Christian Cook

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Christian Cook

Goodreads Author


Born
in The United Kingdom
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Genre

Influences

Member Since
July 2011

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Christian Cook was the winner of the 2012 Ruth Rendell Short Story Competition and became writer in residence to the award-winning charity, Interact Reading Service, who use actors to read in hospitals and stroke clubs to aid stroke recovery.

His short story, 'Last Supper,' was a finalist at the Morley Literature Festival and he has work in several anthologies, including the 2011 Momaya Review, the International Rubery Book Award Anthology 2012 and the 2012 Gem Street anthology.

When not writing, Christian is a freelance designer and photographer. He currently lives in Somerset, England.
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Christian Cook For the last year, I have been employing a new 'fight fire with fire' approach. If I get stuck in a rut that feels like it is taking hold then I put t…moreFor the last year, I have been employing a new 'fight fire with fire' approach. If I get stuck in a rut that feels like it is taking hold then I put the current project to one side and write about the moment of writer's block itself. To fully embrace the feeling of not being able to write by writing about it turns the problem inside out and it implodes. Several performance poetry pieces have come out of this technique.(less)
Christian Cook The most recent book I am working on is an old idea that's been churning over and evolving for a long time. But I generally find that I lose track of …moreThe most recent book I am working on is an old idea that's been churning over and evolving for a long time. But I generally find that I lose track of the original inspiration for most projects and, in some ways, I feel that is part of the process.

What often happens is that I will start off with a tiny spark of something: a situation; a character; a snippet of dialogue; a seemingly impossible question. At some point in the editing process, I will notice that one element is really not working for the piece and it often turns out to be the first thing that inspired the concept.

Just like a plant in a garden, the original seed often vanishes from view. It some ways it feels like you haven't written the book you were supposed to write and yet you cannot take that seed off elsewhere and do something new with it because it is spent.(less)
Average rating: 3.84 · 57 ratings · 4 reviews · 12 distinct works
Broken Eggshells: A Black C...

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I Hate Gray: When it’s not ...

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Pulling Power

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Broken Worlds: Dystopian St...

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Hitler Did It

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Reaching Out & Other Storie...

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Momaya Annual Review 2011: ...

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Interactions

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The Marvel and Other Short ...

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Gem Street: Beyond the Axis

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More books by Christian Cook…

Writer's block. Fight fire with fire.



When writer's block shows its head, the worst course of action is to sigh and mutter, "I can't write anything at the moment." This immediately becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.

A new tactic I have been experimenting with is to tackle it head on and deny writer's block any chance of taking hold by writing about writer's block right there in the moment it is occurring.

'Throw it down' came through o Read more of this blog post »
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Published on November 29, 2013 08:52

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Walkabout by James Vance Marshall
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Picture This by Joseph Heller
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Walkabout by James Vance Marshall
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The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson
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The Girl Who Played with Fire by Stieg Larsson
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The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest by Stieg Larsson
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The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri
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The Salmon Of Doubt by Douglas Adams
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Metamorphosis And Other Stories by Franz Kafka
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Night Train by Martin Amis
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More of Christian's books…
“I enjoy waking up before the weather.
It never rains at 4:00AM. Yes, it’s always cold, but it’s not an uncomfortable cold; it’s the cold of an engine at rest, a day that has yet to fire into life. At this time, everything is fresh and crisp, as if it’s new and still in its wrapping.
Sunsets are beautiful, but the light fades to darkness. It’s like watching a candle burn itself out. The dawn is the birth of a new day; the sun spills colours into the clouds like a child’s paintbrush swirling in a pot of water. The countryside has such a beautiful sadness about it; a distant tractor ambles slowly along a furrowed field like a tear on a cheek.”
Christian Cook, Hitler Did It

“Brake lights, brake lights, brake lights; a domino topple of red stop lights ripples back from some non-event up ahead. Some idiot blew his nose too abruptly and a Mexican wave of mini traffic lights all went red in neat little pairs.

There are no green lights on a motorway to tell you that you can go. You just go when you can. Another short burst of hemmed in freedom until the next tsunami of ‘stop’ floods the road.”
Christian Cook, WordPlay Showcase

“He never raised a hand to us. He always said that inflicting pain, even as a last resort, was a sign that intelligence had been exhausted. He said smacking just passed on violence as an inheritance. But he was not soft with his words; when he called you to order, it pulled you up sharp. It wasn’t just a case of not teaching children to hit out. He believed the far more important lesson for the child was to realise that there are always words. However bad a child’s behaviour, there were always more words; the time to stop talking was never a point he would reach.”
Christian Cook

“Brake lights, brake lights, brake lights; a domino topple of red stop lights ripples back from some non-event up ahead. Some idiot blew his nose too abruptly and a Mexican wave of mini traffic lights all went red in neat little pairs.

There are no green lights on a motorway to tell you that you can go. You just go when you can. Another short burst of hemmed in freedom until the next tsunami of ‘stop’ floods the road.”
Christian Cook, WordPlay Showcase

“He never raised a hand to us. He always said that inflicting pain, even as a last resort, was a sign that intelligence had been exhausted. He said smacking just passed on violence as an inheritance. But he was not soft with his words; when he called you to order, it pulled you up sharp. It wasn’t just a case of not teaching children to hit out. He believed the far more important lesson for the child was to realise that there are always words. However bad a child’s behaviour, there were always more words; the time to stop talking was never a point he would reach.”
Christian Cook

“When you’re on the dance floor screaming louder than the amps and dancing to the pulse of the lights, you’re in the bubble. As soon as the bubble bursts, that it, you’re now outside it all. The swinging arms of the crowd become shutting barriers; the lights blind you and force you back; the deafening music becomes a solid wall of impenetrable sound.

It’s like you stop being one of the actors and turn into one of the film crew behind the scenes. You just have to stand back and watch in silence; the fake set slides away from you on wheels and you’re left in the dark shadows, waiting for the director to shout, ‘Cut!’ just so you can move again.

As soon as you step foot inside a club, you know that you have to keep in that bubble moment; keep drinking; keep dancing; keep mingling. Until one drink too many, exhausted from the dancing, you mingle beyond the last person in the club and fall outside the moment. Then it’s lost forever and you end up sitting next to a sleeping drunk or leaning against a pile of discarded coats.”
Christian Cook, Gem Street. The First Collection 2012

“I enjoy waking up before the weather.
It never rains at 4:00AM. Yes, it’s always cold, but it’s not an uncomfortable cold; it’s the cold of an engine at rest, a day that has yet to fire into life. At this time, everything is fresh and crisp, as if it’s new and still in its wrapping.
Sunsets are beautiful, but the light fades to darkness. It’s like watching a candle burn itself out. The dawn is the birth of a new day; the sun spills colours into the clouds like a child’s paintbrush swirling in a pot of water. The countryside has such a beautiful sadness about it; a distant tractor ambles slowly along a furrowed field like a tear on a cheek.”
Christian Cook, Hitler Did It

“Everything you have is now worth nothing and yet nothing, true nothing, is worth everything to you. For a man covered in shameful lies, to suddenly possess nothing would be a luxury. If you cannot even grasp the true value of nothing then how can you possibly appreciate the cost of all the shiny trinkets weighing down your feeble life?”
Christian Cook, The Tipping Point: An Anthology of Short Stories

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