UK Amazon Kindle Forum discussion
Meet the Authors
>
C. C. Hogan
I've had a read of the look inside CC. Nice writing style. :~)
Thanks DavidI am currently trying to write a whole novel in the same, sharp style - it is seriously hard to keep going while trying to avoid the same gag twice!
I have put an extract on my shiny new website:
http://cchogan.com/content-management...
Now, I better wander off and have a look at some of your material (Only fair)
CC
I think the trick is to stay true to the character, then the gag will revolve around that character. If, like some genuine people, the character repeats themself, it becomes part of their personna and the reader accepts it :~)
True enough. My problem is that I come from an audio background and with audio anything repetitive stands out like a lighthouse with a wonky erm.... er .... (Panic! I dont want to repeat the word light!!)See what I mean? On paper that works fine, as soon as you say it out loud, you get hit by the repeated "ight" sound.
But back to the real problem, I don't have trouble repeating a gag if it reinforces something about the character or it is an irritating trait that you want to build up over time, but it is more about plot gags and action gags (slapstick, I suppose). A clown can be hit in the face 10 times in a row with a plank and it is funny. Do it again ten minutes later and it is boring. He should be run over the second time.
The bible on this sort of stuff is Looney tunes. The gags were pretty repetitive when it came to the basic ideas, but they happened in a huge number of ways - the great advantage of a team of writers.
Just read some of your read inside bits - nice! I haven't delved into fantasy for years, it tempts me back.
I could do with a team at the moment, book 3 of my trilogy is tough going. Glad it tempted, thanks.
Try putting the whiskey glass down - it makes typing easier.
I'm sure David knows how to work a computer one-handed.
I sense a saucy edge to that comment ;~)
Strangely, I went through several versions of my post to get the ketchup out of it. Just to have Patti slap the bottom of the bottle once more.(I am now hiding my copies of Round the Horne on the principle that it is affecting my judgement)
Oily! Less of the slapper, please. ;)
Oily? As in olive oyl?
So, like there was this small book wot I started talking about earlier .... :)
CC we've not even begun to thread creep.And you really need curtains in here. Doesn't he David?
I am a blinds and ceiling fan throwing shadows sort of writer.Currently working out the implications of a former fairy selling Fairy Dust on street corners to unsuspecting Bright Young Things.
Think they will be disappointed that it does not give them a high but does odd things to pumpkins and passing mice?
(I thought I had posted this reply already, but it seems to have vanished!)
Blinds are probably safer.Yeah, goodreads does eat the occasional comment. Most annoying.
I've not read a good fairy story in ages. Hurry up and write it.
Just done the fourteen point plot.And who said it was going to be about a "good" fairy?
Trust me, you aint read one like this (mostly because I haven't written it yet).
Okay, scribble time - I will keep you updated and you get a private look.
No curtains equals no fun for Patti :~/
Curtains are fine as long as they are fire proof. And Patti proof.
I've googled the flash point of blinds.Ii need more candles
Okay, I think I have a handle on my new story - long way to go on it, of course, but here is a very small opening teaser. It is written diary style and is the very truncated memoirs of a Fairy.... If some of the words seem a little unusual, welcome to the slang of the early 20th century!WHAT THE FAIRY DID NEXT
By C. C. Hogan
A fantastic being in a fanciful world; the job of fairy is a much sought after position for a certain type of mythical person. The basic qualifications are that you need to be diminutive in stature, gossamer in nature and be able to dimple at less than three seconds notice; blinking demurely while waving a wand is often seen as an advantage to new candidates who line up round the block at the seasonal auditions.
“Next!”
You get a blindingly odd mix of hopefuls; each one with their wings ironed and neatly folded on their backs, small lunch box and acorn of water (thirsty work and we don’t want fairy-hopefuls fainting all over the place – you have to gather them up with a broom), mothers plumping up bits that the kids really don’t want plumped, ears tweaked and perked, and at least half of them wearing their junior-fairy school shirts and staring at the others as if they are rotten scraps of malodourous pond weed. Oh yes, such a nice, sweet collection of tiny souls.
So, why exactly do we all audition? Well, contrary to popular disbelief, there is no such thing as a fairy, at least, not at birth; you have to train for the role. Admittedly you need some starting qualifications (if you can’t fly under your own steam you are really unsuited for the job) and you need to be the right size (bloody small), but aside from that, most of being a fairy, all the wand waving, cute smiles and chucking fairy dust all over the place malarkey, is pretty much down to great training and a lot of hard work. Trust me, I have been through it and my right arm would ache for weeks after a particularly aggressive wand class.
“Next!”
My own audition was probably much like everyone else’s – stress on steroids. Cue the harp.
MARCH 31, 1912
My horrific mother could not stop shouting at me this morning. “Move your wings into gear and don’t get them creased! Where is your wand? Have you powdered your face? Are you taking a pipe to play? Have you got enough gossamer? Your father has been waiting by the trap with a barely suitable pony for half an hour and is running out of Thimble Whiskey – if you don’t hurry up he will be too blotto to drive!”
“Yes, Yes, Yes! I know! I am coming now!”
My father, a dwarf troll from a small family near Nether Wallop, had made the wise decision to ban my mother from coming with us today to the auditions. His general feeling was that the sight of a small brown fawn in permanent fussy floods of tears would make too many people want to upchuck and the day was going to be dreadful enough. By the time I leapt into the cart and we drove away with my mother running behind us still trying to tuck my wings into my belt, I was close to plastering the entire lane with my breakfast myself.
So, I suppose I do love my mother really, but I love her a lot more when her attention is focused on something else – my whining little brother, for instance. My dad is different though. I hope I never properly fall out with him because he is always just there; a real trump. He never says much, unless what he is saying is final, of course, but he does have the habit of being in the right place at the right time. That means that when I am drooling over some gorgeous blue jacket he is nowhere to be found – perfect. And yes, I am old enough, Mr. Diary! You don’t have to wrinkle your pages up at me in such a tone!
We waited in the rain for nearly six hours. Well, my father did. I managed to go and sit in a tea house for part of the time while he and other mothers and fathers did the queuing for us. The rooms where we had to audition today were some grimy warehouse, not at the actual Fairy College. It was just next to the tram lines and something had got caught in the rails which caused a squealing sound every time the tram went past. My father got fed up eventually and used the end of his umbrella to unstick the poor old Imp that had got himself stuck. The Imp hobbled off bowing with thanks, only to be squished by a beer cart ten yards down the road. Yuk!
Once into the building, our parents were told to wait outside while we were put through our paces. There were some right little trollops there today – all dolled up like china in their fal-lal and reeking of “spoiled brat” which I am fairly certain is actually a truly medical condition – it certainly stinks like one. You can tell the ones that have been to the various evening schools that exist for those whose parents are vane enough – they all hold their wands in exactly the same way, pinched like they are picking up salt, and wave them around above their heads with their hands arched like swan necks. Me? I just grabbed it in my fist, pointed it straight at the nearest judge and then smiled sweetly.
SEPTEMBER 30, 1916
I am about one foot, three inches away from being picked up by the wings and nailed to the bell tower at the college. It is not strictly my fault, well, strictly it is, but looking at everything in its most complete sense, there are ways that can be said that it is not my fault at all. Unfortunately, dear Mama is failing to see it in any sort of sensible and calm way.
This is my final term before graduation and we are putting on the annual show, “Fairy Dust and Slippers” for the families. My family, Mama, Padre and my little brother arrived dutifully in the pony and trap an embarrassingly FIVE HOURS EARLY! Why would they do that? No one else’s parents were here so early. I had to shoosh them away to look round the college while I got a wiggle on to get ready. Last night I met up with this right flat tyre of a bimbo. Stood in the bar flexing his muscles like some hayburner, but when it came to anything above the neck, it was strictly vacant possession. I mean, I don’t like men to dominate the conversation, but it is nice to get the occasional response. But then, this guy was just a Palooka and had been hit round the head so many times by other fighters that I was lucky he wasn’t drooling. Now, I might be a fairy, but I aint no sap, so I stretched out my wings and flew out of there to meet some of the other girls; they hadn’t had much of a night of it either.
I'll read this when my brain starts working.I may be some time.
I liked that, and my brain isn't working.
That is possibly why you liked it, of course....Thanks GingerLily
I like the style. Fast and punchy. (And funny!)
Oh I like that very much!What a great premise!
Ah, your brain has floated back to the top, I see ... what a relief. Thankee kindly to both of you.
And tonight, I will get down to some proper writing; see if I can get this little story put to bed in the next day or so.
I need to get back into the habit of writing so I can build my stamina to attack my sadly neglected novel.
In the mean time, try this....
http://cchogan.com/content-management...
Just to let everyone know, I am still writing away - got a bit distracted by some paid-work and a stomach bug that felt it should be the centre of attention.Back on the case now, though.
CC
Ich. Sorry you had a rebellious tum!Pleased you're better!
So is the dog - she is of the opinion that she is the only one allowed to change the "atmosphere" of a room without notice....
And here is another snippet:#####
When I woke up this morning (trans: afternoon) to find my mother knocking at my door and calling my name like an over-powdered old aunt, I was not pleased.
“Coo-ee! Cherub darling, its Mama!”
Pushing the pile of half gossamered, and hung over fairies off my bed, I clambered out of the sheets and slipped on a creased silk robe that my real over-powdered aunt had sent me down from which ever kingdom she is currently wand-waving in; she is the other fairy in the family and gets the scene in ways my mother never will, or I hope never will.
As I opened the door, my mother’s face went from light fawn to dark fawn in seconds.
“You have lipstick smeared down your neck. Why would you have lipstick …?”
I truthfully did not and do not have an answer for that.
“Mum, why are you here??”
“We wanted to show Aladdin (my kid brother) the college.”
“Well, go and show him! It is hours before the show!”
It didn’t work properly. She should have gone there and then and wandered round the buildings and the quad for a few hours and everything would be all tickety-boo. But no, she had to drag me out to lunch first.
So, there we were, sitting in the Fairy Grotto Canteen while she made me show Aladdin my new wand they had just bought me, when I got a fit of hic-coughs.
Personally I blame the genie-slings from last night, but anyway, before I could stop myself, my wand hand jerked forward and the hic-cough shot up through my nose and I made a small weird noise that sounded suspiciously like the word, “frog.”
Not a problem if I had been pointing at the ketchup bottle or something, but it never works out like that and the thing sitting at the business end of my new wand was my smelly little brother.
Aladdin the Frog. It has a ring about it, don’t you think? No? Well, my mother didn’t think so either and the only ringing in my head was as she hit it with a hoof.
Wands are funny things. They are not merely pointing objects to help the concentration, they are peculiar to themselves and you have to learn each one from scratch. This wand is completely new to me, untested and I did not have a hope in glorious hades of reversing the spell. Sadly, neither did the dean, the bursar or any other of the senior staff – I don’t know what I did but I did it properly.
“It has probably got lodged as a curse,” the Principle explained to my hysterical mother. “The problem is we don’t know what the curse is, so don’t know what conditions have to be fulfilled to change it. Have you tried getting some of the prettier students to kiss it, er, him?”
“Does this sort of thing happen often?” Asked my pragmatic father.
“No, not much.” The principle looked guiltily out of her window down to the small and ever growing menagerie that was hidden from public view. “You may want to dig a pond when you get home. I can recommend a very pretty water lily you might want to try. Especially vibrant in late spring.”
OOh, Must add those to the story somewhere....
They are Orchis Simia, but there is another variety called Dracula Simiahttp://whyevolutionistrue.wordpress.c...
Very cool!Are the backs all red and swollen?
Don't know - try flipping the web page over....
Does work on my iPad.All I see is an apple with great a big bite outa it.
Gross.
Yep - that's it.Pitty some idiot ate the apple though.
Kath wrote: "I like the style. Fast and punchy. (And funny!)"Gingerlily - Mistress Lantern wrote: "I liked that, and my brain isn't working."
Patti (baconater) wrote: "Oh I like that very much!
What a great premise!"
Just found this old thread that I had forgotten about - I believe I promised Patti, Gingerlily and others to finish the Fairy Story.
Well, I did eventually, and here it is:
http://cchogan.com/what-the-fairy-did...
Go and have fun reading it!
Oh, since I had completely forgotten I started this thread, I had started a new one with my recent books. Several novels - 6, at the last count!https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/...
I am trying to read the story but there is a popup to subscribe. But I can't see any way of getting rid of it. I don't want to subscribe now , but I may some time in the future. Now, I just want to read the story that is hidden behind it. How do I get rid of it? This has happened on quite a few websites and I find it intensely annoying.
Ooh - there should be a close link just above the top right - sorry, it is in white which does not help!
Ah, thats why I couldn't see it. I'll try again.
I have just turned it to black - which might help. Sorry, girl!
No problem. I saw it once I knew where to look. Am deep in the story by now.
And after that there is the short Yona and the Beast, then book 1 of my fantasy Dirt is also free....I like to keep people occupied!
I have just put a small tome of short stories up to Kindle - Monkey Number 100030338732 and Other Stories.
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Monkey-Number...
It is a collection of four shorts ranging from outright comedy to surrealism and time travelling romance - well, you wouldn't want it all predictable would you?
Will you like it? I have no idea - it depends how many of you have a similarly jaded brain to mine!