What to do with my novel now?

So, I've written a novel. I have finally pulled my finger out and written a novel. I always said I would but I was never convinced that I'd actually get off my arse and do it - I am notoriously lazy.

But I did it, I wrote a damn novel. The question now is what to do with it.

Am I going to let anyone read it in its current form - belched out in a month, clumsy plotting, too many adjectives, adverbs, lapses in tense and so on and so forth? Something that concerns me is that the novel turned out much more autobiographical than I originally intended. It is, after all, easier to describe a relationship you once had than to filter your experiences and distill it into a fictional scenario, especially when time is of the essence. This is a double-edged sword: on the one hand, the novel might reveal a little more about myself to the friends I allow to read it than I am comfortable with; on the other hand, my best writing has always been the stories with strong autobiographical elements. That's not to say my novel is full of signposts - "This bit really happened! This bit is made up!" - but even so, I have written about difficult experiences that I'm not sure I want people to know in such detail. They wouldn't know which bits are real and which are made up but, still, people might start looking at me in that slightly nervous way people regard the mentally infirm.

Also, the central (and admittedly bizarre) plot device didn't really work too well but I had a bit of a brain wave when in bed on Monday night. I've had this idea knocking around my cranium for a long time but never thought of a way to utilise it in a story. It suddenly occurred to me that it would work well with the material in my NaNo novel. This would mean a complete overhaul of the entire plot so however it ends up, it will be substantially different from the first draft I have now.

So, I'm definitely going to do something with it but it can wait until the new year. I have tunes to write in December for the next issue of Mad Hatters. After a month of furiously writing prose, knocking some noise out will be a welcome relief.

Hmm, Writing Prose vs. Composing Music: that's an entire blog post in itself for another day.

NaNo: Reflections

OK, I sounded a bit bummed when I posted earlier. I guess that after the initial excitement of crossing the 50K threshold, I calmed down and it felt like a bit of an anti-climax.

But now I have reflected on the whole experience for a few hours more, I am dead chuffed I did it and proud of my achievement.

What a crazy thing to do: write a novel in a month. What kind of fruitloop attempts such a thing?

I am a novelist

Check it out: 50,327 words. I did it. I wrote a 50,000 word novel in a month. Actually, that is a lie: I wrote a 50,327 word novel in 23 days due to completely failing to write anything until the first weekend of November.

So... uh... there we are.

I should count myself fortunate that the workload at my current temp job was a bit slack so I was able to churn out about 1,000 words during the day. They are giving me more work to do next week so it is lucky that I have finished tonight.

So, how does it feel to complete the challenge? It feels good. It has been an hour or so since I wrote my final word and the initial buzz has faded a bit now. But, yeah, I've written a novel... in a stupidly short space of time. At least I now know I can write a novel. I am also spared the disappointment of quitting after reaching 25,000 words like I did last year.

If this all sounds a bit vague then what can I tell you? Like most things in life, the anticipation of the conclusion is more exciting, exhilarating and satisfying than the conclusion itself. I'm happy that I won the challenge and relieved it is over but, you know, what next? Life goes on.

But is the novel any good? It's not bad, I think; a bit of a mess but what do you expect from a first draft written in 23 days? The ending is rather weak. This is funny because it was the idea of this final scene that drove me to write the story I wrote in the first place. In the event, the ending just limps along in the wake of some stronger stuff that precedes it, stuff I didn't plan in advance but just made up as I went along. Oh, the irony. Never mind: that's something I can worry about when I revise the thing.

I'll tell you what, though: I am so glad to have a free evening ahead of me. I don't have to sit down and write for a couple of hours. I can bum around and do nothing.

Now, if you will excuse me, I'm going to drink a beer and watch some crap TV.

Easter eggs

Aren't DVDs great? The superior picture and sound quality over old VHS video and all those lovely special features. "Added value", in business parlance. And then there are those curious hidden features, the "easter eggs" - sometimes they are rubbish but some are really fun (whatever you may think of Star Wars Episode III: Revenge Of The Sith, even the most adamant critic would chuckle at Yoda... ah, I won't spoil it for you if you haven't found it yet).

Not something you see very often on websites, though, is it? Which is why I've installed some "easter eggs" around steve-kane.co.uk.

A quick scan of my site stats shows that none of you, as yet, have found one.

Never mind: you'll just have to keep an eye out for them.

NaNo Update: The final push

If the daily target to write 50,000 words in thirty days is 1,667 words a day then I should by now have written 43,342.

My actual word count is now 43,360.

For the first time during the challenge I am ever so slightly ahead of where I should be and the night is still young. I should easily crack 45,000 words by the time I go to bed and will probably (hopefully) exceed that. That will leave me a mere 5,000 words to go. I am hoping to finish by close of play on Sunday night, three full days before the deadline.

I was a little concerned earlier because, as I mentioned in another post, I skipped forward to write passages that would appear later in the book. However, as the plot of the novel has subtley deviated from my original outline, I was concerned that those passages I wrote may no longer fit into the story and would have to be considerably rewritten or dumped entirely. That would be 4,000 words down the crapper. Fortunately, it didn't take a great deal of work to amend them. In fact, I was able to extend those stray passages quite a bit by incorporating new information that I improvised earlier. So, it's all good.

Oh yes, I'm gonna' make it. Can't stop: I have a novel to finish.

NaNo update: 25K

Halfway. I'm halfway to 50,000 words. I'm still behind where I should be by about 6,600 words but I am catching up. Also, I gave up last year at around 25K due to no-income induced panic. But this year, even though my fiscal/career situation leaves a lot to be desired, I'm eager to carry on writing and succeed at... er... writing a crap novel in a stupidly short space of time. Hey, if I achieve that goal I get a little electronic certificate thingie. That's gotta' be worth it.

Plot-wise, it's all gone a bit strange in the sense that nothing strange has happened for about 10,000 words. I've been filling out some of the protagonist back-story, y'see, banging on about a wonderful relationship he had that went all pear-shaped. Oh, I did take a brief break from my hero's love-life to skip ahead to a juicy violent bit 'cause I was getting bored.

But now I've got some of the character's history out of the way I think it's time to push forward with the nasty weird bits of the story. Don't you?

Dead beats

As reported by The Guardian, the Co-op has just published its second major survey of the music chosen at British funerals. Although many people still opt for traditional religious hymns or classical music, more and more people are opting for contemporary(ish) popular music.

The following list is the top ten secular pop tunes chosen for British funerals:

1. My Way, Frank Sinatra


2. Wind Beneath My Wings, Bette Midler


3. Angels, Robbie Williams


4. My Heart Will Go On, Celine Dion


5. Simply The Best, Tina Turner


6. I Will Always Love You, Whitney Houston


7. You’ll Never Walk Alone, Gerry and the Pacemakers


8. Over The Rainbow, Eva Cassidy


9. Time To Say Goodbye, Sarah Brightman


10. We’ll Meet Again, Dame Vera Lynn

What an horrific selection. If any of those were played at my funeral I'd die... or rather, I'd get myself resurrected for the sole purpose of dying again to express my disgust that such horrifcally sentimental music was being played at my funeral.

Okay, You'll Never Walk Alone is the only song on this list that doesn't make me gag but it is hardly a favourite.

So, morbid question of the day: what music would I have played at my funeral? One option would be Satan by Orbital (live version circa 1999 or 2004), not for any ironic or anti-religious reasons (that's just an added bonus) but simply because it is my favourite song and I wish I had written it. And it's energtic and upbeat... in a scary, gnarly, angry kind of way.

If I were to pick something of a more melancholy tone then maybe some Pink Floyd - Wish You Were Here, probably (again, no irony intended). Or maybe some of my own music. Would that be too narcissistic? Then again, if you can't be self-centered at your own funeral then when can you be? I'd rather people celebrate my life by hearing the works I produced rather than have some sappy bullshit eulogy. Who was Steve? Shut up and listen to this - this is who he was.

---

Oh yeah, NaNo novel still going even though I am behind on my word count. Despite having made a plot outline, I am getting a little lost. I am now writing fragments completely out of sequence; when I get bored with the current scene or just stuck with what to do with it, I skip to a more interesting scene. This is probably a real bad idea. When I have to make that final push at the end of the month to reach the 50K target, I'll only have the boring bits left to write.

Even though I fully intend to try and complete the challenge, I really don't know if I am cut out for writing novels. I have ideas but I don't have any particular stories I want to tell. Even if I did, I don't know if I have the skill to tell them.

10K!

Wey-hey! I've cracked the 10,000 word checkpoint! OK, so I should have 15,003 words by now but, hey, I'm into four zeros now and that is something.

Without giving too much plot away (because only a dumbarse would blog their entire plot for all the world to see and, if so inclined, filch) there has so far been one corpse, one car crash and one dream sequence involving a nasty and slighty surreal encounter with a paper shredder.

Gonna' be a fucking bestseller, I tell thee.

NaNo progress halted

No, not the writing of the novel. I refer to the absence of the nifty NaNoWriMo Progress Meter that once sat proudly on the right sidebar.

Unfortunately, the clever geezer who made the progress meter, Jeff Lee, was having severe bandwidth problems on account of his clever word counting gizmo proving so popular with NaNo challengers. His web hosting provider demanded more money and Jeff quite reasonably decided that, as he had provided the gizmo for free and was seeing no return from it, he would have to remove the progress meter and all the user accounts from his server rather than forking out for more bandwidth.

A great shame but perfectly understandable.

This does mean that any Guardian readers who read about my natty progress meter and come here to take a look are only going to see a rather less impressive bunch of big, grey, static numbers.

Sorry about that.

Sundry Monday Guff: Episode II

OK, so the NaNo progress meter is looking a tad more healthy. I'm still about 6,000 words adrift from where I should be but, fortunately, my last temp job finished on Friday and the agency didn't have anything for me starting this week so I have plenty of free time to catch up.

Uh... not so fortunate for my bank balance, though. Oh well, I guess I can do the whole penniless artist thing for a week. How terribly heroic, eh?

The basic conceit of my NaNo book conveniently facilitates a bilious outpouring of my current frustration and rage at life in general, so not only will it make no sense to anyone but me but it will also be an insufferable whinge... no, I mean 'a poignant tour de force and a voice for the disenfranchised'.

And finally... my good chum Suw has attempted to string together some disparate thoughts about Mirrormask into a vaguely coherrent review but failed abysmally. I only provide a link to her blog post to reciprocate her link to my profuondly insightful and superior review.

(Hi Suw!)

NaNoWriMo motivation

Day 3 and I've only written the first line of my NaNoWriMo novel. Eep. Even slipping one day behind puts you 1,667 words adrift of the target. And then one day becomes two and then three and - oh shit - 5,000 words behind.

But who's counting, eh? Who will notice if, despite your best intentions, you begin to question the wisdom in participating in such a challenge when you have so many other projects and problems to be dealing with?

Well, if you are dumb enough to blog about your intentions to take on such a challenge and stick a progress meter on your website for all to see, anyone who reads the culture blog on a national newspaper's website will notice, that's who.

I can't exactly pussy out now, can I? Talk about motivation. I'd better get on with it.

REVIEW: Mirrormask

During the Q&A session after Tuesday's London Film Festival screening of Mirrormask, Dave McKean mentioned that while he and writer Neil Gaiman were holed up at Lisa Henson's London home thrashing out ideas for the film (and, for the first time in their longstanding partnership, having a bit of a bust up), Terry Gilliam popped round and took them out for a drink. This association is so apt as there is a comparable blurring of reality and fantasy in McKean's feature debut as director and Gilliam's work.

Mirrormask tells the story of Helena (Stephanie Leonidas), a 15 year-old girl frustrated by life in the circus, living her parents' dream. This frustration manifests itself during a hurtful argument with her mum, Joanna (Gina McKee). Most kids dream of running away to the circus, argues mum, but Helena wants to run away to real life. Helena then gets a big dose of real life when her mum collapses later that night, stricken by an unspecified growth or tumour. Helena is shipped off to her grandmother's dreary council flat in Brighton, passing time covering the walls with fantastical drawings and visiting her mum in hospital while Dad (Rob Brydon) negotiates with bank managers to find the money to pay for his wife's life-saving operation while still keeping his dream, the circus, above water. "Dreams only take you so far," says one of the circus performers. "After that you need cash."

It is against this troubling backdrop that Helena stumbles into a surreal fantasy world one night, a world of two opposing lands - Light and Shadow - where unwanted books return to the library under their own volition, shoals of fish swim through the air, cats with human faces issue riddles and married giants orbit each other above the ground; a world where everybody wears a mask to show how they feel and Helena's naked face is considered weird and confusing by the inhabitants.

Helena befriends one such inhabitant named Valentine (Jason Barry) - "I'm an important man. I have a tower." - but is soon mistaken as the ersatz princess that ingratiated herself into the Queen Of Light's confidence but then stole a secret charm, the eponymous Mirrormask, sending the Queen (McKee again) into a deep sleep and disrupting the balance between Light and Shadow. Helena takes it upon herself to retrieve the mask, restore the balance between Light and Shadow and return to her own world.

On the face of it, Mirrormask is standard fairy tale stuff filled with familiar archetypes: the young child transported from her ordinary life into a world of fantastical creatures; the local inhabitant who befriends her but must make a choice between looking out for his own selfish needs or facing danger to protect his new friend; the opposing forces of good and evil personified by the Queens of Light and Shadow. But the film succeeds in transcending these stock elements for several reasons. Firstly, it would be impossible for any movie directed by Dave McKean to look anything less than astonishing. The fantasy worlds he shows us is one stuffed with beautifully weird creatures, buildings and textures. Once we step foot into the Lands of Light and Shadow every single frame is stuffed with wondrous computer generated creations. But compared to something like the Star Wars prequels, where the screen suffers from pristine CG overload, McKean's impressionistic, dreamlike imagery is mesmerising and draws you in to the story rather than bombarding the senses. Even the scenes set in the real world that bookend the film have a curious, otherworldly quality to them.

Then there is Gaiman's thoughtful, warm and witty script. As with his comics and fiction, Gaiman is very good at keeping even his most fantastical scenarios grounded by putting ordinary people into extraordinary situations. Once in the world of fantasy, Mirrormask could have so easily succumbed to the portentous, pseudo-Shakespearean gibberish that blights the Star Wars movies. However, Gaiman never lets this happen and the characters in Mirrormask react to all the strangeness surrounding them in very real, down to earth dialogue. This is aided by the superb cast. Stephanie Leonidas carries the film with great skill, portraying an initially stroppy teenager without appearing obnoxious, a concerned daughter fearful of her mother's illness without being overly sentimental and a curious observer in a strange land without resorting to manic, bug-eyed astonishment. McKee, Brydon and Barry offer equally strong support delivering believable and sympathetic performances. The scenes between Leonidas and Brydon as they anxiously await the outcome of Joanna's operation are particularly touching and understated rather than manipulative or sentimental.

In recent interviews to promote his film The Brothers Grimm, Terry Gilliam has been lamenting the current climate of fear with regards to parents wanting to shield their children from anything in the media they deem to be too frightening. This is a mistake, reasons Gilliam: fairy tales have a useful function because although they are traditionally dark and frightening they always have a happy ending and therefore teach children that there are dangers and demons out there in the world but they can be overcome. This is surely a better lesson to teach to the young rather than wrapping them in cotton wool and pretending that the world is just lovely. This kind of thinking can be seen at work in Mirrormask which has its fair share of frightening moments: the arachnid-like eyeballs on legs, the mysterious black gloop that consumes its victims or attaches itself to creatures' faces in order to possess them. Such images might be enough to compel younger viewers to watch through the gaps between their fingers but there is nothing in the film unsuitably graphic.

As I mentioned earlier, it is easy to see similarities between Mirrormask and Gilliam's films such as Time Bandits, The Adventures of Baron Munchausen and The Brothers Grimm - but where Gilliam's films are anarchic and messy (in a good way), McKean and Gaiman's film has a more measured, contemplative pace. Some reviews that have been knocking around the interweb have complained that, despite the spectacular visuals, the film's narrative is slow and tiresome. Other criticisms have been levelled at the plot saying that it simply doesn't make sense. It is true that anyone used to the Michael Bay school of frenetic editing and nausea-inducing handheld camera work may be on unfamiliar territory. Likewise, anyone who takes the Robert McKee/Syd Mead guidelines of screenplay structure as gospel will scoff at the dream logic of the film. But it is a mistake to judge this film by such dogmatic, inflexible criteria - that would be missing the point. As with Gaiman and McKean's graphic novel collaborations, Mirrormask sets its own rules. The story is perhaps an allegory, a visual manifestation of Helena's fears that she could lose her mother. The Queens of Light and Shadows could represent Helena's adolescent confusion over her love of her parents and her resentment about being trapped in their dream life with the circus. That there are many possible interpretations of what appears onscreen is not a weakness in the film's narrative but rather a reflection of the ambiguity of real life.

Mirrormask is a beautiful, layered film that can be enjoyed by both children and adults and deserves to be widely seen. And the last line of dialogue is perfect.