6 November 2007

Another day another duller . . . :o)
So, I'm back - the cough is going - just
But the universe is on some kind of major arse-kicking exercise
EzBird's dad (EzWouldBeFatherInLawIfWeWereMarried) is in hospital, and he is very poorly
Not only is he in hospital, but he's in Kettering General Hospital which has the dubious reputation of being the worst hospital in the UK for MRSA
Forget your killer wards that made the headlines - that bugger (!) was only fourth worst in the country
Oh,no. No, he has to be blue lighted straight to the top.
Poor bastard, well here's hoping he makes a full recovery, eh?
Soggy heart apparently . . . medical term, I don't think
Love the dumbing down
All that was missing was for the nurse to put her face close to mine and in a very loud voice shout
"HE'S VERY POORLY"
Top quality prognosis from the NHS there. Spot on. It's what I pay my taxes for and no mistake.
And the place is filthy. Why can't they put some bloody air freshener out?
Who wants to smell of piss and shit without the knowledge that it was a good night on the town first, eh? Exactly

So, as this blog is about my novel and the progress to date I shall share that with you;
Currently the month of October was a complete waste of fucking time
I reckon I must have typed, oooooo at least four words of my own
The rest I nicked from Helen and her lovely assessment of my draft manuscript
Well, I say draft, but the truth is, I thought the fucker was finished . . .
Just goes to show you, and I did believe it myself at first, that I have a loooooong way to go.
Trouble is, the bank balance . . . well, let's just say that it will be strained to get past chrimbo at this rate
So, maybe I should concentrate on the book then?
Is that what you are saying?
Get off your fat arse and get some work done? I agree
Except the fat arse bit, which I thought was a tad harsh
I am losing weight y'know.
Mostly on account that if I don't eat, I don't spend any money which means I get to stay off work a bit longer - woohoo!

Anyhoo . . . So I have looked at more of those books EzBird bought me for me birthday
This section is entitled;
Write the book you want to write
Eh? What the hell did they think I was bloody writing?
Ahhhh: Find your voice it says
La la la la la laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
Not that voice obviously, but your voice
Y'know, it just doesn't come across well on paper does it?
This sub section of “write the book blah blah blah blah” is about the fact that you will have a style that you are completely comfortable with
And that is this one for me - the stand-up comedian as a sit-down piss-taking knob stylee
Works for me - I slip so easily into this style that it's scary

So, another edit.
This time we're away with a first person perspective
I have changed the book drastically just by changing the style
Now, you know who the narrator is; It's Sariro
Not only that but I decided he would be talking to you. No, not you, you. The guy behind you. Of course you! Who else is he going to talk to? Jeez.
Its as if he has found our world and taken up residence
This helps with one of the criticisms that I got from the first reviewer;
the use of modern language (including swearing . . . oooops)
So now, Sariro is in our modern day, in our world he can not only use our language but he can also compare his birth realm with our world
I loved this idea so much that (at the beginning of November) I began what must be the 8th edit
I have taken the (wise) choice to copy the whole manuscript and start almost from scratch
Not the typing you understand, my god I couldn't be arsed to type that bloody lot again, no - I cut and paste into a new doc
Colour it red so I know where my new stuff is and bingo! one new novel
It will still retain the title; "Paradise Falls"
But, now I get to add a whatsit thingy; sub-title:
"An autobiography of the greatest mage that ever lived"
And "By Sariro, toast written by " blah blah blah
I have yet to settle on which name I am going to use;
I could be Sheldon Wortley, Sheldon Xavier Wortley, S X Wortley (Too JK Rowling, though eh?) or just Xavier
What do you think?
The "toast" bit would be explained in the epilogue that if I (the "ghost" writer) got it wrong I'd be toast (very Eoin Colfer)
Talking of author comparisons, part of selling meself to an agent or publisher will include a "How would you describe yourself" section
Hell, that's going to be tricky
'd like to think I was as funny as Terry Pratchett,
As famous as J K Rowling
And as well read as The Bible
Knowing my luck I'll just probably be as funny as The Bible . . .

So where was I?
Oh yes, my voice and the change to first person, past tense, piss taking knob
So that's going quite well really
And, once again, I'm actually loving it
Loving the writing, laughing at my own humour - then removing the excessive use of the word "fucking" which seems to be the most popular word in my current dictionary
Have to take it out otherwise I can't sell me book to the yoof's
When will the establishment ever catch up with the real world?
I learnt most of my bad language when I was in school up to the age of fourteen
Here's a tip for you; buy the book, give it to your teenage relative, wait for them to hand it back with the spelling corrected and the correct use of the vernacular scrawled in the margins
Then read it.
I tell you; it's going to be an eye opener.

So, in a fit of self conscious concern
I thought I'd set up another blog
A poll (not a pole or even a Pole but a poll) and post up the different first chapters
Let you guys vote on how to start this book off?
I'll not be biased in any way but I can assure you that my way is best . . . !
:o)
Whilst on the subject of blogs - October's most productive procrastination was to improve the look and feel of this blog . . . a bit, oh and get that click through gubbins working. Hopefully.
You can earn thousands of dollars a month apparently . . .
So the blurb says
But only if you lot click through the adverts, oh and you tell all your mates to read this blog
And those numbers get up to . . . tens of thousands . . . ahem.
Could happen . . .
It all counts anyway - the more people read the blog and ultimately read the blogged chapters
The more of a saleable quantity I become
Simple
Yes, the more simple I become too . . .
And let's be honest, I really don't care if you like me or not, just so long as you buy my book . . .
Ha ha ha ha ha. Ahhhh. No, really, please. Buy the book.

Next update will be back to the storyline/plotline guff that helps you understand the process of writing oh and keep your eye out for the next set of blogs - the chapters themselves
Not all of them, obviously; but enough to whet your appetite and get you gagging to buy the book
This is not subliminal advertising here - buy the bloody book is not subtle
I don't do subtle

30 October 2007

Wow! What a month
Can't be arsed to write my book, can't be arsed to write my blog
Got my first set of feedback about the opening chapters;
In summary:
Fuck off - it's crap
I must admit, I was reading between the lines a touch there but hey, you get the drift
Major downer
Here am I supposed to be catching you up with how the novel goes and I can't even be bothered to do that
Hey ho. Such is life
I fell ill for a week - a cold and a so-cannot-be-bothered spirit-draining cough that still happens today. Bloody thing
The week in bed feeling miserable and sorry for myself was followed by a week of moping around the house feeling sorry for myself
I took another look at the recommendations from the first reader and just couldn't sort it out in my head
Make a plan, I said (because I do that - talk to myself . . . a lot. Well there's no point waiting for you lot to post a comment is there? Might as well talk to myself)
So a plan was formed; it involved, reprinting and reformatting the opening chapter, removing the two page description of Irsi (on account that we don't meet him for a good three or four chapters yet) describe Sariro and Kentse, drink beer, eat like a pig, mope, procrastinate, scratch my arse, play games on mousebreaker, set up a facebook account and then stalk everyone I knew to see what they are up to, more beer, half a bottle of vodka, more food and what was I doing with the book again?
Good plan
Pick and choose the options I want to undertake, ignore the options I should undertake
Have you ever heard the Americanism MoSCoW? (It stands for Must have, Should have, Could have and Wont have) well I have a new one for you;
ParIs - Pick what you want and Ignore the rest

Just got an email from an old friend that has read the blog - he has decided to use my new language to name a buddy of ours Seyuenti. Work it out . . . it's very funny
Now if he could just learn to post a fucking comment, maybe I won't feel so pigging lonely . . .
:o(
Oh, and he's only complaining that the blog is too long. Too long?! Once I get started I can't stop - but that's the problem; once I get started. It's the getting started bit that's tricky!

Anyhoo, where was I? Oh yeah, being a right misery and bumming everyone out
So, that would explain the last twenty empty days.

And now, I'm back!
I got a second review of my manuscript from a published author who described it more as an unpolished diamond (she describes all manuscripts that way but fuck it straw clutching is a forte of mine) and more than that she said I had the makings of an excellent book
Woohoo!!!
She concurred with the first review however, in that there was very little description of Kentse and Sariro. She also pointed out that the chapters were too long . . . ! Apparently 6000+ words bores the tits off you lot
Ok, so I ramble, I get it. Enough already.
There were a whole bunch of other suggestions which, if I’m going to be brutally honest I plagiarised immediately - not enough to name her co-author but nearly . . .
So I'm procrastinating again; the blog instead of the income generating novel. See what I mean
Thank heaven I am not alone - do you know how many people out there are writing?
1 in 10 is a conservative figure.
1 in 10!! That's fucking huge! 61million people in the UK - that makes it 6million budding authors
6 million! Holy Shit! But. And it is a J-Lo. How many are doing it in their spare time, coming home after work and sitting down; wang out a couple of hundred words a night then off to the telly for a rest? I'd say, probably about 5.99 million. Phew! That's better.
So I'm only competing with . . . um . . . 10,000 unknown writers. Ah. Ok. 10,000. Shit.
But another interesting factette; there is a thing called a slush pile; this is the unsolicited manuscripts sent to agents and publishers and that sits at about a million.
A million manuscripts in the UK alone
All sent "out of the blue" as it were
Ok, so if we do some more quick calculations - I reckon that there will easily be an average of at least 20 copies of each one in different agency piles
That brings the figure down to 50,000 manuscripts from 10,000 aspiring writers
5 -1 - interesting. Every one chucks out 5 different manuscripts - none of which are any good (otherwise they wouldn't be on the slush pile would they . . . ? Bear with me on this)
After a whole night juggling the numbers and a 20Meg spreadsheet of calculations and formulas I finally decide that there is just me and a bloke called Tarquin vying for the next advance
Woohoo!
I tell you, alcohol may well have its detractors and side-effects but you can't deny it has it's good points too!

So where am I? Oh yeah - I have cut out some length (chuckle) and tweaked some bits (snigger) and I'm ready to throw the old chapter back over the fence and see what happens
All in the space of a day
Do you think I should spend a tad longer working on it . . . ?
Yeah, me too
One other thing my mentoress (?) offered was a professional, independent copy editor
Holy shit! Do you know how expensive that is?!
It looks innocuous enough - £4 - £6 per 1,000 words until you multiply it up by the 100,000 fucking words in my bloody novel
That’s four grand! At the cheap rate! Four grand! Fucking hell. Oh wait . . . no it isn't . . . it's four hundred quid
Phew! Nearly gave myself a coronary there. Stupid sodding spreadsheets.
Well, four hundred quid is still a tad rich for me but hey, if it's worth it, it's worth it!
And think of the help I'll get from it
Now, how the fuck do I sell this idea to EzBird . . . :o(

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10 October 2007

Ok, today's entry is about the language I use
As I have mentioned in previous posts, I like the following ideas;
TLA's spelt out (Yuessohay) and I've extended this - more later
George Bernard Shaw's fabulous fish; GHOTI
So now I have two languages and I use them in two different ways
Don't panic, if you get confused I'll, um, carry on regardless . . .
Let's face it, I really haven't got a bloody clue myself so you don't stand a hope

So let's start with the language of emohem
Mind Over Matter, remember?
Oh ffs, you are useless - look back
You don't have far; this is still a new blog ok?
Lazy buggers

Right so that's all well and good but how to divide up the words, as every word is now it's phonetic first letter, you would for example end with one word like this;
Tecuebeefjayohteelde
(The Quick Brown Fox Jumped Over The Lazy Dog)
Which is a gobfull and no mistake; soooooo
We need a rule to help and what better rule than the rule of three?
Every third letter is a new word
Tecuebe efjayoh teelde
Spanking! Now, the important thing to remember is that this is a magical language
So, where all other languages are interpretable, this one isn'
It just isn't
How do you know that the above three words don't mean;
Tiny Queen Beatrice Finaly Judged Olaf The Latvian Demon
You don't. And that means that it's a good language for the mysteries of emohem
Of course, the emohem expert needs to know, so with every use of the language the speaker/writer/whatever leaves a tiny blob of explanatory emohem - like a wax seal
Goddamn this is good.
Now what if our emohem is an expert?
Lets call him and emohemee
Ooooo, these are longer than three but not so long as to make sense;
An emohem ee
That just looks shite
So, lets use the fantasy writers most over used tool; the apostrophe
Now, we are taking the piss a bit really, 'coz let's face it, how many times do you see those wonderful names and foreign words (and we know their foreign 'coz they've got an apostrophe in 'em, geddit?) split to help us with our diction? All the time, no?
Here we go;
emohem'ee
Hmmmm, nearly but not quite;
How about em'ohemee?
Oh yes.
Ok, quick squiz down the alphabet and set the words up; A=Ay; B=Bee; C=See; D=Dee; E=Ee; F=Ef; G=Gee; H= urk! um, come back to that one; I=Ay awww tits, come back to that one too; J=Jay; K=Kay; L=El; M=Em; N=En; O=Oh; P=Pee; Q=Cue; R=Ar; S= Es; T= Tee; U=Yu; V=Vee; W= eh, ah, u, fuck it, back to that one too; X=Ex; Y=Wy; Z=Zee or Zed
Whoop!
Although, I reckon you can prolly spot what is fundamentaly wrong with the old language
Yep, there is an awful lot of EEEEE's, so many my heads spinning . . .
Ok, new rule needed;
Where we have two vowels together, like say "Up Is Down" a direction altering chant to be used when faced with towers that need to be flown over or something . . .
How the fuck should I know? I'm just pigging winging this as I go. Shut up
So Up Is Down would be Yuaydee - which is a bit of a mouthful when spoke for the first time BUT if we say that every time a double vowel hits the begining of a word we swap the second vowel to the actual vowel . . . hold on, i'm getting lost here . . . oh, yeah so he second is left as a real one;
YuiDee - Yoo-eye-dee (much easier to pronounce)
If, on the other hand, the vowels are together at the end of the word, then we make the first vowel the real one; Level Eighty One is Eleeoh so it becomes Eleoh
Get it? No? Tough, it's happening. And it's in there by the bucket load!
Ok, one more slight hitch; triple written vowels; Level Eighty Four looks like this Eleeef, which just looks stupid, so lets get rid; new rule; written triple letter vowels; the double is shortened to a single; Eleef looks better.
One more rule just because I thought I was fucking brilliant; at the end of a word E is replaced with I but still pronounced EE; B=Bi; C=Si; D=Di; E=i; G=Ji; P=Pi; T=Ti; V=Vi; Y=Wi and Z=Zi.
This way when discussing the novel you'll be in the secret society that knows how to pronounce the words properly won't you?
My advice; don't correct their mis-pronunciation, just look smug knowing they are soooo lame and have not cracked open this blog. Winner. Or you could be the novel guru that does correct them and help them by pointing them toward this blog. If you wanted.
So, still have a bunch of issues; H, A & I, and W
Here's how I got round them; H = Aitch, or Aich or Aytch but mostly avoiding using those words if you can . . . !
A=Ay or Eigh (as in Eight) and I=Aye
Ha!
So we'll wang up some basic emohem practitioners;
Em’ohembe – MOMB – Mind over matter beginner,
Ayem’ohembe – AMOMB – A mind over matter beginner,
Tiem’ohembe – TMOMB – The mind over matter beginner;
Em’ohemyu – MOMU – Mind over matter user;
Em’ohemee – MOME – Mind over matter expert;
Em’ohemti – MOMT – Mind over matter teacher;
Em’ohempi – MOMP – Mind over matter pupil;
Ha! You get the idea. So that pretty much wraps up the magical language
Lot's of chanting and shit, some written toss yada yada yada

Now, the names of the characters I've already explained
And as I come up with some more; I'll drop 'em on here

I came across another piece of advice in one of those bloody books from EzBird;
Place
Oh for fucks sake, what now?
It is important for the reader to have a sense of place
Eh?
When reading a new novel, no matter what, it is good to have a sense of familiarity
Oh crap
But, now, there's the place names that need thinking about;
Like, whilst I'm not interested in telling the tale from the beginning;
On the planet blah in the land of bleh
I might just as well write it was a dark and stormy night . . .
Oooo, that's pretty good actually, no, no, you can't . . . can you . . . ?
No. Stobbit. Stupid.
Back to place
So, according to the long and . . . dreary article, aparantly you lot get lost finding your arse
Maybe I'm only selling me book to bright readers?
Ok, maybe not. I figure that make it a really niche niche market
You know I'm only kidding right?
Right?
Hey! Where you going? I was only joking, oh come on!
I'll tell you about the article on not thinking you are smarter than your readers another time . . . !
:o)

So, back to place; the theory is that if you write your novel abou, say New York, then knowing the place and making the odd reference helps the reader settle into the "place" especiall yif they have been or live in New York themselves. In fact, there is a bit of a "Hey! I know where he's talking about! It's just over there! Behind that car. That's on fire."
So, in my novel there is no such "place" - not in reality; it's all in my head
So how do I get you there? How do I describe what I really feel awkward about?
How do I tell you that the world is unknown, I have no ida how big the planet is?
Oh god! Do I have to know how the solar systems works too? The Universe?
Are there stars? Moons? Shit, how would I know?
Oh christ this is going to be a comlpete fuck up isn't it?
Pull yourself together. The audience is listening.
So let's see, a good start is to name the village
Now that is easy; I'll nick it from a couple of Ozzies I know (That's a whole different story)
Hell, I nick so much from them already, how the hell would they know
So here goes; Leicestershire. Loughborough. Or as they like to call it looga barooga . . .
You gotta love those antipdeans
So Sariro comes fro, ah let's wheech it around a tad; Luga B'ruga (Gotta have an apostrophe, no?)
There ya go
Now, these guys run to "safety" so where are they runing to? A place in the mountains but they'll not get there without passing thru another place
Big breath
Ok, this one is for EzBirds brother, killed in the Isle of Man
He was taking Bird (his girlfriend of the time) on holiday
She wanted to go somewhere exotic
He didn't
So he told her he was talking her to Mablé Torpé
Or, as we in the UK know it; Mablethorpe
So, as he was the quintessense of "Live" as in "Live your Life", I dedicate that to him
I am Living my dream, he lived lived his
Thankfully computers can't kill you
They can't can they?
Computers?
Kill you?
Can they?
Hell, why am I asking, you lot? Sheesh. I must be going mad.

Ok, so that's language and stuff covered
Now what else was I gonna tell you?
Oh yeah, Beasties
Hmm - now this is the reverse of reverse psychology . . . or psychology as I like to call it . . .
(chortle)
Here's how it goes; pick up a boko called "How to interpret your dreams" or some such and spin through it looking for natural or supernatural imagery and you'll get pretty the much same thing; unicorns=penis, horses=penis, dragons=hot penis; cats=soft fluffy . . . penis (?) What I'm trying to say here is that no matter what animal you chose, real or imaginary it's your penis
If you are a women, well that's different. It's someone else's penis. Obviously . . .
So, take that and spin it on it's head a touch
And we have my pincipia Eydeene (That's this planet. Did I not mention that? Ooops. I D N E. It Does Not Exist, simple. Are you getting any of this?)
The point is every mythical (in our world) beastie is not a personification of some male organ; it is a power trip of mankind. This means that every beastie I introduce will have started with a man. A plain old simple bi-ped. Dragons; Bi-ped. Centaurs? Bi=ped. And so on and so on.
How about that?
The next update may jump around a bit; coz, originally this journal was my procrastination from the novel and now I want to, er, procrastinate from this too - coz i've forgotten where I was and all that
As you can see; this is sooo planned
Oooooo; planning! Yes, that's what I'll talk about, er . . . tomorrow?

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7 October 2007

Right, more characters . . .
Ok, so what we have here is a book about dreams
With absolutely no dream sequences in it . . . yet
Time to get jiggy with the dreamy shit

So, the truth about the legends is the crux of this series
I'm looking to convey the vast difference between the glorious gung-ho stories of war and the gritty reality. I heard on the radio when I began this book about soldiers during the second world war shooting over the heads of the enemy because they couldn't bring themselves to actually kill. Now if it's true and not hype, that is an amazing revelation. According to the story, it was very common too. The bit I don't get is how millions of front-line bods still lose grip with mortality when no-one is shooting at anyone . . .

Based, very weakly, on this premise I have my storyline;
Bad guys are not so bad; The majority are press-ganged (or in fantasy terms; enthralled) into service, ergo reticent to play ball, but compelled to do so. Haven't worked out how or why just yet, but I'm getting there.
Good guys are a bunch of dumb shits; Because they get to come back to Paradise after they die, their lives tend to not be so . . . valuable.
One or two heroes will just be some poor sod in the wrong place at the wrong time being giving lady luck a damn good shagging
And, because it's just not a fantasy novel without one, we will have a traitor . . . dun dun duuuuun
Cool

So, our heroes; Halfir, Grinii we have met - maybe we'll give them a crew; lets see;
A couple of fit young birds, some buff blokes and of course Mr Obligatory Traitor Esquire, I Thank You.
Names.
Right; for the biog and all that shit;
Ok, One guy's going to be called Mad Adam Two Swords. At some point he can wax lyrical about the state of his armour. ROFL. Ahhh, man that's good. Google - trust me. Soddit; Lee Tanith! Madam Two Swords . . . damn, is mine far enough detatched to be non-plagiaristic?
Ah, fuck it. Who cares? It's there as a giggle. And Lee's book is not the same either. And she's a she . . . Madam Two Swords that is. Oooo, I wonder if the wax lyrical bit's in there. Toss. Best' go see if the library's got a copy . . .
Ok, onwards; My all time favourite name in the world bar none; Henrietta Chicken
Google . . . WTF? A naked rubber dog toy . . . man there are some real sick people on this planet
Ok who's next; Leonorah Spit. (Chuckle) Ahhh, I so cannot call her Spitroast, that would just be too unsubtle . . . can I? Hmmm . . . thinks . . .
Ok, another couple of Hero's; Oooo, bad guy; Gol Myne . . . oh yes, it says greed, it says dwarf, it says dirty, it says traitor! As for why; his brother . . . Sylv Myne (snigger) . . . lost his life because of Halfir's incompetence and Gol has held a grudge ever since. Liiiiike it!
How about this . . . Gol and Sylv did not die to get into Paradise . . . ! So how'd they get in then?
Aha!!!! There are two ways! You die OR you accompany someone who was born here!!!!
Testing his theory Irsi (Remember him - he's our bad guy, or protagonist, yeah baby! Boy I am learning sooo much from these books!) takes Gol and Sylv into Paradise because, get this; Irsi was born there. Yes!
So now, Gol and Sylv are poodling around in Paradise illegally, and when Sylv pops his clogs due to some as yet unknown stupidity of Halfir's, everyone is expecting him to return. But he doesn't! Because, he doesn't belong there! Yeeeeha!
Soooo, where is he? Well, I'll tell you. He's only on the baddies side isn't he?!
His appearance has changed; because, let's face it even Irsi rewards his faithful, up to a point . . .
So he's going to be one of the other crew;

Right, the "baddies";
Ahh, my old favourite from my AD&D days with Penfold and Scoob . . . christ I was young . . .
Bungus Iteer. Geddit? Give me a chance, I was . . . *cough* twenty *cough* or so when I thought that gem up
He has a brother . . . ahem. Chukkus. (Chortle) Ahhh Those were the days.
Anyhooo - These are the gnarly veterans.
Plus, lets see . . . two more "regulars" . . . ah. Ok. Deep breath. We have the quiet, unassuming burly minimal talker; Pall Martan. A play on EzBro1's real name. RIP. A tribute to my older brother. A true hero, honest, upright, honourable. And a right miserable git to boot. Bless him.
And let's see, ah my own true hero; Hairy Henry. Or as I like to say T'hairy Henry . . . in a slightly French accent. Thinking Football. No, not football, football. Oh all right; soccer then. It's still bloody football. The other is just armoured rugby . . .
Right, now; coz the bad guys are press-ganged we need a bunch of press-gangedee's . . .
Or something . . .
LOL - god my sides hurt! This naming stuff is a piece of piss! For her birthday I bought EzBird a gardening book; not that she likes gardening you understand but it's something for her to do whilst she's locked outside while I work in here in the warm . . . just kidding. She does have green fingers. They were blue but now they've gone mouldy . . . ah ha ha ha ha. Ha ha ha ha. Ahhhh. Anyway . . .
So she does like gardening . . . ok?
In her book there are two types of mud one of which is ericatius - see where I'm going with this?
You got it! Eric Atiusoyl. Eric Atuis Soil. Goddamn this is puuuuure genius!
Ok, wandering into the kitchen we have . . . eccinatia tablets. Oh yes.
We now have another guy, Equin Atia
Whoop!
Ok, this one's an odd one; Izzit. Young lad, I reckon. Bit of a klutz. We'll pad these guys out a bit in their biographies' later.
Ahh. Now, this next chap is important. He's a minor-ish character but suffice to say he is my morality tale.
Arth Rytchuss. (Arthritis) Is a very old man and does not want to be here at all. I'll be killing him off somewhere near the middle of the story. He's going to die out of fear. You know that saying; "you have nothing to fear but fear itself"? Well, whoever said that wants to come live round here for a fucking day or two.
So there we are; nine baddies, oh wait that's only eight. Tits. What the fuck was I thinking? Oh yes! Sylv . . . or, as we shall introduce him . . . Plazt Iq'nabaal. (Plastic Nipple. Ok, by this time I was running on empty ok?) Just check google; yep suprisingly few Plazt Iq'nabaal's in the world. Oooooo, do you reckon people will start naming their kids after these characters . . . ? Dear god I pity those kids, they are going to get the royal shit kicked out of them when they start school . . . Not just for their names but because their parents are so . . . thick.
Interestingly when I Google Plazt Iq'nabaal it says "No matches; did you mean Platz Iq'nabaal?" Oho? Thinks I. Let's check out this. Yes, I Say, I did mean Platz Iq'nabaal. What a silly typist I am.
Ok says Google. No: Your search - Platz Iq'nabaal - did not match any documents. LOL.

What you people have to realise is; this is the third post and I'm still catching you up; as in you have a loooong way to go yet. That is if there is anybody out there . . . is there anybody out there? How do I get this bloody thing working? You know what I need? I need someone who is aux fait with IT, that's what I need. Oh, wait . . . ohhhh, now I get what they meant by "get out you useless lazy fat fucker . . . " Sheesh, if they had only said what they meant. Man, I don't do subtle.

So, we now have our cast of characters; all bar the dragons and some magii. But we'll come to them later. Except one Magi; 'coz you're going to love this . . . ! He's the one, right, that controls the weather . . . ok? Following me so far? Cool. Well he has got to be called something like John Kettley or Ulrika Johnson, oh wait no, too girly. So I plump for; da da daaaaaa Michael Fish! And why? Here you go you pseudo intellectuals; check out GHOTI. GB Shaw wanted to simplify the Ingrish language; and pointed out (by ignoring some fundamental rules) that GHOTI could be pronounced FISH. GH as in rouGH, O as in wOmen (Wimmin. Not wimmin, wimmin ahhh how crap that looks written down . . .) and TI as in naTIon; GHOTI. FISH. See? Ok! So our weatherman is mr Ghoti. Now, Michael. Mick? Mick Ghoti? Mike Ghoti? Oooo, Wiki; are you ready for this? Albania! Not the Southern dialect (Tosk) but the Northern dialect (Gheg); is translated as Mhill. So now we have Gheg'mhill Ghoti. Michael Fish.

And we sooo do not want to be wasting opportunities like this! F = GH? Ghuckin' priceless mate.
LOL
How about a sword called . . . Nog'huque . . . work it out . . . ignore the apostrophe's they mean jack. Awesome.
Ahh, I so need to get out more . . .

Next time, emohem words and language, place names and magical beasties and weapon . . . ies . . .

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4 October 2007

Right, so this is Tuesday ok?
Geddit? Tuesday
Not Thursday but Tuesday . . .
Good

Off we go then
Yesterday *cough* I gave you a brief synopsis on the book
So, and this is the best advice I can give any aspiring writer; Write
You do not have to write clever JKR quality stuff at first
You do have to edit it. And edit it. And then edit it again. Best edit it again
Now get someone else to edit it
Honest, trust me on this
Oh, and don't use friends or family too heavily; they are biased
EzBird was a godsend, however; "Sword and sorcery like shit?" (sic)
She's a chicklit lover and refuses to watch The Lord of the Rings
For a whole day. End to end. All 12 DVD's. Plus Dorito's . . .
Which means that when she blags the first chapter she's tough
Not in storyline or plot; but right where it counts: Speling . . . :o) (sick) and "scan"
As in, I can't be arsed reading this shit it doesn't scan properly . . .
I'm telling you, editors like her are worth a pigging fortune
And she's all mine! Get your thievin' mitts off! Get yer own!

Ahem. Anyhoo . . .
So the what
Sariro lives in an idyllic world; simple farming and constant sunny days, no wars, etc.
That's because, get this, he lives in Paradise!
He doesn't know it yet, or maybe not for a chapter or two
So here's how it goes;
Sariro thinks "The End of Times" is a premonition but he is wrong;
Its not a future event; it was an historic event!
Fuck me, this is brilliant!
Ok.
So why does Sariro have dreams? They don't just happen . . . oh . . . wait, yeah they do . . . tits.
Nah. I have a better idea.
In my dream, (remember that? It was soooo long ago) Sariro was battling the bad guy who was excavating an old citadel
He was digging to release a . . . dragon
So what if the dragon is there from day one?

Right, so Sariro is not "magical" until he . . . sleeps near the dragon
Dragons, whilst sleeping, and they can sleep for years, exude magic (or emohem as we will always call it)
So Sariro sleeps with the dragon
Oh for heavens sake; will you keep this clean purlease
Near the dragon
The dragon is buried under this excavation jobby so . . . Sariro gets lost in caves
Cool
Ok. Why?
Why was Sariro in the caves, the daft twat?
Got it! Oh you are going to love this!
Ready? Sariro and his best friend . . . are camping in the forbidden lands (as a dare) and get lost in some caves . . .
Shit. Another character. Right. This will take a day or so, so give me a mo will you?

Ok here we go;
Sariro's younger, shorter (I bet you have absolutely no idea where I'm going with this! I know that because . . . I have absolutely no idea where I'm going with it . . . ) best friend; Phollebir
Oh yes!
Phollebir Jare (Folie Begere . . . ) geddit? He he he he.
So, Sariro's nickname for his younger, shorter (wait for it, wait for it) best friend is . . . gnome
Oh yes!
This is called a self fulfilling prophecy - shit I am good!
And Phollebir is the bad guy doing the excavating during the third book
And at the end of the third book . . . oh no you fucking don't!
Like I'm going to tell you that
Until I've worked it out properly anyway . . .

So type type type type blah blah blah
First chapter begins with the two boys arsing around some caves, long story short; earthquake (dragon snoring . . .) new holes; boys fall through; sleep near, not with, near Dragon
Job done
Lots of rewrites, edits and days later; it's pretty fucking good, even if i do say so myself
Right, where's that new writers website, I remember seeing something about the first chapter
Aw, crap;

Start with a bang; leave the background until later
Eh? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
It means, old chap, that those 2500 words beautifully describing the cave and how emohem seeps into your soul from sleeping dragons will bore the living tits off anyone dumb enough to pick up your pathetic novel; probably in the bookstore, which means . . . buy your book? You'd think they would . . .
Aw for fucks sake
What else?
Right; To attract a publisher or literary agent . . .
Good, that's the plan
You have to grab and retain their attention in the first 50 pages . . .
Uh?
If they don't want more after 50 pages you're writing is fucking shit and they'll throw you to the crows
Well I may have paraphrased that a little, but you get the idea
Piss
Ok. Scrap the cave bollocks. Start with . . . oh I dunno . . . oooooo, let's start with the end!
Yeah, yeah, yeah, like I don't know it's been done before
Get a book on it baby; every fucking thing has been done before
It's not what you do; it's how different you are in doing it

So, where was I?
Oh, yeah; The first 50 critical (no pressure then) pages
So; We're at the gates of Paradise and Halfir stands in front of Irsi
Grinii is smeared on the ground in front of him, having been creamed by the Evil Gnome before we get there
Halfir curses, Irsi sneers (all bad guys sneer. It's what they do, s'true)
Irsi wangs a nasty at Halfir who ducks
But Irsi is smarter than that - he doesn't aim for Halfir
No, he aims at the stonework above his head
Bang! Down comes the arched doorway and turns our glorious last hero to pulp; without the hit records (If you don't understand, google it; if you did understand and just didn't think it was funny, then this book is soooo not for you . . .)
In goes Irsi
All hell breaks loose . . . literally. As this is literary. As opposed to littery. Which it may be . . .

Awesome!
Ok, Chapter one, continues with some chat between Kentse and Sariro; ooooo, I know!
Sariro recounts the legend about the end of the world
But his dreams don't precisely follow that line!
Perfect! So the legend has been . . . exaggerated, no . . . embellished. Yes!
Chinese whispers (Google should so be your best friend by now) means that everything is wrong
Oh yes everything! Well, nearly everything . . .
Holy fucking shit! This is a cracker!
So Sariro and Kentse do some chatter about the legend
Then he talks her through his first dream
He describes the land, the people, the fortress and a citadel in the middle
Oh oh, wait up; after writing 8000+ words describing this world it’s no good
Well, when I say no good, I don't mean no good, obviously it good but it's just "describing sunsets"
And an action, fast paced, beat 'em up doesn't stop to describe sunsets; otherwise the reader (that's you lot. Oh yes it fucking is. I'm not doing this for love y'know. I'm doing it for the money. So get your wallet out and go buy a copy. Stop reading it in the library you fucking tight wad) otherwise the reader (that's you . . . oh, done that already) gets bored; at best skips all your hard work, at worst puts the book down. Both fatal for sales of the sequel, or in our case treacle. . . rofl. Holy shit that was funny. It’s a play on words! Oh come on! It's a trilogy! The third book is a triquel! Goddamn you people are hard to please

Anyway; just like painting when you were five years old; you take one great fat blob of colour and smear it all the way from one side of the canvas (well, paper) to the other, so it is; Grab each paragraph and make each one a chapter
Ok; Sixteen chapters, all with a bit of sunset in 'em
Yay! Perfect. Ok now what?
Plot
Eh?
Plot.
Yeah got that; Irsi, gnome of darkness; paradise, Sariro stops him yada yada yada
No
No?
No
No.
Plot is the characters having a mission and what they do to obtain that mission; sucking out their personalities and spitting them at the reader without dropping sudden solutions or unrealistic dramatic situations out o nowhere (Deus ex machina - I've read books like this and boy, was I pissed at the end, and no, I will not be reading that author again.)
Ok, so Sariro has to have some goal and a path to his goal and a whole bunch of options to choose from
I get it.
Plot
Fucking hell, this is difficult
Here we go; Sariro has to deal with now being intelligent, when before he was . . . thick
He has to grow up. Quickly.
So what's to stop him?
Himself; He's reticent at first to embrace this new him
Bit of a wimp then?
Ugh. Yeah. Not good; no-one likes a wimp
Ok. We need to balance wimpy Sariro with overtly bloodthirsty . . . um . . . oooo, I know; Kentse
His muse, Kentse, a bored rich girl is a hero worshipper! Perfect!
Ok, so his lack of action pisses her off which means . . . he has to do something
Why?
Um . . . because . . . he's in love with her . . . ? (Hopefully)
Ok. (Nods, slowly) We can use that
Yeah, he loves her. Unrequited love; bingo!
Ok, so he does something wimpy, Kentse throws a right royal wobbler and she dumps him
No, not dumps him, coz she never went out with him
She . . . refuses to see him
Oh yes
Right
Wow. Ok, now we have a taste of a plot . . .
Cool
At some point during this last three months I have managed to write quite a fair bit of this novel
All based on this concept
The main thing to realise is that I am not just juggling this book but I have to bear all three in mind
And then I have a bit of an epiphany
Another book.
That's four;
1.) Paradise Falls
2.) [Hell] Falls
3.) Paradise Regained
and now
4.) Hero Trials (Like the ten trials of Hercules only with Halfir, Grinii and ultimately Irsi)

Um, whilst I'm at it there are at least another . . . let's see . . . two after this;
5.) Dragon Thieves (Which is the tale of how Irsi sneaks into the Dragon realms and steals the 25 eggs of the Dragonatomies that feature in Book 1)
6.) Mist Trials (Which follows Kentse's return to her native land/people and how she causes mayhem)

Ok, lets see; what's next;
Sense Impressions?
Eh? Pretend to be a smell?
No, you twat; What strikes the other senses? Smell, Touch, Taste, Sound?
Lots of sight, but not much of the others
Ahhhhh, gotcha!
Right. Whizz through the chapters and make sure that all the senses are catered for!
Ok, Smell
Smell? What the fuck smells? The book (I now have a book by the way . . . dem) says go out and smell around
Uh, ok. . . I live in a bit of a rough neighbourhood but if it's for my art . . .

Ok, so that was the dumbest fucking idea I have ever heard
Damn nearly got the living shit kicked out of me;
Sniffing around I get accosted by some dick with a crew-cut, scar and scowl;
"What the fuck are you doing?"
"Hmm? Oh, don't worry; sense impressions" says I, happily
"You calling me senseless?"
"Eh?"
"C'mere you fucking prick" (Smack)
"Aww, for fuckth thake! Thath my fuckin' nothe!"
"Did you just call me a twat?"
"Eh? What?! No!"
"C'mere you fucking prick" (Smack) At this point play sound of running (away) feet

Sense impressions my fucking arse

Tomorrow *cough* We'll go through the chapters; add in some more characters etc.
If I can be arsed
;o)

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30 September 2007

This is the start of something . . . big? Nah
Blig? Ha! No
Something . . . necessary
Start at the very beginning
Well, not the very beginning
That would just be silly

June 1st 2007.
Bye bye work
Not by choice, you understand
The bastards
EzBird (the missus) convinced me to not resign the second I returned from Cape Verde (Dire in 2007, leave it a decade if I was you), so I didn't
No, they get in first
Why is that not just the greatest "woohoo" of all time?
Can't tell you
Maybe it's something to do with feeling . . . useless
If I had quit, I was in control
Being made redundant, well let's just say indignation is an understatement
So they pay me to leave
"Get out" they said. "Go on, get out. And take this . . . significant . . . amount of money with you"
"Ha! I will, you . . . lovely people . . . um . . . thank you."
So, one weeks garden leave, a nice little nest egg and the "summer" off
For those non-uk residents, and anyone arriving late to this drivel, the summer of 2007 was a bloody wash-out in the UK
The sun didn't start to shine until end of July, here in the midlands at any rate
So, what to do, what to do? Lie here in the . . . rain or . . . hold up, what else is there?
There you go, all the background you need

Personal details?
What the hell for?
Ok, ok, ok. For heaven's sake
Er, EzBloke and EzBird (Sometimes called EzBabe) plus EzCat no EzKids
EzPop (EzMum passed away in '99), EzBro2 (EzBro1 passed away in '97), EzSis1, EzSis2 and EzSis3 (I would be EzBro3 in case you need to know)
One EzUnc (EzAunt passed away '04 - is it me or is it not good to be EzRelated? What do you mean "yes"?)
Countless EzNephews and EzNieces and EzInLaws all over the place

'66 what a wonderful series of year's;
1066 - Battle of Hastings; all our corns cured
1666 - The great fire of London; England invents the rat barbeque
1966 - I was born; Oh, and something about a world cup too, but that's not important right now

What else do you want to know?
Oh yes, the point! Ha ha ha ha ha. Ha ha ha ha. Ha. Ahhhh. Anyway . . .
So I have this dream, pretty damn vivid if you want to know
Dragons; heroes; princessessess, no; princessess', no; princessii, no; heroins, ah crap; heroines and shit
I begin to regale EzBird with the wondrous nature of it and don't stop even when the light behind her eyes goes out
Upshot is she tells me to write it
"You live in a fantasy world" she says "So go write"
"I bloody will" Says I
And with that, she dutifully returns to her Soduku

So, up comes the PC at the press of a digit and out pours the dream
Absolutely amazing
Two days I write
Two days
Two solid, do-not-disturb-an-artist-at-work, no-I-don't-want-any-tea, no-I-can't-come-out-for-a-beer . . . (?!) days
And I am now the proud owner of four and a half thousand words of complete and utter garbage
And I mean garbage
Oh dear
I need help

You just have to love t'interweb
One day of surfing, reading and swearing later and I have the following advice to work on;

Character Biog's;
Know your character like they are your best friend

Really? I dunno. I kinda just made this shit up and these people don't actually exist
And isn't that, like, one step close to stalking?
Ok, I'll give it a go
Well, no, actually, what I'll do is hit the pub for a pint
Or two
Or several
Yay

Soooo, let's see what this little fucker is like then shall we?
Ok. He's a farm boy. Gets a dream.
Good, good, like it.
An' the dream makes him intelligent
Yes! This is the mutts nuts! What else?
Let's see; He's a magician . . .
Euch. Magician? Magician? Paul Daniels (Google him, or not. I would say not) pops into my head
What a shite word. Magic. Magicians. Magii. Mages. Eeew
Let's see . . . Magic is an illusion, ok . . . Illusionists? Illusionisers? Illusionator?
Great if my target audience is George Bush
One book, one sale
Whoop
Wait a minute though . . . if it was $1M a book . . . y'know this might just work
Ok. Maybe not
So magic. What is magic? Mind over matter? Ok. Bit of a mouthful as they say
Do they say that? And who are they anyway?
I know! (Eureka! but not in the bath, eh? Computers and water do not mix. Don't try it at home folks)
TLA's. Three Letter Acronyms! Yay! Let's face it, how long before they become words in their own right anyway?
"Hi, I'm Bill, I live in the Yu ess ay"
Works for me
So, Mind Over Matter = Emohem
Bugger me this novelezarating is easy!
I reckon I deserve a pint for that

So. Who's our hero? Who . . . who . . . who . . . ?
Who's Our Hero. Aha!
Oh wait; Doubleyu-Oh-Aitch, blah. That just looks shite
Who is our hero? It's 'ar 'ero 'innit . . . ar'ero? Ooooooo . . . liking this already . . . Sar'iro . . . Sariro
Yay! Sariro! Holy shit! He has a name! Do not mention surname ok, just shut up
What are his dreams about?
Ah - that's easy. Premonitions.
He's dreaming about premonitions? Bollocks
Nope, he is having premonitions about a great battle he has to fight
Good, good, getting there!
Ok. What was his mothers name?
What?! What the hell? How would I know? I never met his goddamn mother
Alright! He's a bloody orphan ok?
If he has a scar you could call him Harry fucking Potter, change your name to Jaykay Rowling and not have to worry about writing this sodding book
Ok. No scar. Not an orphan either.
His mother's name is Beatrice, ok? There. Beatrice. Satisfied?
His father's name, before you bloody start, is Ezan
They die in the first chapter, leaving Sariro an orphan and where he gets his scar . . .
Oh, hells tits. Can you stop thinking about Harry Potter for five minutes?
Apparently not . . .
Right, let's try again, shall we? What's next?

Back-story.
Back-story? I haven't got the bloody story yet and you want a back-story?
Right! Back-story
Ok. Here we go . . .
So the story is that Sariro has to save his village from an evil something or other . . .

Back-story then;
The evil something or other . . . let's just use Gnome as a place marker . . . is back
He wants to regain his domain (very poetic) because he lost it in a great battle
Awesome!
He shoots! He scores!
Hell, this could be a book in it's own right!

You want back-story? I'll give you damn back-story!
The back-story to the back-story . . . ok, that word is starting to lose meaning, now . . . is that this Gnome, called . . . um . . . Irsi
Gnome Irsi! Geddit? Huh, huh? Geddit? Aw, c'mon! That's good stuff! No Mercy? No? Suit yourself, gits
So, the back-story back-story is . . . that Irsi's domains were originally . . . Heaven!
Oh, yes!
Heaven. The fall of Heaven! Aw, shit, been done. Bugger
Ok, not heaven then, what's another word for heaven?
Wiki is wi-i-i-i-kid man! Paradise. Or the Elysian Fields. Or Valhalla - the eternal resting place of dun dun daaaaaaaa heroes
Cooool. So Paradise falls to Irsi. (Backback-story)
Irsi's domain . . . what's the antithesis of Paradise? Hell
Hell? Euch. Too Heaven and Hell-ish
We'll call it [Hell] for now. As a placeholder
Then [Hell] falls, to . . . um, dunno, it just falls . . . (Back-story)
Excellent!
Phew! This is hard bloody work

Ok, now at this point, maybe a day or two passes as I can't get Paradise Falls out of my head
And bugger me if it isn't just brilliant . . . you can't say no, you haven't heard the rest of it yet

Ok let's pick up the pace a little;
I'm compressing somewhere between four to six weeks into a short space here
Just so's you can catch up

I'm writing. What I am writing is backback-story
Sixteen Chapters; 75,000 words in maybe six weeks; with the occasional day off for the pub, shopping with EzBird etc.
Ok - we have the bulk of a story
Notice I keep calling it a story, later on I find out that my time-linear non-consequential story has, um, let's see . . . no . . . that's "no" plot . . . ouch
So, how do I describe where I got to;
ok here we go; let's pad the synopsis . . . heh, heh, now we're an author baby. Oh, Yeah!

So, Book 1 (This is now a trilogy . . . or a thrillogy as I like to call it. Ok. I won't call it that);
Sariro, a dumb farm boy is having educational dreams
No, not those kind of dreams. Please, keep your mind out of the gutter will you?
He dreams about the invasion of Paradise
An old myth of his people
That’s how it starts; he tells (or gets told) the myth of "The End Of Times" (Big music, da da da daaaaaaaa)
Then he has to work out how he fits in
Coool
Right; the myth involves the Gnome Irsi and his entry into Paradise
Someone should stop him
A quintessential hero, a veritable Arnie, who is my Conan?
Halfir ('coz he's only got half an ear) Goldenhair (Because he has . . . blonde hair . . .)
Oh, and to show Irsi is a real bad nasty, not one but two heroes
The other one is, um . . . Grinii (Green Eye, on account of his, oh you get the picture) Lionheart (yada yada yada)
Sweet

So, Sariro must help Halfir stop Irsi, but he's only having dreams, so how can he do it?
He needs help. Aha! A muse!
With a sense of humour, even. So amuseing . . . no? Ok, I'll give you that one
Now then, following the Native American naming convention that everyone is so familiar with
I'll call our muse, Kentse (Kent See. As in "Kent see any dangly bits; awwww damn, another girl")
Spot on
Ok, I'll work on the biogs for these five for now
At this point another trip to the 'net for EzBird about the US series House gives serendipity a nudge in my direction
Wiki, oh dear beloved Wiki how I love you so
Ahem, anyhoo . . . .
So House, Dr Gregory no less, has a biog on Wiki
A biog for fucks sake!
Ahhh, god bless Bill Gates too as cut 'n' paste now gives me a biog framework!
Oh, and a sample for me to get my head into the concept
Yeehaaaaa!
So, now (remember four or six weeks of head down writing?) Sariro, Kentse, Irsi, Halfir and Grinii have 4000 words each
Yep, 4000! Holy shit! That’s . . . lots!
Ask me anything. Go on. Ask me. Halfir's Mother? His relationship with his father? Why he is a hero?
How about; Why is Halfir in Paradise? Well, I'll tell you. He's in Paradise 'coz Irsi killed him
Yep. What a bastard. Killed him dead he did
And, right, not only that but Irsi was so pissed at Halfir that he was not content to kill him the once, oh no
Nope. Irsi wangs over to Paradise to have another pop at our eponymous hero
Why? Good question. And I can tell you that too;
'Coz he nicked Irsi's sword, so he did
Not just any old sword either. Nope. A magic sword
Sooo how about them onions eh?

Ok, that's the why
Now, the what . . .
Next post
It's late, and EzBird is talking and I should really be listening I suppose . . .

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