Writing, for Fun and......Self expression.

I've been rather slack of late as far as this blog goes. There are friends of mine that check it regularly and to them I can only apologise. The little time I have for writing has been focussed elsewhere.

I've done two book reviews for them this week alone, though only one has gone live so far, and also managed to get an interview with Michael Marks, SF author extraordinaire, done and dusted. His answers to my questions really blew me away, so go and take a look. If you have a Kindle I can't recommend his new novel Dominant Species highly enough as my earlier review on this very blog made clear.

And now to the reason that I started this post in the first place. I was reading Wil Wheaton's blog the other day and in the midst of a really great post he said something that really sparked off a train of thought. He was talking about how Twitter had changed his world and allowed him to reach so many people in a way that would otherwise be impossible. I couldn't agree more, however, the point he made that really hit home was this:

"...I am compelled to create. I've tried to fight it - it's not the easiest life in the world, especially when you're responsible for a family - but I can't deny that I'm an artist any more than I can deny that I'm a human being. Most artists will tell you quite honestly that they would create their art for free. I know from personal experience that that is absolutely true." (emphasis added)

I thought about the work I do for BSC review and wondered, are book reviews art? I'll come back to that point but I then thought about the story I'm (slowly) working on and the strong creative streak that has always been a part of me. In one form or another I also feel compelled to create, or put another way, express myself creatively. No, that isn't just pedantics. I think that my creativity is always a communication of sorts. A way of reaching out and 'speaking' to people. Whether in the form of a tale I've crafted or a review in which I share my thoughts about a book I've read. This may well be the case for others but I can only speak for myself.

When I told friends and family that I'd been asked to write reviews for a great website the almost universal response was, "are you being paid?". Wow, did that take the wind out of my sails. It seemed that the only measure of my work was whether or not I was being paid. I know that what I'm about to say may sound very naive but before my friends mentioned it I hadn't thought of money at all. I thought, hey what a great opportunity to share with others my thoughts and feelings about the books I'm reading! I love reading, I love books and on bsc review I get to express that love in a creative and hopefully entertaining way. Yes, I think reviews can be an artform in themselves.

I have no illusions, it's a parasitic artform in that it is based upon the blood, sweat and tears of an author that has often worked for months or years on the book I'm reviewing. And yet, his or her work has moved me and I want to share why. To distill into words my experience of their hard work. Now, that's all very well when the review is positive. However, what about those times that I pick up a book hoping for a decent story and have those hopes dashed when it doesn't prove to be what I'd expected? I don't mean that the story wasn't what I thought it was when I picked the book up. To give a bad review in those circumstances is really not right. I mean that the writing, story and/or characters really fail on some level. Figuring out why a story doesn't work for me is harder than working out why I love a story. In those instances I feel obligated to make as clear as possible exactly what didn't work for me so that, should the author come across my review, they might take some useful feedback from it rather than a 'you suck' message that is neither entertaining nor useful...

...The truth is that I'm avoiding saying something that's on my mind. It's a little truth that struck me during the week. Writing reviews, while both enjoyable and potentially creative, is also the laziest form of creative expression available to me. It is harder to come up with an interesting blog post and much much harder to drive my story forward. When the inspiration for the post you're reading struck, it was the first time for a while that I'd been able to come up with anything and I quickly wrote down some thoughts in the notebook I've taken to carrying everywhere with me. If you make a living writing you can't afford to wait for the inspiration to strike, you have to damn well find it, pin it down and get to work.

While talking about the story I am writing with my therapist it soon became clear just how many personal themes were there at its core. My protagonist finds himself suddenly alone in enemy territory and slowly realises that his bravery and skills in combat are all in the context of the other troopers around him. It is only in relationship to them that he is the person he knows and respects. In effect the story is about learning some of the strength to be found in solitude though ironically this is learnt from another very different warrior and so in the final analysis is still about relationship and how we only exist as human beings within relationships even when we feel alone. Writing this story is intensely personal which makes it bloody hard work to push forward with. Is this the case for other writers? When they take a deeper look at their work do they become aware of their own issues expressed in their writing? Is that part of the challenge and will it get easier?

Well, one question I can answer. Yes, it does get easier but I don't believe it ever gets easy. In fact if it did I suspect it would cease to interest me. The second part of the story flowed far better and faster than the first part. Though there are certainly personal themes present it would be a mistake to let them swallow the story whole. Those themes must guide what is effectively a war story about very different styles of warrior coming together in desperate circumstances but the personal stuff cannot be allowed to overwhelm it, the background cannot become the foreground.

I'm starting to worry that I may have bitten off more than I can chew with this story. The longer I leave it as a work-in-progress the more it grows in my mind which only makes it harder to get down to business when I have some time. This then means that I'm more inclined to write another review rather than wrestling with myself to write the story. I'm hoping that talking about this out loud will help me get on with it by making clear to me what it is I'm avoiding.

When I do get down to writing the story, I enjoy it and yet also really struggle with it. As far as I'm concerned that only serves to highlight how meaningful the process is and therefore how much more I must devote myself to it. I hope I can get moving again. I think I will feel a tremendous and very real sense of achievement if I can get the story finished to a standard I can live with...my perfectionist streak means I can't be 'happy' with it.

Writing for fun and no profit is deeply meaningful to me. I agree with Wil when he says that most of the artists he knows would happily do their thing for free, I'm also happy to do it for free.

Why? I think it's because, for me, writing is its own reward.

Writing by Night

There's something remarkably peaceful about writing at night. I find that my thoughts flow a little easier and consequently my hands fly over the keyboard with greater fluency in the process of turning thought into words. I think it's about the absence of something we don't even notice during the day but is blessedly missing at night, the background noises of a busy city. The ringing phone, the thoughts of 'what should I be doing instead of sitting here', voices raised in the house, mulling over my day's routine...and so on. I'm sure this is a familiar picture.

My last post bemoaned my lack of writing inspiration and the pressures that I thought might be contributing to it. Tonight though something great has happened. I've been working like a dog to get my studying done and have made enough headway that I felt able to justify taking a break. I sat at my computer, checked over twitter to see if anything interesting was happening and slowly the buzz and hum of my mind under pressure began to slow. Suddenly the urge to write awoke with a start, I opened the empty 'part 2' of the story I've been working on and started to type. 650 words later, confident that I was off to a good start I saved the file and closed it, my relief palpable. The deadlock was broken.

Even now, I'm enjoying the simple pleasure of just letting the words flow from my mind to the keyboard without having to bypass my 'why aren't you working?!' voice. He's asleep. I can think again! I know it can't last, I must go to sleep and when I wake up I will be back to driving myself mad to get down to work and finish the reading I must do, but for the moment I can't get in touch with that panic and stress and it's blissful.

I'll finish by sharing with you something I did this week to try to get me to chill out a little. The snow fell heavily on Monday night and I awoke on Tuesday morning to find my world coated in white once more. I grabbed my camera and headed off to Hampstead Heath. I parked my car quickly, keen to make the most of the time I had budgeted to relax, and crunched my way up the path on virgin snow. What a sight! White as far as my eyes could see. Everything familiar made new again. Call me an old sap if you must but there's something about the transformation snow brings to familiar surroundings that calls out the artist in me.


I took a good few shots which I put on my Flickr page but I wanted to share a couple of favourites here before I go to sleep.

Some people find the shot above cluttered but I love how busy and colourful it is.

And last my personal favourite, lone tree on the heath. I find the shot quite poignant, somehow the empty bench adds to the sense of aloneness.

Hope I haven't gone too arty on you but I think you'll find that as musings go this is pretty random. Good night.