So I was asked to read a manuscript, with an eye to a possible stage adaptation. It happened in that roundabout way that entails friends and friends of mutual friends… I’m sure you know how it is. And because of some initial insistence that I should meet the author first, or I could not really understand, I went in with a certain amount of wariness… Continue reading
So, the last day of November… Time for reviews, isn’t it?
Let’s begin with my not-quite-NaNoWriMo. I meant to work on my new on spec play – the one without even a working title – and so I did: the other night I finished the first draft, with a couple of days to spare. It is a very first-drafty first draft, and will require a lot of work still, of course – but there it is, and not too horrible. I think I can count it as done.
But that’s not all. Considering how December is a month for sporadic writing at best, I might as well take stock of my writing year in general. Let’s see… Continue reading
Dear me, how can it be November again? And yes, I know it always catches me unaware, and every year I behave as though I’d never seen a November before…
“Oh, look – a November! I’d heard about these, but I wasn’t even sure they truly existed. And yet here it is… (pokes) How very bizarre!” Continue reading
Yes – it’s the novel. Again. But the fact is, you see, that there is this rather grim thing happening in June 1594 – historically happening, I mean. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, because while not directly involving my hero, it has two sets of ties to his circumstances – one practical (and historically documented), and one, shall we say, psychological… Continue reading
As already stated – and as, I’m sure, is the case with all of you – I have a To Read Least far longer than my arm and ever-growing, so after each book I spend ages browsing my shelves and piles, or poring over my Kindle’s menu page, like Buridan’s Donkey – with far too many pails of water and stacks of hay. This time, the process was made even slower by the fact that I’m readingreadingreading up for my new play-to-be, so that my leisure reading time is rather reduced…
Well, anyway, last night I decided to give a try to a novel about Irish leader Robert Emmet. I have some interest in the character and period, but know little enough about both – except that I recently read Dion Boucicault’s entertainingly overblown 1884 play on the same subject. So, why not try a (purportedly far more accurate) novel? So I began Tread Softly etc with every intention of liking it, and…
I did not. Or at least… I don’t think there’s much wrong with the gentle pace and old-fashioned writing – I usually like the sort – but by page twenty I’d had enough of the author’s obvious hero-worship of her protagonist. Still a teenager, young Emmet was showing such a degree of perfection that it was too much for me. It is entirely possible that things would have grown better with some persistence, and perhaps I’ll go back to the novel later, when I’m… oh, I don’t know. The fact is that right now I’m not spending my limited reading time with gentle, soft-spoken, intelligent, determined, brave, wise-beyond-their-years, determined, elegant in mind and body and whatnot fifteen-years old.
Which is how, by one of those leaps of logic, I turned to Jessie Burton’s The Miniaturist – and found an entirely different kind of book. The writing is dense, with a certain timeless quality to it and a fine rhythm. The characters are wonderfully drawn, the details are rich, and sharp, and vivid, so that 17th Century Amsterdam jumps out of the page, with the clarity and cold light of a Dutch painting, and the present tense narration provides the whole with a sense of growing tension. Lovely. I was soon captured – and there is my next read. A read of the sort one can’t wait to go back to. And well – it’s early pages, and I know by bitter experience that plenty can go wrong before the ending. Let us say that, if things keep up as the seem to promise so far, The Miniaturist is very likely to give me book-lag when I’ve finished it.
And because this is the effect I’d love to produce in my readers (who wouldn’t?), I began to think about my own novel-in-progress. Am I making my hero insufferable in some way? I’m rather sure he is far from too perfect – but is there something else that might make it hard for the reader to like him? Am I writing to safely? Too Elizabethanishly, I’ve been told, and tried to remedy – but is the language effective, and distinct, and vivid? And how about my setting’s details? Am I using the right ones? Am I using them right? Am I conveying not just a convincing sense of Elizabethan London – but an engaging one?
Ah well – this might as well be a case of what David Corbett was discussing in the article I mentioned in Tuesday’s post. Perfect, don’t you think? Now I am, most definitely, inspired to emulation.
What was the last book that inspired you in this way?
I think I already told you about Writer Unboxed, a lovely writerly site, full of good ideas, thought-provoking questions, fine articles, practical wisdom, and so on.
Well, today on WU, David Corbett posed the question of reading or not reading while writing. He begins by observing that many writers seem to prefer not to – to avoid the risk of imitation, mostly – and then goes on to make a very convincing case for the opposite course of action. Continue reading
Well well well – would you believe it? But weeks do fly, don’t they? A heartbeat ago it was october, and now it’s so very nearly the end of November that it makes no difference. So it would seem that it’s reckoning time: how did SN4WriMo go?
Let us say, well enough.
One the one hand, this fourth draft was meant mostly as an effort to make the language smoother – and that I finished with a good week to spare. Continue reading
This post on Karavansara made me jump: good heavens above, is it that time of the year again already?
And of course it is, and it will be November in a few days, and so it is even late to begin to think about doing NaNoWriMo – but the fact is that, even if I had not lost track of time and planned ahead… er. It’s always the same story: much as I like the notion of a month-long concentrated effort with an artificial but solid enough deadline, November is always about the very worst time for it. Continue reading
So, October is here, a full month has passed – and here we go.
Fourth draft, bearing in mind what I learned in Oxford. Mostly, that I need to trim the language…
“I’m not saying you make it easy for the reader,” I was told. “Just don’t make it so hard that they’ll give up.”
Sound advice. Not that I was deliberately trying to make it hard, mind you – only it seems that my grasp of what is “too hard” may need some adjusting. Also, I may have let myself be carried away with Elizabethan English. A little.
So now that’s what I’m aiming for: Elizabethan colour – just not too much.
I’ll let you know.