by Mike Knowles
I mentioned before about how every book I have ever written has started out in a blue notebook that I bought at Walmart. My first book was in a blue notebook and after I found out I had to write two more I went back and cleaned the place out. The book is perfect for writing. It isn’t bound with those metal rings that get all bent and flat when you carry it around in a bag (or, in my case, a satchel or man purse). There are around 360 pages in the book so I never run out of room. And, it can go anywhere. Firing up my laptop to write requires far more stuff to carry and the setup wastes what little time I have. When I finish writing in the blue book, I start typing. This is where the first of many edits get done. So far it has been a good system. The blue notebook has never failed me–that is until a few weeks back.
I don’t think the blue notebook has any special powers, I am just a creature of habit (If you don’t know that already, you must have missed the crazy adherence to using a blue notebook in the previous paragraph. You must be scrolling down screen for someone else’s blog. I recommend McFetridge–if you’re going to blow me off at least do it for another Canadian). I eat the same breakfast, snack, lunch, and dinner pretty much everyday. I walk my dog twice a day at the exact same time. I work out on a very specific schedule. And I write twice a day everyday in a blue notebook. When I am on task, I get about 2, 000 words done in a day. For the kind of books I write, it means a book can be done in super rough form in about a month.
Since October I have been writing in a blue notebook twice a day everyday, but, as it stands, there is no book. I gave up in early December.
It all started with an idea I had in my head for a while that I wanted to turn into a book. In the summer, I started researching like a fiend. Unfortunately, the topic I chose was something that didn’t exactly make research easy. I read dozens of books, spent countless hours on the internet, I even found other non-fiction writers to give me some first hand information.
With the research done, I started writing. I thought about the book constantly. I put the time in everyday. Nothing changed from the way I wrote other books, except of course that NOTHING CAME OUT! I sat everyday for hours and sometimes only got 250 words to show for it. I kept researching and trying to push forward. I refused to admit defeat. I applied a sort of literary "Walk it off" perspective. I wouldn’t let the lack of ideas stop me from staying in the game. But in December, the game was called.
The book ended for a few reasons:
1.The book was based on a good idea, but an idea isn’t enough. An idea should be a link in a chain, but if you’re not careful it can end up being a rope just long enough to hang yourself. Some ideas don’t have a full length book in them. No matter how hard you try, you can’t stretch one idea. Dinner can be the same way. If I’m hungry and I come up with the idea that Mexican would be good, there needs to be more to it than that. Without other ideas expanding my initial thought, I’ll end up eating plan tortilla’s while I stand over the counter (it’s happened more than once).
2. The book was supposed to span twenty years. I like stories like that, but to write them you have to keep in mind the difference in the two time periods. Life in the 80's is nothing like life today. For instance, in the eighties my dad had hair now not so much. It donned on me at about 15, 000 words that there were a bunch of anomalies in the story, and there were plenty of nights spent fixing all of my mistakes.
3. The final reason is simple. One night, I suddenly realized that the story I was writing sounded so good to me because it was exactly like a book I loved that became a movie I loved. All of the scribbles in the blue notebook felt suddenly unoriginal and that shook me loose. There was no more walking it off. Game over.
Now you may be saying to yourself. What was the book on? What was the book he felt like he was copying. I’m not saying. The reason is simple. There is an off chance the blue notebook is still going to work. I may be able to come back to it in a year or two and turn it into something.
And that right there is how deep the idea of walking it off is burned into me. Even when I say I gave up, I don’t mean it. The game has to start again sometime.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Saturday, January 2, 2010
"The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle" - A Review
Note: It's in the last hour of the first day of a new decade and, frankly, I'm still in my New Year's daze. I ain't got nothing new right now. However, since I'm still in a Sherlock Holmes mood and I have a column to prepare, I am going to post here a little blog I wrote in December 2008 about "The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle" with minor edits. I have a word or two about the Jeremy Brett episode at the end.
Personal note: I'd like to thank all the readers for this group blog. It's an ongoing experiment and one that continues to entertain me. I hope you continue to be entertained in 2010.
Congrats to fellow DSDer Steve Weddle. His story, "Missed Flight," is the first weekly story of the year at Beat to a Pulp. I've read it once. I'm going to read it again.
Now, my take on The Blue Carbuncle from December 2008.
Of all the Sherlock Holmes stories, I have read three over and over. The novel The Hounds of the Baskervilles continues to entertain me. “A Scandal in Bohemia” is unique because Holmes is outwitted by a woman. But it is the sole Christmas story, “The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle,” that I have read more than any other Holmes story.
I re-read it again this Christmas season, as I do most years, and enjoyed it as much as I always have. This time, however, I read it as a writer. I am no Sherlockian scholar by any means but I did observe a couple of interesting tidbits. I assume you’ve all read the story so there will be spoilers throughout.
The most obvious facet of the story is so obvious, it can be missed: the structure. Arthur Conan Doyle always gives the reader, in the form of Watson, all the facts of the case. Two days after Christmas, Watson stops by Baker Street “with the intention of wishing [Holmes] the compliments of the season.” The detective has been examining a hat and, after retelling how the hat came into his possession, beckons Watson to play detective. “Here is my lens. You know my methods. What can you gather yourself as to the individuality of the man who has worn this article?” I think Doyle puts this scene at the front of the story not only to propel the case forward but also to offer his readers more insight into the world first consulting detective. “Blue Carbuncle” was the seventh short story published and there might have been a few folks who were not attuned to Holmes’ ways.
The hat wasn’t the only thing brought to Baker Street. It also came with a goose. Holmes released the goose to the policeman who found both items but the story really gets moving when that same policeman returns to 221B with the blue carbuncle in his hand, the very same gem recently stolen from the Cosmopolitan Hotel. Now, Holmes’s little mental exercise pays dividends as he and Watson now must find the owner and trace the path of the carbuncle and exonerate an innocent man.
It is the path that I noted in this re-reading. Holmes and Watson follow the trail of the gemstone: from goose to the club from which it was given to Henry Baker (the hat’s owner) to the reseller to the lady who fattens geese for sale. What fascinated me was the logical progression. Nothing was coincidence, something I struggle with in my own writing. Oh, I think, I need Guy and Girl to meet so they’ll rob a bank together. I’ll just have them talking aloud at a street corner, they’ll hear each other, and then… Yeah. Not believable. Even train of thought and action in “Blue Carbuncle” is consistent and rational.
Doyle’s word choices in this story are also of note. They’re subtle but say a good deal about how Doyle sees his creation. On the first page, Doyle writes, “…he [Holmes] jerked his thumb in the direction of the hat…” It’s the word “jerked” that striking. Not motioned or pointed but jerked. Doyle’s showing us Holmes brain had already moved on past the problem of the hat—something that probably took seconds for him—until Watson arrived. Once he has an audience, Holmes frankly, shows off. I think he needs to demonstrate his prowess. How else can you explain all the times when he doesn’t even let Watson in on his plans?
I also appreciated how Doyle’s word choices allowed the readers to fill in the blanks. With space limited in a short story, Doyle didn’t have time to go on and on describing things. Watson noticing the ice crystals forming on the windows of 221B Baker Street allows the readers to create their own mental picture of what Victorian London at Christmas time. Undoubtedly, we almost all think of Dickens and Scrooge and you probably wouldn’t be far off. A little later, Doyle writes “…and the breath of the passers-by flew out into smoke like so many pistol shots.” Now, if that isn’t a great way to describe seeing people’s breath on a cold night, I don’t know what is. And then there is the use of the word “ejaculated” to describe a vocal utterance. Never understood that one.
As I turn my own writing attention to short stories, it is nice to return to a familiar and loved tale and dig deeper into what makes it a great story. It’s Holmes and Watson to be sure as well as the Victorian setting. The story itself, however, is the key. It’s a page-turner with few pages. The action propels you forward until you reach the end and Holmes’ Christmas pardon to the culprit. Doyle may have grown to dislike his creation but the man can still tell a good story.
------
Back in 2010 now. Last week, I watched the Jeremy Brett version of "The Blue Carbuncle" filmed in the late 80s. Interestingly, the robbery of the jewel was the first thing we viewers saw. It wasn't until five or so minutes into the episode that Holmes and Watson show up on screen as they examine the hat. I have to say that some of the mystery evaporates when we see the actual robbery. One of the greatest pleasures in reading Holmes's tales is his reconstruction of the crime. Having seen the crime played out (albeit without all the actors on the stage), it took something away from this story. This is, of course, an ironic thing for me to say for it makes me appear to be a traditionalist. I am the same guy who loves the new film for all of its non-traditional elements. Go figure.
Personal note: I'd like to thank all the readers for this group blog. It's an ongoing experiment and one that continues to entertain me. I hope you continue to be entertained in 2010.
Congrats to fellow DSDer Steve Weddle. His story, "Missed Flight," is the first weekly story of the year at Beat to a Pulp. I've read it once. I'm going to read it again.
Now, my take on The Blue Carbuncle from December 2008.
Of all the Sherlock Holmes stories, I have read three over and over. The novel The Hounds of the Baskervilles continues to entertain me. “A Scandal in Bohemia” is unique because Holmes is outwitted by a woman. But it is the sole Christmas story, “The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle,” that I have read more than any other Holmes story.
I re-read it again this Christmas season, as I do most years, and enjoyed it as much as I always have. This time, however, I read it as a writer. I am no Sherlockian scholar by any means but I did observe a couple of interesting tidbits. I assume you’ve all read the story so there will be spoilers throughout.
The most obvious facet of the story is so obvious, it can be missed: the structure. Arthur Conan Doyle always gives the reader, in the form of Watson, all the facts of the case. Two days after Christmas, Watson stops by Baker Street “with the intention of wishing [Holmes] the compliments of the season.” The detective has been examining a hat and, after retelling how the hat came into his possession, beckons Watson to play detective. “Here is my lens. You know my methods. What can you gather yourself as to the individuality of the man who has worn this article?” I think Doyle puts this scene at the front of the story not only to propel the case forward but also to offer his readers more insight into the world first consulting detective. “Blue Carbuncle” was the seventh short story published and there might have been a few folks who were not attuned to Holmes’ ways.
The hat wasn’t the only thing brought to Baker Street. It also came with a goose. Holmes released the goose to the policeman who found both items but the story really gets moving when that same policeman returns to 221B with the blue carbuncle in his hand, the very same gem recently stolen from the Cosmopolitan Hotel. Now, Holmes’s little mental exercise pays dividends as he and Watson now must find the owner and trace the path of the carbuncle and exonerate an innocent man.
It is the path that I noted in this re-reading. Holmes and Watson follow the trail of the gemstone: from goose to the club from which it was given to Henry Baker (the hat’s owner) to the reseller to the lady who fattens geese for sale. What fascinated me was the logical progression. Nothing was coincidence, something I struggle with in my own writing. Oh, I think, I need Guy and Girl to meet so they’ll rob a bank together. I’ll just have them talking aloud at a street corner, they’ll hear each other, and then… Yeah. Not believable. Even train of thought and action in “Blue Carbuncle” is consistent and rational.
Doyle’s word choices in this story are also of note. They’re subtle but say a good deal about how Doyle sees his creation. On the first page, Doyle writes, “…he [Holmes] jerked his thumb in the direction of the hat…” It’s the word “jerked” that striking. Not motioned or pointed but jerked. Doyle’s showing us Holmes brain had already moved on past the problem of the hat—something that probably took seconds for him—until Watson arrived. Once he has an audience, Holmes frankly, shows off. I think he needs to demonstrate his prowess. How else can you explain all the times when he doesn’t even let Watson in on his plans?
I also appreciated how Doyle’s word choices allowed the readers to fill in the blanks. With space limited in a short story, Doyle didn’t have time to go on and on describing things. Watson noticing the ice crystals forming on the windows of 221B Baker Street allows the readers to create their own mental picture of what Victorian London at Christmas time. Undoubtedly, we almost all think of Dickens and Scrooge and you probably wouldn’t be far off. A little later, Doyle writes “…and the breath of the passers-by flew out into smoke like so many pistol shots.” Now, if that isn’t a great way to describe seeing people’s breath on a cold night, I don’t know what is. And then there is the use of the word “ejaculated” to describe a vocal utterance. Never understood that one.
As I turn my own writing attention to short stories, it is nice to return to a familiar and loved tale and dig deeper into what makes it a great story. It’s Holmes and Watson to be sure as well as the Victorian setting. The story itself, however, is the key. It’s a page-turner with few pages. The action propels you forward until you reach the end and Holmes’ Christmas pardon to the culprit. Doyle may have grown to dislike his creation but the man can still tell a good story.
------
Back in 2010 now. Last week, I watched the Jeremy Brett version of "The Blue Carbuncle" filmed in the late 80s. Interestingly, the robbery of the jewel was the first thing we viewers saw. It wasn't until five or so minutes into the episode that Holmes and Watson show up on screen as they examine the hat. I have to say that some of the mystery evaporates when we see the actual robbery. One of the greatest pleasures in reading Holmes's tales is his reconstruction of the crime. Having seen the crime played out (albeit without all the actors on the stage), it took something away from this story. This is, of course, an ironic thing for me to say for it makes me appear to be a traditionalist. I am the same guy who loves the new film for all of its non-traditional elements. Go figure.
Friday, January 1, 2010
2010
By Russel D McLean
2010.
Its here. The bells rang at midnight. Jools Holland's annual Hootenany on the Beeb likely had some great music (and probably a few guests where you think, what the hell is that? But its all part and parcel of his eclectic new years mix), some awkward interviews with celebrities who just want to keep drinking and ended with some boogie-woogie. Edinburgh either had an amazing street party or gave up because of the weather. Inverness made the best of scuppered celebration plans And across the world, we wake up in a new decade. Some of us with hangovers. Some of us still suffering from end of year colds*.
2010.
It seemed so futuristic. I mean, when I watched Roy Scheider lead that US/USSR team of astronauts out to Europa I was thinking, "all of this seems so far away - I'll be an old man when this happens."
I'm thirty years old.
There are no space flights. There are no monoliths.
But the future still seems exciting and full of possibility.
2010.
I make no predictions. I just look forward to whatever happens.
And I want to say thank you to all the new friends I have made in this decade, the ones who have helped me personally and professionally. You know who you are. And you know why I am thanking you.
And I want to say a big thank you to my friends here at DSD for making me feel finally like I'm part of a gang. A good gang. Not a knife wielding one. And especially to the readers. I hope you'll all come with me into the new decade with as much enthusiasm and joy.
And a special thank you from all the DSD gang to Rob Kitchin at View from the Blue House for making us one of his blogs of the year. We're still the new kids on the block, but we're incredibly honoured. We'll try and keep up the standards this year as well.
2010.
Its here.
So let's make it a good one.
*at the time of writing, none of this had happened, of course, and I was merely speculating on various new yearly celebrations and their outcomes - whatever yours was, I hope it was a good 'un.
2010.
Its here. The bells rang at midnight. Jools Holland's annual Hootenany on the Beeb likely had some great music (and probably a few guests where you think, what the hell is that? But its all part and parcel of his eclectic new years mix), some awkward interviews with celebrities who just want to keep drinking and ended with some boogie-woogie. Edinburgh either had an amazing street party or gave up because of the weather. Inverness made the best of scuppered celebration plans And across the world, we wake up in a new decade. Some of us with hangovers. Some of us still suffering from end of year colds*.
2010.
It seemed so futuristic. I mean, when I watched Roy Scheider lead that US/USSR team of astronauts out to Europa I was thinking, "all of this seems so far away - I'll be an old man when this happens."
I'm thirty years old.
There are no space flights. There are no monoliths.
But the future still seems exciting and full of possibility.
2010.
I make no predictions. I just look forward to whatever happens.
And I want to say thank you to all the new friends I have made in this decade, the ones who have helped me personally and professionally. You know who you are. And you know why I am thanking you.
And I want to say a big thank you to my friends here at DSD for making me feel finally like I'm part of a gang. A good gang. Not a knife wielding one. And especially to the readers. I hope you'll all come with me into the new decade with as much enthusiasm and joy.
And a special thank you from all the DSD gang to Rob Kitchin at View from the Blue House for making us one of his blogs of the year. We're still the new kids on the block, but we're incredibly honoured. We'll try and keep up the standards this year as well.
2010.
Its here.
So let's make it a good one.
*at the time of writing, none of this had happened, of course, and I was merely speculating on various new yearly celebrations and their outcomes - whatever yours was, I hope it was a good 'un.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)