle tightly. I could hear him. His shoes clattered smartly as he walked down towards me. I blinked three more times, fast, getting the sweat out of my eyes. I pressed my eye to a split in the wood, still listening. He was maybe ten paces away. I held my breath and concentrated on stopping my hands from shaking. The footsteps carried him closer and suddenly I saw him through the door crack. I shoved the door outwards, it slammed into him and he fell against the wall. Leaping for him I wrapped one hand over his neck and grasped an arm with the other. I kicked his briefcase from the floor where he'd dropped it inside and dragged him in after it, I shut the door with my foot. I pulled him along the corridor, fast. He was bent double and stumbling when we reached the kitchen. I flung him into the corner in front of the camera, his head cracked against the wall and he slid, breathless to the floor.
My armpits were sweating. I could feel it running out from under them and slipping down towards my elbow where my shirt caught the moisture, the same was happening with the backs of my knees, sweat rolling off into my socks. I made a concious effort to blink, then started towards him again. He looked confused, I had to grit my teeth when I hit him, I felt like I was going to vomit, I doubted that would have added anything to my interrogation. But punch him I did, in the solar plexus, I wanted to avoid hitting his face, if I broke his nose he'd be in too much pain to answer any questions, and his eyes would be constantly leaking so I wouldn't know if he was lying or not. Solar plexus would hurt, but that would diminish, it is much easier to make somebody fear pain if it's not constant, if it is it just dulls as the nerve endings die.
I raised his head up by his scalp and swung another punch at his gut but he twisted and I hit his ribcage instead. There was a sharp crack and he dropped to the floor, a cry issuing from his mouth for the first time during our encounter, Fuck, I broke a rib.
He fell to the floor with all the grace of a over filled bin liner, and crumpled. I took a step back, trying to ignore the impossibly sweatiness off my palms but complete dryness of my mouth. I walked over to the camera and checked the screen. It was perfect: He was fully in focus and the space next to him, which previously occupied my body was large, I must have been in the shot. Nice set up.
I walked back to my newest acquaintance and lifted him to his haunches before knocking him backwards into the wall behind him. His breathing slowed and his voice lowered to a whimper. I wondered what I should do next, should I start asking my questions or show him my gun. I decided on the latter, as I didn't want him attacking me in retaliation for what I'd already done to him and the best way to do that is simply to show that your stick is much, much, bigger than their stick. So I pulled out my revolver before I squatted down. His breathing stopped, first I thought he was having a heart attack, that would have been bad, giving CPR to a bloke I was going to question and kill but then his eyes refocused onto the gun's muzzle. I waved it slightly, watching as his eyes tracked with it but he didn't move anything else. It was mesmerising, that he could stay so still. I tried to speak, my throat jammed, I didn't want to have to take a drink though. I tried swallowing instead and that helped a little.
'What's your name?' I asked. I knew this already, I just wanted to start of with a question that I was sure I knew the answer to. He didn't answer straight away, I realized he was fixated my the gun, I lifted it so the muzzle was in front of my face. I repeated the question.
'Mark' His voice was husky and dry.
'That's good Mark' I said, beginning to warm to my task 'What's your last name?'
He gulped
'Reynolds'
'OK Mark Reynolds, OK. Now Mark, can you guess why you're in here with me?'
For a fraction of a second his eyes lifted and locked onto mine. He held my gaze for a few seconds before his lip began to tremble, suddenly he was sobbing, sobs that shook and convulsed his body.
'I don't know!' he cried out pitifully, 'I don't...' his voice trailed off.
I stared in shock at the sobbing heap of flesh in front of me, whatever I was prepared for... it wasn't this. Cornered people aren't strong, they don't fight. They're weak and they know it. I began to wonder how I'd react if somebody did this to me.
Snap out of it.
I was loosing control of the situation.
'Mark' I snapped. He continued to weep. 'MARK!'
His eyes raised themselves once more to my face, the his jowls were bright red and stained with tears.
'Mark' I repeated once more 'tell me about your children'
I had thought about this carefully, what would a divorcee care about most in the world? I came up with his children. My research into his life showed he barely got to see them, and when he did he spent days planning their activities, two girls, nine and six. They meant the world to him and I knew that, what he didn't know was that I had no interest in the at all, my only interest lay with getting him to talk about them.
His sobs diminished until they were overtaken in volume by his ragged gasps for breath. I had to strain to catch the single word as it left his lips.
'No'.
I brought the gun down hard onto his shoulder. He winced away.
'Please'
'Just tell me their names Mark, and you can go.'
I felt terrible, I was going to kill this man and before I did I was going to torture him emotionally. I steeled myself.
'Come on Mark, just a couple of names...'
He blubbered, his words coming out thickly as he tried to stop his snot from dribbling into his mouth. I hesitated, trying to work out what he was saying. Then it hit me.
He was begging.
Instinctively I straightened up and stumbled back from him as if he was contagious, vomit rising in my throat.. I didn't know I would react like this. My hand, sweaty again, tightened a grip on the gun.
'Stop it!' I shouted at him, panicing.
'Please!' He retorted.
My body tensed. I ground my teeth together and tried to harden my heart. If I could endure this, I told myself, it would be a major breakthrough. If I could do this I'd start to put myself around a little, get some feelers out. But first I would have to do this, and that poor man's yells were making me want to run, when running was most definitely not an option.
He was screaming now. The noise built up inside my head like pressure in a boiler, my eyes started to become painful, the nausea increased. Suddenly I moved, almost unaware of my own actions, he was making too much noise. I stepped forward, only half a yard from him lifted my revolver and squeezed the trigger. I didn't care about the ricochet I just needed him to stop screaming, and suddenly he did. The bullet was buried in the wall, the wall itself was a deep crimson colour. The nausea subsided quickly at the sight before me. I hesitated for a whole two seconds before lifting the camera from the tripod, and leaving the building."

NaNoWriMo going well thanks,
Keep smiling,
Sx

Sunday 1 November 2009

NaNoWriMo

Now it begins. Enter 30 days of writing. The plan is to get 50,000 words written. It doesn't have to be pretty, it just has to be there. I'm pretty confident I should be able to pull it off... just. Plenty of other things to do in this month as well (which I'm rather looking forward to. XD ) not to mention studenty things so it should be tough. It should be a challenge.

It should be fun.

Sorry in advance then if my posts are a little low off the ground or few and far between. I've probably got my nosed buried in a sheaf of papers or a word processor.

Wish me luck,
Keep smiling,
Sx