Night Shift #1 – Jerusalem’s Lot…

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619i-4slsfl645695221..jpgWord count – 12,900

Jerusalem’s Lot is the fairly lengthy short story that kicks off Stephen King’s first collection of short stories, Night Shift, and I’ll say it right now – it’s not one of his best.

It’s designed as a prequel to his second novel, ‘Salem’s Lot, which I barely remember reading all those years ago, but as such this piece suffers because I can’t help but feel as though I’m not getting the whole story here. It’s like going to a restaurant, having a starter, and then walking out before the main course arrives.

Having said that, if ‘Salem’s Lot was written in the same manner as this (and it isn’t), I’d probably not want the entire meal anyway, because Jerusalem’s Lot is told in an epistolary format (as a series of letters). This certainly can be interesting and suspenseful if done correctly and in the right hands, and if King had more experience under his belt when he wrote it, this would have been a lot better, but as it is, this story drags, making you feel every word written on the page.

If you’re coming to this collection looking for King’s strengths, you best dig a little deeper into the book, because you won’t find it here.

Not Recommended ⇓

 

12 Years in the Making…

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Recently I got my first speeding ticket. Ever. I was doing forty in a thirty, so we’re not talking Fast and Furious levels of acceleration here, but still: rules are rules. It was my fault – no excuses – I’m just disappointed I got one after so long on the right side of the law.

I was caught on a road that I travel along fairly regularly, and I know where all the cameras are. I must have been distracted. So my momentary lack of concentration has cost me £100 and three points on my licence.

Hopefully traffic violations are not like buses, otherwise I’ll expect another in pretty short order.

Fatal Extraction, Part IV…

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So, with the socket from the first extraction healed over nicely (well, as nicely as a hole in your mouth can heal) I went back to the surgery for my hygienist appointment a few weeks later.

The girl with the tools started on the top row as she said they were the worst affected by plaque. I couldn’t disagree. Once she got started it took a while and it was quite painful, but I just let her do her thing and didn’t argue as it was entirely my fault I was in this position in the first place.

Now, it was my understanding that all my teeth would be cleaned in this thirty minute block set aside for me. After all, I had paid £55 for the privilege. It never crossed my mind that this valet service would take place over two sessions. I thought that telling me to make another appointment was just a wee bit on the cheeky side, but I wasn’t in any position to say otherwise.

So there I was a few days later, getting my bottom row of teeth cleaned, but another £55 lighter. Admittedly, at the end of it all, my teeth did look a hell of a lot better than they had going in, but this was beginning to feel like being held up at gunpoint.

But there was only one more step to go – the second and last extraction – and then I’d have the perfect smile they promised me.

It was a promise, right?

… to be concluded…

The Short(er) Works of Stephen King…

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In an effort to write good short stories I’m going to look towards one of the masters, Stephen King – a guy who has written a fair number of them.

Over the coming months I will be reading and offering my opinion about every short story King has had published in the six collections that are out there: Night Shift (1978), Skeleton Crew (1985), Nightmares & Dreamscapes (1993), Everything’s Eventual (2002), Just After Sunset (2008), and The Bazaar of Bad Dreams (2015).

That’s over 100 stories – some of which I have either forgotten since I came across them many years ago, or not read in the first place. I know not all of them will be good, but I’m sure every one will give me something to say.

… and hopefully I can get it done before he comes out with another anthology.

What I’ve Done This Week #33…

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I have never really had a writing routine. It’s just not the kind of thing I have ever been able to pigeon-hole into a specific window. It’s a good idea, and certainly I’d like to be able to frame my writing in that manner – for consistency, if nothing else – but I have always taken a more adhoc approach to my words.

I think my early resolution for 2020 is to manufacture some time when I can actually sit down and do my stuff regularly, because at the moment I’m all over the place and nothing is really getting done. Definitely not as much as there should be.

When I do write, it’s often pretty good, but I’m just not happy with the volume of the output.

And that has to change.

Potted Film Review: Skyscraper (2018)

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Starring: Dwayne Johnson, Neve Campbell, Chin Hanskyscraper-poster-600x9502100222201.jpg

What’s it all about?
The Rock is Will, an FBI operative who loses his leg below the knee and has a prosthetic attachment for the remainder of the movie. A decade later and he is a security consultant for the world’s taest skyscraper, which is in Hong Kong.

A group of terrorists break in to the building and start a fire in order to take control of the situation, but as luck would have it, Will’s children are now stranded and it is up to him to save the day and take down the bad guys…

…which he does about an hour later courtesy of a lot of not-so-special effects, some awful stunt work, and one particularly ludicrous moment where my suspension of disbelief was taken beyond breaking point. Yes, you can see it in that poster.

Watching it with the kids…
Yeah, go on. This is family friendly entertainment… although I use that term loosely.

Verdict…
I went in to this one with high hopes. The Rock is a very charismatic performer, so at least it has him going for it, right? Well… no. This is very much in the mould of Die Hard, although I feel dirty even making that comparison because Skyscraper has none of the action, stunts, heart, soul, humour, or pathos of that classic. It’s a one-legged imitation.

It pains me to say so, but this is a poor Dwayne Johnson movie, and one I will never go back to.

Not Recommended ↓

This (Still) Isn’t Stephen King’s Night Shift…

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I’m doing two nights of this, then it’s back to the regular day shifts… that’s if you can count a 4am wake up as regular, of course.

As quickly as the time passed last night, I couldn’t do this permanently. Maybe I would be able to handle it if I was single, but these kind of hours break relationships, no matter how strong you are as a couple.

There is just no time left to spend with your partner. I look forward to the weekends, and I’ve gone and encroached upon this one. I know The Girlfriend© doesn’t like it – I don’t like it either – so after having the next couple of days off so that I can get my sleeping pattern back to some form of normality, I’ll actually be glad to be getting up at my usual, godawful time.

Anyway, back to work.

This Isn’t Stephen King’s Night Shift…

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Tonight I am working the night shift, for the first time in… well, a lot of years. I don’t pull all-nighters these days, but doing so brings back fond (and some not so fond) memories of being single in my twenties.

Working through the night is not for everyone. To be honest, it’s not for me either. But as adults, sometimes the choices we have are made for us by others.

The world is a lot less forgiving when the sun is sleeping, and all of that bad stuff feels much more likely when all you can see are shadows.

But there’s always a flip side to the coin, and it can be good for ideas. Inspiration often comes from the darkness, and the shapes that things make when the lights are out.

So… I’ll try to find some material while I’m here.

See you in the morning.

Marital Reminders…

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At work this morning I picked a piece of paper off the floor – something I would usually just throw directly into the bin, but this had been fashioned into the shape of a joint, so curiosity got the better of me and I unrolled it.

Inside was the message, in a hasty hand: Phone The Wife.

Nothing else. No reason why, and no time frame in which to make this call. It was like it was part of a checklist that he was making sure he ticked off before going to bed at night. I guess kudos to him for being so organised.

I don’t know why the husband in question felt it necessary to remind himself to call his wife. I mean, it’s probably something that every good husband should be doing as a matter of course anyway, right? Was he going to forget to do it? Well maybe he would now that he had lost his note.

I didn’t recognise the handwriting either, but that’s probably for the best.

What I’ve Done This Week #32…

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It dawned on me recently that the synopsis for my novel Slipwater is perhaps not up to scratch. That must be the reason nobody has picked it up yet. I mean, it can’t be the story, right?

In fact, after looking into it a little more it seems that what I have written is not really a synopsis at all. It’s more like the blurb you would read on a dust jacket, and that’s not what they are looking for.

It’s hard to condense an 88,000 word novel into 250 words, and in doing so I also have to spoil what happens as well. I understand the editors and agents want to know what is in store for them should they read on beyond the initial bunch of pages I’ve sent them, but a lot of the excitement from reading comes from not knowing what to expect.

I can’t help but think that by exposing the details of my novel up front I do the telling of the story a disservice, which in turn reduces the thrill of turning the page.

Still, if that’s what they want I best get it done.