MCM's Blog, page 11

Review: The Aeon Calling by Garth Erickson

 

The Aeon Calling

By Garth Erickson

 

“Alex Brown is hit with unbearable trauma; self-conscious and obsessive, a t once the haunted and the haunter, he time-travels from personal tragedy through war in Africa, rain in Glasgow, and a shit-load of monkey business in-between to domestic psycho sis. Armed with the Tarot (a guide for the misguided) and a ghostly pair of pistols, Alex sets about trying to reset his world. Sex, Death and Time – A dark, multi-layered journe y through the obsessed and haunted mind of Alex Brown. Alex’s mind is alive with the pre-apocalyptic world, but focussed only on Susan – the one woman he can not have.

The Aeon Calling was my second attempt at writing a novel, the first being an odd little sci-fi thing called Transfer at Pandora Central. Which is not to say that The Aeon Calling is not odd – I did my best to ignore all perceived novel writing wisdom and portray what I saw in my head – supernatural, sexy, sometimes semi-autobiographical and, of course, with the usual helping of pseudo-philosophic-psycho-babble.”

*****

Any episodic entertainment takes a risk. Every time an ad breaks the stream of my concentration on the telly I am likely to lose interest and wander off, or turn to another program. The same happens with series and serials. If one episode is bad, the incentive to tune in again next time is at risk. And so it is with serial fiction. But when you find good webfiction, like that found at WFG, fictionaut, Year Zero Writers, or flashing by, it’s addictive. That is how and where I found the author of this month’s review book.

I first read Garth Erickson’s serials from a link at flashing by. I was immediately struck by the beauty of his words and a sense that I was only just holding on to the pieces of each story as he brought them together. That sense of clinging to understanding by the tips of the fingers but learning to trust the author and enjoy the work came with familiarity, and reading his work in novel form is no disappointment.

I loved The Aeon Calling, as I thought I probably would. Erickson’s summary of this book calls it multi-layered. Multi-layered does not begin to describe it.

Alex Brown hears the voices of his ‘ghosts’ long before any trauma has entered his life. They are always there, even the ghosts of his toys broken in anger. As he spins through the chaos and pain of his life they are constant, as is the guilt for things over which he had no control, the Tarot cards he took from beside his dead mother, memories of the Angolan war, and the love of his wife, who is perfect in every way – except she is not the one woman he obsesses over.

Each subject creates a layer of meaning and confusion in Alex’ life, and as we slip into his madness, time itself has no relevance. Memories come and go; there is no firm NOW in this book until the very end. It is a journey through a man’s psychosis. There is no firm REAL for Alex; he recalls his life, and experiences his madness: at times omniscient, at times powerless in the face of consequences.

Don’t be alarmed at the thought of this lack of line. All the separate threads begin to tie together and an order emerges naturally as we follow Alex’ age in each memory. There are clear and clearer markers given at each point to give the reader a firm enough grasp on where they are in the narrative.

The Tarot itself, specifically the Aeon card referenced in the title, gives some insight into Alex’ view of reality:

The Aeon (or Judgement, Last Judgement, Atonement, Resurrection) is numbered twenty and often shows figures arising from graves in answer to the clarion call of an angel. The Aeon forces us to acknowledge that our actions set up a chain of cause-and-effect for which we are solely responsible. Here we pass through the fire of purification, shedding dead and dying wood as we go. We judge ourselves frankly , forgive, and leave the past behind. And then we are free to step into the light.

There will come a moment, if we are true to ourselves, when we know exactly what we need to do. And when that moment comes there will be no further prevarication, no doubt, no fear. This is because time itself has enormous power. To find the right time for anything is a really useful life skill. When a choice comes to its own moment, it becomes empowered by its own momentum, and at that moment we can move forward with confidence. Sometimes, then, just of itself, this card will bring about changes on the day that it rules.

Reading some of Garth’s bio will also shed light into the depths of feeling revealed by the author through his character. The Aeon Calling is not autobiographical, but it plainly draws on a number of experiences and beliefs held by the author [AKA Pisces Iscariot] himself.

I rate this an easy FIVE stars. That means I not only enjoyed it, I recommend it without any reservation, and no ifs or exceptions. Superb.

*****

About the author: Garth Erickson

Just for the record: the most I will try and sell you is one of my books; I have no other agenda; I’m not a teacher, a preacher or a double glazing salesman. Neither do I aspire to be any of those. Which is not to say that I have nothing to give; I believe that the events that shaped (and continue to shape) my life have resonance beyond the (meta)physical presence of Pisces Iscariot. We are all involved in history. With this in mind, anyone expecting guidance, enlightenment, epiphanies or healing might as well leave now.

Some basic facts: • I was born in Durban in 1962. According to the rules of the game this makes me a South African. • I am a pacifist; I don’t want to get killed in anybody’s territorial/resource war • I am an atheist; I owe my soul to no god. Other works

A Matter of Taste.

I’ve been reading a lot again lately, after a few years of reading very little. I had lost interest in most of what I found on the shelves at the bookstores, finding I was disappointed as often as not. Since discovering online fiction and especially webfiction, I’ve found it is possible to read a great deal without the sort of time and emotional investment needed for a really good novel.

Not that there aren’t plenty of exceptional, emotionally involving works available in serial form, but the enforced wait between updates can serve to dampen the effect just as easily as it can heighten anticipation. Which is, of course, the perfect reason to look to the list of 1889 Labs publications; when you have enjoyed the story in episodic form, you can enjoy it all again, differently, with the release of a book.

But, anyway, back to my day to day. I felt it had been too long since I read some really good fantasy – so, off I went to Google up a list of the best in fantasy titles to see what would tickle my fancy. I found an excellent list, which then directed me to a well known online super-marketplace, where I could find reviews on the recommended titles. Once there, I did what I always do. I read a handful of the 5 stars and a number of the 1 star reviews for each title. [I also add up the number of reviews marked 3 stars and under and then compare it to the number of high scores. See, 3 is a fail, for me. Not for the book, it means it is a fair enough read, but I want to find the BEST. There are too many good books out there to waste time choosing something that is just okay.]

What I found reminded me of a comment made by a friend who worked at a pizza chain call centre. She said, “You only hear from the lovers or the haters.” But I wonder how many times lovers and haters are struck by the exact same points. Do the phoner-inners hate their anchovy with a passion as grand as those who were angry there was not enough anchovy? Does an excess of cheese get a poor reception from the diet-conscious and wild applause from the cheese lovers of the world?

In fiction, it seems to happen a lot.

Looking at the Song of Ice and Fire saga from George RR Martin, the very first review listed all the points the subsequent negative and positive reviews would reveal. Many of the elements which make up Martin’s work are not stereotypical, and for those who loved a new face on fantasy: disposable, ambiguous characters, gritty, violent realism, misogyny, and complex plots and subplots, it is a masterpiece. For those who hate all of these elements with an equal passion, it is an abomination.

Malazan Book of the Fallen series by Steven Erikson did not trouble readers so much with leaving behind the norms of the genre. Erikson struggled with what reviewers called a controversial writing style; controversial, because debate wound on and on about whether he was a genius wordsmith or a verbose fool writing incomprehensible drivel. Those who loved his voice delighted in every meandering paragraph through book after book. Many others abandoned the first book, even after several determined starts.

by Patrick Rothfuss struck a different cord again. For readers, lovers and critics alike, it was the characters he drew that caused dissent. Some loved and praised the realization of his central character as both youthfully foolish, and at the same time, clever and skilled enough to show his arrogance. Critics canned Rothfuss for writing an unlikable and contradictory character.

The list is one of fine books, and the reviews for all of them are thoughtful and wonderfully emotive. But in a short time I realized how strongly each of us is motivated by the individual lens through which we see a book. We rarely stop to think – this is not to my taste. We judge the work as good or bad, because we liked or disliked it or something about it. The more passionately we are moved by the fault/genius of the story, the higher or lower we will be tempted to mark it in a review.

It makes reading both the highest and lowest reviews a worthwhile process. People who feel passionately enough about a book to have rated it a 5 star faultless, or a 1 star bilge water, and have then gone to the trouble of telling others why they felt this strongly, have a valid point to make. Whether in the end you agree or disagree, whether you decide to read the book or to let it slide, the book did what all books should do – it stirred an emotional response that was worth sharing.

After that, it’s all a matter of taste.

1889 Labs Ascends with Big Jump Productions

1889 Labs has teamed up with BIG JUMP Productions to publish a series of teen novels entitled ASCENSION. The series will be written by debut author Yvonne Reid, with the first book scheduled for release this summer.

We can’t give away too many spoilers just yet, but what we will say is that ASCENSION follows a teenage girl whose only hope of survival is winning a tournament she’s never trained for… all the while keeping her identity secret. And if anyone discovers who she really is, she’ll never make it home alive.

Think “Hunger Games meets robots”. Then make it ten times cooler.

The first installment of ASCENSION is coming out this summer. Keep your eyes peeled.

The Word “Fact” Has Lost All Meaning

I would make a terrible journalist.

Did you know that they’re not allowed to lie? And if they lie, then there are consequences? Every time a journalist lies the moustache of a robber baron grows three inches and becomes three degrees curlier. A scummy crime boss grows another layer of grim. A corrupt politician crashes the first six miles of his Bentley into an orphanage and has time to finish his single-malt scotch before climbing into his auxiliary Cadillac and jettisoning before the passenger compartment comes within view of the wreckage.

The thought of responsibility makes me sweat. That’s why I spend my writing time making up stuff.

Fact about me: facts don’t work on me. I zone out and have flashbacks to my past life as a history student. Did you know that Caesar Augustus was not the final Roman Emperor to ride a Tyrannosaurus Rex into battle? That the Sack of Rome is not a lewd reference to Mark Antony? That everything that I know about the ancient world could be inscribed on a grain of rice with an extra-fat Sharpie?

Don’t put the cap back on the marker. Take a few deep breaths, then open up Tacitus. You’ll get an idea of how I understand history.

But sometimes I have to struggle with facts (ew), just like I have to struggle with transitions. Both hurdles have come up very recently.

I’ve been writing an alternate history novel for the past nine months. And it turns out that for it to be “alternate history” and not “mindfluff” then I have to put some actual history into it. World War I. Wireless telegraphy. Electrification, urban and rural. Tesla. The Curies. Nuclear weapons.

One of these things is totally like the other and you’d believe me if it wasn’t for stupid facts.

History, granted, is not fact: history is by its very nature an interpretive act. Historians must choose what stories to tell and what stories go untold. They piece together stories and data into patterns that make or break a thesis. Historians combine fact with passion, intramural drama and incredible myopia to interpret the past.

These qualities are vital to wrest any sort of tangible, worthwhile product out of the howling mysteries of the past.

Wait. These qualities also make for great plots. Passion? Intramural drama? Myopia?

Maybe my next book should be about historians instead of history. Maybe I could ignore some of these facts.

Whoops. I said the f-word again. I have to go lie down.

The Evolution of an Author

When we first write something–a book, a short story, an article, whatever–we love it. We think it’s the absolute best thing we’ve ever written. We sit there beaming at those clusters of words strewn into sentences strewn into paragraphs (sometimes) strewn into pages and think: “Yeah, it doesn’t get any better than this.”

Unfortunately, it does. And yes, I mean unfortunately.

Because like every other aspect in our lives, writing evolves.

The fourth book in a series I’ve been working on for over three years now has just been released, the fifth and last one due out this summer. Recently I picked up the first book and glanced over it.

… And then I cringed.

I skimmed through the draft of the final book that has yet to be released, and realized the writing is different. It’s been nearly two years since I’d revised that first book, and back then I thought it was so completely filled with awesome that no one could have told me otherwise. Now I think it’s utter crap. In fact, I’m currently in the process of producing an entirely rewritten second edition after begging 1889 Labs to let me go ahead with it.

But in a sense, it’s a futile battle; I’m sure in another four years from now I’ll look back on the rewritten edition and think it’s crap as well. It seems like an endless process, and then I wonder if there is ever a point at which we achieve our apex of ‘perfect’ writing. Do we ever reach our maximum ability? Or perhaps we’re not really getting ‘better’, but instead just writing differently?

Even with these dizzying thoughts, a rewrite would at least make the series more consistent, rather than having it seem as though two different authors had written it. Lately I’ve become so obsessed with trying to improve that I spend more time analyzing each sentence than focusing on the story. My husband finally told me that it’ll never be perfect, and to just put it out and move on. It’s what every author does, they move on. After this rewrite, so will I… albeit reluctantly.

I wonder how many other published authors look back on their earliest work and feel like burning it?

What is your favourite book?

Just lately people keep asking me the worst possible question. No, not questions about the motivating forces that apply to perambulating ducks, not ‘would you kill your child to save the world?’ not ‘do you want fries with that?’; worse.

What is your favourite book?

How does anyone ever answer that? At any given moment, it might be the book I am reading now or the one I wish I was reading. I do not have any exclusivity in genre preferences; I’ll read most things and enjoy many. There are too many variables that influence my choice.

There is the weather. Cold wet weather makes me want to read classics. If I can curl up in comfy chair with a hot Milo or Irish coffee, with a TimTam and a duvet, then I like to read old books and pretend it is a simpler time or the world is a different place. So I’d have to start with a list of classical Literature that I have enjoyed repeatedly. But to pick one?

Hot sunny weather is unlikely to bring on a reading binge, but if it did I would want something foreign. Living in Queensland all my life has never cured me of associating heat and humidity with pre-war Singapore, all white linen and broad-brimmed hats on ladies sipping G&Ts on rattan verandah chairs, or colonial African plains spreading out for ever with the threats of adventure, blood and riches. There are masses of those, too. Which one is best?

If, like me, you have had multitudes of sport-playing children to chauffer about on the weekends, you will know there is rarely time to watch any one of them compete. The schedule demands you drop one off with gear early, to get another to their venue just in time to head back across the endless suburbs to where another must be signed in, signed for, paid for, kitted out, fed, and photographed before the whole journey runs again backwards. Throughout that day you will have periods, however brief, where waiting in carparks reading is the only sane option. That book has to be light. That’s the time for chicklit or comedy or blissfully both! But not for Dostoyevsky. Or it’s time for a great short story collection. Or even a comic. So – choose your favourite carpark book, I dare you to try.

Doctors’ waiting rooms. Yes, you’re groaning. It depends, doesn’t it? Do you want to flick through an eleven year old celebrity focused magazine with the crossword done in red biro and wrong? No. No one does, but they persevere because trying to choose a good doctors’ waiting room book is too hard. It’s fine if it is only a check up, or a non-life threatening complaint. But what if you can’t think straight because of the persistent burning? What if there is a lump or a discharge? What if it is a prenatal checkup and you are so excited you just cannot see the words?

Having a few different favourite books to take to the doctor is essential. I like books I can open at any page, and familiarity with them allows me to resume reading from any point. If there are really loud and fascinating social interactions going on around you, [as there often are at my doctor's surgery] you can relax knowing you won’t have to keep re reading a passage every time your attention is snagged away.

Can’t sleep and need to? Then something biographical. So many interesting people, fascinating people, who have had the day-to-day diarized for them just so you can read their tales as you try to nod off. Can’t sleep and don’t care? Then something really gripping; something to take your mind off lying on the bed as the time ticks by. A great thriller or adventure novel. Or truly beautiful poetry or poetic prose that lets your tired mind flow through washes and waves of thought and imagery.

I haven’t scratched the surface of times to read, and each one has a hundred books that would be the perfect choice for that moment in time. So for every hundred moments, there are a hundred wonderful books. For every emotional state or state of confusion or relaxation, there are another hundred that I might be thrilled to pick up over and over again.

I answered the question recently for Tonya Moore. I said, ‘Precious Bane’, ‘Wuthering Heights’, and ‘Cold Comfort Farm’ as a box set. On reading that, a friend said, “What? You didn’t even mention Douglas Adams?” No I didn’t. I wasn’t thinking of humour at that moment. I was thinking about loam and lovechildren. I didn’t mention Homer, or Terry Pratchett or PG Wodehouse either and every one of their books is a favourite. I might have alighted on ‘The Prophet’ or ‘Sacrament’ or ‘Titus Andronicus’.

I cannot choose. I cannot, ever, reliably choose my favourite book.

If you can, how? What is it and why is it so far above all the beauties of literature that it holds its place in every circumstance? How do you do it?

 

Multiple Pen Name Disorder

by Emily Devenport

I’ve had three pen names during my writing career, so, “Why did you change pen names so often?” is a question I’ve been asked a lot. People may assume an author would do that because her first books weren’t successful, and she wanted another shot with a new name. That’s not a bad assumption, but I changed my pen names for only one reason: my publisher wanted me to. And not because they were trying to fool readers — at least, not at first.

My first six books sold pretty well. When I changed my pen name from Emily Devenport to Maggy Thomas, my publisher was actually trying to fool the book store chains. The chains had an unfortunate policy of ordering only as many copies of a midlist writer’s new title as they’d recently ordered of the last book. I don’t mean total sales. I mean the last order. So even if they sold 30 copies of your title at a particular location, if they ordered one or two copies in the last few months before the new title was released, they would order one or two copies of the new one. Not only did that give you no opportunity to grow your audience, it actually caused your sales figures to shrink.

Despite this, the name change was not a casual decision. I knew I had fans who wouldn’t know where to find me anymore. But I got the impression that refusing to change my pen name could be a deal breaker. So I became Maggy Thomas. My 7th title, Broken Time, was published under that name. It was nominated for the Philip K. Dick award, and it got some fabulous reviews. But it wasn’t a “lead” title – it was just another midlist mass-market paperback release for that year. The sales figures weren’t the worst, but they weren’t the best, either.

Fortunately, my editor still believed in me. So when it came time to sell the next proposal (for Belarus), she had a new strategy to sell me to her bosses. She told them I could gain more readers if my name was “gender obscure,” meaning that it could be a man’s name or a woman’s. The theory was that it would attract male readers as well as female. That’s how I became Lee Hogan.

Yes, that time around they were trying to fool the readers.

That strategy worked fairly well, at first. But the economy started to tank the year the next book, Enemies, was released. And then the 9/11 tragedy happened, striking right at the heart of the publishing industry. That industry was already in trouble, and in the years leading up to the 2008 financial crash, 80% of writers who were signed with various publishing companies (including me) were let go.

Understand: this doesn’t mean we got pink slips. It’s never that straight-forward in the entertainment industry. What happens is that people just stop returning your calls. My agent was very honest with me about what was happening, and she is still willing to vet any contracts I may receive. I have no idea whether that will ever happen again, given the changes in the publishing industry and the rise in ebooks.

But I don’t feel bad about it. I actually managed to get nine titles published with NAL/Roc, and I got my professional credentials. I was privileged to work with great editors. Still, I have to admit, having three pen names was a pain in the neck. I made fans with all three names, and trying to direct them to my new titles, Spirits Of Glory and The Night Shifters (now using my original pen name, Emily Devenport) has been a real challenge.

Trying to attract old fans is not the biggest challenge facing an indie ebook author. It’s daunting to swim in that electronic ocean — professional writers are lost among the multitude of newbies, many of whom are publishing books that should never see the light of day (or of a reader screen). Even experienced writers are sometimes too delusional to hire a professional editor (many of whom work freelance these days). But I would still rather take charge of my own career and plot my own course through the ebook publishing scene than do what some professionals have contemplated — adopt a pen name to fool the publishers.

This has actually worked for one or two people. But it’s a terrible idea. Publishers don’t like being deceived. I understand why authors would consider doing it — the stigma attached to self-publishing seems especially poisonous to writers whose books were published in New York by “The Big Six.” It’s a stamp of validation that doesn’t currently exist in the world of indie e-publishing. But trying to fool publishers with a new pen name is an act of desperation, and decisions based on desperation seldom turn out well.

There are other reasons why some writers might consider using pen names, even when they’ve been self-publishing. Lack of success under your original pen name might cause you to try to reboot your career with a new one. But some writers adopt multiple pen names so they can venture into new genres. This happened under the old publishing model too — book stores tended to put an author’s works all in one section, regardless of the genre. Publishers wanted to make sure that an author’s children’s books would go in the Children’s section, and mystery books would go in Mystery. How necessary that is for ebooks and web sites remains to be seen.

So — will I ever adopt a new pen name? I doubt it. If I did, I’d just have to build my audience all over again, quite a bit of work in this age of social networking and book blog reviews. I’ll take my chances as Emily Devenport. Patience, perseverance, and good work are the best strategies I can recommend for anyone these days, regardless of what name they decide to put on their books.

About Emily Devenport

Nine of Emily Devenport‘s novels were published by NAL/Roc before she started publishing ebooks. She wrote under three pen names and was published in the US, the UK, Italy, and Israel. Her novel, Broken Time, was nominated for the Philip K. Dick award. She has published three new ebooks: The Night Shifters, Spirits Of Glory, and Pale Lady.

Close Encounters of the Christmas Kind by Nick B.

There weren’t many people about on the roads and although we had had a nice Christmas Eve visit with Charlie’s mum—my mother-in-law, it was getting late, blacker than a witches hat outside and the kids—Suzie and Jake, were not enjoying the enforced captivation of the seat belts and boredom of long-distance travelling.

“Muuuuum,” whined Suzie in a voice that could curdle milk at a hundred paces. “Jake keeps poking me.”

The one thing about a six year-old girl, is the range of vocal capabilities they have. It set my teeth on edge at the best of times and this time was no different. Charlie turned round to see Jake with the most angelic look on his face, studiously looking out of the side window.

“Leave your sister alone young man or Father Christmas will not be visiting you tonight.”

“But mum, I didn’t do anything,” he moaned, which was the most notable aspect of our eight year-old son—moaning. Nothing was ever good enough or was either too long, too short or too hard—usually the latter.

“That’s enough. Now I don’t want to hear another peep out of you two, is that clear?”

It wasn’t their fault, I know—and so did Charlie, but it was as much of a strain on us as it was on them. Their outlet of course was winding each other up or, as Jake had discovered, poking. We didn’t have that luxury and as the driver, I certainly didn’t.

About fifteen minutes on, we were flagged down—as were other drivers ahead, by a policeman, who informed us that the road ahead was blocked due to an accident and we needed to take a diversion. He pointed ahead to the off ramp.

“Blast!” I cursed. “It’s going to take hours now.”

“Oh well done, Bob. Just really make this a journey to remember, why don’t you.”

I didn’t need to look. I could feel Charlie’s pout from the driver’s seat and inwardly cursed myself for having opened my mouth—even though the accident and subsequent diversion wasn’t any of my doing.

“Where are we going?” asked Suzie.

“We have to take a detour, honey. There’s been an accident ahead.”

“Oooh! Can we see?” asked Jake.

“No you can’t. The policeman has told us to take this detour.”

“But I want to see the accident.”

Charlie shot them both a look that quietened them down immediately and taking a turning down a road which apparently would take us to the next town and hopefully another entry to the motorway beyond the accident, I relaxed.

We had been travelling down twisting, narrow, rural roads heading in what I thought was the right direction, but in truth, I didn’t know. Yes, we travelled along this route fairly regularly, but we rarely took detours and on the unlit roads where we currently found ourselves, with few if any road signs, where we would end up was anyone’s guess.

“Mum,” Suzie whined again. “I need to, um … go.”

“So do I,” Jake added.

“See if you can hang on for a few more minutes and hopefully, daddy will find a lay-by or a café or something.”

The chances of coming across a lay-by down these roads were pretty slim and finding a café was asking a far too much in my opinion. Ten minutes down the road and Suzie was starting to squeak and squirm. I pulled over in what turned out to be the entrance to a farmer’s field. It did get us off the road though.

“Where are we?” the kids asked.

“I honestly don’t know,” I replied. “But at least we can stretch our legs and you two can do whatever it is you need to do.”

“What, here?” asked Suzie aghast at the thought of having to take a leak behind a bush.

“There are no toilets here and I need to go, um, number two’s.”

“Shit!” I exclaimed. Okay, so that was a little more difficult.

“Yes, daddy. I need to shit, but mummy told us not to call it that.”

Talk about out of the mouths of babes and suckling’s. I stifled a laugh and Charlie gave me one of her looks. I shrugged.

‘Shit happens’, I thought grinning to myself.

There are worse things that can happen I suppose and it transpired that all of us need some relief and it actually became quite comical in the end, all of us wandering around in the pitch black, trying to see what we were doing and where. I think it was more by luck than judgement that we were able to get through our ‘doings’ without a major disaster.

That was until it arrived.

The kids had done their thing and were practicing their mud stomping, giggling away as their shoes made disgusting slurping noises as they were squished into the mud then drawn out again.

Even Charlie was relieved as she was another one who needed to do more than pee. I think the sounds the kids were making, covered her sounds and made her feel a little less self-conscious.

“Hey look,” Jake announced suddenly. “They’ve got a merry-go-round.”

That was the last we heard from them as we finished up and looked around for our offspring.

The ‘merry-go-round’ as Jake had so happily described, was no such thing. I didn’t know what it was and Charlie became immediately fearful, screaming out their names as we ran as fast as we could across the lumpy field towards the object.

I could see why Jake would have thought that it was a merry-go-round as it seemed to pulse with different colours around its outside edge, whilst bigger lights towards its centre blinked.

“Holy fuck,” I breathed, stopping suddenly and grabbing Charlie’s hand, stopping her dead in her tracks. “It’s a fucking UFO.”

We stood, stock still, mouths open, becoming aware of a gentle hum that seemed to emanate from the object.

Two small figures were dancing around in front of it—well I say ‘front’, but in truth, this thing had all the hallmarks of a flying saucer and I really couldn’t tell which part of its apparent circular form was the front, back or sides. We continued towards whatever it was.

“Jake, Suzie! Come here,” Charlie called as we neared.

“But mum, I want to play on the windy-round,” Suzie complained.

“I’m sure you do, but firstly we don’t know whose it is and they might not like you tromping all over it with your muddy shoes,” Charlie explained.

The kids both seemed pacified by that and sauntered over to us. We didn’t immediately turn back, but stayed a while to look at the strange object, with its pulsing lights and odd hum.

“It’s pretty isn’t it mummy?” Suzie asked.

“It’s awesome,” Jake added.

“It’s certainly impressive,” I agreed.

We were about to turn away and head back to the car, when something started happening.

First it shuddered and we all took an involuntary step backwards. Then the lights dimmed and stopped with the pulsating, followed by a slow return to what had been happening before.

The next thing that happened, we could never have imagined possible.

A hatch or door opened right in front of us, accompanied by a kind of mist. It was a two section door, the top sliding back and the bottom dropping down in an arc, its smooth surface wrinkling then forming steps. The whole effect was quite dramatic.

“I told you, I’ll be back in a minute,” a voice said as out of the mist a silhouette of a person appeared. It stopped at the top of the steps as the four of us looked on in awe. “Oh. You’re not supposed to be able to see this. Damn, that’s something else to fix.”

There were a few moments of awkward silence …

“Hello,” it said.

I must admit, I would have expected a ray gun and “take me to your leader”, but I suppose “hello” was as good a greeting as any.

“Hello,” I returned, getting a dig in the ribs from Charlie for my trouble on one side and a grin from Jake on the other.

“Um, we won’t be long—just got a bit of a problem with the matter compensator.”

“They talk like we do, mum,” noted Suzie.

“Need a hand?” I asked.

“Oh would you mind. It’s been giving us grief since the moment we set off,” the figure replied, just as another, slightly shorter appeared behind him.

“Who are you friends?” she asked.

“Don’t know. They were already here.”

“Sorry, I’m Bob and this is Charlie,” I supplied and got another dig in the ribs for my trouble, but I carried on regardless. “These two short people are our son and daughter: Jake and Suzie.”

“Pleased to meet you,” said the shorter, in a definitely feminine voice. “I’m Olimar and this is my life partner, Dormag. These are our offspring, Olag and Formar.”

Suzie and Jake laughed. “They’ve got funny names,” Jake giggled.

“Our two said the same about yours too,” commented Olimar. “They have no respect, do they?”

I must admit, this was the last thing I expected and was having a great deal of difficulty getting my head around the concept, never mind the names.

“Well, shall we get on with this?” asked Dormag.

“I guess so,” I replied and started towards the steps.

“If I know men—and I’m sure I do—they’re going to be a while, why don’t you three come in out of the cold?” Olimar asked, and beckoned Charlie, Jake and Suzie aboard.

I had to give Charlie a really strong nod to let her know that I didn’t think these were going to be brain-eating Martians and that I was certain that if Dormag thought he could do on-the-spot repairs to this, er, craft, it wasn’t going to be rocket science.

I walked towards Dormag and as I neared, I could see that he hardly differed from me or any other man. There I was expecting the typical ‘grey’, but I got confronted instead by someone who could just as easily be Albert from down the street.

“Not what you expected am I?” he asked.

“Not at all. It’s the fact that you speak perfectly good English that’s probably most surprising.”

“Oh, that. It’s a universal translator. It’s not bad, but there are some things it’s not too good at. Its grammar for one thing is horrific. Still, it means we don’t have to assimilate you.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin, but Dormag laughed and said that he had seen some of the Next Generation Star Trek episodes and was very intrigued. Resistance to a laugh was futile.

We walked about a quarter of the way round the craft and Dormag touched an area, causing it to open, revealing something I won’t even try and describe. How the hell I thought I could be of assistance I don’t know. It should have had a label on the outside saying ‘no user serviceable parts within …’

Evidently, this was rocket science.

I actually did help in the end, but it was only by holding tools—none of which I had ever seen before. They seem to have progressed beyond simple screws, nuts and bolts, which immediately lost me. I wouldn’t know where to start with something that didn’t need a hammer or mole-wrench.

Some time later, I imagine no more than half an hour, we mounted the steps to the craft and went inside to join the wives and children.

“So you finally decided to rejoin us then?” Olimar said archly.

“We weren’t that long, were we?” he replied.

“If you’d have bought the new model like I suggested, none of this would have been necessary, but no, you just have to tinker, don’t you?”

“Ah, but then we wouldn’t have met,” I argued and Olimar’s stern face softened.

“That’s true I suppose,” she said and laughed.

“I think a test run is in order. We can’t do the remainder of the journey unless we know it’s good to go,” Dormag announced and Olimar rolled her eyes.

“I think he thinks it’s a toy,” she said, sighing deeply. “Still, if it keeps him happy …”

Our kids were absolutely dumbstruck, especially Jake. Both of them ran up to the cockpit area, which was more like a bit of the craft with some seats in and a few flashing lamps on—something I could best describe as a dashboard.

All four of the kids clambered into the front as Dormag took his seat and before we knew what was happening, I had the feeling of lifting up and then everything through the windows went sort of blurred as we shot forwards and up, leaving the earth behind us with nothing more than a whisper.

Dormag put the craft through its paces, much to Olimar’s disgust and then after a few minutes, we landed back in the field.

“Can we do that again?” asked Jake.

“Maybe another time,” Charlie said. “We really need to be getting home.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” Olimar agreed and Dormag looked a little sheepish.

We said our goodbyes and Formar, their daughter presented Jake with a gift.

“Formar’s got a boyfriend, Formar’s got a boyfriend,” chanted Olag, who immediately got a stern ticking off from Olimar.

Jake blushed bright red as he took the gift. None of us knew what it was, but Jake hasn’t let go of it since.

Despite such a short meeting, the goodbyes were lengthy, each of us promising not to be strangers and it wasn’t until we got into the car that we realised the absurdity of such assurances.

“We may have a little trouble getting this out of the atmosphere,” I said with a chuckle.

I have had to turn a blind eye or deaf ear to the sounds of teachers asking whether I was aware of my children’s propensity for romancing. By that they mean telling tall tales. Apparently the flying saucer story has been round the school and no-one believes them.

Charlie and I have had to have a long chat with them about this. UFO’s are still widely regarded as being the stuff of fanciful people out for attention.

“But dad, mum. It was real.”

“We know honey, but it’s probably best that we keep it to ourselves.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

That episode happened last Christmas and today, we nearly got the shock of our lives as Olimar, Dormag and their two kids—who look a great deal bigger than they did, but they have said the same of ours—turned up on the doorstep.

“It’s great to see you,” Charlie said welcoming in the foursome. “How did you find us?”

“Simple. The gift that Formar gave Jake last year was trackable. After that, finding you was easy.”

This year, there were no time restraints for any of us and we actually got to find out more about out interstellar friends. God only knows where they put their flying saucer, but they assure me it’s in no danger—it’s the new model and much more reliable.

Next year, they have invited us to their place for Christmas.

Now that’s going to be a story that’ll be difficult to keep quiet.

*   *   *

Nick B. an old git from England (well fifty-one at the last count), who is trying his best to break into the literary world – something that may turn out to be somewhat difficult with a piece like the above.

Still, providing his muse doesn’t disown him, he may yet write that best seller …

Don’t hold your breath.

An Almost Universal 15 Step Outline

Several years ago, I picked up a wonderful little book by Blake Snyder titled Save the Cat. Despite hating cats, I was intrigued by the book’s suggestion that this was “the last book on screenwriting that you’ll ever need”. How wonderful! I can finally stop buying books about writing and just write!

Turns out, I’ve purchased over a dozen books on the subject since then… but that has more to do with my exceptional procrastination skills than anything else.

While Save the Cat deals primarily with long format script (film), it’s something I believe translates well to shorter format, novels, comics… you name it! Why? Because Save the Cat outlines the basic keystones used in weaving some of the world’s greatest stories.

Please remember though, that writing is not a formula — writing is about structure. You can bend and play with structure to a certain degree, but it’s ultimately your foundation. It’s what all of your story’s little surprises hang onto. Without this foundation, you’re most likely fumbling along aimlessly wondering, “What the hell should I do next? Why is my story so shakey??” Don’t fret. We’ve all been there.

Below are the summarized ideas Snyder plotted out. In many cases, I’ve quoted him directly (paraphrasing here or there), noting personal experience where relevant.

And swear words.

Instead of referencing feature format as Snyder did however, I’ve referenced approximate page count with a 22 minute animated TV series in mind. And yes, although I reference movies and scripts, remember: movies, scripts, novels — they’re all stories.

The 15 Step Outline

Opening Image (page 1)

The very first impression of what a movie is–its tone, its mood. We need to know what we’re in for off the top. It’s also the “before” snapshot of who our hero is before his/her journey begins.

I’ve used this basic concept even in pre-school school shows (Rob the Robot). In fact, the show is structured in a way where we ALWAYS start inside the rocket ship, setting the basic tone for the story, then end each episode back in the ship with fears conquered and mission accomplished. It’s not as dramatic (being pre-school and all) as what you’d have in a novel or film… but the basic idea is there.

I won’t say this idea is an absolute MUST, but I do feel the strongest stories end with this “after” snapshot of the hero. It gives your audience a true sense of satisfaction, seeing your hero come full circle. He rode out into the sunset uncertain, and came back to his place of origin as a confident arse kicker. Art imitates life in this sense. Your personal journey began as a bed wetting infant and ends as diaper wearing wizard of knowledge.

Theme Stated (page 1-2)

Within the first 5 minutes of a film (or the first chapter of a book), the theme should be stated (note, the theme is usually not stated by our hero oddly enough). It’s usually a question or statement posed by someone other than our main protagonist. The statement is the theme of the movie (EG: Careful what you wish for). It shouldn’t be too obvious… more of an offhanded/conversational comment.

Again with Rob the Robot as our example, quite often one of the characters will wish for something they don’t have. “I wish I had super powers just like Bolt Boy!” To which one of the supporting characters would respond “What’s wrong with just being yourself?” That theme is examined and demonstrated throughout the full 10 minute episode. In the end, the question is finally answered through trial/error and the support of his friends. It’s indeed better to be happy with yourself, just the way you are.

Always know what your theme is and never lose sight of it. I find a lot of writers get caught up in gags and the uber cool scenes they’ve crafted. Those scenes may indeed end up being uber cool, but will your reader/viewer hang in long enough to see it executed? Most likely no. Not if you’re story isn’t focused on its objective. Don’t flail around like a fat hamster with no idea where your story is spinning towards. Write with purpose. Write with your theme always in mind.

Do yourself a favour, and write your theme at the top of your 1st page. Stick it to your office door, fridge, desktop, boyfriend’s head… everywhere and anywhere you can to remind yourself why you’re writing this story. Having this constant reminder will help with your stories focus, and make it tighter from beginning to end.

Set-Up (page 1-3)

The first few minutes set up the hero, the stakes and the goal. The first pages should also set up or hint at every character in your story. I guess this varies in novel land, but I believe a similar idea should apply. Here, every character tic and behavior that needs to be addressed later on in your story should be present. It will allow us to know how and why the hero will need to change in order to win.

When our hero wants or is lacking, we must SHOW the audience here what is missing in our hero’s life. What needs fixing!

Working with MCM on Rollbots, this was always the case in our 22 minute scripts. We generally know from the teaser who/what the threat is being caused by and who it relates to. In the first act we would then identify all the other players. You can add elements of mystery of course (villains in disguise etc), but we need to know the main players. Even when we didn’t want our audience to be 100% certain who the villain is, we’d give them clues so they could at least start putting 2+2 together.

Catalyst (pages 4-5)

The catalyst is the first moment when something happens that spins us in a new direction, towards our new world in act II. Accidentally receiving a note, stealing a squirrel, the knock at the door, etc. In the set-up we learned what the world is like and now, in the catalyst moment… you blow it to shit (I’m paraphrasing).

This is most likely the most natural story element that even very young writers understand. It’s usually the one thing (after the uber cool scene) that a writer thinks of when she’s formulating the story in her head. I know it’s what I do.

Now I just need to practice knowing my ending first… but we’ll get to that idea later.

Debate (pages 6-7)

This is the last chance for our hero to say SCREW THIS, I’M OUTA HERE! At this point, we need him/her to realize that this might be a shit idea. Do I go into the cave? Do I take the ring? It’s going to suck out there, but what’s my choice? Stay here? A question must be asked of our hero and he/she alone must answer.

Act II (pages 7-8)

Our act break is the moment we leave the old world behind, and head into the new world. At this stage, the hero cannot be lured or tricked into this new upside down world. She must make the decision herself and CHOOSE to go. Being tricked into it or forced tends to make the individual less of a hero… your audience will see him as weak with little to aspire to.

Frodo was given the burden of the ring, but he chose to accept it. Had he been forced along all the way, we wouldn’t have routed for him the same way. We most likely wouldn’t have even cared. By choosing to go, despite his size and lack of skill set, he was a great underdog to cheer on.

The B Story (pages 9-11)

More often than not, this tends to be the love story. It is also the part of the story that carries your theme. Not to mention, it smoothes over the Act break itself, making it less obvious. The B story gives us a breather from the full assault of the A.

This is where your hero needs to be nurtured and can openly discuss the theme of the movie (which, being a genius, you’ve already set up from your opening pages). It’s a place for them to draw strength from to help push them forward into Act 3.

The B story often carries a brand new batch of characters with it as well… almost all of which are the upside down versions of the A characters we met in the first 10 pages. Sound odd? Think of how wonderfully the Wizard of Oz did this!

Fun & Games (pages 11-14)

This is the section of your story that captures the promise of your premise. It is the essence of your movie’s poster, book cover, etc. It is where most of the movie trailer moments are found and where your characters (well, at least the audience) has the most fun. It’s where we aren’t as concerned with the stories forward progress (although we’re NOT losing sight of it either… it’s just not AS intensely focused) — the stakes won’t be raised till the midpoint of this act.

This is where Rob gets to try out his new rocket boots for the first time. It’s where Spin learns he has turbo mode… it’s where Neo learns Kung Fu.

This is the heart of your story.

It’s where you put all your snazzy set pieces!

Midpoint (page 14-15)

The midpoint is either an “up” where our hero either peaks (although it is a false peak) or a “down” when the world collapses all around the hero (although it is a false collapse).

The stakes are raised here. The fun and games are over. It’s back to the story.

The midpoint changes the whole dynamic of the film.

This is where the hero believes he’s made it (or completely failed), but it’s a false sense of victory. The hero still has a long way to go before he learns the lesson he really needs. It just seems like everything is warm and fuzzy here… it’s a lie!

The midpoint also has a matching beat which is called the “All is Lost” moment that leads into your third act. This All is Lost is a false defeat. These two points are set. It’s because they’re the inverse of each other.

The Rule is: It’s never as good as it seems to be at the midpoint and it’s never as bad as it seems to be at the All is Lost point… or vice versa!

Bad Guys Close In (pages 15-18)

This is the point where the bad guys regroup and send in the heavy artillery. It’s the point where internal dissent, doubt, and jealousy begin to disintegrate the hero’s team.

The forces that are against our hero tighten their grip here. Evil is not giving up, and there is nowhere for the hero to go for help. This translates to pre-school as well. The bully is winning the game, the witch has delivered the apple, etc.

All of this spells bad news for the hero. He is headed for a huge fall and that brings us to…

All Is Lost (page 19-20)

Again, this is the opposite of the midpoint in terms of “up” or “down”. It is the false defeat of our hero that appears as total defeat. Our hero’s life is in shambles. Wreckage abounds. Oh noes!!!

It’s the point where the mentor dies… or symbolically dies. Obi Wan kicks it, Gandolf is a goner, Marlin believing Nemo is dead…

Even if there is no mentor, stick in something that provides a symbolic death or hint of it (a character considering suicide, a dead flower, etc).

This is where the old character, the old way of thinking and the old word… dies.

Dark night of the Soul (pages 21-22)

This is the moment where we see how our hero deals with the All is Lost death moment. How does he feel about it? It can last 5 seconds or 5 minutes. It’s a vital point of your story — the dark before the dawn. It’s the point just before our character digs deep and pulls out that last best idea that will save himself and everyone around him. But at this moment, that idea is nowhere in sight.

It’s the “Why has god forsaken me!?” moment.

It’s here and only here where we know our hero is beaten and admits their humility and humanity, yielding control of events over to fate. It is then that our hero finds the solution.

We must be beaten to know it and to get the lesson.

Act III (pages 23-24)

The Solution!

Thanks to the characters found in the B story (the love story), thanks to all the conversations discussing theme in the B story, and thanks to the hero’s last best effort to discover a solution to beat the bad guys who’ve been closing in and winning in the A story… the answer is found!

Both the external story (A) and the internal story (B) now meet and intertwine. The hero has passed every test, and dug deep to find a solution. Now all he has to do is apply it!

The classic fusion of A and B is the hero getting the clue from “the girl” that makes him realize how to solve both beating the bad guys and winning the heart of his love.

Finale (pages 25 -27)

This is where the lessons learned are applied. It’s where the character’s tics are mastered. It’s where A story and B story end in triumph for our hero.

It’s the turning of the old world and creation of a new world order — all thanks to our hero, who leads the way based on what he experienced in the upside-down, antithetical world of Act Two.

The bad guys are dispatched, in ascending order (low rank to high). The head/source/cause of the problem must be completely dispatched in order for the new world order to begin.

It’s not enough for our hero to triumph. He must change the world.

It must be done in an emotionally satisfying way.

Final Image (page 28)

The final image is the complete opposite of the opening image. It is your proof that change has occurred and that it’s real. The world is now a better place, thanks to our hero.

With all of this in mind…

Again, the 15 steps aren’t about creating a formula. They’re about understanding structure so you can weave your story within a universally inherent and accepted context. And yes, storytelling IS universal. We all recognize if a movie or book is bad or good, even though we might not fully understand or recognize why.

Throughout time, all cultures have applied the same story basics–from Greek mythology to American Westerns. You don’t have to take my word for it though. Pick a film that’s loved by the masses, or a popular book or TV show. Keep this post handy and check each step off as they’re presented.

If you felt completely satisfied by the story, I’m guessing you could identify the 15 keystones. If you were left feeling a bit put off… there’s a good chance a few of them were missing.

Enjoy!

Ten Rules for Writing Fiction

You know me; I’m that obnoxious soul who keeps saying, ‘Screw the writing rules’. Every writer knows there are rules that we must OBEY. They are rules, rules, damn it. They exist so we can clearly demonstrate that the weight of educated opinion is with us when we choose to criticize.

Of course there are rules. Even I must relent at some point in the discussion, although I know good people with firm arguments who would say, ‘No, there is no need to relent. Ever. Creativity trumps literary fascism every time.’ But …, I have to take a middle road when the choice is there. I argue the case of the Buddha: “Books [rules] are useful for finding your path. Once you have found your path, burn the books.”

In February of 2010, the UK Guardian asked some well known authors what were the most important rules for writing well. Some dug deep into their scholarly vaults and produced great wisdom on the points and counterpoints of language and expression. Like Elmore Leonard, who numbered among his recommendations:

Never use a verb other than “said” to carry dialogue. I once noticed Mary McCarthy ending a line of dialogue with “she asseverated” and had to stop reading and go to the dictionary. Never use an adverb to modify the verb “said” … he admonished gravely. I have a character in one of my books tell how she used to write historical romances “full of rape and adverbs”.
Keep your exclamation points ­under control. You are allowed no more than two or three per 100,000 words of prose. Never use the words “suddenly” or “all hell broke loose”. This rule doesn’t require an explanation. I have noticed that writers who use “suddenly” tend to exercise less control in the application of exclamation points.

But I read through and found those rules which I believe we should all keep to the fore as we labor through our creative worklife. These, I think, are essential and all aspiring writers should be caused to have them tattooed to their inner thigh in remembrance.

Take a pencil to write with on aeroplanes. Pens leak. But if the pencil breaks, you can’t sharpen it on the plane, because you can’t take knives with you. Therefore: take two pencils. If both pencils break, you can do a rough sharpening job with a nail file of the metal or glass type.
Take something to write on. Paper is good. In a pinch, pieces of wood or your arm will do. If you’re using a computer, always safeguard new text with a ­memory stick.
Do back exercises. Pain is distracting.   Margaret Atwood

 

Do be kind to yourself. Fill pages as quickly as possible; double space, or write on every second line. Regard every new page as a small triumph ­– until you get to Page 50. Then calm down, and start worrying about the quality. Do feel anxiety – it’s the job.
Do restrict your browsing to a few websites a day. Don’t go near the online bookies – unless it’s research.
Do keep a thesaurus, but in the shed at the back of the garden or behind the fridge, somewhere that demands travel or effort. Chances are the words that come into your head will do fine, eg “horse”, “ran”, “said”.   Roddy Doyle

 

Reread, rewrite, reread, rewrite. If it still doesn’t work, throw it away. Helen Dunmore

 

Do it every day. Make a habit of putting your observations into words and gradually this will become instinct. This is the most important rule of all and, naturally, I don’t follow it.
Never ride a bike with the brakes on. If something is proving too difficult, give up and do something else. Try to live without resort to per­severance. But writing is all about ­perseverance. You’ve got to stick at it. In my 30s I used to go to the gym even though I hated it. The purpose of ­going to the gym was to postpone the day when I would stop going. That’s what writing is to me: a way of ­postponing the day when I won’t do it anymore, the day when I will sink into a depression so profound it will be indistinguishable from perfect bliss.   Geoff Dyer

 

The first 12 years are the worst.
The way to write a book is to actually write a book. A pen is useful, typing is also good. Keep putting words on the page.
Only bad writers think that their work is really good.
Write whatever way you like. Fiction is made of words on a page; reality is made of something else. It doesn’t matter how “real” your story is, or how “made up”: what matters is its necessity.
Try to be accurate about stuff.
Have fun.
Remember, if you sit at your desk for 15 or 20 years, every day, not ­counting weekends, it changes you. It just does. It may not improve your temper, but it fixes something else. It makes you more free.   Anne Enright

 

Marry somebody you love and who thinks you being a writer’s a good idea.
Don’t have children.
Don’t read your reviews.
Don’t write reviews.
Don’t drink and write at the same time.
Don’t write letters to the editor. (No one cares.)
Don’t wish ill on your colleagues. Try to think of others’ good luck as encouragement to yourself.
Don’t take any shit if you can ­possibly help it.    Richard Ford

 

You see more sitting still than chasing after.
It’s doubtful that anyone with an internet connection at his workplace is writing good fiction.   Jonathan Franzen

 

Write.
Put one word after another. Find the right word, put it down.
Finish what you’re writing. Whatever you have to do to finish it, finish it.
Put it aside. Read it pretending you’ve never read it before.
Remember: when people tell you something’s wrong or doesn’t work for them, they are almost always right. When they tell you exactly what is wrong and how to fix it, they are almost always wrong.
The main rule of writing is that if you do it with enough assurance and confidence, you’re allowed to do whatever you like. (That may be a rule for life as well as for writing. But it’s definitely true for writing.) So write your story as it needs to be written. Write it ­honestly, and tell it as best you can. I’m not sure that there are any other rules. Not ones that matter.   Neil Gaiman

 

Don’t just plan to write – write. It is only by writing, not dreaming about it, that we develop our own style.
Write what you need to write, not what is currently popular or what you think will sell.   PD James

 

Have humility. Have more humility. Defend others. Defend your work. Defend yourself. Write. Read. Be without fear. Remember you love writing. Remember writing doesn’t love you. It doesn’t care. Nevertheless, it can behave with remarkable generosity. Speak well of it, encourage others, pass it on.   AL Kennedy

 

My main rule is to say no to things like this, which tempt me away from my proper work.   Philip Pullman

 

The nearest I have to a rule is a Post-it on the wall in front of my desk saying “Faire et se taire” (Flaubert), which I translate for myself as “Shut up and get on with it.”    Helen Simpson

 

Many of these greats said READ. As many more said, DO NOT READ.

While Roddy Doyle said, “Do not place a photograph of your ­favourite author on your desk, especially if the author is one of the famous ones who committed suicide;” Colm Tóibín said, “If you have to read, to cheer yourself up read biographies of writers who went insane,” and “On Saturdays, you can watch an old Bergman film, preferably Persona or Autumn Sonata.” So who’s right?

There is only one rule which every writer suggested: Write. Writers write. There you go; the best advice money cannot buy. So off you shoot, then. Start writing.

For the full transcript and a more in depth discussion of the fine points of authorial skill – if you want to know which ‘how to’ manual they recommend; if you want to know the finer arts of metaphor use or non-use; if you seek greater guidance on polysyllabic proselytizing, then go to Ten rules for writing fiction: Part 1 and  Part 2.

Then sit down and write.

Or you could put off that moment of decision indefinitely, and create a list or two of rules which every writer must know and share them here.