tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50811716844841271672024-03-13T05:53:12.064+00:00The other sideCan you say shibboleth?Sebastianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00323642691461936027noreply@blogger.comBlogger35125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081171684484127167.post-56862446410952608352010-03-10T09:52:00.002+00:002010-03-10T09:57:04.888+00:00Moving houseNot literally, but my blog is moving. All of the posts from this blog have been moved over already, along with their comments. The new address is:<br /><br /><a href="www.whiskyandwords.wordpress.com">www.whiskyandwords.wordpress.com</a><br /><br />I've moved it to wordpress because, well, to be totally honest I like it! I had a lot of fun using it to make the website for my <a href="www.hairydecision.worpress.com">hair dilemma</a> (as Jacob puts it) and blogger does have this thing where it likes to not let me sign on occasionally. This is an entire website and not just a blog, it's dedicated to all of my upcoming projects, and I think you should nip over and have a look.<br /><br />Thanks for reading, see you on the other side.<br /><br />Keep Smiling,<br />SxSebastianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00323642691461936027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081171684484127167.post-85384466458590722282010-03-05T21:36:00.003+00:002010-03-05T21:43:10.517+00:00The plan...is to get <span style="font-style: italic;">Elliot and Lily</span> completed by the end of the year and two finish off both books of shorts stories that are kicking around my desk. I'm not setting a deadline for the tale of Thomas (or whatever you want to call it...) because I think I'll have enough on my plate with those three, plus a new screenplay to start from scratch (only 19 pages in so far) called <span style="font-style: italic;">The Busker</span>, plus university work, Plus the god-knows-what draft of <span style="font-style: italic;">The Last of the Angels</span> screenplay.<br /><br />Seriously, if you want to make a film give me a bell. I have a script waiting for you, and apparently it's the wrong time to try and sell them into the industry, pulling itself out of recession and all that.<br /><br />I'll hopefully actually start to update this with literary things once again... We'll see.<br /><br />In other news, I have short hai for the first time in 13 years. Check out <a href="www.hairydecision.wordpress.com">this link</a> for pictures.<br /><br />Keep smi... well. Whatever.Sebastianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00323642691461936027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081171684484127167.post-37223849139245454822010-02-02T23:05:00.003+00:002010-02-02T23:17:25.557+00:00BOOK..Not one of mine, but maybe a book that will help or allow me to get published one day? If I follow the rules that it!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXiG47RNWzwDwwqnzPlTGoWDaB41mwKIMNSZCrRpp2R7ItKZndhGjKIOjbURyCaugd7qhWdIvsB4i89_JvSN8kIpgwsRVQMp50P2FlePXE1J7G62lNHb-xTNdNoTpMYwPcdGm64Zovt4rz/s1600-h/Picture+8.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 222px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXiG47RNWzwDwwqnzPlTGoWDaB41mwKIMNSZCrRpp2R7ItKZndhGjKIOjbURyCaugd7qhWdIvsB4i89_JvSN8kIpgwsRVQMp50P2FlePXE1J7G62lNHb-xTNdNoTpMYwPcdGm64Zovt4rz/s320/Picture+8.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433786492941046466" border="0" /></a><br />My aunt bought me this book for <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Christmas</span>, along with a bottle of whisky. Good aunt, the best combination I could have asked for... Whisky and Words! She knows that I like writing, indeed she's volunteered to read some of my work. What she said was, amongst other nice things, this:<br /><br />"<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Baz</span>, if I didn't know you, I'd be scared of you"<br /><br />Glad to know that I can be that powerful!<br /><br />But anyway, this is the book. I've read a few books on the subject before but not one quite like this. Instead of giving rules as to how to write and what to do in order to get published it <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">simply</span> shows 200 <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">excerpts</span> of ill written prose and comments on what mistakes have been written (and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">exaggerated</span>) and the possible <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">consequences</span> of writing in that style. In that respect I found it hugely useful.<br /><br />The only drawback I could find with it was that In the last quarter or so I was beginning to feel as if I was being told not to do something that I had previously been told to do. But I never went back to check.<br /><br />However it is well written, albeit in an American dialect (no such thing as 'English US'!) and so there are missing letters <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">aplenty</span> but I'll forgive that for its <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">usefulness</span>. It feels like you're reading through a text with somebody next to you, pointing <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">things</span> out an <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">explaining</span> it to you. It's written as if they were talking to you and that's an approach I like, because I'm going to need lots of help to get the editing and publishing ball rolling if I finish a first draft!<br /><br />Or course, there already is a first, second, third and fourth copy of my script 'The Last of the Angels' but I'm talking about a novel. So if you're like me and want to write, get this book.<br /><br />Keep smiling,<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Sx</span>Sebastianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00323642691461936027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081171684484127167.post-45757970172182451152010-02-01T09:21:00.006+00:002010-02-01T19:56:36.071+00:00Two things to share...Finally managed to log back in here... Don't know what it is with my blogger but likes to redirect me o the 'Start a new blog!' page whenever it gets the chance. Ah well, we persevere. Only two things really to share with you all today.<div><br /></div><div>The first is a charity thing I'm doing. I have long hair, some people are paying me to cut it, other people are paying me to keep it long (so basically to do nothing... :D) and some people just want to donate to a good cause. The cause is Autism research, the charity can be found <a href="http://www.autismuk.com/">HERE</a>.</div><div><br /></div><div>The plan is to collect money from both sides and then CUT or KEEP my hair depending on whichever side has the most money. The loosing team don't get their money back though... :)</div><div>Anyway, this has its own dedicated website which can be found <a href="http://hairydecision.wordpress.com/">HERE</a> and I'll also be walking around annoying people with clipboard for a month, and possibly starting a FB campaign, because I'm that cool.</div><div><br /></div><div>You have the 28 days of February to influence my decision, go BID!</div><div><br /></div><div>So that's PART ONE, over. Now for the next story...</div><div><br /></div><div>Jim (my Stepdad) goes off to Sainsbury's once a month or so for our "Big Shop" for the reason that... well... read the story here at my mum's old blog. But anyway, mum asked for a handheld juicer. Her heavy, glass, juicer got broken about a year back. Nothing fancy, just something that juices.</div><div><br /></div><div>And so Jim returned dutifully with a plastic juicer, complete with a bowl for catching the juice. All neatly wrapped in cellophane. To put it bluntly, nothing had got in or out since leaning the Sainsbury's economy range factory. But hello! What is this!<br /><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRazB1lOWZs0Wn6voQkCMArMSPOGx6jWl0sm1RGkUTBqJuVV7llwd7iC-quBUyZQJ1WFKvr5jrOAjs6LH6BMUkfpLkxuLaDw-Mp0mV2k744mp0GFNmKqaA8cThoHyAOr6mXzM8O2f-juKY/s1600-h/Pube.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRazB1lOWZs0Wn6voQkCMArMSPOGx6jWl0sm1RGkUTBqJuVV7llwd7iC-quBUyZQJ1WFKvr5jrOAjs6LH6BMUkfpLkxuLaDw-Mp0mV2k744mp0GFNmKqaA8cThoHyAOr6mXzM8O2f-juKY/s320/Pube.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433354461126518194" border="0" /></a></div><div>A pubic hair! Ooooh, thank you Mr Sainsbury, thank you economy range factory worker. He must have hear about my charity scheme.<br /><br />Dude, talking about the hair on my head...<br /><br />But I guess in a way it's good that it was there, let's face it, if there was no evidence we would have just started using it without any thought about... what those workers are doing...<br /><br />Go pledge, once again, <a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.hairydecision.wordpress.com">HERE</a><br />And keep smiling,<br />Sx<br /></div><div><br /></div>Sebastianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00323642691461936027noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081171684484127167.post-29697383594732770332010-01-22T21:18:00.002+00:002010-01-22T21:22:58.855+00:00Animal treatmentI'll probably take this don as it's not creativity related but I\'ll leave it up for a while.<br /><br />It's horrible.<br /><br /><br /><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/VIjanhKqVC4&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/VIjanhKqVC4&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"></embed></object><br /><br />Stop smiling,<br />SxSebastianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00323642691461936027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081171684484127167.post-77163329336680508602010-01-03T21:16:00.002+00:002010-01-04T09:21:03.589+00:00Tools of the trade. Part ThreeVery little added to the tale of Elliot and Lily so thought I'd show this:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGZGlqEBbnO3SxJHbMCG9iXDw9Uv73K8FTzsLHvAkBAj8A69a55blPKp91eZ2Q_E5CjpxBNK1woVsahRBzEKh3W0fYCVHJBIlSb5Rb4yA2N1adBuUVBeqg97joO1R91djlB2Lhl9c-q0bF/s1600-h/03012010268.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGZGlqEBbnO3SxJHbMCG9iXDw9Uv73K8FTzsLHvAkBAj8A69a55blPKp91eZ2Q_E5CjpxBNK1woVsahRBzEKh3W0fYCVHJBIlSb5Rb4yA2N1adBuUVBeqg97joO1R91djlB2Lhl9c-q0bF/s320/03012010268.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422625784223106178" border="0" /></a>Present from my mother this Christmas. I know officially own an ink well. I am happy. This will go well with the dip pen, I'll have to find a quill at some point. The poetry reference would probably be towards the small pile of books in my bedroom (I mean small unfortunately).<br /><br /><br />A note on the title of my NaNoWriMo novel maybe. It's called 'Elliot and Lily' for a reason. The story is oly really about one of them: Lily. It's a story about her life and experiences and what she wants for herself in the future. Elliot is more a tool to explore this than a main character in his own right. But I've tried to make him as human and as well rounded as possible... I mean, yes, he may be a device: but youve also got to read about him!<br /><br />So why's the title comprised of their names? Why not call it 'Lily's adventures' or something? The answer to that would be that Ellio is a HUGE part of this story, just not the past or future bit... But most importantly I <span style="font-style: italic;">like the way it sounds</span>.<br /><br />Say it slowly El-i-ot-and-lil-ly. I think it sounds good. Just after I decided on the main character's names (because of their light similarities (The 'l's mainly)) I thought about calling it 'Lily and Elliot'. But say that fast and the words get lost together. Also, for my lking, t's a little to close to 'Billy Elliot' - and I don't want to give the wrong idea of what the story's about.<br /><br />Keep Smiling,<br />SxSebastianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00323642691461936027noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081171684484127167.post-45234842449247783382010-01-01T21:12:00.002+00:002010-01-01T21:20:30.915+00:00I am a very lucky person.I just went through an old email account that I rarely check and since has been filled up with spam emails but boy am I glad I checked!<div><br /></div><div>As the title suggests I just might be the luckiest person alive! Get this, within moments of a lovely young lady called Wendy emailing me saying that she was 'single, hot and in my area' I got another two emails offering me services to enhance my confidence with women and powers of seduction AND some nice fellow (who was apparently replying to an email I had forgotten I had sent) was offering me, at a very reasonable price, something to improve my sex life.</div><div><br /></div><div>These emails could not have come at a better time. :) But I suppose the clincher, which really pushed me to do all of this, to accept these fine gifts and offers, was the fact that a very nice gentleman is offering me a cash reward for helping him out. That certainly will come in handy!</div><div><br /></div><div>Keep smiling - maybe I'll put you in touch with one of Wendy's friends. Apparently they are hot and single too!</div><div><br /></div><div>What a brilliant start to 2010! Have a good year people!</div><div>Sx</div>Sebastianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00323642691461936027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081171684484127167.post-81493826355237325932009-12-23T16:53:00.003+00:002009-12-23T17:22:39.460+00:00It's been a while...But after NaNoWriMo I had a bit of a writing detox. Only started again yesterday. After reaching just over 50,000 words I cut it back to about 34,000. The vast majority of those last 16,000 were useless twaddle. They discussed a garden in the middle of an argument about rape.<div><br /></div><div>Not the best placed aesthetic critique ever...</div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, back on the horse now. Nearing the second half of the third chapter now. I'll fill you in with the plot points so far after Christmas, but right now I'll just share this:</div><div><br /></div><div>Chapter One: 19,024 Words</div><div>Chapter Two: 13,839 Words</div><div>Chapter Three: 9,740 Words so far...</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>and this extract from (the re-written) chapter one:</div><div><br /></div><div>"After that night I didn't expect to see Adam again, I couldn't have blamed him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It would be returning to the scene of the crime.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Cheating on his wife, sleeping with his best friend's daughter, his god-daughter, a minor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It wasn't hard at all to understand why I would never see him again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>But I was wrong and the very next Thursday he was back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I almost couldn't believe it when I opened the door and saw him, I didn't know what to say.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He stepped inside and handed me the bottle that would go very well with the meal that I hadn't bothered to cook, so convinced was I that I would never see him again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I took it and stared at him in amazement as he calmly closed the door and hung his coat on my father's empty peg before he kissed me on the lips.</div><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>'Hello Lil'.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">And that was that, that was the beginning of a whole new chapter of my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I split up with Martin and became known as the school's bitch for two weeks, until everybody forgot, because I dumped him without a reason but I didn't care because every Thursday Adam would be at my door, with wine and a kiss.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We rarely bothered with Dinner any more, we just drank the wine and talked until he took pity on me and led me upstairs to my own bedroom.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>It went on for a very long time that routine.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>A very long time, well over a year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>God I loved him, and he loved me too, he told me so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I was in heaven for over a year, my own private heaven.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Adam was absolutely everything that I wanted.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>A friend, a father figure, and somebody who loved me and who I could love."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;">Hopefully you're intrigued...</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;">Merry Christmas for two days time.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;">Keep smiling,</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;">Sx</span></p><!--EndFragment--><div><br /></div>Sebastianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00323642691461936027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081171684484127167.post-60660657885412588622009-11-30T20:38:00.002+00:002009-11-30T20:42:45.642+00:00Seen one of these before?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY4q3wVAAdFL7pSqzleycR65UQXMFe6oOD3YC4tv7ePyjaFbuuD9PQjfrlTF8LUTxetEYHDH0I521hE6np7NeTwfUM8Cengsqq9yI2HaUt2fjLVMNu-GSp2wAgF1j9Ofx4Xke_fk44KwJs/s1600/nano_09_winner_120x240.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 120px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY4q3wVAAdFL7pSqzleycR65UQXMFe6oOD3YC4tv7ePyjaFbuuD9PQjfrlTF8LUTxetEYHDH0I521hE6np7NeTwfUM8Cengsqq9yI2HaUt2fjLVMNu-GSp2wAgF1j9Ofx4Xke_fk44KwJs/s320/nano_09_winner_120x240.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409999255544990834" border="0" /></a><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />Keep smiling,<br />SxSebastianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00323642691461936027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081171684484127167.post-78373798895024667642009-11-23T14:23:00.004+00:002009-11-23T14:26:25.729+00:00Philosophy<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal">I have a new favourite quote. My old favourite was from Plato's republic:<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">"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!"<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> My new favourite is from Nozick's <i>Knowledge and Skepticism:</i><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal">"If, as is likely, these explanations do not help, please use your own intuitive understanding of subjunctives 3 and 4."</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Keep smiling,</p><p class="MsoNormal">I am.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Sx</p> <!--EndFragment-->Sebastianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00323642691461936027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081171684484127167.post-13589638797046611842009-11-22T09:28:00.002+00:002009-11-22T09:31:51.338+00:00NaNoWriMo ExtractI said I'd put a bit up and I never did, this is a small extract from Chapter One.<div><br /></div><div>"‘Shit I’m sorry Lil’ he lied convincingly ‘I don’t know why I did that’</div><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">She bent down to collect her books before she answered.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">‘I do’ she send venomously, ‘it’s because you’re a disgusting fucking prick who couldn’t care about anything except yourself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I’m not going to fucking shag you, not today, not tomorrow, not fucking ever’<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Elliot started forwards<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">‘Oh come on Lil, it was an accident’<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">‘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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>By you or anybody else.’<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">People were starting to appear at the entrance of the corridor as Lily’s voice grew in volume and in pitch.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Elliot wished that he had shut her up quietly before.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">‘Chill Lil’ he tried to sound nonchalant in front of the growing crowd.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>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.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">‘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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>At the forefront was Mike Flanders, he was the centre mid field of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>the college football team and he’s always been the one that Elliot had taken to parties.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Mike liked a good party, they suited each other well Mike and Elliot, two perfectly coupled wingmen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>There had been jokes floating around about a bromance between them, they indulged this after they realised that girls seemed to like the idea.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Suffice to say, Mike was the other cool kid on campus.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">‘What was that about?’ he asked Elliot cautiously.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Elliot rolled hi lower lip into his mouth and bit down with his upper teeth.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">‘Lets walk’ he said, and they set off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Nobody else in the crowd even tried to follow them as they walked away from them.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It was obvious to all watching that something very serious was happening between them<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It wasn’t, Elliot was trying to make light of it all.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>‘I’m trying to sleep with her.’<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">‘Trying?’ Mike reply was sarcastic and amused, ‘good job there mate, she hates you.’<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">‘I know she does’ came Elliot’s lucid reply, ‘but that doesn’t mean that she won’t’<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">‘You know El’ said Mike, ‘it normally does.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Elliot didn’t say anything, he didn’t even look at Mike. ‘Anyway man, why would you want to?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Yeah she’s pretty fucking hot but she’s not going to be up for anything is she?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>She’s a total stuck up bitch!’<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">‘Yeah’ Elliot agreed, ‘but that’s sort of part of the attraction isn’t it? You know, the whole forbidden fruit thing’<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">‘El,’ Mike said, ‘there is no point in chasing after the forbidden fruit if you<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>know it’s just an apple, there are hundreds of apples out there, most of them are much nicer than…’<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">‘Mike,’ Elliot interrupted him, ‘I think you might be stretching this metaphor past breaking point.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Mike laughed and Elliot joined in with his cold smile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They turned the corner and stepped outside together then leaned back against the wall just inside of the No smoking zone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They both found their cigarettes and lit them before either said anything else.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">‘You’ll never do it mate.’<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">‘No?’ was Elliot’s quizzical reply.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">‘No’<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">‘You’re sure’<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">‘Yes,’ Mike was smiling back at him, ‘I think I know what’s coming next’<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">‘Want to bet on it?’ Mike’s grin widened<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">‘I was right. Why don’t you give me twenty quid now?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Elliot’s smile broadened to match Mike’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He took a drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke directly into Mike’s face."<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">I'm writing more, well, er, now actually.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Keep smiling.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Sx</p> <!--EndFragment-->Sebastianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00323642691461936027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081171684484127167.post-41127698382283652372009-11-19T13:15:00.001+00:002009-11-19T13:17:07.290+00:00A change is as good as a rest?You be the judge, a change from writing leads to the beginnings of a sketched self portrait.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9JsCoGR1ovPCbl9YXGVNfKb50pztM356dV2UXnT4cH63wmi4rgeB8Q5uvIgaOPk3yFBpR9y2fwWFa5FfNPw6YJ95boy5mYTuzz-AXKrJwa0lMm_91QOFSObxfVq2jd8YLsWQPjR29jF5B/s1600/DSCF9977.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9JsCoGR1ovPCbl9YXGVNfKb50pztM356dV2UXnT4cH63wmi4rgeB8Q5uvIgaOPk3yFBpR9y2fwWFa5FfNPw6YJ95boy5mYTuzz-AXKrJwa0lMm_91QOFSObxfVq2jd8YLsWQPjR29jF5B/s320/DSCF9977.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405802979572169714" border="0" /></a><br />Hmmm, I think I might go back to writing now...Sebastianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00323642691461936027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081171684484127167.post-1689631158550655222009-11-18T10:42:00.003+00:002009-11-18T10:50:40.711+00:00Ah, Hello...I would be writing more of my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">NaNoWriMo</span> story but unfortunately I've lost my notes... My room isn't even that untidy today! <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Grrr</span>, but yesterday I was sorting some university paperwork so it might have been tidied away. It'll be around here somewhere...<br /><br />*sighs hopefully*<br /><br />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, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">hmmm</span>, 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 <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">through</span> the post...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif7nEFkHfVBsVCsEO-6GHUhPQBeEj6zBKd8DEfa7O5VZFihQnJB_vtXJZPFyUmz3sCn3CadQOEa_IOpHZpOfAJVwM_a7oLOCTWsMdr839w5ug3YwJOX-OHED8pI6dR3n8t-Yiu2e3kFixy/s1600/Picture+1.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 242px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif7nEFkHfVBsVCsEO-6GHUhPQBeEj6zBKd8DEfa7O5VZFihQnJB_vtXJZPFyUmz3sCn3CadQOEa_IOpHZpOfAJVwM_a7oLOCTWsMdr839w5ug3YwJOX-OHED8pI6dR3n8t-Yiu2e3kFixy/s320/Picture+1.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405393160983789106" border="0" /></a><br />It's (if you can't tell) a poster for an <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">independent</span> film by Erik Beck, the man who brought the world Indy Mogul, which in turn bought me top <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Celtx</span> 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 <a href="http://fathersonrun.com/">website</a>. I'm going to l<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">ook</span> for my notes, then possibly writ something on Kant.... <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">hmmm</span>, decisions.<br /><br />Keep smiling,<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Sx</span>Sebastianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00323642691461936027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081171684484127167.post-41304205350037968102009-11-17T14:09:00.003+00:002009-11-17T14:25:48.323+00:00Hello 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. <div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">You should go sometime.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">You should take me with you.</div><div><br /></div><div>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!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>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 <a href="http://www.nanowrimo.org/eng/user/447549">here.</a> I'll get there, don't worry.</div><div><br /></div><div>On my way up to Aberdeen I was toying with a plot idea. What do you think:</div><div><br /></div><div>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.</div><div><br /></div><div>Any thoughts?</div><div><br /></div><div>Sx</div><div><br /></div></div>Sebastianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00323642691461936027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081171684484127167.post-44910510695062525852009-11-05T21:06:00.004+00:002009-11-05T21:18:35.250+00:00Ah 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.<div><br /></div><div>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.</div><div><br /></div><div>You keep smiling, I'll keep writing.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sx</div><div><br /></div><div>*UPDATE*</div><div>Twitter feed working again, watch THAT SPACE ------></div>Sebastianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00323642691461936027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081171684484127167.post-20975446085096412102009-11-05T11:53:00.000+00:002009-11-05T11:53:00.343+00:00Tools 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.<br /><br />As well as my bundles of paper, pencils and ink I can type. The words here are a bit of a giveaway...<br /><br />I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">normally</span> type my scripts up first time without drafting them on paper first. For this is use <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Celtx</span> 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. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Celtx</span> 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.<br /><br />I could (probably) honestly say that I would not have written my first <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">script</span> if it wasn't <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">for</span> that program, not sure I could have hacked hitting <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">the</span> 'tab' key in word to get the correct formatting <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">all</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">those</span> times!<br /><br />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 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Acer</span> Aspire One.<br /><br />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...<br /><br />How's everybody doing with National Novel Writing Month?<br /><br />Keep smiling,<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Sx</span>Sebastianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00323642691461936027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081171684484127167.post-56652254913251563122009-11-03T11:53:00.000+00:002009-11-03T11:53:00.385+00:00Short storyThis 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!<br /><br />"Practice.<br /><br />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.<br /> 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.<br /> He would be here soon.<br /> 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.<br /> Two minutes.<br /> 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.<br /> One minute.<br /> 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.<br /> 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.<br /> 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.<br /> 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.<br /> 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.<br /> 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.<br />'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.<br />'Mark' His voice was husky and dry.<br />'That's good Mark' I said, beginning to warm to my task 'What's your last name?'<br />He gulped<br />'Reynolds'<br />'OK Mark Reynolds, OK. Now Mark, can you guess why you're in here with me?'<br />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.<br />'I don't know!' he cried out pitifully, 'I don't...' his voice trailed off.<br />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.<br /> Snap out of it.<br /> I was loosing control of the situation.<br />'Mark' I snapped. He continued to weep. 'MARK!'<br />His eyes raised themselves once more to my face, the his jowls were bright red and stained with tears.<br />'Mark' I repeated once more 'tell me about your children'<br />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.<br />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.<br />'No'.<br />I brought the gun down hard onto his shoulder. He winced away.<br />'Please'<br />'Just tell me their names Mark, and you can go.'<br />I felt terrible, I was going to kill this man and before I did I was going to torture him emotionally. I steeled myself.<br />'Come on Mark, just a couple of names...'<br />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.<br /> He was begging.<br /> 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.<br />'Stop it!' I shouted at him, panicing.<br />'Please!' He retorted.<br />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.<br /> 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."<br /><br />NaNoWriMo going well thanks,<br />Keep smiling,<br />SxSebastianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00323642691461936027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081171684484127167.post-7252339920585085592009-11-01T11:53:00.000+00:002009-11-01T11:53:00.372+00:00NaNoWriMoNow 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.<div><br /></div><div>It should be fun.</div><div><br /></div><div>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.</div><div><br /></div><div>Wish me luck,</div><div>Keep smiling,</div><div>Sx</div>Sebastianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00323642691461936027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081171684484127167.post-86762985163814104472009-10-31T11:53:00.001+00:002009-10-31T11:53:00.379+00:00The book without a title.Here's an excerpt from the hand written story about Thomas. It's my first unplanned draft. Obviously I've typed it up for this...<div><br /></div><div>"The television was stolen a month ago but they still stayed staring at the blank space. It was no wonder why the television was stolen, it was the only thing in the room obviously worth stealing. It was also the only thing not covered in a years worth of dust and rubbish. The television was kept clean. The television was God, until now. I pulled the envelope from my pocket.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Laurence glanced over and grunted. He'd probably try and argue that it was a 'what's that?' but it was definitely a grunt. Laurence grunted a lot.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I played with the torn flap for a while, wondering if there was anyway I could repair it without being noticeable.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Notice how I didn't look inside? I bet that shocked you, but do I rally come across as the type of guy who opens somebody else's post? Not me!</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>But if it's already open I'll have a quick glance.</div><div>I Inverted the envelope.</div><div>Keys.</div><div>A set of keys. One keyring and four keys. Two of the keys were Yale, the looked like standard front door keys, they also looked completely identical. The third looked strangely like the key I used to have on my old bike lock, back when I still exercised. Key number four was the really odd one out.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>But then again I've never really conducted a study on different key types. My bad, really sorry and all that. It looked like a standard lever lock key but instead of just one edge it had three sets of teeth. That must have meant three independent internal levers. Three locks in one, very strange. Maybe if I sat and thought about it, dredged some distant memory I would have thought that I might have seen one of these a long time ago but I didn't.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I said 'what's that' Laurence asked, apparently for the second time. I jangled them at him.</div><div>'Just keys'</div><div>'Oh'</div><div>Disappointment, it wasn't anything he could eat, play or watch. I stood and headed for my room, leaving the boys to watch the grimy wall and hoping it would entertain them."</div><div><br /></div><div>That's pretty much a direct transcription of my handwritten scrawl.</div><div>Thanks for reading, </div><div>Keep smiling,</div><div>Sx</div>Sebastianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00323642691461936027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081171684484127167.post-83610379568556002322009-10-30T11:53:00.000+00:002009-10-30T11:53:00.629+00:00LinksI dare say that more links will be added as time goes on but for the minute there are only a few. The majority of them are in some way relevant to this blog's output. Others I just like.<br /><br />At college I made a freind whose name was Ali Somers. He's a, as he describes himself, 'Misanthrope, misotheist, poet and a biologist', he displays some of his work on his website, and I encourage you to take a look.<br /><br />There's a blog about a boat, this one's updated by my mother and is her take on the inland waterways. Or, as she describes it 'one womans obssession with big fore ends'.<br /><br />Celtx Homepage. Celtx is the program that I use for writing my screenplays/scripts. I was very impressed with this program as, not only is it free, but it's incredidibly simple, efficient and professional looking! I'm not being paid to say that... I really do recomend it!<br /><br />Indymogul. For film makers and film fans alike, this site is the home of backyard effect. But I took more heed of their 'four minute film school' episodes. They hav a very intuitive and impressive way of remaking Hollywood style effects and have a huge range of ideas designed to encourage writers and actors alike. Thank you, Eric Beck!<br /><br />Whenever the world is feeling too serious I like to take a jaunt over to the sarcasm society's blog for instant relief.<br /><br />Next month I'm taking part, as I've alrady said in National Novel Writing Month. This is another non-profit organisation dedicated to inspiring writers into making stories. Their numbers grow every year with people aiming to wite a complete short story in just one month.<br /><br />Of course there are numerous websites dedicated to hosting short stories but they're quite easy to find. Google is your friend....<br /><br />All the links to these pages are on your right. Read, enjoy and share!<br /><br />Keep smiling,<br />SxSebastianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00323642691461936027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081171684484127167.post-74003345659413056672009-10-29T11:53:00.000+00:002009-10-29T11:53:00.627+00:00Tools of the trade? Part OneThat title sounds a little pretentious but this is what I use the majority of the time that I'm writing fiction. Of course I own a word processor but I started writing in these little red books I picked up from WHSmiths and I rather like them It seems to keep what I write in them separate from anything I do for University or suchlike. It also frees me from wanting to hit the 'wordcount' button every six minutes and this in turn allows me to concentrate on the meaning of the words and not the number of them.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRQIv3EnyXx5bkP3ybhv6uAvvQDXf3QHLHmBWznKV-V37c2IFLAWRvHgQBQc4X47pwdhDXvTGp-__DyETnMMhzJXQNxmDU5_jxFfSpRPgN3owgxtaDolebj0mrNv7HUFR8fGPC70UArEhT/s1600-h/27102009151.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRQIv3EnyXx5bkP3ybhv6uAvvQDXf3QHLHmBWznKV-V37c2IFLAWRvHgQBQc4X47pwdhDXvTGp-__DyETnMMhzJXQNxmDU5_jxFfSpRPgN3owgxtaDolebj0mrNv7HUFR8fGPC70UArEhT/s320/27102009151.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397418521500315682" border="0" /></a><br />But I do, therefore, have to deal with my incredibly scruffy handwriting, hence the pen. It's a glass dip pen that works like a quill. It means that I have to write slowly or it really is eligible. Also I get a little extra thinking room when dipping the pen and waiting for the pages to dry before I can turn them! My mother bought me the pen in Lewes at the end of my first year of university (I'm a philosophy student at Birkbeck, London).<br /><br />The yellow writing paper is also different from the white stuff I use for my lecture notes. I'm very unorganised and this helps differentiate between them at a glance!<br /><br />Keep smiling,<br />SxSebastianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00323642691461936027noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081171684484127167.post-87217600147696093932009-10-28T11:53:00.000+00:002009-10-28T11:54:03.621+00:00Current worksI guess it's a fairly common thing when a teenager says that they write stories, or maybe that's just my imagination. Whenever it snows I always imagine how many people are writing poems about purity and whatnot but anyhow... This is what I've got right now. I'll give a little more depth and detail in later posts, this is just a quick overview on what I'm writing now and my short term plans for the future.<br /><br />First off there's a story without a name. It follows a young man called Thomas who is sent, by a stranger, to deliver a set of keys to another stranger but soon finds himself out of his depth and has to work out just what he's been dragged into. I would give more information on this story but I'm afraid that as of yet I have no idea how it turns out! This story started as an exercise. At school, college and university teachers and lecturers insist that it's harder to write without a plan than with one, but I wondered where the story would take me if I simply drifted along with it.<br /><br />Next there's a script called 'The last of the Angels' and it's now in its fifth (I think) rewrite stage. As it stands it's approximately an hour and forty-five minutes long. It follows two Angelic beings, Alex and Thomas, on earth and the struggles they face when one turns human and the other realises hat he's in love with his, now mortal, best friend.<br /><br />A selection of short stories that I'm writing as a Christmas present for a friend are taking up the majority of my spare time at the minute, the finished works so far include 'Winnie-the-Pooh and the tall tree', ''Death in Colin's bookshop' and 'Louis' back story'. More on each of those later.<br /><br />I have a plotline worked out for a teenager called Liam and a mystery female friend. She is the only person he remembers after a, rather horrific, car crash. But he doesn't know how he knows her. In his efforts to discover who she is he also finds out that he's not always the person that his friends think he is (namely a 'hard bastard') but has a softer side too. As I said, I know the plot of this, but haven't yet decided whether to write it as prose or in a screenplay. I might try and write both simultaneously for a challenge and see where I end up!<br /><br />And finally a story that I cannot start to write for another four days... I'm joining in with <a href="http://www.nanowrimo.org/">National Novel Writing Month</a> this year. My contribution will be a story called 'Elliot and Lilly'. But I'll keep you updated on this project as it gets Written.<br /><br />Keep smiling,<br />SxSebastianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00323642691461936027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081171684484127167.post-6796531583655435492009-10-27T20:27:00.000+00:002009-10-27T20:44:10.485+00:00This blog has a purpose again.I welcome myself back to the internet without much aplomb or hope but nonetheless let's see what it makes of me, and I of it.<div><br /></div><div>This blog was, once, a new home from my old blog. Both were fairly pointless and this died a rather sudden death. 'Fell stillborn from the press'? Maybe. Anyway, this blog is hopefully going to be reincarnated. I should still be filling it with useless twaddle that I accumulate but also these posts will become the homes to my writings... I like to write. Maybe you already knew this. I have several projects underway and this blog is an effort to keep me motivated in these works. This plan works in theory, but will only work in practice if people read this blog and expect me to write things, and me being to embarrassed to say I've not written anything!</div><div><br /></div><div>I haven't felt like quitting yet but if I ever do, hopefully this will stand to show me what I've already done, what to improve on and to give me hope and ambition. But hopefully not too much ambition.</div><div><br /></div><div>This is today's post. I doubt if this sentence is being read but if it is, then please come back tomorrow. I'll do another post then.</div><div><br /></div><div>Thank you!</div><div>Sx</div>Sebastianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00323642691461936027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081171684484127167.post-89192330589521119492008-02-09T18:35:00.000+00:002008-02-09T19:09:41.709+00:00A shag down at the quayHe blogs again after about a month.<div><br /></div><div>I live in Newhaven, that's a town on the coast with a bad reputation. But it really isn't as terrible as people like to make out! Today's post has something to do with it, but also to do with people's political correctness, which is rather amusing. Let me tell you a story...</div><div><br /></div><div>A few years ago my mum was on the town council and during her time there the first of the houses built along the west quay were, er, built. This was all well and good but then the difficult part came, what on earth should it be called? An inspired council worker suggested the name "Cormorant Quay" after the birds that sit there.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDP7ny1LbWCSbC9qoHxo7sV5ZBNDt4BoC1UVYTQM50gmBPUqiFAZ013YdjVN5qMjS-2Z990K8XEOT5ZhCNpubW44QuodI1X6vAimGzJ5qCPLsr4t9KvdRkE4bjTZX9uI1oZwN9gcoam04p/s1600-h/Picture+1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDP7ny1LbWCSbC9qoHxo7sV5ZBNDt4BoC1UVYTQM50gmBPUqiFAZ013YdjVN5qMjS-2Z990K8XEOT5ZhCNpubW44QuodI1X6vAimGzJ5qCPLsr4t9KvdRkE4bjTZX9uI1oZwN9gcoam04p/s320/Picture+1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5165059399019364754" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Then a great man (the resident naturalist) named David Harris pointed out that the birds in question were not cormorants, but black shags, and thus it would be wrong to name the buildings after them. My mum's suggestion of "Black Shag Buildings" wasn't accepted and we are left with the safe, but uninspiring name of "Christchurch Court".</div><div><br /></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv35dNLYicqK9IvpLY6NsX8h5lsVPzu8vCSAy5r8885oitGFMjfOWyXdY_EcHR2CrH5pRXm8LsPVPDcelTqnuOvLlzJEtNZWmjSv0wnju8AJMsIQXoZgufuOxy5-QWq0PLThaOe7EiTKMN/s1600-h/DSCF0606.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv35dNLYicqK9IvpLY6NsX8h5lsVPzu8vCSAy5r8885oitGFMjfOWyXdY_EcHR2CrH5pRXm8LsPVPDcelTqnuOvLlzJEtNZWmjSv0wnju8AJMsIQXoZgufuOxy5-QWq0PLThaOe7EiTKMN/s320/DSCF0606.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5165059394724397442" /></a><br /><br /><div>It doesn't even sound rude unless, I concede, you're about 8. It's a pity, at least with her suggestion you knew what you were getting, there isn't a church down on the quay, but I think that many people would have bought a house there to watch a black shag by the river.</div><div><br /></div><div>Love,</div><div>Sx</div>Sebastianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00323642691461936027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5081171684484127167.post-62792442014072089002008-01-14T18:22:00.001+00:002008-01-14T18:45:56.960+00:00Hello,Hope everyone's new year (2008) has got off to a great start. As per normal all of my resolutions are not so much resolutions but vague ideas that will probably get forgotten any time soon.<div> </div><div>Sam Collard: my dear actor friend, as he is affectionately known (by me), turned 18 on Saturday, his formal masquerade party went down well with his parents as waiters and mixers, plenty of masks and some helium....</div><div><br /><div> </div></div><div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjttB4b0RQXnGAGdTFCB6HfSXWdweR9390UcU_ri-xwHWlpmKi6tbcMfJHusxEq3oXTIB6uyrzhzBF181Olm7agJ1UECCvt-Ux0bkzRTpwTeTDqSpCUdCOLjrio6PiyoXH-t5q3_dRROzNK/s1600-h/DSCF0418.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjttB4b0RQXnGAGdTFCB6HfSXWdweR9390UcU_ri-xwHWlpmKi6tbcMfJHusxEq3oXTIB6uyrzhzBF181Olm7agJ1UECCvt-Ux0bkzRTpwTeTDqSpCUdCOLjrio6PiyoXH-t5q3_dRROzNK/s320/DSCF0418.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5155404309642828738" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>That's him (in the mask) and his charming girlfriend Sarah. Hello there!</div><div><br /></div><div>one more thing....</div><div>It's Fry and Laurie, and they're Kicking ass!</div><div><br /><object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/6riY-103vbc&rel=1"><param name="wmode" value="transparent"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/6riY-103vbc&rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object></div><div><br /></div><div>Sleep well,</div><div>Sx</div><div><br /><br /></div><div><br /></div>Sebastianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00323642691461936027noreply@blogger.com0