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.

A New Year

So, is everyone back and raring to go at the new decade?

No, me neither :-) I always find this time of year a bit depressing.

There's chaos in Liverpool right now. We've had about six inches of snow, and when that happens the world ends. The Town Council scratch their collective heads and wonder just where they put the grit lorries. Oh, and did anybody actually order in some grit?

It took me two and a half hours to do what usually is a twenty minute drive yesterday. I couldn't get the car up a hill, and had to go back down and try my luck on a different hill, and these hills are main trunk routes out of town. It's disconcerting going sideways up a hill.

The bus company bailed out. It got to three p.m. and they didn't like the roads one bit, so they did the decent, honourable, heroic thing and went home. Of course, they were lucky, because at least they had buses to go home in; not like the thousands of people they left behind at their work. The schools have closed. It's a good job we don't live in Canada or our children would go uneducated.

Still, there you go, Happy New Year and whatnot...

Now, where's my shovel...?

Christmas Cheer

Is it really twelve days since I last posted here? Christmas time is a bit of a blur, no?

Anyway, I wish you all a Merry Christmas. And, if you don't celebrate Christmas, then I wish you a Merry Non-Christmas instead.

Relatively Relative

I discovered a distant, elderly relative in the Ukraine. At least I think I have, if she's still alive.

It felt odd writing a letter to her. I was told the Poles/Ukrainians like 'care' in a letter, as if I should write it asking how's the cat?—or how's the woman next door's burst boil? But how do you create a 'cosy' letter to what is effectively a total stranger, and across cultures at that?

And it felt odd writing to a woman who might have passed away.

Of course, if that's the case, I'm hoping she's left family behind, and they might get in touch and help with my search for the Michalczyk family tree. Or maybe they'll think who's this barn-pot Englishman with his daft obsession with the past, and barely glance up from their Wodka?

I have to say I'm very impressed with Google's translator. I joined a Polish online forum a while back, and one of the regulars on that forum kindly translated a draft of my letter for me. I ran it through Google to see how the translation back into English held up, and it was near perfect. It gave me confidence to add to my original letter using Google's Polish.

Now I wait to see if there's any reply. I included an email address—I wonder if there's Internet in rural Ukraine? Not that I'd expect my octogenarian relative to be using it (although, having said that, my dad is 85 and he's just had broadband installed—he's the oldest net-head in town :-).