Milestones…

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I have been keeping a record of my writing, (seriously) since 2004. I sent off pieces several times before then via land-based mail – in the dim and distant days before the internet made these things so much easier – which I have not tracked, but that aside, I have now made over one thousand submissions. Short stories, poems, novel extracts, a song, and a script!

Within that number are 105 acceptances, which, by my low-level arithmetical capabilities, is a success rate of just over ten percent. That may not sound like much, but if you’re targeting the right markets, you are, oddly, looking for a high rejection rate. If you’re hitting too often, it’s probably because you’re aiming too low, and – to be honest – I am as guilty of that as every other serious write out there.

So, here’s to the next thousand, and to many more rejections!

One More Push…

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Contractions & Reactions – my ‘delivery room drama’ – has finally found a home over at Dream Quest One, where it took second prize in the Summer 2012 Writing Contest, for a cool $250.

I say finally because I have submitted it to magazines dozens of times and it has been shortlisted in two previous contests, so this acceptance has been a long time coming. Usually you get a feel if a piece is good, but it was getting to the point where I was beginning to doubt this one.

So, a few runner-up places this last year, but yet to bag the victory.

Onwards…

Back to School…

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Dark Prints Press has announced – via their blog – that my horror novella, Replay, is to be published in February 2013 as a standalone e-book. It will join the current line-up, alongside fellow Aussies, Martin Livings and Greg Chapman.

 It’s my biggest publication to date, and I’m very happy that it’s good, old-fashioned horror as well. No apologies. No punches pulled. No monsters as such but, you know, still scary stuff.

When I started this game many years ago I always thought – given the type of stuff I was reading – that I would be a horror writer, but it hasn’t really turned out that way. It’s probably for the best though – I’d hate to be pigeon-holed as such, and be thought of as a one-trick pony. Still, it’s nice to go back to ‘my roots’ and deliver something to the genre that I’m proud to have written.

I’m looking forward to seeing the cover that Dark Prints Press produces, and when I know… you’ll know.

(Just Like) Starting Over…

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Well, that’s what Lennon said.

It’s the first day of September. And Autumn… kinda.

And as arbitrary as it is, the first of September is as good a time as any for a fresh start, I suppose. People the world over do it on the first day of January every year – quit smoking, go on a diet, join a gym – so I don’t see anything wrong with sliding it forward a few months. I thought about it, but do people really have it in them to start over, or is that just what they tell themselves they’re doing, when they hit a speedbump in the road?

I spent most of last week redrafting six old flash pieces, and I think I made a pretty good job of most of them, but it got me thinking – when is a story truly finished? Or is it always a work-in-progress? I will probably look back at these (along with all the others) at some point down the line and see things I should be changing – sticky dialogue, dead descriptions, contrived plots – but when do I stop messing around and move on?

You see, I don’t think we ever do. Not completely. We may write new stories – we may even forget the old ones for a while – but we always go back; when we need to, when we’re looking for something familiar and warm.

And sometimes, they’re even better than we remembered.

Who Says Romance is Dead…?

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Over the last few weeks I have written a couple of… well, I guess you would call them love stories, of sorts. It’s not a genre I dabble in very often, and to be honest, even these ones are not strictly speaking, romance. When I start writing, the boy never gets the girl, it seems.

The first one is called Stale Bread & the Stable Boy, and is a redraft of a 1000 word tale I wrote seven years ago. It’s a love story with a bit of a dark sting, and is now twice as long as it was then. It’s quite clever and detailed for the length ,and tells the tale from the perspective of both the man and the woman… And trust me, the title makes a lot more sense once you read the story.

And I just finished (today) a first draft of quite a personal tale called, The Love That Trips You. It’s what I would term a broken love story, with a kind of Tales of the Unexpected feel to it. It’s 1600 words, and reminds me a lot of another short story I wrote a few years ago – Between Hanson & Hendrix – as it has a very similar kind of speculative dance between the two characters. Ultimately, it’s a sad story of love found and love lost… with maybe some hope at the other end. Who knows? I guess, Blake – the protagonist in my tale – will just have to wait and see.

I guess maybe we both will.

Where’s Mel…?

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One day, Pixar will produce a movie which is not very good – I’m sure of it – because for every Billie Jean there is a Human Nature. But I guess I will have to keep waiting, because Brave is not that movie.

Pixar has been riding this exceptional wave since Toy Story, back in 1995, and every one of its twelve subsequent outings has been (in my opinion, of course) at least very good, and sometimes, fantastic. When it comes to animation, Pixar has no equal.

I had a few reservations going in to Brave. Being set in Scotland I was a little concerned that perhaps the accents wouldn’t work, or the locations would seem wrong, or that too much time would be spent making the requisite parochial jokes, but I needn’t have worried. Pixar are far too professional for all that stuff. The primary voice cast (with the notable exception of Emma Thompson) is from these shores, so there can be no accusations of: “why are there a bunch of Americans trying to speak Scottish?”, as often does happen; and the ‘scenery’ is so good you would probably know it was meant to be Scotland anyway.

The story does dip a fraction, halfway through, when the plot takes a slightly unexpected (and magical) twist, but it is handled rather well and it never gets boring, and – as is standard with Pixar movies – there is always enough to entertain both children and adults alike.

Merida is a fine, flame-haired heroine too… and guys, don’t let the female lead put you off – she’s quite cute in her own way.

You know, for a redhead.

Singin’ Da Blues…

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Now, I have written hundreds of stories over the years and maybe a few dozen poems, but I have only written two songs. The first was when I was nineteen and was called I Don’t Want to Know Tomorrow. It was about as sickly sweet as mid-tempo love songs can get, and maybe it’s for the best that I have lost most of it. I even had a melody for it, but I promise, I won’t sing it for you…

The second one I wrote this week. It’s a blues song called She Done Left Me. I had one of the lines floating around my head for ages, and a few days ago I decided to build the rest of the song around it. Now, I’m no Robert Johnson or BB King, but I think it works in the traditional, familiar style. It’s no Grammy winner, let’s be clear, but it would make a reasonable album track with the right guitar riff and a vocal that sounds like it’s been around the block a time or two.

Anyway, in a moment of madness (and because the internet allows you to do such things) I sent it off to a music publisher. Haha. Funny, right?

Well,

Anyone For… Greco-Roman Wrestling?

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Well, the Olympics have started, and I’ll be honest – I love it. The opening ceremony was a bit of a drag, and when they wheeled out Muhammad Ali, I did squirm just a bit. Shame. The guy is a sporting hero, but his appearance in London didn’t feel – or look – quite right. When he lit the torch in Atlanta in 1996, that was fine, because that had significance, with the civil rights connotations and all that jazz, but this just felt contrived. Still, the guy did add a touch of class to a typically British spectacle…

I’m a bit of an Olympic geek, it must be said. You can often find me sitting down and watching sports I only ever really take an interest in every four years. I mean, who knew archery could be exciting? Or handball? Or beach volleyball? No, wait… we always knew that was a keeper. But no matter how much I get into these sports, my interest in them won’t spike again until Rio in 2016… and what do you know, we’re back at beach volleyball again.

Right now I’m watching floor gymnastics. I can appreciate the skill, even though it’s still a little funny to watch well-built guys running around in skin-tight leotards. Later, it’s boxing… with women! It’s an Olympic first. Fair enough, there is no mud or jelly or pillows involved (I don’t think), but if you can’t get excited about two chicks beating each other up for medals, you should check your pulse.

And these days, with digital television, it’s even better. Beijing 2008 was never like this (fine, I was late to the high def revolution, okay?). Press the red button, and if the sport is happening right now, you can watch it. How cool is that? You don’t have to wait for the BBC anymore: you’re in control. It’s amazing.

Right, what now…

What a Way to Make a Livin’…

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I started a new job a few weeks ago – you know, the kind of job that pays the bills, not writing.

Like my previous post at BT, it is office-based – with a bit of driving thrown in for variety – and (thankfully) it allows me the time to get some words down during my day. I don’t really know how I would manage a full-time job and still find the energy to sit down and commit to the story once I got home, and had been fed and watered.

I’m glad I’ve never had to answer that question, and long may it continue. Otherwise I may forget I’m a writer and get sucked in to the daily grind of the nine-to-five.