Monthly Archives: February 2012
Why I Decided To Be A Writer
Goodness me I’ve managed to forget that I have a blog for the past week or so. I’ve been a bit distracted; I’ve seen a work placement that I really want (correction — need) in Manchester and have been busy applying for that and daydreaming about my new life in a new city in my own house with my own space and finally a desk, a desk, room for a desk! Sorry I got a bit carried away there. I don’t have a desk at the moment; there is literally no space for one in my tiny bedroom in my parents house. Where possible, the kitchen table serves as my ‘desk’ at the moment, so to finally have my own desk is a dream of mine. I know precisely what I’d have on it — my laptop, a cup of tea (of course), a big scented candle, some shells (to fondle when I’m thinking), a favourite Furby (to fondle when I’m thinking –I have a Furby obsession, remember?), my Newton’s cradle (Newton’s balls, as I call them), a dictionary and thesaurus, and maybe some inspirational quotes dotted around. Hot!
Of course, this would be my writer’s desk; my writer’s zone; an altar at the feet of the god of Creativity. Every writer needs a space where they can be free to create. This special space, this carving out of a zone all for myself, is what majorly appeals to me about being a writer.
In the Western world, most careers highly prize a certain special attribute called ‘people skills’, which leaves people like me, who score an average of 75-100% introversion rating on any personality test, in the dirt just a little bit. It’s not that I don’t like people, most of the time; it’s just that most of the time I don’t need people; I’m happiest generally in my own company. Too much time spent around others for me inevitably leads to me becoming over-excited, over-exerted, a little frayed around the edges. It’s like being tickled; it’s not painful; it’s just stimulating to the point where it becomes unbearable. I need space to chill out and get my thoughts in order.
When I am calm, when I am relaxed, free to daydream, in a tolerably good mood; this is when I am happiest and therefore most creative. There was no big fanfare when I decided to be a writer — sadly life is just not dramatic like that. It was just a slow realisation; a dawning; coming to realise that the writer’s life would be a good one for me. I am introverted with an active imagination — two good traits for a writer. I like reading — there’s another. I think I have a certain amount of skill with the English language and creative writing, but of course this will be honed over time. Practice makes, if not perfect, then better.
From my teenage years, whenever I felt in the mood to create something, I would reach, not for my guitar, not for my paints, but for a notebook and pen, and start writing stuff compulsively. Lists, ideas, lines/fragments of poetry. Scenes, story outlines, streams of consciousness. This was the direction my creativity took — this was my channel. It seems being a writer is a natural extension of who I am.
So that was it really — a slow realisation. Not a sudden flash of inspiration. It happened naturally, and like most things that involve me, slowly, quietly and thoughtfully. In true writer’s fashion.
Visual Reference Points For Omalas
Hi there. The beautiful city which forms the title of my novella, the city of Omalas, is a big, grand place, and I wanted it to have a certain feel. In my mind’s eye it appeared to me as something a bit like the city of Naboo in Star Wars, and also Rome. These pics below made great visual reference points when editing my first draft, as I realised I needed to describe the city in greater detail to help my readers envisage it.
These images get across the kind of vastness and majesty I want my city to be endowed with. Omalas is an ancient, beautiful city which houses an old, old secret within its bowels — I’m still working on editing the first draft but I hope soon to get a sample chapter up on here. I look forward to you reading it, future fans!
The Incredible Adventures Of Sir Charles Chuckleberry
Whilst rifling through my writing portfolio the other day (for want of a better word — it’s basically a plastic folder with my old writing in — mostly drafts to be honest) I found a couple of articles that I had published in the student newspaper when I was at university. They are surreal comedy pieces, about a wildly stereotypical English aristocrat who decided to attend my university to ‘see how the common man of the 21st century lives’. Along with a poem and a straight article, they were the only things I wrote for the student newspaper, having long ago decided that journalism was not the route in writing I wished to take. But these two pieces, they’re not journalism. They’re nuts.
I’m surprised they were published, but then again I’m not. They probably didn’t get many submissions. That’s not to say I don’t have a fondness for old Sir Charles Chuckleberry and his friend Lord Henry Pratt. In fact, looking at these articles, I can see I haven’t really changed much over the years.
Anyhow, I thought I would share them with you. There was also a third one which I wrote near the end of my degree and never got round to sending to the newspaper. I will try to find this elusive third article and get it up on here in due course.
For now, here is the first installment of Sir Charles’ adventures. The second one will be up soon. And yes, fellow alumni of Keele University, the truth is out, my secret identity is revealed: I am Sir Charles Chuckleberry.
Oh yes, and I know it should say ‘An Alternative View’ instead of ‘An Alternate View’ at the top. I didn’t put that bit in; it was the people who did the newspaper. Bloody journalists.