Friendzzz

Went to see this movie this evening with my teens. Yes, it's rated R (or "Arrrrr", if you prefer), due to excessive use of the F-bomb, and for references to sex and drugs. Because it is a movie about off-shore rock-and-roll stations, and nothing goes better with rock 'n' roll than sex and drugs. At least when the movie is set in 1966. Truly, it was nothing my kids couldn't see, but I leave you to make that call for your own kids. In the U.S., it's called PIRATE RADIO; in the U.K., it's THE BOAT THAT ROCKED. And hey, it's got other titles in France and Germany as well. Anarchy, I tell you.

So many cast members to love: Kenneth Branagh as a conservative British minister ably assisted by Commodore Norrington Jack Davenport (yes, please!) as an aspiring ministerial sort named Twatt. Yes, really, although it is pronounced with a flattened sort of "a" sound, so that it doesn't sound precisely like what you might think; Philip Seymour Hoffman as an imported American DJ called "the Count" who, as you might guess, was amazing; Bill Nighy as rogue radio boss Quentin in a role that incorporates some of the dance moves and costume choices of his rock-star character in Love, Actually, but with a different personality. I do love me some Bill Nighy, folks. Nick Frost (Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz) as a highly sexed DJ, and a lovely turn by newcomer Tom Sturridge, who is sent to live on the boat after failing out of school, in what Quentin calls a "spectacular mistake". Nice cameos by Emma Thompson and January Jones; good turns by men names "Rhys" - the always funny (imo) Rhys Ifans and Flight of the Concords "manager", Rhys Darby, as well.

Not about rock & roll, although there's quite a lot of it in there and the final credits include quite a number of album covers, but I quite liked it.

Current Mood: amused
Current Music: Won't Get Fooled Again by The Who (brainradio)

Sometimes, as I write, a character will do something I didn't expect. Or I'll learn something about a character that I didn't know before. I believe it's the subconscious at work, handing ideas up from the dark workroom in the basement to the sunlight of the conscious mind.

Sometimes the ideas are terrible. Many writers talk of the ideas they get while falling asleep, dreaming, or waking up. I get them, too, but they're mostly awful. I can't tell you how many times I've read a scrap of paper on which I recorded one of those falling-asleep ideas, and thought, "Yergh. This is what I wanted to remember?"

But other times, the subconscious surprise provides the crucial piece of a puzzle. Or it opens up a new and necessary road for the characters to take. Or it gives the why of something I've known but haven't been able to explain.

This is one reason I make time to walk every day, and it's a side benefit of the physical chores I do regularly (such as laundry) or occasionally (dusting and vacuuming the bedroom). Exercise benefits not only the body, but the mind as well.

It's also why staring at the wall is an important part of writing. Even when the conscious mind appears to zone out, something is forming in the swampy depths of the subconscious. The Muse scrapes treasure out of the mud.

Current Music: Simon & Garfunkel, "Anji"

I was feeling a little rough today, trying not to get a sneezy-wheezy cold and realising I hadn't had a proper day off in ages. And I was also worrying that, while I'm starting new projects, I haven't had time to give them much thought lately. So I got on my bicycle and cycled my favourite Thames Path route, passing lots of ducks splashing in the canals, a man who laughed like a duck while talking on his mobile, a woman in hijab practicing kickboxing, and zooming through lots of photo-takers' pictures on Tower Bridge. I guess since everyone stayed inside during yesterday's hurricanes, the families were out in force today.



Here's the gorgeous Mariscal mural at the Design Museum. (Click here for a wallpaper type photo.)


( More photos and rambling about life here )

As reported earlier on this blog, the FTC seems to have reconsidered its original position that online book reviewers are endorsers. However, it is my understanding that individual bloggers who are not book reviewers per se are still subject to the FTC Guides.

As an individual blogger with friends and business connections in the publishing world, today I have posted the disclosure policy for my blog. I have done so in an effort to comply with the FTC Guides, as well as for the general benefit of my blog readers. I plan to update my policy if and when it becomes necessary, and I have provided a link to it in the sidebar of my blog.

And so, with my next entry, we'll get back to the craft of writing!

As of November 15, 2009

In accordance with the FTC Guides (16 CFR 255), I am posting this disclosure policy for my blog.

On this blog, I discuss writing and books—my own and other people’s. I express my opinions in the hopes that other people can relate, or to open up discussion about topics I consider interesting.

When I see a book that I’d like to recommend for one reason or another, I tag it as a “recommended read.” Starting December 1, 2009, I will disclose the sources of any new “recommended reads” to the best of my ability. (In some cases, such as for books that I’ve owned for years, I may not be able to remember where I first got the book.)

I am a member of the following communities of debut authors: Debut2009, Class of 2k9, Tenners, and Class of 2k10. Because I don’t feel comfortable rating or formally reviewing the debut works of these authors, I have not made these “recommended reads.” Rather, I have simply announced the launches of the books. If I have read an advance copy of the book by the time of its launch, I sometimes include some of my own observations about the book. All 2009 debut authors were offered the chance to do a blog interview with me; I posted interviews with those who responded. I have previously disclosed this “launch” policy on my blog, and I am reiterating it here.

I have an agency contract with Curtis Brown and a book contract with Penguin Publishers. I have previously disclosed that information on this blog and I am reiterating it here. I may discuss and/or recommend books by authors who are also under contract with my agency and/or publisher, or who have been under contract with them at some time in their careers, and who may or may not still be receiving royalties in connection with those contracts. I may or may not be aware of every author’s connection with my agency and/or publisher.

To date, I have never been paid for what I write in this blog. I do not receive “click-through” compensation for any link. Before I had a paid account with LiveJournal, LiveJournal posted ads on my blog page; these ads were not selected by me. I currently have a paid account that does not display ads.

I occasionally give away copies of other people’s books, or items such as bookmarks. I may in the future give away finished copies of my own books. I consider the books to be gifts, not items requiring any payment in exchange. I consider items such as bookmarks to be of negligible monetary value and I expect nothing in return.

A note to reviewers: If you received an ARC from me or on my behalf, I do not consider that compensation for which I am owed something in exchange. You are free to review or not review the ARC, and to state your honest opinion of my work. My general policy is not to comment publicly on individual reviews.

Today, a return of my once-established Sunday tradition: a quoteskimming post. As it appears I sort of lost the habit back in July of this year, I shall explain what the word means. It's a term I coined in September 2007 - I shall be pulling some writing-related quotes from here and there and sharing them with you.

The quote in today's icon is from Lemony Snicket (who will be writing a new series at Little, Brown, having followed his editor when she moved, so it seemed fitting to use one of his quotes). It's from his book, Horseradish, and reads "If writers wrote as carelessly as some people talk, then adhasdh asdglaseuyt[bn[pasdlgkhasdfasdf."

On the need for solitude

First up, a bit of Jane Austen (since I'm working on one of my Jane poems at present). This is an excerpt from a letter she wrote to her sister, Cassandra, who had gone away for a while, leaving Jane in charge of running the household in her absence. (They lived with their mother and a friend, Martha Lloyd, with frequent visits from family and friends - both of the short social and long house-stay kinds.)

Jane's comments might be understood as being in favor of writing retreats, such as Angela and I are now on, in that she said she wished for:

. . . a few days quiet, & exemption from the Thought & contrivances which any sort of company gives.--I often wonder how you can find time for what you do, in addition to the care of the House
. . . Composition seems to me Impossible, with a head full of Joints of Mutton & doses of rhubarb.

Besides avoiding words adults have difficulty pronouncing, don't write humongous sentences like this one that will make your poor unsuspecting reader gasp for breath way before reaching the desperately-needed punctuation mark that finally at long last signifies the end.

Nothing is stranger or more important in our reading of novels than the sense that we are encountering real people in them. Academic critics tend to steer away from the business of characterization, even though it is invariably the ordinary measure of a novelist's achievement. It is as if succumbing to the illusion that a 'character' in a book is a person implies losing your critical faculties. Long ago, in a famous essay called 'How Many Children Had Lady Macbeth?', the critic L.C. Knights made it clear that the discerning reader should resist this weakness. How can we maintain 'the necessary aloofness from a work of art,' he asked irritably, if we 'treat a character as a human being'? Literary theory, while speaking in different terms, has preserved this aloofness. Sometimes its determination to avoid all talk of characterization is inadvertently comical. Here is Mieke Bal, a renowned narrative theorist, solemnly perplexed in her 1985 book Narratology when faced by the troubling illusion of a human presence in texts. "That no one has yet succeeded in constructing a complete and coherent theory of character is probably precisely because of this human aspect. The character is not a human being, but it resembles one." Just so.

I was fairly certain it was the best book I had ever read. It was funny in strange ways. It was filled with words. And while all books are filled with words, this one was different: it was filled with magical, wonderful, tasty words. It slipped into poetry and out of it again in way that made you want to read it aloud, just to see how it sounded. I read it to my little sister. When I was old enough, I read it to my children.

The 13 Clocks isn't really a fairy tale, just as it isn't really a ghost story. But it feels like a fairy tale, and it takes place in a fairy-tale world. It is short -- not too short, just perfectly short. Short enough. When I was a young writer, I liked to imaging that I was paying someone for every word I wrote, rather than being paid for it; it was a fine way to discipline myself only to use those words I needed. I watch Thurber wrap his story tightly in words, while at the same time juggling fabulous words that glitter and gleam, tossing them out like a happy madman, all the time explaining and revealing and baffling with words. It is a miracle. I think you could learn everything you need to know about telling stories from this book.

Current Mood: writing
Current Music: Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush (brainradio)

( You are about to view content that may not be appropriate for minors. )

Current Location: lulu store

Last time: The Doge lost her temper with Sforza.
I think Sforza’s relationship with the Doge can officially be put in the dumpster now.
Next Saturday I’ve a table at the Leeds Thoughtbubble Festival! I’ve heard lots of good things about this festival so I’m really looking forward to it – here’s the exhibitors list.
I was last in Leeds in 1988, as a spotty youth checking out the University to decide whether I should go there to study. It was raining and the town smelt of coal but I liked the look of the place. All very different now – maybe I’ll see you in the cocktail bar at Harvey Nicks?

I've been reading Kristina Springer's The Espressologist, much of which takes place in a coffee shop. Here's a confession: I don't like coffee. So why is my mouth watering as I read? It's because all the drinks sound like desserts. Some of the flavors mentioned in the book, which are used to great effect: cinnamon, vanilla, mocha, mint, toffee. I've been imagining I can smell the coffee shop and feel its warmth.

Note to self: When appealing to 5 senses in writing, don't neglect the sense of taste.

Were here were having fun. Show starts in am hour.

Sent from mah iPhone. Fingers crossed ljapp.....

Posted via LiveJournal.app.

Dear television industry,

First of all, I think it's great how in recent years you've upped the quality of your dramatic series in light of the potential money that can be made by selling DVD boxed sets. That quality sells, and that you realize this, is a great thing. And I also want to say that I don't mind paying for the content that I consume. I may be dirt poor, but 95% of the music I own is stuff that I have paid for, as are 100% of the movies. This puts me in a shrinking demographic, but I've always felt that artists deserve to be paid for their work- even if those "artists" are massive entertainment conglomerates. But please explain to me, if you can, why you expect me to pay two hundred dollars for the privilege of watching the Battlestar Galactica series? This is outrageous. Even if I had the $200 to spare, even if I was so excited about the series that I needed to see it (I am not so excited- all my friends think I should watch it, but I remain skeptical), this is an entirely unreasonable amount of money to spend. Especially given that A.) the whole thing would have been free if I had been quick on my feet and watched it diligently as it was first released, and B.) the whole thing is, I am quite sure, easily found for free on the internet right now.

I feel that most consumers are willing to pay for content that can be found elsewhere for free if you can give them enough reason to pay, or if paying is a more (not less) convenient way of acquiring or accessing it. But not when the amount they must pay is so unreasonable. Once you calculate in repeat viewings, I can easily get more entertainment-hours-per-dollar out of nearly any other medium- CDs, books, comics, movies on DVD, computer games, anything. Suffice to say, I will not be buying this DVD set.

Sincerely,
some guy on the internet.

So, here I am, still in Brigantine, NJ, where for two days we have stayed through the worst nor'easter in recent memory - one that involved a declared state of emergency and evacuations in some areas (although thankfully, not here). We lost power for a grand total of, what, 8-1/2 minutes yesterday - just long enough to find and light some candles, then blow them out.

This morning, a miracle: the rain was gone, the wind was down to something like 10 m.p.h., and, eventually, a bit of watery sunshine made its way through the clouds, burning off the lingering fog. After lunch, Angela and I headed outside for an actual walk. We went to the nearest beach access path to find that it was mostly underwater. We went to the next one up the beach, which we knew had an elevated wooden causeway. We got there and walked to the end of the elevated part, only to discover that the stairs led to a massive puddle nearly deep and wide enough to swim laps in. We decided to see if there might be another access point in the third development up the way and lo!, there was. And the path was mostly clear until we could see the ocean, at which point we began picking our way slowly through something that looked like (and undoubtedly was) sea-demolished bales of straw, no doubt set there in the path as a sort of levee. Those levees were unsettling to walk on, I can assure you, and by the end we were perilously close to walking in the forbidden dunes, but we persevered and made it to the beach.

There we were, on the sand, watching waves roll in (nowhere near as high as the past few days, although now that high tide is approaching, they are once again impressive - from a distance, no less!) and sandpipers skittering about at the water's edge, along with a few fat gulls standing watch or gliding low along the shallows. We walked a ways along the beach, south past where we were staying, since we knew those two accessways to be, well, inaccessible, to the fourth path, which was clear pretty much the whole way. There was evidence that it, too, had had strawbale levees smashed and carried inland (and out to sea) by the recent tempest, but it was drier still than the one on which we'd come.

In beach walking, as in writing or seeking publication, persistence pays off. Keeping going to find a way onto that beach or into the story can be challenging, and you may get muddy or acquire wet shoes or some burrs along the way (Angela sure did - maybe because she was wearing track pants instead of jeans?), but once you find your way there, it can be such a wonderful place. The trick is to keep going, to keep searching for that access you need, or the proper story opening, or the right word to make that poem sing, or that enthusiastic agent or editor who is willing to champion your work. The trick is also to pay attention and notice when the path you're on is going wrong - when the boardwalk is sinking into the mire (true story from today) and the water is bubbling up through the nailholes, it's time to turn back and try something new. There's a difference between carefully picking your way along a 40-foot stretch of destroyed wet straw bales (difficult, but not dangerous) and walking along planks that you know are going to sink you if you keep going ahead (possibly dangerous and definitely stupid).

So, stay alert, heed your gut instincts, but whatever you do, keep going. Because as I said before, when you get there, it's worth it.

See?

Current Mood: working
Current Music: By the sea, by the sea, by the beautiful sea

San Francisco traffic: shudder.

I did arrive early and only a little harried. I saw my dear literaticat first – she was busy getting the most critical part of the evening in order: the cookies and mini-cupcakes! Alas, I never did partake of their desserty goodness – once things got underway, I was too busy.

We had a little time before the event started, so I said hi to Sara Zarr, met Allen Zadoff and Barry Lyga … then met some of the other MG/YA authors in the crowd who had come out to support us: Sarah Quigley, Cheryl Renee Herbsman, C. Lee McKenzie, Heidi Kling, Courtney Sheinmel, and Daisy Whitney! Three Debs, two Tenners, and lovely Courtney, in a class by herself. (I've met Cheryl and Lee before, but it was so good to see them again.) Thanks so much for coming out, you guys!

I also got to meet some new agent-sisters: Ilene Wong and Whitney Miller. Stay tuned … I’ll bet it’s not long before we’re hearing that their books have sold.

And of course the evening would have been tragically lacking without the amazing Martha Flynn in attendance! She needs to come visit me in Portland. I also met Debbie Duncan, aspiring novelist and busy reviewer.

I met lots of other people, including some young book bloggers … forgive me for not listing everyone. I’m supposed to check out of my hotel room in ten minutes (literally!) so I’m rushing.

Andrew Smith was the fifth YA author on our panel, but I didn’t actually meet him until the event was over. His book is called IN THE PATH OF FALLING OBJECTS, and sounds sooo chilling. Can’t wait to read it.

Barry spoke first, and read an excerpt from GOTH GIRL RISING (about boobs). Then Sara talked about the inspiration behind ONCE WAS LOST, and read an excerpt. Then Andrew got up to talk, and I said to Allen, “Let’s do boy-girl-boy-girl. I’ll go next.”

When it was my turn, I talked a little bit about FLASH BURNOUT, read an excerpt, and talked briefly about next year’s book – THE MERMAID’S MIRROR. On Twitter, Heidi had mentioned that she hoped I would read a teaser from the mermaid book … so I did! (The prologue, nice and short.)

Then it was Allen’s turn, and he read an excerpt from his debut YA novel – FOOD, GIRLS, AND OTHER THINGS I CAN’T HAVE. Within minutes we were all laughing so hard we were crying. I can’t wait to read the whole book! And selfishly … I’m really glad I didn’t have to follow him. Can you imagine?

We answered some questions, signed some books, and then the Third Annual Fall Book Bash at Not Your Mother’s Book Club was over! Sob.

I got to spend time chatting with Heidi about writing and parenthood and contemporary realistic fiction versus fantasy, and all kinds of deep topics. She’s awesome – and she gave me an ARC of her upcoming YA: SEA. Squee!!

I got back to my hotel around midnight, but I don’t think I fell asleep until around two. I was just so buzzed from the event. Thanks so much, Jenn, for making it happen. <3

I woke up this morning, poured some coffee down my throat, and went for a walk on the beach.

Even though Half Moon Bay is only 30 miles from the crowded metropolis of San Francisco, the beach was empty, except for one fisherman and two surfers in the distance. I love being on a deserted beach. It was more than an hour before any other people appeared.

(Again, camera-phone quality photos.)




The surf was high this morning, and loud.

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That One Guy is in town tonight, playing at the World Cafe Live and crashing at Casa Del Milla's New and Enhanced Rock Star accomodations. If you're not coming out to the show, I highly recommend at least watching this ... crazy, amazing video.




Photo shoot tomorrow most likely.

Weir sold out tonight and most of next week too. Still some tickets for Thursday. They're looking to possibly extend the show.

Current Mood: accomplished
Current Music: That One Guy: Moustaches

trillian_stars' play completely sold out. I'm standing out front with one of those "need a miracle" signs.

Posted via LiveJournal.app.

Anyone else recognize themselves in this fictional character?:

"... I stood at my bookshelves and waited for the right book to reveal itself." --Pamela Erens, The Understory


In the just for fun department, Diane of the Book Resort did one of those lightning-round-style interviews with me, if you care to check it out.

The wonderful secret about the northern California coast is that sometimes the best weather is in the fall.

Please excuse the quality of the camera-phone photos … but I think they capture the gorgeousness of this day.



Pillar Point Harbor

( Read more... )

Current Mood: relaxed

This one isn't coming out til March 1st, but thought I'd give you a peek anyway! It features a princess, a space ship, chocolate, cakes and ALIENS!!! ...Ha ha, you'll never guess which things I had the most fun drawing.



Here's what Scholastic UK are saying about it on Amazon:
When King Cupcake is kidnapped by hungry aliens, it's up to his feisty daughter, Princess Spaghetti, to save him from becoming their dinner. She blasts off into space to show those naughty aliens who's boss - and introduces them to a delicious alternative to people: chocolate! This hilarious romp will delight chocolate lovers everywhere!

Gillian Rogerson's text IS funny, I had such a giggle when they showed it to me. And I probably gained ten pounds doing 'research' drawing the cakes, this book should come with a health warning.

UPCOMING EVENTS:
Tomorrow! (Saturday) London, Roehampton University: IBBY Conference: Going Graphic: Comics and Graphic Novels for Young People, featuring speakers Paul Gravett, David Fickling, a panel with Emma Vieceli, John Dunning and me, moderated by Ariel Kahn; Marcia Williams, and Janet Evans speaking about Raymond Briggs. All day conference, and I hear Jim Medway is coming along, too!

Saturday, 21 Nov: Wigtown, the book town, southwest Scotland, Box of Frogs bookshop. Starting at 10:30am, I'll read Morris the Mankiest Monster and lead a 'Make your own Monster' workshop. Book sales and signing.

Saturday, 12 Dec: London, Wandsworth: Signing Morris the Mankiest Monster at The Golden Treasury bookshop from 3pm.

March 27 & 28: Inverness Highlands International Comic Expo (or 'Hi-Ex'). Talks and workshops with studio mate Gary Northfield. And Asia Alfasi says she's coming, too!

Hi all,

There are no sign-ups for the November flash collaboration, so ... see you next month!

Happy creating, everyone. :)

Current Mood: creative

I've posted the entire poem of "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot at least thrice here over the years - most recently as part of my National Poetry Month posts, but today, as I sit here in Brigantine, New Jersey in the midst of a nor'easter of grand scale, watching the mists blow through the scrub on the dunes and seeing the white waves cresting and crashing off in the distance, I was reminded of the poem yet again. I got to thinking about the final stanzas of the poem and the lines that Stephen Colbert quoted to Elizabeth Alexander shortly after President Obama's inauguration: "I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each./ I do not think that they will sing to me."

The final set of stanzas begins with references to Prince Hamlet, and, as many of you already know, I saw a production of Hamlet only last week on Broadway. So many personal associations to this bit of the poem have had me reading and re-reading it this morning, pondering all the while. As for the Hamlet references, Eliot (or rather his poem's speaker, Prufrock) disclaims a starring role. How sad, to cast oneself as a walk-on or minor player when the play is one's own life. It reminds me of a quote from a movie in which Jude Law (who played Hamlet in the production I saw) was a character: The Holiday, of which I am fond. I particularly like the character of Iris, who is played by Kate Winslet, and her interaction with Arthur Abbott, played spectacularly well by Eli Wallach. During a conversation between the two of them, troubled-in-love Iris comes to this realization: "You're supposed to be the leading lady of your own life, for god's sake!" (Or leading man. J. Alfred Prufrock never managed to sort that bit out, poor guy.)

Here, the final section of "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot (who is, my brother informs me based on recent genealogical research (we jointly work on our family tree) our eighth cousin, thrice removed). You can read the poem in its entirety (with much fuller analysis) in my post from April:

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old . . . I grow old . . .
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

Current Mood: thoughtful
Current Music: I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each