I finally reach my favourite number on Tuesday! I have no idea why but, whenever asked, I tend to plump for 27. 26 isn't even in my top 10, but 27 - now that's a number.
So, what exactly is going to happen in year 27 of the life of Sam Lenton? Publication? Promotion? Paternity? Something that doesn't begin with 'P'?
Well, to start with I shall receive presents and, as is the pattern nowadays, I will know exactly what they are as I have not only added them to my Amazon wish list but have giggled with glee as they disappear from said list. With only 3 likely providers of such gifts, it's not even that difficult to narrow down who might have purchased what.
(Side note - current 'P-word' count in this blog stands at 8)
What is perhaps a little depressing is that I've just spent 20 or 30 minutes (we all know it's nearer 30, but let's give me a shot at some dignity anyway) trawling through Amazon in the look out for something I might like my brother to buy me. It's such a strange experience assessing whether buying a particular item would be a worthwhile use of someone else's money or not.
So, since I should really be taking this time to write my play rather than procrastinate by pondering presents on a personal blog, I think I should probably bless you all with a briefer than usual contribution.
Preparing for 27 with ever-increasing anticipation...
(Final 'P' count : 16. An OK number but barely in the same league as 27.)
Thursday 17 March 2011
Tuesday 15 March 2011
Cancel the exhibition
So, it turns out there'll be no Oscar (or Olivier Award, for that matter) after all. At least, not next year, anyway.
Today I received an email to add to the file marked 'rejection letters/emails to share with the public on book-signing tours' regarding the play I sent in to a local theatre. To be honest, things weren't looking promising when my one-line plot summary in a previous email led the recipient to declare that it didn't sound like a play they'd be interested in, and so I should probably be grateful that it even got looked at.
The criticism was odd, though: 'I would suggest that you need to work much harder at your dialogue'. Hmm. Three thoughts...
1) Is this actually suggesting the plot was OK? If so, that's a first for me, so in a peculiar way this was in fact a stunningly positive piece of feedback.
2) Correct me if I'm wrong, but surely the entire play (stage directions aside) is dialogue? Does this mean that I need to work much harder on everything?
3) What really confuses me is this 'work much harder' idea - is the suggestion that what was lacking above all was effort and hard graft? There's something scarily school-report-like in the phrase (not that I would ever have received such a comment mind you...) and yet I kind of like the idea that there is little difference between me and all the other great writers in history apart from our work ethic. Simple solution: work harder and we'll be away. If only I'd thought of putting effort in earlier...
In happier news, I'm very much enjoying rediscovering music I've cruelly ignored for quite a few months, if not years, and am currently lapping up 'Wonderland' by The Charlatans, whilst I've been steadily working my way through 4 Spiritualized albums. Simple conclusion: I am already at that age where I dismiss all new music and cherish the 'golden era of my youth', or whatever it was Dad used to say.
Well, I'm off to write my latest play. You know what, I'm going to try and work hard on this one. Particularly on the dialogue. Forget stage directions - they're clearly sorted - and focus on dialogue. What could be easier?
By the way, the play is a retelling of the Pentecost story. Any suggestions for a title would be gratefully received. I keep wanting to do something that alliterates and so I've been trawling through 'P' words but that may not be a particularly good idea, so any other thoughts are welcome.
Today I received an email to add to the file marked 'rejection letters/emails to share with the public on book-signing tours' regarding the play I sent in to a local theatre. To be honest, things weren't looking promising when my one-line plot summary in a previous email led the recipient to declare that it didn't sound like a play they'd be interested in, and so I should probably be grateful that it even got looked at.
The criticism was odd, though: 'I would suggest that you need to work much harder at your dialogue'. Hmm. Three thoughts...
1) Is this actually suggesting the plot was OK? If so, that's a first for me, so in a peculiar way this was in fact a stunningly positive piece of feedback.
2) Correct me if I'm wrong, but surely the entire play (stage directions aside) is dialogue? Does this mean that I need to work much harder on everything?
3) What really confuses me is this 'work much harder' idea - is the suggestion that what was lacking above all was effort and hard graft? There's something scarily school-report-like in the phrase (not that I would ever have received such a comment mind you...) and yet I kind of like the idea that there is little difference between me and all the other great writers in history apart from our work ethic. Simple solution: work harder and we'll be away. If only I'd thought of putting effort in earlier...
In happier news, I'm very much enjoying rediscovering music I've cruelly ignored for quite a few months, if not years, and am currently lapping up 'Wonderland' by The Charlatans, whilst I've been steadily working my way through 4 Spiritualized albums. Simple conclusion: I am already at that age where I dismiss all new music and cherish the 'golden era of my youth', or whatever it was Dad used to say.
Well, I'm off to write my latest play. You know what, I'm going to try and work hard on this one. Particularly on the dialogue. Forget stage directions - they're clearly sorted - and focus on dialogue. What could be easier?
By the way, the play is a retelling of the Pentecost story. Any suggestions for a title would be gratefully received. I keep wanting to do something that alliterates and so I've been trawling through 'P' words but that may not be a particularly good idea, so any other thoughts are welcome.
Wednesday 9 March 2011
Just lookin'
Apparently, Anthony Trollope used to get up and write for a few hours before going to work, starting at exactly the same time every morning and finishing at the exactly the same time a few hours later (let's go for 3 but feel free to wikipedia it...), regardless of whether he was in the middle of a sentence or not! It was this level of dedication that led to him being one of the most successful and prolific writers of all time (although, not one that I've read - take that, Trollope!) and forever providing an anecdote that puts the rest of us to shame.
I have just been sat at the laptop for about an hour and have written 267 words of my novel but I have checked Hotmail, Facebook and Twitter about 38 times during this hour, somehow imagining that the world outside my office is changing at such a rapid pace that if I don't refresh the page every minute or so then I will miss out on something big. In fact, just now I have learned on Twitter from Darren Huckerby that he has forgotten his boots - key information, I am sure you will agree, and something that begs numerous questions that are far more important to consider than what the next line of my novel's going to be. But, mock it as I do - yes, that was sort of mockery I guess - you could argue that this is the most incredible gold-mine of creative potential. In fact, I think I can feel a screenplay about an ex-footballer who forgets his boots and somehow goes on to save the world from an evil tortoise bubbling up inside me as I type.
Can you imagine how Trollope, Dickens or Austen - or Shakespeare for that matter - would have coped in a world of Twitter and Facebook? One click on Facebook has just told me that a friend enjoys blessing people with cake. How could the great writers of yesteryear have resisted the lure of such revelations? I'm sure Austen would have happily paused mid-sentence if there was a chance to check whether someone 'liked' her status update that she was 'Looking forward to the dance'.
While we're on the subject, I would have liked to have seen DH Lawrence write a blog. I imagine he would have been very good at it and I would have liked the opportunity to spend hours drafting a comment that I felt was suitable to add to the 237 others responding to his contribution.
Hmm. I have no other thoughts today.
News update: Maisie lives!
But you probably expected that, so there are no great shocks today.
I have just been sat at the laptop for about an hour and have written 267 words of my novel but I have checked Hotmail, Facebook and Twitter about 38 times during this hour, somehow imagining that the world outside my office is changing at such a rapid pace that if I don't refresh the page every minute or so then I will miss out on something big. In fact, just now I have learned on Twitter from Darren Huckerby that he has forgotten his boots - key information, I am sure you will agree, and something that begs numerous questions that are far more important to consider than what the next line of my novel's going to be. But, mock it as I do - yes, that was sort of mockery I guess - you could argue that this is the most incredible gold-mine of creative potential. In fact, I think I can feel a screenplay about an ex-footballer who forgets his boots and somehow goes on to save the world from an evil tortoise bubbling up inside me as I type.
Can you imagine how Trollope, Dickens or Austen - or Shakespeare for that matter - would have coped in a world of Twitter and Facebook? One click on Facebook has just told me that a friend enjoys blessing people with cake. How could the great writers of yesteryear have resisted the lure of such revelations? I'm sure Austen would have happily paused mid-sentence if there was a chance to check whether someone 'liked' her status update that she was 'Looking forward to the dance'.
While we're on the subject, I would have liked to have seen DH Lawrence write a blog. I imagine he would have been very good at it and I would have liked the opportunity to spend hours drafting a comment that I felt was suitable to add to the 237 others responding to his contribution.
Hmm. I have no other thoughts today.
News update: Maisie lives!
But you probably expected that, so there are no great shocks today.
Monday 7 March 2011
Beautiful News
So...blogging. Mmm. Yes. Well. Perhaps not the regular activity I might have imagined it to be but bizarrely enticing nonetheless, and what better way could there be to mark my return than by providing a bit of a news update? Think Sky News and then imagine something quite different - this will be a little like that...
I sat next to a man on Saturday who observed me ticking off the parts of the day's schedule (I was at a writers' conference) and took the next logical step of asking me if I were someone who liked lists. The glow in his eye made it clear that anything other than 'yes' would prove a crushing disappointment and so, since it is all too easy to be a crushing disappointment to those I meet, I admitted that, yes, I indeed was a fellow list-lover (and alliteration fan for that matter) and that bullet-points were my particular weapon of choice. It is, therefore, perhaps not that surprising that the news update is going to come in the form of a list, although - just to be slightly daring - I'm going to go for numbers rather than bullets. Let's call it a mark of respect for all those engaged in fighting in the Middle East.
Here goes...
1) Success! Yes - actual success. In December, my Christmas Play appeared on stage in Above Bar Church. Startling things happened. I acted. I drank a lot of water backstage. I threw a fez into the air at the end in true graduation-style flourish. People clapped.
Key things I learned (here come the bullets):
I sat next to a man on Saturday who observed me ticking off the parts of the day's schedule (I was at a writers' conference) and took the next logical step of asking me if I were someone who liked lists. The glow in his eye made it clear that anything other than 'yes' would prove a crushing disappointment and so, since it is all too easy to be a crushing disappointment to those I meet, I admitted that, yes, I indeed was a fellow list-lover (and alliteration fan for that matter) and that bullet-points were my particular weapon of choice. It is, therefore, perhaps not that surprising that the news update is going to come in the form of a list, although - just to be slightly daring - I'm going to go for numbers rather than bullets. Let's call it a mark of respect for all those engaged in fighting in the Middle East.
Here goes...
1) Success! Yes - actual success. In December, my Christmas Play appeared on stage in Above Bar Church. Startling things happened. I acted. I drank a lot of water backstage. I threw a fez into the air at the end in true graduation-style flourish. People clapped.
Key things I learned (here come the bullets):
- Burger King does a remarkably nice burger (double Aberdeen Angus)
- People will applaud jokes if you let your actors perform them differently to how you'd imagined.
- Cameras make people laugh - particularly disposable ones.
- I can successfully catch a pregnant lady falling backwards.
- Fezzes should not be tossed into the air at the end of a play
2) Blind optimism! Potential, but unlikely, success. Yesterday, I sent off the play that I began writing at university (6 years ago) to the local theatre, expecting that not only will it be a huge hit in Southampton but before the year is out we will no doubt be talking about national tours, film versions and potential Oscars (I'm assuming I'll be writing the screenplay for the film version...). On the other hand, it is minutely possible that I'll receive a 'you have no idea how to write and you've just wasted an hour of my life' email any minute now...
3) Encouragement! I have recently joined the Association of Christian Writers (ACW) and attended a conference on Saturday - yes, the one with the fellow list-lover! - which I found both encouraging and challenging. Simple conclusion: I wish I did this full-time. Additional conclusion: I need to be given an enormous cheque through the post (as in amount of money, the size of the cheque itself is irrelevant) so that I can ditch the day-job and spend hours at the laptop.
4) Competition time! It may well cost me £5 (or, to put it another way, the cost of a Dylan album in Fopp) but I'm actually going to enter a short-story competition for the first time. That's what the ACW does to you - first you become a member and before you know it you're splashing the cash to get your work out there. On the plus side, if I win (and it is an earth-shatteringly-large 'if') then I would more than recover the fiver, which, as I am sure you will feel comforted to hear, has already led to a number of day-dreams in which I have spent my future winnings in a wife-defying manner of technical indulgence (i.e. a new computer monitor).
5) Days off! Incredibly, my work has a bursary that pays for people to pursue worthy interests, such as curing cancer in your spare time or putting together a proposal to get us all out of this financial mess we find ourselves in, and I've somehow gone and secured it for myself by suggesting that I spent a week at home completing my novel. I'm imagining they'll be hankering after a dedication to the college being plastered across the opening pages if it's published - hey, I'll happily call the novel 'Itchen College is great' if someone actually wants to publish this thing - but I can't be anything other than thankful really, can I?
And at 5 we shall stop. 5 is a good number for a list. As is 7, 10 or 12.
I've decided to try and write where possible and so do check back here if you'd like to see what I'm thinking about the weird things happening around me.
While writing this blog entry I've just watched my cat walk across the road, pause half-way to take a look around her before stopping entirely. Banging on the window did little to make her move and I think I may have actually held her up a little as she simply stood and stared at this crazed over-protective father-figure panicking that a car would crush his little pride and joy any moment now...
In the next blog - the news on whether or not Maisie survived her walk...
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