Shiny Objects

I don’t feel compelled to write that often; I don’t write professionally as a result – a man could starve twenty times over between periods when the compulsion does strike.

As a writer, I need help: when writing, I don’t sleep well; I don’t finish the long stories; I rush through the plot; I lose the plot; I revise too early and too often (getting bogged down in the process of revising and thus not creating); and I get distracted by shiny objects. And I get distracted by dusky objects. And I get repetitive.

I think you see what I’m driving at.

As is no doubt obvious, I am compelled to write now. I wish the driver for this wasn’t true, but wishing doesn’t make things so and it doesn’t change the facts. So I’ll just jump into it by revealing that one pleasant shiny object for me, over the years, has been the writing of Iain Banks. The first book of his that I read was The Bridge. It was a gift from a good friend of mine who I no longer speak to. We all move on…as Mr. Banks’ poignant piece here so illustrates.

For me, The Bridge was a difficult read because it wasn’t what I was expecting. I can’t, not for love nor money, tell you now what I was expecting then, but the story that is The Bridge wasn’t it. But (and yes, I am beginning a sentence with that unfortunate word) I made it through the book; I kept at it, as my friend who gave it to me for my birthday insisted and fussed that it was a Bloody Good Read. Mr. Banks was challenging in ways that I couldn’t quite put my finger on: he was different from Martin Amis, from Graham Greene, from Kurt Vonnegut, all of whom I was reading at the time and all of whom I enjoyed for different reasons. Near the end of this book, I had my Iain Banks Eureka Moment and I Got It. Once I finished it, I read it again and enjoyed it more.

The Wasp Factory was next, with predictable results. Then The Crow Road, which I adored and which reminded me of a friend who had just left for university out of country. Then Complicity, which reminded me of every dread revenge I had ever plotted against any Mortal Enemy I had ever had and even informed me of a few that had never crossed my mind. Good stuff, all very very good stuff.

And then I discovered Iain M. Banks.

Good science fiction, it must be said, is hard to find. It is a truth that good science fiction means different things to different people. It is another truth that Iain M. Banks has written good superb science fiction.

I’ll say it again: Iain M. Banks has written superb science fiction – it challenges you, and frees you in the best possible way, to examine your fears, your prejudices, your morals, and your values and ethics, in an environment that is non-judgmental and that encourages fearless intelligence. This is the value of Iain M. Banks’ science fiction; this is the value of the Culture.

Those of you who have read his Culture novels know what I mean.

For those who haven’t, they’re there for the reading: they aren’t going anywhere – they are firmly ensconced in the very fabric of the genre. His science fiction isn’t for everyone, but if you can get into any of his novels they’re great big honking heaps of fun and open up worlds and ideas and tales that at times will make you shake your head in awe that such could even be conceived.

Those of you who have read his Culture novels know what I mean.

Iain Banks spoke to me. I mean, it’s clear in the Twitterverse and in any Otherverse you care to consult that Iain wasn’t speaking only to me – that he was speaking to us, that he is speaking to us – but he came along, or I discovered him (semantics, really), at I time when I needed him. He is forever linked for me to the era of Nirvana, to PJ Harvey, to a time when I became my own man. To a time when I found my own voice with, it must be said, his aid. He wrote like I thought, like my friends and I talked, and wove the mundane, the stark, the brutal, the hopeless and the hopeful and the fantastic into the most striking tapestries.

His dialogue in all his works is simply splendid. The man has an ear…..

Iain Banks speaks to me, still. I have re-read a number of his books numerous times. I probably will for the rest of my days. There are books of his I have yet to read, but read them I shall. Consider Phlebas, a true saga, floored me with its relentless pace and its tender manner, and might just be my favourite science fiction piece (though it must truthfully be said that that’s kind of like picking a favourite memory as each book has its Moments). Use of Weapons, with its awesome characters and its copious heapings of spectacular is a terribly guilty pleasure, with a line from a poem within that book as a guiding principle in my life:

the bomb lives only as it is falling. 

I wanted to share a glimpse of what Iain Banks has meant to me and means to me. I’m heartbroken over his news, for though I’ve never met the man, he’s been more or less a constant companion, a friend, for over twenty years.

For all this, Iain, and more: thank you.

Are we there yet?

Sometimes we have days that just make us wonder what the point is. For me, this doesn’t generally last very long, which is probably better for me, better for people who know me, better for anyone who wants to know me. Also, it doesn’t happen as often as I’ve moved along on this perceived linear track, and there are an awful lot of things that I refuse to have the time or energy to get exercised about. It seems so unwise.

Unwise – opposite of wise – is such an odd word in that it’s a kind word, and if I had read that word only after having read 1984 I don’t think I would have accepted it as being an actual word. Having said that, what I can’t fathom, what I don’t really believe, is that people can ever become truly wise and so don’t credit the existence of wise people. I do think that the best that any of us can do is to acquire some wisdom. I think those that acquire more “some wisdom” than others are those that aren’t fussy from where they acquire said wisdom, somewhat like those unfortunate souls at the end of a long party night who empty the alcoholic dregs into a glass for one last drink. I mean, it’s kind of like that, but hopefully with a more positive spin and outcome. Let’s face facts: even a fool can say something insightful or start you off on a trail to some kind of discovery. Sometimes that shitty movie or television show that you’re watching because your husband wife daughter son partner mistress parent buddy wanted you to watch might have one moment that catches you, that shows you a different way of looking at or thinking about something. If you’re not open to learning from pretty much anyone or anything, well, that’s like ….well, let’s just say that in my book that puts you in the same league as someone who cannot adequately and properly complete a simile.

Curiously enough, while I am not a believer in wise people, I am firmly ensconced in my belief in the existence of unwise people. So much for a sense of fairness and balance and early closure to this entry…..

Maybe we’ve gone soft. Totally lost the plot. Do we really need to toss words and concepts in like balance. What about fairness and closure? Maybe not. These ideas can hurt us as much as help us. But, sometimes, those words and ideas do help. What to do? What to do? The trick, it’s said in intelligence circles, is to discern, of 100% of data received, the 5% that constitutes information, that 5% that constitutes something useful. It takes a Mark I eyeball (coupled, ideally, with a Mark I brain) some time to develop the ability to spy that functional bit and separate it from the clutter and debris surrounding it.

You should know I made those percentages up. I did, but it was for a noble cause, which was to support my argument and to keep this train a-rolling.

Clickity-clack.

In much the same way, the trick with the concepts of balance and closure is to discern when and how those concepts are useful and then how and when to properly apply them. Not so easy when you have the yabberings of your friends, family, and colleagues in your ears, when there’s so many books telling you and advising you, when advertising is constantly in your face, when blogs written by yahoos profess to know a thing or two about a thing or two. It’s true – not so easy.

Sometimes it’s damn hard to hear yourself think.

Fairness is a concept I avoid at almost all costs; to me, no sense in using it when talking about anything outside the arena of sports where it does seem to apply. Whenever I find myself sliding into a, “Why me?” mentality, I try to answer the question on the other side of that coin. So far, I haven’t found an adequate answer to the question, “Why not me? Why not me instead of someone else?”

Why not me, indeed? I think fairness in nature is an alien concept. I know, we’ve all heard of survival of the fittest even though it’s truer to say that it’s closer to a whole kind of ‘survival of the cooperativenesssest’ if I may take a liberty or two with my mother tongue. I think there should be a footnote to whichever expression, fittest or cooperativenessest, wins out over time that says something like this: notwithstanding those moments where pure shit luck intervenes and smites you down or saves your butt in spite of all factors pointing to the opposite conclusion.

It’s a mouthful, I know. I think it’ll take some time to “sell it”.

Closure isn’t always possible. And that’s the main problem with this idea. At some point, it’s time to mentally and emotionally shrug as often as it takes and carry on. Just as smiling when you’re grumpy can help drag your mood upwards, getting on with it can help you to, well, get on with it. Closure, or the perceived or very real lack of it, may hamstring you, so proceed with caution.

Balance is closer in its way to closure than it is to fairness, I think. We talk a good game about work/life balance.....whatever that’s supposed to be. Most people I know are busier at home than they ever are at work, or at least as busy. Running households, taking care of children, taking care of parents, taking care of each other, taking care of ourselves: it’s busy. I like the idea of “life balance” though, which is to say not so much busyness when young, periods of intense boredom in the teen years and for some or all of the twenties, extreme pace and vitesse in our thirties and forties and perhaps early fifties, and then a kind of cruise control into the late fifties and beyond. Or variations thereof….you get the idea. Bear in mind, it’s just a theory. Looked at that way, things more or less balance out, don’t they? I mean, humanity’s a fickle beast possessing a selective collective memory with a half life measured in weeks. We forget yawning periods of boring in our life because they’re simply oh so forgettable.

I believe it’s safe to say I’m an enemy of the idea of fairness and obviously not a huge fan of “all closure all balance all the time”. I recognize that no one said any of this was going to be easy. No one guaranteed it was going to be surpassingly difficult, either. While I do think that falling prey to the glamour that fairness can cast can be crippling, I feel that balance has its place and I do think that closure can be helpful. The trick is figuring out which 5% of all the jibber jabber can benefit you in seeking closure from the whole issue of balancing fairness.

The Factory Stack

First things first: walking before running; adding before multiplying; printing before writing. I’m not sure where all this will go, but I’m going to find out. And when I say “this”, I mean writing. And when I say “writing”, I mean attempting to write a movie. I’ve tried to write various stuff in the past, such as short stories, novella, and books. I’m going to keep doing so. One thing I will say: it’s a lot of work. More work than one thinks; certainly more work than I ever thought. Let me clarify this last for you: it’s much more effort to write well than I ever thought. So, that leaves me with three options: work harder, work smarter, or stop the insanity. Since we all know I’m not going to stop trying, I’ll just address working harder and/or working smarter and ignore the whole issue of sanity (and its good friends wisdom and judgment).

Working harder means doing the research, developing the plot and doing the writing to make whatever vision I have a reality. Research is something that’s more readily available now than ever. The trick, as ever, is not to get pulled into various cul-de-sacs and alleyways, thus ending up miles away from the destination. For me, this is a significant challenge, especially given how the internet is structured. Additionally, no amount of research and plot development is going to create a story. A story is only created once pen is put to paper and it gets written. Well, that’s most of the equation, not all, as a story isn’t really created until it’s communicated, so unless it’s heard, seen, or read, it’s stillborn.

Working smarter revolves heavily around plot. At least, that’s how it seems to me – having said that, plot has always been a sticky wicket for me. I don’t often use words as “always” or “never”, but I think it appropriate in this case as I believe plot is something I over think. I need to simplify how I approach plot lines. I need to map them out better. I also need to stop using plot as an excuse to not write.

So I already have a story arc for one of the movies a colleague and I are writing. I know it’s possible to write a movie and get it made. There’s a fellow who posts over at Waryammer has done it (Get Low is what he worked on) and thrilled with the result. A good product will get picked up sooner or later – some things just make too much sense to ignore.

The trick is to have a good product.