Writing My Book

In between living and trying to stay alive I’m taking time to put together a masterpiece. I’m working on my book, I’m currently one chapter deep (actually a milestone) and it’s looking like a modern day classic. The first chapter has taken three attempts but I’m happy with it now and I’ve formulated fat chunky chunks of plots and twits in my head. It’s seems that my plan to read several books for inspiration has finally paid off . . . its now plagiarism time! Can I get a High Five on that?

The biggest downer to writing a book is . . . writing it of course! Who has the time and effort for that? It was hard enough coming up with an idea worth getting excited about.

I’ve worked on books in the past . . . I have more ideas than books. And of course I think all of my ideas are potential best sellers. But I have a good feeling about this one. Not that it’ll get published and be a best seller, but I actually think I’ll finish it . . . some time this century. I’ve decided to live past one hundred so it’s not a big deal.

Other than realising the mass of this challenge I’ve also come across a few other contributing factors that may hinder my progress.

Work is the biggest hitter. I always feel like working on my book whist at work . . . then by the time I get home it’s a ‘long ting’, just want to lay back and relax. There are of course the weekends, but weekends aren’t book writing days . . . weekends are actually just Friday nights and Saturdays and I’m 23 . . . even if I don’t end the night with my head pressed against a night bus I’ll find myself glued to the TV watching football . . . and then watching football highlights. So time could be made, but you know . . .

Ugh . . . my dusty laptop is another moral killer. I have to turn it on fifteen minutes before I want to use it. So it makes sense that I don’t shut it down, I always put it on standby. But this tin of tuna decides when it wants to turn off . . . and it gives no warning. Just cuts off. At 10pm, with your alarm set for 6am, you’ll question how much you really desire to get that chapter wrapped up . . . it can wait.

No worries though, I should have a new high spec PC on the way. Wide screen monitor, dual core processor, 300+ GB Memory and some other cool stuff that’ll make it great for watching movies and playing games . . . oh, and writing books as well.

I was easily distracted at school, not too much has changed. But I got good grades, give me a break, I said it’s a masterpiece.

I’m sure I’d make more progress on a typewriter . . . no MSN, Facebook or YouTube to distract me. Just me, my typewriter and a snazzy tip-ex pen . . . box of crayons for the illustrations, one picture every ten pages.

A modern day classic.

A to the . . .

Don’t Look Back

Who did it?
Why did they do it?
How did they do it?

Crime fiction has always appealed to me. I’m drawn in by the mystery, the ever growing enigma and the thrill of the chase. Time is never on the lead’s side as lives are on the line, the evidence points in too many places, and the body count rises. You root for the good guys, you want good to prevail over evil, and most importantly you want to know who did it. Who did do it?

I’ve read the first seven chapters of Simon Kernick’s ‘Relentless’ and even though I have been given enough reasons to read on, I haven’t been at all impressed by his writing style and head first approach. For what it’s worth, I have the “Uncorrected Free Book Proof”; the actual retail copy might have been sharpened up in areas. You might also want to know that it’s been quite some time since I’ve picked up a crime fiction novel. The last one I recall was ‘Past Mortem’ by Ben Elton, and that was over two years ago.

After seven chapters I am still yet to connect with the main character Tom. There is a little bit of sympathy for him and I like the way he thinks. But his character hasn’t been built up enough for me to be too concerned about his fate, not just yet anyway. At the moment, he’s a bit too ‘normal’, and Kernick reinforces this again and again. At present Tom is neither hero or villain, nor victim. He’s actually a suspect, but we know he had no involvement in the two murders which have already occurred. We also have no strong ties to the victims so there’s a ‘so what’ mentality to the novel thus far.

It sounds like I’m wasting my time reading on doesn’t it? Like I said I’ve been given ample reason to continue. Kernick might not have a strong writing style (in my opinion of course) but he’s got the plot moving at a rapid pace, and only seven chapters deep he’s included quite a few twists already. Some big twists mind you, conceptually he’s original and imaginative. Let’s hope its all going somewhere.

One thing that really annoys me is a twist that amounts to nothing. Simply thrown in for affect and then disregarded when questioned to make way for a more mundane and easy to wrap up storyline. If Kernick cops out I’ll make a mental note not to pick up any of his other novels.

Kernick seems to have also opted for dual lead males. A smart move as it has provided the reader with another side of the story and its answering questions that add to the narrative. I was a bit confused at first, and didn’t like the way this element was implemented, but quickly caught on and rolled with the theme. Tom is still our leading man, but Detective Bolt is nipping away at the lime light chasing strong leads while Tom is still unaware of what’s going on.

The book has a lot of wise cracks and is to be read at a rapid pace. Not as rapid as the movie Crank . . . yet not as slow as The Transporter. The chapters are short bursts of action or information; you won’t find your mind drifting away easily. It’s an easy read . . . not too many head scratching words . . . but no pictures either. I’m sure to finish it.

A to the . . .

Papyrus Crack

I have to keep my buzz going, don’t like coming down from it, it makes me nervous and jittery. I get snappy, easily agitated and become unstable. Pathetic and desperate, those two words best fit. It’s not quite a site to behold, so I purchase three books at a time from Waterstone’s to keep my high. It’s ok though, buy two and get the third one free . . . a financially friendly addiction.

Imagine if they did crazy deals like this for crack rocks or weed bags? Becoming a drug addict would have financial benefits. You could get wasted and save money at the same time. You’d in fact be stupid not to take advantage of it . . . come on, everyone else is doing it. And we all love a good deal right? I just wish I had a good use for books after I finished them . . . it’s the used syringe predicament all over again.

My latest fix is provided by the effort of James Robertson. I’m five chapters into ‘The Testament Of Gideon Mack’ and I’ve started showing addictive symptoms once again.

- Almost missing my stop on the train
- Vigilantly reading a page or two at work
- Isolating my self in my bedroom for long stretches
- Having company in the toilet
- “Just one more chapter”

Finding a good book to read is no easy task, there are several to choose from and you can’t judge them by their cover, neither by their blurb. At least a bad movie only last a few hours if that. Your best bet is to hope for a good recommendation, or like me you can jot down a few titles that look interesting and then check out their reviews when you get home. I don’t want to pick up another ‘We Need To Talk About Kevin’ . . . that was like finding out you’d been sold flour and not cocaine . . . Pillsbury nose.

I really shouldn’t praise or snub books until I’ve actually finished reading them . . . but then it wouldn’t be A Darker Shade Of Black would it? You don’t have to eat the whole burger to know if you like it . . . yeah there could be a fly or a hair hanging out of the other end but we’ll cross that bridge if we get to it . . . or bite around it.

The Testament Of Gideon Mack, this is my kind of book. It’s certainly funny, in a ‘nobody understands me’ kind of way. I like the fact that the main character (Gideon Mack) doesn’t seek approval or comfort for his eccentricities. He just wants his story to be heard, he leaves perception up to you.

By the way, everyone thinks he’s crazy because he claims to have met the Devil . . . and he’s also a minister of God. So you’d probably prepare yourself for a battle between good and evil . . . nope, this book challenges the thin line between sanity and insanity (he says as if he's read the whole thing).

Robertson has an engaging writing style; you feel an urge to flip the page even when he breaks down some of the most mundane topics. I don’t know how he does it, but I’m writing this whilst staring at the book and wanting to pick it up and read more.

I’m yet to reach the depth of the woods; I’m hoping that the novel becomes even more absorbing. Robertson is still setting the scene and familiarising me with this Gideon fellow who doesn’t seem to have any friends, just acquaintances who think he’s insane. Religion holds a lot of weight in this novel; I’m expecting more references, history lessons, theories and possibly some controversial content.

Is Gideon insane? Quite possibly, I’ll have a better idea once I finish the book.

A to the . . .

"Keep The Change Ya Filthy Animal"

“Ever wondered why the gap between the rich and poor nations is so great, or why it’s so difficult to get a foot on the property ladder, or why you can’t buy a decent second-hand car? This book offers the hidden story behind these and other forces that shape our day-to-day lives, often without our knowing it.” – Tim Harford

The latest book I want to bring your attention to is ‘The Undercover Economist’ by Tim Harford.


I was attracted to the book because I read a similar one last year called ‘Freakonomics’ which grabbed my attention with it’s snazzy cover and interesting topics of discussion. I picked up The Undercover Economist hoping for more of the same.

Freakonomics is a hard act to follow; authors Steven D. Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner dug in deep, their project included chapters such as:

- What Do Schoolteachers and Sumo Wrestlers Have in Common?
- Why Do Drug Dealers Still Live with Their Moms?
- Where Have All The Criminals Gone?

Sounds fun right? It was. Not only did they ‘have a laugh’ with Freakonomics, they also broke down a lot of theory and indirectly showed readers how to apply it.

The Undercover Economist is as interesting, but not as fun. Harford seems a lot more rigid and practical. A lot of his arguments and theories are sensible, logical and pretty much air tight. He covers each subject from a variety of angles and indirectly gives you the tools you need to go out there and start challenging your own world of microeconomics. Great stuff . . . if you can be bothered that is.

You’ll learn some economical jargon along the way and start paying more attention to your pennies. You’ll begin to notice a lot of the options society makes indirectly available, and you’ll know why people complain about things they have power over.

Tim Harford’s effort is original in the sense that it not only explores economical loop holes and faults, but also offers solutions as to how economics can make the world a better place for everyone . . . sounds like something an eight years old girl would waste a wish on if she found a magic lamp. His solutions to everyday problems however are well thought out, realistic, and also feasible. Keep reading his book and you’ll also know why they are not implemented.

Economics is not as simple as ‘supply and demand’. Economics tells us who gets what, and more importantly why they get it.

Want to know why we pay so much for confectionaries when we go to the cinema? Might not seem so important because we can evidently ‘afford’ to be overcharged . . . so why is it that we (London citizens) complain continuously about outlandish public transport prices?

I’d argue that we are all to an extent Undercover Economists because we have reasoning and understanding where our finances are concerned. We can tell you why we chose one product over another, our definitions of a bargain and we know when we are being ripped off.

Tim delves a lot deeper, at times you’ll be pointing the accusing finger at yourself, but be reassured, you’ll get to wave it at others as well.

A to the . . .

Maybe I Should Start On My Book Now

There isn’t too much holding me back. I have three solid book ideas. One of which I’m sure could definitely be published and win some sort of award . . . heck, I’d be happy if it was short listed. I told a few people one of the plots and was surprised by how excited they were, they not only wanted to read the book, but they typically had their own ideas of how to make it better (I didn’t take their advice of course). After I noticed that it was actually a GREAT plot with a mass of potential I tightened my lips and stopped revealing the idea to people.

Fortunately you can tell a few people your book ideas because even if they wanted to steal it they would have to go through a lot of trouble trying to get it published. I don’t think many people who don’t already have their foot in a publisher’s door have the time for that. So it’s still mine.

Why Haven’t I Started On It Already?

That’s a good question, and one I wouldn’t pose to myself unless I had an answer.
The truth is that I did start on one of my ideas . . . I got half way through the first chapter, re-read it and realised that my writing style left a lot to be desired. You know there is serious problem when you aren’t even impressed by your own writing, why seek a second opinion?

So the plan was to read a lot more books (which I’ve done) and set up a blog site where I could begin to exercise writing techniques and find my individual style (which I’m in the process of).

I don’t think I’m developed enough to write a full novel yet, but what’s the harm in attempting a short novel?

Short Novel

‘They’ recommend that when writing, it makes sense to write about what you know and what you are passionate about. Follow me as I generate a plot off the top of my head.

We’ve got:

- Girls
- Money
- London City
- Football (Soccer B***h)
- Church
- Food

That’s a nice little platform to jump off of . . .

I’ll be the protagonist, we’ll change my name to . . . Andy . . . Andy Thornton. No relation to Randy Orton, but why would there be? Continue . . .

OK, here is what I’ve got . . .

Andy Thornton is a young and successful business entrepreneur, at least that’s what he tells all the ladies. In reality he is a gambling master mind, he knows how to play the odds and gets rich placing strategic bets on football matches. He lives in a luxurious apartment in the heart of London City and is well known across several clubs and bars as a womanising spendaholic.

Everything is about to change direction when he meets the girl of his dreams, Alana . . . A pastors daughter who wants one last bad streak before she hands her life over to Christ.

Andy is about to be sucked into a world he has never experienced before. A world where the numbers don’t add up like they are supposed to . . . place your bets.

Forgive me for the rushed blurb and absent title, but you get the jist right?

Hey . . . I might actually write this though . . . and forget about the food option, can’t squeeze that into the plot.

A to the . . .

That’s Why I Like Reading

I only looked into the second chapter of We Need To Talk About Kevin before I tapped the mat repeatedly . . . enough is enough. I did honestly try to dig into it but I was going nowhere at an alarming pace. It was like forcing yourself to eat; you begin to question if you actually like what you’re ingesting. I offered the book to a friend who has to return her copy to the library, she was far from eager to accept my ‘generous’ offer. She had eaten more of the book than I had and has no real urge to see if it gets better. What a shame, I guess I’ll find some other use for it, summer is almost upon us and bugs must be killed.

I’ve only read the first chapter of the now engaging novel Half Of A Yellow Sun, yet already know that I’ll likely finish the whole book in half the time it took me to read one and a half chapters of We Need To Talk About what’s his name.

The book was written by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, a female novelist whose writing style lures me in with great ease. I’m looking forward to the following chapters with expectation.

Adichie is a charming show-off.

In the first chapter she has set up an open story which may lead in several directions, subsequently removing its predictability. The reader has been convincingly sent to the early sixties, enigma floats in the air, and she has introduced a solid writing style, displayed historical, political and social knowledge, and still managed to make me laugh out loud. There was even sex . . . nothing too raunchy, but you get the impression that the book can, I might just go there. Lord knows Ugwu (the young male protagonist) wants it to go there!

I cannot relate to Ugwu’s position, but elements of his character remind me not only of my early teens, but also of my current naivety and disapproval of untimely change.

You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, neither by its first chapter, but I can see myself enjoying this novel and looking for others written by Adichie. She reminds me why I love reading. Losing yourself in a book helps you to forget about the racket going on outside (and also inside) of your head. It’s a form of escapism that allows the mind to adventure and the body to rest. Let’s see where it takes me.

A to the . . .

We Need To Talk About Your Thesaurus

Here are some of the thoughts that cross my mind when I read Lionel Shriver’s fictional novel We Need To Talk About Kevin.

Huh?

What?

What does that word even mean?

This book has had me baffled and I’ve only completed one chapter. I thought the objective of the first chapter was to reel in the reader and leave them with the desire to read on. Shouldn’t each chapter in fact fill you with that compulsion? It however seems that Shriver had a different objective in mind, ‘let me confuse any reader who hasn’t eaten an entire dictionary’.

Her frustratingly complex diction caused me to read the first chapter twice, and I am now uncertain as to whether I even wish to complete the book. Maybe chapter two has much more to offer and will leave feeling like less of a ‘dumb-head’.

Another aspect of this book that irks me is that the chapters are supposedly letters to a man who appears to be her ex-husband. I feel your pain Frankie boy . . .

Dear Franklin,

I feel dreadfully sorry for you and now understand why you left your wife. If the burden of a family trauma wasn’t enough, you also had the unwanted role of listening to a woman who speaks as though she studies the thesaurus in her spare time. Some words were not made for conversations, letters or even an academic thesis. Yet they spew from her mouth like dung from a cow’s backside. Visualise this for a second please.

Franklin, I sincerely apologise for any words I have used which may have caused you to recollect bitter memories of your beloved Eva (not Longoria unfortunately).

Yours empathetically,

Ak-Man

I’ll give Lionel Shriver (isn’t Lionel a boys name?) some credit for at least keeping the element of mystery floating in the air. The unknown parts of this book, its theme and Orange Prize for fiction in 2005 causes me to consider that maybe, just maybe this novel has more to offer than a bunch of obscure words.

Shriver shows off her flair effortlessly on occasions. Her style switches, although sometimes bothersome, can be admired in the first chapter. She flows with poise connecting technically sound paragraphs with colloquially loose phrases reminding the reader that she is not actually a robot programmed to churn out five-hundred page novels.

My plan is to get through the second chapter with the hope of being astoundingly gratified. I hope that one day the completion of this book will benefit my life. Maybe I’ll mention it in a job interview and be instantly hired. Maybe I’ll be on date with a nice lady, let’s say . . . Jessica Alba . . . I’ll mention the book and she’ll respond in a smitten like manner “I want to have your babies”. I could even use my newly acquired knowledge to run for Mayor (of London); my campaign strategy will pretty much orbit around this book. Who wouldn’t vote for me? Come on people, Ken (Livingstone) hasn’t read a damn thing in the last decade apart from Oyster Card pamphlets and Olympic Games proposals.

Only good can come from this.

A to the . . .