Of What Do Iron Men Think?

Of what do Iron Men think,
when staring silently out to sea?


This is a most unusual work of art. He is made from cast iron, and is one of an installation of one hundred such iron men fixed five hundred metres apart into the sands of Crosby beach, about ten miles to the north of Liverpool. When the tide is low, they stand like sentinels against the receding sea. Twice daily, when the tide rises, they drown without fuss or cry.

Of what do Iron Men think,
when staring silently out to sea?
As the tide turns, and the waters rise,
and the mud grips ever tighter to their feet.


The installation, the work of Antony Gormley, is called "Another Place". The men are made from casts of Gormley's own body. They stare towards America. Previously, they'd been exhibited in Germany, Norway, and Belgium, and were due to be relocated to New York. That will not now happen, and the work will remain permanently in Crosby.

Of what do Iron Men think,
when staring silently out to sea?
As the tide turns, and the waters rise,
and the mud grips ever tighter to their feet.
Do they sail to Another Place,
where iron lungs don't leak and burn?

There were "someone's trapped and drowning" calls when they first went in. And shipping needed buoys to warn of them just submerged. Three were moved as they upset birds breeding nearby. And the curious thing is they look different at different times, as if storms and calm seas affect them in unseen ways.

Of what do Iron Men think?

There's a story for me in there somewhere.

A Tale of Two... erm, A Prostitute

I wrote a story about a prostitute specifically with submitting to a forthcoming anthology in mind. It's done and dusted and duly polished, but I have a dilemma. The guidelines say (paraphrased) "…despite the prostitution theme, I'm not looking for pornography or erotica".

I'd argue that whilst I've pulled no punches with this story it's neither of those (unless it's a particularly weird form of erotica :-)

I'm toying with the idea of saying this in the cover letter. And my dilemma is I've never felt the need to justify the content of a story before, nor actually suggest in a cover letter that the story might be rejected as possibly too brutal, too risqué.

I'll probably just send it as normal and allow it to stand or fall at the Editor's whim. But it's been an interesting thought as to how I, as a writer, relate to the content of my own stories.

A well hung parliament

What a strange week in politics.

No one I voted for "got in"—either in the national or local elections. Maybe I'm a jinx. Maybe I'm bribe material—how much for me to vote for your opponent—guaranteed non-election for him or her, squire?

Or maybe as politically savvy I'm something of a nonce.

It feels deeply dissatisfying, a hung parliament. Hung parliaments always produce toothless governments. And there's something disquieting about the sudden accord each of the major parties have for the ever-third-choice Liberal Democrats. It's all rather smarmy, this toadying, even by politicians' standards.

And then a part of me wonders if this was not meant to be. I was, and remain, deeply suspicious of the Conservatives, particular in the speed and depth of cuts they'd likely impart upon us as they try and restore some semblance of normality to the country's coffers. It worried me that the first three years or so of a majority Conservative government would see cutbacks on a scale ruthless and unprecedented.

But now, if they secure a working, minority government, I see another election surely within a year. And in that year the Conservatives would have undertaken some particularly unpopular policy making. But now, given they will need to keep the electorate as sweet as they can for this early re-election, perhaps it will rein them in a little. Or maybe it won't.

And what an opportunity this is for the Liberal Democrats to force home their ever popular chestnut of Proportional Representation. Ironically, given the Liberal Democrat's overall poor performance this time out, they might snatch the greatest victory they thought they'd never see, that of voting reform.

And in the meantime the financial markets wobble and dance.

A strange week in politics indeed.

Size Matters

Well, actually quantity matters. According to last week's New Scientist, it's not quality of content that makes for a successful Blog but quantity.

People, it seems, will visit a prolific blogger more regularly over a, shall we say, more selective blogger even if they feel that the prolific blogger is talking tosh.

I wonder what this means for Life, the Universe, and Everything?

Promiscuous Women can cause Earthquakes

I read this on the BBC news website, so it has to be true, doesn't it?

It seems an Iranian cleric has suggested promiscuity amongst women is to blame for earthquakes. He said:

"Many women who do not dress modestly
lead young men astray and spread adultery
in society which increases earthquakes."

And I thought it was tectonic plate nonsense.

I wonder what causes a tornado.

Brian is Go

The good news is Burying Brian has been edited, the cover artist commissioned, and we're full steam ahead for a sooner rather than later release date.

It's taken me a long time to produce this second novel—longer than the first one, old Donald, first published in 2004. I think there are a number of reasons for this. Having Donald so well received—the critics were indeed kind to me—if anything added pressure to make Brian just as good.

I think because short stories tend to be singular, self-standing entities, there's much more freedom to swap styles and even genres between one story and another. But because Brian continues in the same 'universe' as Donald, I felt keen to maintain 'tone', and 'style', and 'voice'. It meant such care took time.

Also, I'd argue with anyone that humour is by far the most difficult sub genre in which to write. It's so easy to force humour, and when so forced its 'forcedness' waves and shouts from the page.

Many comedians will talk about timing. It's not just about what's said, but how it's delivered. And this is true for comedic writing too. I'll spend far more time over sentence structure when writing humour than when writing 'serious' stuff. The rhythm of a sentence is very much akin to timing. The punch line must come at the right moment, and must indeed have punch (as there're fewer visuals and mannerisms the joke can fall back upon).

Having reread Brian as part of the final editing process (Immanion Press are good enough to involve the author at the last before the book is committed) I can say I'm very happy with the result. I think Brian is stronger than Donald, possibly because I've learned as a writer in that time.

I'm not one to blow my own trumpet (though I'm sure as a writer I should do so), but I feel good in myself that I've done well with this novel.

So, we go again. Fingers crossed.

Mr Abershaw's Happening Day

I notice Gabriel Strange has posted the short film Mr Abershaw's Happening Day to You Tube.

So, what's all that about? I hear you ask.

Well, the script for the film is my short story "Digging Up Donald", the same short story that subsequently grew into the novel "Digging Up Donald".

I think the film captures the tone of the work very well. And what a thrill to see one's words cross media, as it were. The film lasts about fifteen minutes, and is posted in two parts.

Part One

Part Two

It would be wonderful if you took a look, and even more so if you posted your thoughts.