“Dave, why don’t you write in your blog anymore?”
“Because, I’m busy.”
The truth is that what with the constant trip-taking Monika and I have been doing and the relentless search for a job more dependable (and, hopefully, less soul-crushing) than painting I have barely been able to squeeze out a couple of hours a week to work on Slouching Deathward. Obviously this blog is nowhere near as important as a novel so, unfortunately, it falls by the wayside.
I do, however, tend to get irritated when the blogs I read aren’t regularly updated. Frankly it never occurred to me that anyone reading this blog might feel the same way. To be honest it never occurred to me that anyone was really reading this blog at all.
So I’ll update you on what’s been going on with me lately and in the future I shall endeavour to update more regularly with posts more literary than this one is likely to be.
I recently returned from a trip out to BC's Northern Coast. The trip took me from my humble home in Prince George to the lava beds of the Nass Valley, to Hyder Alaska and to the rain-drenched, foggy costal town of Prince Rupert.
All in all it was an enjoyable journey during which I learned a lot about the history and geography of the area and managed to get some pretty nifty pictures of black bears as well.
Ever been ten feet away from a four hundred pound predator? I highly recommend it—if you’re in a car. Otherwise, it’s probably not a great idea.
The trip up the coast actually planted the seeds for a very interesting novel. The details have been growing in my mind at a rate that could only be classified as “phenomenal.” I’m very, very excited about it. So excited, in fact, that it will supplant the novel I planned to write once I finished Slouching Deathward. (That novel, Anathema Magic, will go ahead eventually, I assure you.)
As for this new idea: I’ve plotted a non-linear narrative by merging the concepts of First Nations oral tradition, interviewing and journaling. I don’t want to reveal too much yet—at least not until I begin working on it in earnest (meaning after I’ve finished Slouching Deathward). I will say this much:
It will require absurd amounts of research on my part to make it in any way believable. Because of the narrative techniques I’ve chosen to use I’ll also have to plot the story more carefully than I’ve ever had to do before. It’s a daunting task to be sure but one I look forward to undertaking.
The birth of this story is largely influenced by my irritation at the Canadian publishing industry. If you’ve ever read the submission guidelines of Canadian indie publishers you’ll realise that “Canadian Content” is a phrase often used and seldom defined.
I’ve always felt that stories should have broader appeal and speak to the world at large instead of being marked by the intensely (and, truthfully, jingoistic, bullshit-laden) nationalism that seems to define Canadian art. If I’m going to write a satire I’m going to deliver my message to the whole world, not just a few yahoos in the north.
This novel will be my Official Canadian Content novel. It will at the same time poke fun at our obsession with our own Canadianess and speak to Canadians directly in a way that I hope people from other places can appreciate as well.
There’s Indians and Sasquatches in it—that’s how fucking Canadian it is.
Those of you who know me well know that I’ve had ideas for several novels floating around my head for a while now. I’ve got at least four or five in there that have been bouncing off the bone walls of my skull for two years or more. With the inclusion of this new novel I’ve decided to start keeping detailed notes on the ideas that whip through my mind on a regular basis. There are a few reasons for this:
First, while I have, in the past, had no trouble keeping the stories straight in my head I’ve recently found myself confusing various plot points, settings and characters with the wrong stories as I consider them. I won’t say I’m getting old but my mind certainly isn’t as sharp as it once was. (Alcohol? Drugs? I suppose it’s possible…)
Which brings me to the second reason. I have heard many authors remark that while the execution of writing a story becomes easier with age, one’s creativity often wanes. In other words, writing the novel becomes easier—coming up with the concept and plot of the novel gets harder.
Being as that I have a half a dozen novels and twice as many short stories in my head at any given moment and am constantly coming up with new ideas and ways to explore different narrative techniques, I figure I ought to get them down while I can. Particularly the stories I know I am not yet skilled enough to write. Y’know, throw a net over them before they can get away.
The third and final reason for this is the growing complexity of the plots I come up with. It’s one thing to sit and let a short story marinate in my mind without writing it down for weeks. However, when one starts considering a longer story or a novel and allows that story to gestate for longer than, oh, say, ten minutes, it tends to mutate and become intricate at an exponential rate. If I don’t write it down how can I expect to remember all the facets of a plot?
Am I afraid that this will take some of the immediacy and impulsiveness I so love out of the creative act? Of course I am. Is it worth risking losing a great idea to the abyss at the back of my mind? Fuck no.
So that’s it for this update. I intend to use most of this weekend to work on rewrites for Slouching Deathward as I want to get it off to a publisher before Christmas. Monika is a way for a multi-day hike through Jasper Provincial Park in Alberta so there’ll be no distractions (besides internet porn and Facebook) and I’m feeling “writerly” rather than “masturbatorly” so the odds are in my favour.
I’ve got a couple of short stories that'll be ready to come out of the oven soon. I’ll probably post the rough draught of one of those when I finish it.
It’s funny. I know now that I am less than four months away from the end of my sentence here in Prince George and I’m starting to think I might miss the solitude here. Sure, it’ll be fun to be back in Ontario for a while—and something I dearly NEED. But I’ll miss the hours spent writing merely because I don’t know (or care for) anyone enough to hang out with them.
It’s true: I’ll never be totally happy.
And if I was, I’d probably kill myself. An artist, I am told, thrives on conflict.
I tend to agree.
“Because, I’m busy.”
The truth is that what with the constant trip-taking Monika and I have been doing and the relentless search for a job more dependable (and, hopefully, less soul-crushing) than painting I have barely been able to squeeze out a couple of hours a week to work on Slouching Deathward. Obviously this blog is nowhere near as important as a novel so, unfortunately, it falls by the wayside.
I do, however, tend to get irritated when the blogs I read aren’t regularly updated. Frankly it never occurred to me that anyone reading this blog might feel the same way. To be honest it never occurred to me that anyone was really reading this blog at all.
So I’ll update you on what’s been going on with me lately and in the future I shall endeavour to update more regularly with posts more literary than this one is likely to be.
I recently returned from a trip out to BC's Northern Coast. The trip took me from my humble home in Prince George to the lava beds of the Nass Valley, to Hyder Alaska and to the rain-drenched, foggy costal town of Prince Rupert.
All in all it was an enjoyable journey during which I learned a lot about the history and geography of the area and managed to get some pretty nifty pictures of black bears as well.
Ever been ten feet away from a four hundred pound predator? I highly recommend it—if you’re in a car. Otherwise, it’s probably not a great idea.
The trip up the coast actually planted the seeds for a very interesting novel. The details have been growing in my mind at a rate that could only be classified as “phenomenal.” I’m very, very excited about it. So excited, in fact, that it will supplant the novel I planned to write once I finished Slouching Deathward. (That novel, Anathema Magic, will go ahead eventually, I assure you.)
As for this new idea: I’ve plotted a non-linear narrative by merging the concepts of First Nations oral tradition, interviewing and journaling. I don’t want to reveal too much yet—at least not until I begin working on it in earnest (meaning after I’ve finished Slouching Deathward). I will say this much:
It will require absurd amounts of research on my part to make it in any way believable. Because of the narrative techniques I’ve chosen to use I’ll also have to plot the story more carefully than I’ve ever had to do before. It’s a daunting task to be sure but one I look forward to undertaking.
The birth of this story is largely influenced by my irritation at the Canadian publishing industry. If you’ve ever read the submission guidelines of Canadian indie publishers you’ll realise that “Canadian Content” is a phrase often used and seldom defined.
I’ve always felt that stories should have broader appeal and speak to the world at large instead of being marked by the intensely (and, truthfully, jingoistic, bullshit-laden) nationalism that seems to define Canadian art. If I’m going to write a satire I’m going to deliver my message to the whole world, not just a few yahoos in the north.
This novel will be my Official Canadian Content novel. It will at the same time poke fun at our obsession with our own Canadianess and speak to Canadians directly in a way that I hope people from other places can appreciate as well.
There’s Indians and Sasquatches in it—that’s how fucking Canadian it is.
Those of you who know me well know that I’ve had ideas for several novels floating around my head for a while now. I’ve got at least four or five in there that have been bouncing off the bone walls of my skull for two years or more. With the inclusion of this new novel I’ve decided to start keeping detailed notes on the ideas that whip through my mind on a regular basis. There are a few reasons for this:
First, while I have, in the past, had no trouble keeping the stories straight in my head I’ve recently found myself confusing various plot points, settings and characters with the wrong stories as I consider them. I won’t say I’m getting old but my mind certainly isn’t as sharp as it once was. (Alcohol? Drugs? I suppose it’s possible…)
Which brings me to the second reason. I have heard many authors remark that while the execution of writing a story becomes easier with age, one’s creativity often wanes. In other words, writing the novel becomes easier—coming up with the concept and plot of the novel gets harder.
Being as that I have a half a dozen novels and twice as many short stories in my head at any given moment and am constantly coming up with new ideas and ways to explore different narrative techniques, I figure I ought to get them down while I can. Particularly the stories I know I am not yet skilled enough to write. Y’know, throw a net over them before they can get away.
The third and final reason for this is the growing complexity of the plots I come up with. It’s one thing to sit and let a short story marinate in my mind without writing it down for weeks. However, when one starts considering a longer story or a novel and allows that story to gestate for longer than, oh, say, ten minutes, it tends to mutate and become intricate at an exponential rate. If I don’t write it down how can I expect to remember all the facets of a plot?
Am I afraid that this will take some of the immediacy and impulsiveness I so love out of the creative act? Of course I am. Is it worth risking losing a great idea to the abyss at the back of my mind? Fuck no.
So that’s it for this update. I intend to use most of this weekend to work on rewrites for Slouching Deathward as I want to get it off to a publisher before Christmas. Monika is a way for a multi-day hike through Jasper Provincial Park in Alberta so there’ll be no distractions (besides internet porn and Facebook) and I’m feeling “writerly” rather than “masturbatorly” so the odds are in my favour.
I’ve got a couple of short stories that'll be ready to come out of the oven soon. I’ll probably post the rough draught of one of those when I finish it.
It’s funny. I know now that I am less than four months away from the end of my sentence here in Prince George and I’m starting to think I might miss the solitude here. Sure, it’ll be fun to be back in Ontario for a while—and something I dearly NEED. But I’ll miss the hours spent writing merely because I don’t know (or care for) anyone enough to hang out with them.
It’s true: I’ll never be totally happy.
And if I was, I’d probably kill myself. An artist, I am told, thrives on conflict.
I tend to agree.
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