1327: Friday Night Ramblings

Blergh. End of another week and my brain has just pretty much switched off altogether, so you’ll forgive me if I indulge in little more than a stream of consciousness for the evening.

Today’s been another week that feels like it’s dragged a bit. Not sure why, really, because nothing especially out of the ordinary has happened — though that might, in itself, be the cause of the week dragging somewhat. Very little of note has happened, really, though I did my tax return earlier. Tax returns are shit. I am looking forward to not having to do them any more, though I will have to do one more next year to cover the last two months of payment from when I was self-employed. How irritating.

Anyway, you don’t want to hear about that. What do you want to hear about? Oh, you can’t respond. Never mind, then.

I was idly musing during a quiet moment earlier and had an interesting idea for what I might do for my not-NaNoWriMo month of creative writing this coming November. I’m actually quite pleased with the idea, but as with many of my ideas I find myself wondering if I’ll be able to spin it out into a complete story. We’ll see. I’m not going to share anything about it for now, but I might actually make a note of it. There are few things more frustrating for a creative type than having a really amazing idea (or at least an interesting idea) and then forgetting to make a note of it anywhere, so that by the time you actually have the time to do something about it, you’ve completely forgotten the cool thing you were going to do.

Fortunately, over the years I’ve discovered that I have a pretty good memory for fairly useless crap, including a host of half-finished stories — many of which I’ve been carrying around in my head since school. I really should actually make an effort and get some of them written; in fact, I have started writing some of them several times — one of them in particular — but often find myself getting a little hung up on the middle bit.

This may sound like a strange thing to get hung up on — surely the beginning and ending are more important? — but it’s something that tends to bug me. Often I know where characters are going to start and what the finale is going to be; the difficulty is in determining how they are going to get from one place to the other, because those two places are often very different from one another. Obviously. (Or perhaps not, I don’t know.)

Anyway, as you can probably tell, my mind is continually drifting at the moment so I think I’m going to call it a night for now. Andie and I are off to a wedding tomorrow so I almost certainly will be tired out by the evening, which means you can probably expect something similarly stimulating from tomorrow’s post, unless I remember to write something in the morning which is, let’s face it, based on previous experience, fairly unlikely. (I wish I would remember to write a bit earlier, though; it’s nice to be able to wind down for the evening and not have to worry about writing this… though at the same time writing this forms a nice “end point” to the day where I can collect my thoughts before going to sleep.)

Anyway. Yeah. Whatever. Have a good weekend. Good night.

#oneaday Day 683: Debrief

So, for the last 30 days I’ve been doing (almost) nothing but creative writing on here. What have we learned?

Firstly, I remembered that creative writing is fun. Not that I’d particularly forgotten that fact, but I’ve always enjoyed it, ever since a young age. It’s actually knuckling down and doing it that can be the stumbling block for many, though — which is, I guess, what projects like NaNoWriMo and what I was doing here are all about. Once you discipline yourself to do something, then you can do it, no problem — over the course of the last 30 days I’ve churned out over 30,000 words of creativity. Whether or not they’re any good is another matter, of course — but they’re there, and once they’re there, they can become a starting point to something else, even if that “something else” turns out to be something completely different, simply spurred on by what you’ve achieved previously.

Secondly, improvisatory storytelling is fun, although not necessarily the most practical way to write something coherent. As I said at the start of the whole exercise, I hadn’t planned anything out, created any characters, settings or overarching plot — I was making things up as I went along. This was probably evident from any number of plot holes that I’m sure are still in there, and points where I retroactively made something relevant, perhaps not in the way I’d originally intended. Why? Because when I originally wrote something, I’d had one thing in mind, only to come up with a Brilliant New Idea a couple of days later that made the original something either irrelevant or very difficult to fit in to things.

Thirdly, tenses are a bugger. I made a conscious decision once I introduced Evie’s narrative to distinguish the two narrators through their use of tense, but it was so easy to naturally shift to the wrong one throughout the course of one chapter. I’m pretty sure I spotted it every time it happened, but if there are a few examples of incorrect tenses, then I apologise.

Fourthly, I already knew this, but stream of consciousness is a fun way to explore characters. With stream of consciousness writing, you can create an interesting, compelling character and narrative without any other characters being present. The majority of Adam’s story was just him, for example, and Evie didn’t speak much until later. The characters’ internal monologues can provide interesting ways to explore the way they think and feel without having to have conversations with others to make things explicit.

I picked up on the whole “stream of consciousness” thing back at school when we read Jean Rhys’ Jane Eyre prequel Wide Sargasso Sea, a book which explores exactly what happened to Mrs Rochester before she became the scary woman in the attic. I can’t remember a huge amount about the book itself, but many things I’ve written since that time have taken the first person stream of consciousness approach, as it’s a style in which I enjoy writing. Other influential books from my past include the Adrian Mole series — diary-style writing is often pretty similar to stream of consciousness, after all, though there has to be something of a suspension of disbelief at times as few real diaries would include complete word-for-word transcriptions of conversations that had happened — and (don’t laugh) John Grisham’s The Rainmaker, which was the first book I ever read that wasn’t written in past tense.

On the whole, I’d say the experiment was a success. Tucked away in my Google Docs account right now is 14,455 words of another story I’m writing — and this one I have mostly planned out, or at least have some “key events” and characters in mind. One day I might actually get around to finishing it — and since I find myself with a bit of free time on my hands at the moment, I guess there’s no time like the present. As such, assuming no-one suddenly phones/emails me on Monday and hires me, I will start doing a bit of (non-blog) writing each day in lieu of having an actual job. Who knows? Something awesome might come of it. At the very least, a creative project which has been on my drawing board for about a bajillion years might finally come to fruition, which will be satisfying. And, frankly, given some of the dross out there which does make it to publication, I’m pretty sure I can do better. I mean, I know I’m not the perfect writer — no-one is, and to assume so is both arrogant and very, very stupid — but I like to think I’m pretty good, at the very least. And also, you only get better through practice, right?

The one thing I can say about the last year is that I’ve got a ton of experience writing. I mean, I know I did the year before too, what with contributing to sites like Kombo and GamesAreEvil as well as writing this nonsense every day, but this year it’s been my actual full-time job, and for the vast majority of that time I’ve had the privilege of working with some talented editors who know their craft and give good feedback. Too many outlets these days settle for getting things published as quickly as possible rather than taking their time over ensuring everything is as good as it can be. This year, I’ve picked up a bunch of little tips to ensure good-quality output. Even if I’ve had to spend the whole year professionally spelling words like “theorise” and “colour” incorrectly. (Love you, USA.)

So, where to from here? We’ll see. It’s a weekend coming up (it is, right? Losing one’s job causes one to immediately lose all sense of what day it is, in my experience.) so that will be spent attempting to relax and unwind after, frankly, what has been a particularly crappy week. Following that, on Monday, as I say, I’ll be setting aside some time to do some non-blog writing every day in lieu of actual work, and seeing how that develops. And from there, who knows?

On the job front, there are several irons in the fire at the moment, so hopefully something will come of (at least) one of them. Now I have a bunch of experience under my belt, hopefully I won’t find myself spending a year out of work again. Because that sucked a big pile of donkey dick. An actual pile of it. And I have no desire to return to that situation. So I won’t.

Hopefully, anyway.

Enough rambling from me. Have a pleasant weekend, all.

#oneaday, Day 277: Boobies

The title of this post was suggested to me as I was suffering slight writers’ block due to being in a room with a number of other people, some of whom are playing Modern Warfare 2, others of whom are listening to the Mortal Kombat soundtrack. Which, in itself, is pretty awesome, but isn’t exactly the most conducive environment for nurturing the best of one’s creativity. The post itself will not be about boobies. Unless I really can’t think of anything else to write about.

Mmm, boobies… Sorry, where was I?

So I thought I’d go a bit stream-of-consciousy for tonight. I haven’t done that for a while. This isn’t proper full-on freewriting, ’cause I’m not starting the timer and writing for a set number of minutes. But I am writing things as they come into my head. Which is nice. It also means that I might go off on something of a tangent as I – oh look, there’s a badger with a gun, do you see?

I am currently drinking grape soda, which I’m sure I have had before and liked but had forgotten quite how much it tasted like Calpol – the nice purple stuff you have when you’re a little kid, not the foul and disgusting pink stuff you get when you’re over the age of six (the imaginatively-named “Calpol Six-Plus”, fact fans). For those of you reading in American, Calpol was, for a long time (and possibly still) the generic “cure-all” medicine for children. I have no idea what was in it that made boo-boos go away, but for kids it is very much the equivalent of the fantasy RPG “cure-all potion” that restores hit points and, if it’s a fancy-pants version that costs more than 50 gold a time, sometimes cures status effects.

What was I saying? Nothing much at all, really. This is perhaps not my best work. But, you know, you work with what you’ve got. And I’m currently full of pizza and Calpol-flavoured fizzy stuff, surrounded by people I like very much indeed and so frankly, I’m more than happy with this post reflecting the pleasant feelings of “Ahh…” that I’m enjoying right at this moment. Regular followers of this blog since I started the whole #oneaday thing will know that it’s been quite a while since I’ve been able to really sit back, enjoy myself and make a contented-sounding noise like “Ahh…” so I’m damn well going to enjoy it.

I may be broke, unemployed and not exactly in the position I envisaged being in at this stage of my life. But, you know, for the moment? I can deal with it. Things could be worse – things have been worse – so I’m pleased to say that this could well be that downward spiral taking a turn for the better. If spirals can indeed take turns for the better.

You know what I mean. You reach rock bottom, you have to start climbing back out again sometime. So onwards and upwards it is, and thank you to those people who have made it possible. You know who you are.

Now there are games to play and Calpol to drink. Night night.

#oneaday, Day 100!

And there it is. With little fanfare, just after midnight on the day before my birthday, I hit the big 100. That’s one hundred days of continuous blogging. And, while some older entries have now been set to private for reasons I won’t go into, I have 100 posts all lined up one after the other showing me… well, nothing really. Nothing apart from the fact that I can keep up a commitment I set to myself to do something that I enjoy and is of at least marginal benefit to me.

Blogging is cathartic. At least to me. Some people focus their blogs on one particular narrow subject and make that specialist subject the only thing they talk about. I’ve toyed with that idea for some time – this being me we’re talking about, video games are a big part of that, but that’s not the only interesting thing that goes on in the world. In limiting myself to talking about one thing and one thing only, I’d be limiting my potential audience, even if the company I mostly keep online are largely video game enthusiasts themselves, too.

One thing I have enjoyed about writing these #oneaday posts is the opportunity to write something a bit different. Some days it’ll just be a personal comment, like today. Other days I’ll do a write-up on a particular issue. Other days I’ll post photos. Looking at the stats, though, it’s sometimes difficult to see patterns. The best day recently (with a mighty 90 views) was the day I responded to Roger Ebert’s “games will never be art” assertion (after midnight) and later that day (after actually sleeping) posted some pictures with the iPhone Hipstamatic app. The Ebert issue was a hot topic, so it’s unsurprising that saw a big spike. I had a similar pattern when I posted about Kevin Smith’s experience with SouthWest Air, another hot topic of discussion around the Internet.

So I guess if I’m chasing page views, hot topics are the way forward. Well, duh.

But I’m not going for page views, really. I mean, it’s always gratifying to know that people are reading what I’m writing (and even better, responding in the comments) but when I write these things, I’m doing it for me. Keeping it daily like this is like keeping a diary, something I’ve done several times in the past. I always used to greatly enjoy keeping a diary but always, without fail, ended up writing something so utterly mortifyingly embarrassing in it that I’d end up throwing the book out in case anyone ever saw it. I actually regret that now, as lame as the things I wrote were (usually involving chicks) as if there’s one thing I always enjoy doing, it’s reading back over past things I’ve written.

Over the last couple of days, I’ve been re-reading this blog from the beginning. It being a blog and not a novel, there’s obviously not a sense of structure. But there is a curious sense of narrative, whether it’s saying an open and heartfelt goodbye to the family pet, discussing my time with No-One Lives Forever (still a top search term to find this blog), exploring the stranger side of indie games or reviewing a local band. I remember these things happening, as small and inconsequential as they mostly are, because I wrote about them. We all have “big memories” of the life-shaping events that take place in our lives – good or bad. But the thing I’m truly appreciating about this whole exercise is that it gives me the opportunity to remember the little things, too, however little relevance they may hold to the “big picture”.

If you’ve read anything at all on this blog before, you’ve shared in some of those memories. They may not seem significant to you. Some of them don’t even seem significant to me. But thanks for letting me share all those things with you. I hope I’ve entertained, informed or at least given you something to do while you’re bored. I’ve certainly enjoyed writing them – at no point has it ever felt like a chore. Which is, as they say, a Good Thing.

It figures that on a big milestone day like this one, I go off onto a completely dumb stream of consciousness ramble. There are many more days ahead of this one, each holding new memories ready to commit to a post. I’m looking forward, wondering what will come next.

Here’s to the next 100. Good night.

One A Day, Day 48: Freewriting #2

[Here’s another in my occasional series of “Freewriting” articles, where I start the clock for ten minutes and write without stopping – or really thinking as I go along. As a result, the output produced is sometimes not of the finest quality, but it can offer some interesting insights into my own brain.]

Start the clock!

I’m in Costa Coffee. Does the place you’re in when you’re writing affect what you write about? Well, of course it does – the proof is right there. I said “I’m in Costa Coffee” and then started to write about being in Costa Coffee and whether or not that made any difference to what I write about. So yes, yes it does.

I’m having the same trouble as last time with this freewriting lark – being too well-trained means that any time I make a mistake, be it typo or clumsy word formation – I automatically backspace and correct it. It’s an automatic reflex action. I can’t help it. I actually can’t stop myself from doing it. I suppose in so far as bad habits go, there are worse ones to have than an anal attention to detail when it comes to spelling, punctuation and grammar.

I wonder how much I’ll write today? Last time I believe it was in the region of 800 words, which would be consistent with my semi-inhuman typing speed of 85wpm. Can you be semi-inhuman? I don’t know. I’m sure that inhuman things might have more difficulty typing, though, unless they’re intimately familiar with the English language.

One of the toilets here at the coffee shop is closed. The barista has just asked for a “wet floor” sign. One can only imagine the terrors that have undoubtedly been unleashed in the lavatories here. To quote Simon Pegg from Black Books, “One of our valued customers had blocked one of the toilets with Monster Munch! How can we, as a team, get that sorted out?”

Not sure why that popped into my head. I think it’s the sight of a smug Simon Pegg handing a bucket and rubber gloves to a bemused-looking Bill Bailey that is the thing that stayed with me from that episode. Black Books is excellent, incidentally, if you’ve never seen it. It’s completely off-the-wall batshit crazy (and Americans don’t seem to get it, or at least my American sister-in-law didn’t quite seem to get it) but I find it completely hilarious. It’s a very different kind of humour to something like Spaced – absolutely my favourite TV show of all time – but it’s still great, and it introduced me to Dylan Moran, whom I’m constantly confusing with Chris O’Dowd from The IT Crowd. I can’t help it – angry Irish man with curly, wayward hair? Roy from the IT Crowd and Bernard Black have a fair bit in common.

I pressed Shift five times while I was thinking (and typing) there, and Windows decided to do that helpful popup about “StickyKeys”. It’s ironic, really, isn’t it, that the so-called “Accessibility” features of nearly every operating system I’ve used are actually inconvenient to the people who don’t need them. I guess that’s not so strange really.

Three and a half minutes to go, and I haven’t touched my coffee yet. I can’t really touch it while I’m typing though, can I? Not unless I did a very undignified “bend forward and slurp it” sort of manoevre (or however the fuck you spell it – it’s one word I always forget) – but I’ve decided against doing that. Besides, it’s probably too hot anyway.

Hot coffee. Wasn’t there a story a few weeks back about some chav in this country spilling tea over their crotch from McDonalds and attempting to sue, much like the case from America a few years back? Why would you bother to do that? Actually, I know the answer – to get some “free” money. I wouldn’t sue someone if I’d poured hot tea over my balls having been holding the cup between my thighs (as this person had) – I’d be screaming in agony, probably, and refusing to do anything useful for a few weeks, but there’s no way I’d think it was the fault of the person who sold me the damn tea. If they didn’t throw it in my face, it’s my fault for anything that happens once I’ve taken hold of that cup.

Under a minute to go. I wonder if I’ll finish a sentence, or indeed a paragraph in time? I’m up to 734 words… No, 742. WordPress’ word count doesn’t update immediately, so that figure may be off. But still, that’s not bad work for ten minutes non-stop typing, is it? Ten seconds to go. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Bye bye!

One A Day, Day 33: Freewriting #1

[As promised, here is an example of freewriting. I’ve given myself ten minutes to just write… or type in this case… and see what comes out. It could be anything – fact, fiction, prose, poetry (unlikely), nonsensical… err… sensical? Let’s see what happens. My time starts… NOW.]

It’s warm in here. A little too warm if I’m honest, but at least it’s nice and quiet. It’s good to have peace and quiet while you’re writing. I’m in my wife’s office, away from my usual blogging spot of in the lounge, because she’s watching the “live” episode of Eastenders that is on the TV at the moment. This despite never ever watching Eastenders when it is on TV in its normal form.

Eastenders is a depressing programme and I’ve never found myself wanting to watch it. I rarely get interested in soap operas at all, though I did find myself drawn to Neighbours a little bit during my time at university, though this was more out of interest in running jokes regarding Harold Bishop more than anything else. Harold Bishop even found his way into “The Adventures of Dave Thunder”, an RPG Maker 2000 project which I worked on off and on and which is now sadly lost to the mists of time and the failed hard drive on my old Sony Vaio desktop computer.

I can never type “Vaio” without first typing “Vaoi”. I don’t know why. It’s not as if “Vaoi” is any more a word than “Vaio” is. Stupid really. I should also stop going back and correcting the mistakes I make on here, which is perhaps missing the point of freewriting slightly, but by now it’s an automatic response. Anyone watching me write things is always surprised to see quite how quickly I type and how quickly and automatically I can go back and correct things.

Having nimble fingers is probably a result of two things – being able to play the piano and years of typing things in, both for pleasure and from copying things out of magazines. The old Atari 8-bit magazines used to have “type-in” listings in them which, when typed in and saved onto a diskette or cassette tape, allowed you to play the games which the authors had come up with for that issue. There were several authors of these games who were rather prolific, with one in particular sticking in my mind being Bill Halsall. I even went to the effort of putting all Mr Halsall’s games on one 5.25″ floppy disk and writing my own menu system for the disk. Yes, I was a supergeek even at that age.

Went out for a cup of coffee with a very good friend (and ex-workmate) earlier. It was a nice experience. We sat, we exchanged stories and ranted about the things that were pissing us off. There are a lot of things pissing us both off, and it’s always good to share those things with someone else. Neither one of us would want to be in the other’s position, I don’t think, but it’s always “nice” to share your pain with someone else. Perhaps “nice” isn’t the right word, but it’s – I don’t know. Cathartic? Is that the right word? Perhaps.

I haven’t stopped typing yet. This is good going. It’s 5:51 into my ten minutes. I wonder what other things will pop into my mind. I’m literally emptying my thoughts out onto the paper. Page. Web. Whatever. I’m literally emptying my thoughts out onto… this blog entry. Right. And I’m clearly stalling for time while I think of something else to talk about. I shouldn’t think. I should just write. What to write next. What next? Hmmm.

Let’s talk about the sound of my fingers typing on the keyboard. When slow typists type, you can hear each key being pressed – click, click, click. When a skilled (or at least fast) typist types, the individual click click clicks take on their own almost musical rhythm, the high-pitched clickity-clickity-click punctuated by the heavier thump of the thumbs on the spacebar. In fact, that’s one memory I have of home – I can always tell when my Dad is typing because the old keyboard he has attached to his computer (or had attached… I’m not sure if he still does) was one of those keyboards that clattered to a ridiculous degree while you were typing, and the thump of the spacebar would reverberate around the whole house, with shockwaves going down through the desk, through the floor.

Perhaps that’s an exaggeration, but it’s a vivid memory. I find the sound of typing quite relaxing. It’s the sound of creativity. Sometimes. You hear the sound of typing in boring offices as well as amongst writers, and unfortunately boring offices tend not to be the places for creativity. I temped in a boring office for a while – a “loss adjusters” (a profession whose purpose still escapes me) and I had to type up the very boring men and women’s dictation on the subject of subsidence. That’s when your house is sinking into the ground and is supposedly the fault of a tree or something. Very dull.

I have ten seconds left, so with that, I think it’s time to sign off. Good night!