Me And My Big Mouth

Guest Blogger: Richard Blandford

Giacomo Leopardi (1798-1837) was a miserable poet. Not in the sense that his poetry was bad, far from it. In fact, amongst those who know about such things, I hear he’s renowned as an all-time great. It’s just that ‘bleak’ barely does his work justice. Like a 19th Century Italian Morrissey, he analysed his own despair obsessively in verse after verse, turning it this way and that until out of it emerged his own unique ‘pessimistic’ philosophy. Yes, it’s as much fun as it sounds.

Not that Leopardi had much to be glad about. A hunchbacked invalid, he spent his adolescence and early adulthood virtually imprisoned by his parents. I won’t go into his whole life-story here, except to say that if I were to, I would be using the words ‘disillusionment’, ‘in love with his cousin’, and ‘cholera’.

It’s not his poetry, however, that I want to draw your attention to here. Rather, it’s to a rather strange work of his known as the Operette Morali, or Moral Tales , written between 1824 and 1832. This is a series of short stories, many of them dialogues, that are designed to explore the argument that life is but a bitter struggle towards an unobtainable ideal of happiness that can only be relieved by death – no, wait, come back!

Ok, the underlying idea’s pretty wrist-slitting, but the sheer imagination that Leopardi employs here is impressive, and there are parts of it that can be seen as early examples of fantasy fiction and even sci-fi. There’s also something almost magical-realist about parts of it, as well. There are a few stories that might appeal to Borges fans in particular.

‘The Dialogue of Nature and an Icelander’, for example, references Vasco de Gama and the heads of Easter Island, and reads like a blueprint for the Knight playing chess with Death in Bergman’s The Seventh Seal. In other stories, a mummifier talks with his mummies, the Earth asks the Moon if it’s inhabited, and an imp and a gnome discover that the human race has died out.

My favourite, however, has to be ‘The Dialogue of Christopher Columbus and Pedro Gutierrez’. Here, Columbus is on his way across the Atlantic in search of land, and expresses his uncertainty about what he’ll find in this rather startling piece of sci-fi logic:

How can you know that every part of the world resembles the others in such a way, that as the eastern hemisphere is occupied partly by land and partly by water, it follows that the western hemisphere must also be divided between these two? How can you know that it is not wholly occupied by a single enormous sea? Or that instead of land, or even land and water, it does not contain some other element?… what certainty have you that there are rational creatures there, as there are here? And even if there are, what assurance have you that they are men, and not some other genus of intelligent animal?… These are the things I am pondering in my mind.

Now, don’t get me wrong. A lot of Moral Tales is bloody hard work, and if you were to skip large chunks of it, I wouldn’t blame you. The best bits, however, are really worth checking out. I could see a slimlined, edited version being a bit of a cult hit.

At the moment, however, it’s not in the shops, and there hasn’t been an English version in print since 1983. It turns up second-hand on the Internet for about a fiver and it’s not hard to track down. So why not let a little Leopardi into your life?

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Richard Blandford is the author of the novels Hound Dog and Flying Saucer Rock & Roll. He is currently strapped for cash and will write for milk money.

Guest Blogger: Sarah Salway

Maybe it’s retaliation for having to listen to people tell us that they would also write a novel if only they had the time, but in my experience, if you put a group of writers together, it won’t be long before we start talking about alternative dream jobs too. Cakeshop assistant seems high on the list, but the best alternative career I’ve heard so far is air traffic controller. Perfect. Not least because people would actually care whether you turned up to work in the morning or not. Hmmm.

My own fantasy job is an aerobics trainer. I want the whole package. The shouting, sweating, going for the burn, even the ra-ra-ra cheesy music. You are, you are, you are SIMPLY THE BEST! A whole room of people doing exactly what I tell them. At last! Of course, I’d like to do those nineties step classes most, not least to see if I could manage to keep a straight face when people fall off their steps, but in lieu of doing the real thing, not least because I haven’t actually been to many exercise classes myself, I’m turning Mr Pack’s empty blog room into a writing exercise studio for today. Yep, I’ve checked it with him. Well, sort of. We’ve got to put all those mirrors around here to some use.

So OK, let’s get going. No slacking at the back. And there’s no point in trying the door, you over there … it’s locked.

Here are five quick sweaty exercise routines to get your writing muscles warmed up. I’m passionate about doing this. It’s too easy to spend time talking and thinking about writing when there’s nothing better than jumping straight into get moving. The best description I’ve heard is from Owen Sheers who calls it letting the rusty tap run clear, but today you can think of it as the stretching. Each exercise take ten minutes - pick just one for now and get going.

All you need is a timer, a notebook and pen. No-one will suspect what you’re doing. Not even the person sitting next to you.

Creepy leotards and legwarmers are optional, but I think Scott will be wearing his.

1. Freewriting is the classic warm up. Set the timer for three minutes, and just keep your pen (or fingers on the keyboard) moving. No stopping, no reading, no correcting. Write anything, even if it feels like rubbish. Start with I know… if you get stuck, come back to this and start the sentence again. I know. Then spend the next three minutes doing the same thing with I don’t know. Spend the remaining time reading through and circling any words or phrases that feel good to you. There may be just one, or there may be several. Next time you can start your piece of freewriting with one of these.

2. Mix up your routines sometimes. A piece of writing will come to life with the use of the senses; smell in particular is one that can get forgotten but when used well, has an almost subliminal power to make us readers live the scene. Take the ten minutes to remind yourself of the senses, and also how to use them to surprise. Write down things you can smell, hear, touch, see, taste, and then describe each of them by another sense, eg the smell of strawberries always shocks me like the first time I heard The Pretenders; watching my daughter wake up is like eating cherries; the feel of this dirty leather chair is like the smell of asparagus pee. Be as silly or as profound as you want, and keep on going. The idea isn’t always to come up with something useable, but to stretch.

3. Flex your imagination. Take a photograph of a person in your newspaper or magazine, preferably of someone you’ve never heard of. Don’t read the article, but make up answers to these questions very quickly, without thinking too much:

• Where does s/he live?
• Favourite food?
• What does s/he read?
• Best childhood memory?
• What does s/he want from life?

Now, in the voice of your character, write on from this …. I have never told anyone this before but …

4. Move fluidly and connectedly. Start a story now, to be finished within ten minutes, using all of these five words: fire, banana, boot, ice, velvet.

5. Lastly, feel the music. Switch your ipod to shuffle and listen to the first minute of the first song that comes on and then write whatever comes into your head. It may be a story that develops in your mind, or a memory from the music, or one snatch of lyric. Don’t think too much. Write for a couple of minutes only, and then switch to the next song. Make sure you don’t look at what is coming up so the sound takes you by surprise. Or if you don’t want to use shuffle, try this song, and then this one, and lastly, here you go. Put aside whether you like the music or not, and just see what comes up for you in your writing.

Phew. That’s it.

I was so tempted to insert some of those ‘You’re doing brilliantly’, ‘Keep at it’, and ‘Beautiful’ comments they have on some of the exercise videos I’ve studied from the sofa, but I liked hearing you all swear and grunt too much. Hmm. Enough of that fantasy for one day, I think. Thank you for letting me play. Now I’ll roll up my mat, and creep back to my laptop to get back to the real job.

Although before I go, here are some writing books I’d recommend which have similar exercises: Writing Down the Bones, Natalie Goldberg; The Passionate, Accurate Story, Carol Bly; Poemcrazy, Susan Goldsmith Wooldridge; The Writing Book, Kate Grenville; and A Writer's Book of Days, Judy Reeves.

And a quote for you:

A man sits down at a desk, and writes some junk down on some scrap paper. How hard can it be? It’s really hard. Maybe the hardest thing you have done so far.

(Heather Sellers, from Page After Page )

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Sarah Salway is a poet, short story writer, novelist and creative writing tutor. She blogs here.

Guest Blogger: Rob Chilver

As a book blogger and a bookseller, proof review copies are a perk of the trade. I was all set to write about how great it is getting free books, often months before they are due out. It become quite the pleasant surprise, tearing open the jiffy bag with boyish abandon and never quite knowing what treat lay hidden inside. It’s just like Christmas morning, except it occurs six days a week.

That was until one hefty hardback toppled off a groaning bookshelf and hit me smack on the head. It literally then hit me in the face: I had become a proof whore.

When I started reviewing titles I got the occasional one here and there. But after awhile, I went quite simply berserk. Everyone likes a freebie, right? If there was a free book going, on Twitter, on Facebook, on a newsletter, I would pounce. The words ‘free copies’ produced a Pavlovian reaction in me and I’d be off, emailing or tweeting my address to anyone with a book and an envelope large enough to send it to me. I was averaging five a week and it became a perpetual onslaught of packages and parcels which was then duly noted by my postman.

But then the little voice in my head started to ask some nagging questions: was I going to ever read or review all these books? Some kind soul in an office somewhere had taken the time and the effort to post me these books. That’s a good five minutes of their day spent on sending it to me – I know this to be the case as I’ve done the same during my time on work experience at publishing firms. Looking at some of the titles I’d collected, the answer was no, so the irony isn’t lost on me that the book that nearly knocked me unconscious is one I’ll probably never read.

Fortunately, I’ve managed over time to build up some good relations with a number of PR reps. I try to only request titles I know I can devote the time to as that way, someone else can give the other books a fair chance. It’s a calculated risk though, as through the proofs I’ve broadened my reading horizons and there have been titles that I’ve absolutely loved but would have never have read for one reason or the other. I discovered authors such as Jeremy Duns, Megan Abbott and Kate Pullinger, and felt so passionately about them that I championed them on my blog and also in the bookstore where I work. All of these arrived in the same way, in a jiffy bag, through my letterbox.

So for other book bloggers out there, it’s very easy to fall into the trap of quantity over quality, but once in awhile, you find the hidden gem. Then one day, a hardback takes your eye out. Who knew that book reviewing could be a potentially hazardous occupation?

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Rob Chilver has a great book blog and is also one of the chaps worth following on Twitter.

Guest Blogger: Richard Symons

Unveiling the truth of Parliament's desire for honesty and accountability was always going to work better as a book. The challenge was to make it come alive on screen. We decided the key was to make it highly entertaining/satirical and more importantly, to capture on film the same character trait which (with hindsight) was the root cause of the expenses scandal. But how ? It took at least six months to figure out but in the end, was simplicity itself.

Basically, we'd ask an MP or Minister if they believed in honesty, transparency and accountability, "Absolutely - they're the very bedrock, the foundation of our democracy" was the inevitable reply. We then asked them to support the "Elected Representatives (Prohibition of Deception) Bill" - legislation that would enshrine these "foundations of democracy" in law.

The Ministry of Truth was a BBC documentary which gave birth to a Bill making it an offence for a politician to deliberately mislead or misrepresent... the makers have found themselves still embroiled in campaigning for what seems to be the most simple cure for the gaps of accountability in parliament. And 93% of the public agree with them, strangely that figure doesn't seem to be mirrored in Westminster. The result was extraordinary - when you see the whites of their eyes whilst trying to box themselves out of this particular corner you understand everything in a very human way. I'm amazed it hasn't been done before, though I shouldn't be. The Bill found a decent level of support amongst some 30 MPs and before we knew it was being introduced into Parliament - entirely unaccompanied by a flurry of headlines. The very notion of a group of MPs introducing accountability to Westminster was deemed entirely un-pressworthy. This week the much-anticipated Independent Parliamentary Standards Authority (IPSA) Bill got onto the statute books. It was meant to restore the public's loss of trust in Westminster (post expenses scandal) - instead, it has been watered-down beyond recognition and effectively establishes a fourth Parliamentary body for maintaining standards. We've seen how effective the other three have been. It's passage has been almost entirely unreported. The scandal of it's castration, to my mind is way more offensive than the expenses debacle, it is an indicator of just how seriously Parliament has taken on board our outrage.

Which brings me back to "The Ministry of Truth". We were putting together the DVD release when the expenses scandal hit. The timing couldn't have been better - at last the press would have to sit up, take notice and support the Bill. We couldn't have been more wrong. It's the scandal that sells newspapers not the cure. The new cross party coalition of MPs who want to reintroduce this Bill need all the help they can get and if we don't give it, we've only ourselves to blame.

For trailers and more info see www.ministry-of-truth.net.

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Richard Symons is director of The Ministry of Truth. The Ministry of Truth was a BBC documentary which gave birth to a Bill making it an offence for a politician to deliberately mislead or misrepresent... the makers have found themselves still embroiled in campaigning for what seems to be the most simple cure for the gaps of accountability in parliament. And 93% of the public agree with them, strangely that figure doesn't seem to be mirrored in Westminster.

Guest Blogger: King Adz

What is the point of everyone on the fucking planet who has access to a computer doing a blog? Too many fucking idiots out there are wasting their time writing about something that no-one wants to read. Or wants to read. Or is readable. I have a relative who writes the most inane, yet bizarrely detailed blogs about stuff like birds shitting on her car and absolutely no-one gives a flying-fuck about her life. Me and my homeboy Irv have a laugh at the banality and self-indulgence of it from time-to-time but that’s about her entire readership. These peeps have way too much time on their hands – how about some voluntary work? Or something pro bono? Just get out there and live a little instead of making shit up sat at your screen watching for those FaceBook friend requests that will never come.

Okay, I’m not saying that anyone gives a fuck about what I have to say – ‘cos they don’t as I really don’t have anything original to say (who does these days?) – but the difference is that I really have no choice: I’m a writer and this is what I’ve been doing for the last 20 or so years – writing. My work has been published around the world and I have a rag-tag-collection of followers who genuinely like what I do. They part with their hard-earned cash in return for my book. If they didn’t I wouldn’t; couldn’t , be arsed to be sat here typing this. (I’m essentially a typist – check what my man Charles Bukowski has to say about the subject.) I’d be out there doing something enjoyable like watching a film or hanging with my family. Or maybe a spot of D.I.Y. (no, I’m kidding – I hate that shit).

It gets worse; The other day my mate Will told me about some random woman who had written on her blog about being in the audience of that food show I was a guest on a month or so ago, and how she didn’t get why I was on the show. Er, maybe because I had a cookbook out at some point? Dunno, it may have been something to do with that. Either that or my magnetic personality? Fuck me, I had to write to her (anonymously of course) and give her the info. I think in all fairness the worst kind of blogs are those ‘written’ by ‘Foodies’. Foodies are a collection of snobs around the world who are under the illusion that they know about food. The thing about food is that it’s not exactly rocket science and so snobbery and food are two things that just don’t mix. Food is something that unites us all and is extremely accessible and easy to do. Any moron can cook, just look around the shelves of your olde local book shoppe. The thing is that I really can’t stand foodies – and they don’t like me much either, cos I lower the tone of the ‘science of food’ to the street level. Gutter even. Fuck me all this talk of food has made me hungry, I’m off to sort out a Chicken Tikka burger…

Peace+Love to you all (except Wanky Bloggers and ‘Foodies’)

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I don't know a great deal about King Adz, we have only recently got to know each other through our mutual admiration for Tama Janowitz, although I am pretty sure he isn't an actual king. He appears to be a writer, film maker and expert on street culture. You can see some of his work here. I recommend the interview on Market Kitchen in which he makes a Dime Bar milkshake from his The Urban Cookbook: Creative Recipes for the Graffiti Generation.

A Song For Sunday

Wake Up In New York by Craig Armstrong and Evan Dando.

Guest Blogger: Bernadine Kennedy

Right now I’m tearing my hair out trying to write a couple of personal press releases that can be sent out to the media to prove that I’m really very interesting and worthy of a few column inches that will help promote my next book. You know the press releases I mean, they delve into the personal rather than the professional and are written to catch the jaded eye of the journo assigned that day to sifting through them all.

Once the crack-high of acceptance and publication has died down, there comes a stark realisation that the next step for one’s lovingly crafted book is for it to actually sell in enough numbers to keep the publisher happy. The loyal purchase of the first book by family, friends and curious colleagues (after the debut they lose interest) just won’t do it; the book has to be lobbed forcefully out into the big wide world and the general public have to hear about both it and the author and then they have to be persuaded that they really, really have to go out and buy it. Complex stuff.

This is where publicity and self promotion comes in. Publishers and agents will do some of the touting around but on the whole it’s down to the author to try and fire up some interest. Any interest.

Self-promotion is a necessary evil that even the most shy and retiring has to get to grips with but it can be a dangerous balancing act trying to find the happy medium between being ordinary and uninteresting and giving out ‘too much information’, some of which is possibly (accidentally?) exaggerated and which will one day return to bite the author on the bum. Trust me, there’s always someone somewhere ready to rain on your parade. So just how much personal information should you give out about yourself and your nearest and dearest in the quest for that ever elusive publicity? Where does a Joe Bloggs author, not normally in the public eye, draw the line between doing everything possible to get mentions and quotes, and going too far?

It seems to vary greatly from person to person; I cringe sometimes when I read an in-depth confession of something so deeply personal, tragic, humiliating or devastating it brings a lump to my throat and then see the little note at the bottom of the piece about the authors latest book that is out that very week.

Cringe I might but at the same time I can understand it. Authors want their books to sell and so do their publishers but in these days of gossip magazines and tabloid newspapers publishing increasingly salacious details about celebrities, being normal, ordinary and hard-working doesn’t cut it.

‘Happily married mother of two point four children who lives in a semi and works part-time in a bank writes a novel’ isn’t going to grab any headlines unless she was moonlighting as a high class call girl at the same time. (N.B.High class call-girl is good, heroin raddled street walker is bad).

Same as ‘Disabled dad whose wife ran off to Turkey with a toy-boy leaving him with five kids managed to find the time to write a heart-rending account of his struggle when they were in bed’ will have them all gagging for the details. Especially if the wife now wants her share. Bring on the tabloids!

So would I tell tales on my kids to get a two line mention at the bottom of a page? Would I rip into my ex-husbands who are also the fathers of said kids? Reveal personal details about my childhood, adolescence and marriages that will embarrass not only me but also everyone close to me? No I’m sure I wouldn’t. Well I haven’t done so far. But would I drag up something from my past that makes a good tale, doesn’t impact on anyone else and won’t come back to haunt me? Oh Yes.

All I have to do now is think of something catchy! Back to the drawing board of my ratchety old past!

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Bernadine Kennedy is the author of several books, the latest of which is Shattered Lives. She has a comprehensive (and rather pink) website and also a blog. She recently became a Grandma.

Guest Blogger: Louise Williams

I’m not one for hanging around. I like to get things done. If you need to do something, do it. I can’t relax if I know I’ve a stonker of a task ahead. Do the thing, then relax. Rush if it you have to. Do it badly , I dare you! Just get it done.

At university I would finish assignments early. I’m not a swot, good grief no, I’m actually a weird type of lazy. My assignments were submitted comfortably pre-deadline and were average. Could’ve spent more time on them but I wanted them gone so I could sit down and watch Neigbours twice a day.

I love baking but my last offerings have had to be binned after tasting, probably cos I can’t be doing with recipes and cooking times. It slows me down, man! I skip chunks of books if I’m not gripped. Whilst making a sandwich moments ago I rubbed mayo onto the bread with my finger cos I was in too much of a hurry to bother with a knife. I rush everything so I can rest without the burden of tasky things on my shoulders.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise to find then that I applied this rule to having children. Honestly. I thought if I’m going to have a couple of babies I might as well churn them out one after the other. My body was a bit battered, why spend six months getting back in shape just to get knocked up and fat again? Have another when the first is still little. It’ll be easy. By the time they’re 1 ALL babies feed themselves, walk and can play independently. I thought. So, if I have a gap of a year or so between them, well, that’ll be awesome.

Secretly I wanted both babies to be born within the same school year, you know, September and Augustish. Wouldn’t that be sweet? But with baby 1 arriving mid April 2006 that was never going to happen. (I was in too much of a rush to get pregnant, naturally.) He was a pretty chilled out little fella. I fancied myself as a bit of a baby whisperer. If I can do one baby on no experience whatsoever baby 2, with a mountain of experience should be a doddle. Yes? Let’s do it then, so to speak.

By the time my eldest child was 4 months old I was back in the club. I didn’t really enjoy my second pregnancy cos when I told people the good news that I was up the stick again they were all unimpressed and very keen to tell me how brave I was being. Er, no. You see, I’m not being brave. It’s a well thought out plan. Have my babies, just the 2 thanks, get the nappy years over in parallel, have a few years of stair gates and bottles and crumbs and maybe the occasional sleepless night (OCCASIONAL, MIND) and then glide in to the school years. How could I have been so wrong? Could I have been more wrong?

I took baby number 2, who I often refer to as Shouty, to see the doctor a while ago when I thought he was ill. Shouty was being even more so than usual. Crying all the time, whining, not wanting to be held, be in a buggy, be in his cot, or play on the floor. He was awful. I couldn’t keep justifying his frankly hideous demeanor with the age old excuse of teething? Had he been teething since birth? Or was it just, you know, his personality? The doctor listened to my diatribe, watching Shouty writhe in my arms bellowing in rage. After careful consideration she said “well dear, you did want two babies close together didn’t you?” She might as well have said “I told you you were mental - get out of my sight ridiculous woman”.

The low point of this last year was, on being asked in a sing-song voice by the bride-to-be at her hen party (with pregnant women listening in), “how are you?” And bursting in tears.

But that was then. And now I am extremely happy to report that Shouty is now much less so. He’s super noisy but not nearly as angry because he’s toddling. It was touch and go for a while as far as my sanity is concerned. But I did it. And I will not be doing it again. Ever.

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Anyone who follows me on Twitter knows that I have a bit of a Twittercrush on Louise. She is one of the funniest people on there and if you don't follow her already you really should. I have been badgering her to start a blog. If she listens to me I will let you know.

Guest Blogger: Richard Asplin

So. Scott, like a young Una Stubbs, is on his summer holiday. Presumably as we speak on a rusty red Routemaster singing Cliff Richard Hits and trying not to drip his 99 on his e-reader. We wish him well, natch. For the blogophiles who have surfed their way over here like the cyber-Brian Wilsons you are, expecting the Pack’s usual up-to-the-deadline book-based buffoonery, apologies. You’re stuck with me for the next few hundred words. So get your disappointed yet educated, literary sigh out of the way - (that same one you do when you buy Monday’s Guardian and read the words “Charlie Brooker is away”) – done that? Okay – and we’ll crack on.

But tish, where are my manners? Introductions. My name is Richard Asplin and I’ll be what passes for entertainment for this bit of the screen. Ex-bookseller (back when Hammicks wasn’t Ottakers. Or Waterstones. Or whatever it is now. John Menzies?); Ex-Event manager (back when Books Etc was up and coming and net books had a gentlemen’s agreement); and author of the new comedy thriller Conman (which the Pack-man was nice enough to dish out some stars to on his side-bar). So hello.

Uhm. Now what? Sorry, what I probably should have made clear to S.P. is I have no idea what blogging really is. I’ve never blogged, read a blog, never known anyone with a blog and frankly writing the word repeatedly is beginning to make me feel a little dirty. And not in the good way.

What are these blogs, exactly? Online memoirs..?

“Dear e-diary (diar-e? No, that doesn’t work), am profoundly in love with Pandora.”

P’raps a blog is a way for self-involved Londonites who aspire their own Smeg smug Sunday Supplement column to pretend they have their own Smeg smug Sunday supplement column..?

“Blimey! What a week! Josh and Lottie are off to Montessori and I’ve fallen off my mules into a wheelie bin!”

Is it a place for recommendations and reviews..?

Click here for something hilarious on youtube that 9 million people have already seen and got bored with! LOL etc.

Or ‘praps a blog is a place to share quirky off-beat observations?

Thought: Isn’t it time the twerps at E4 realised that the kitschy boomy-voiced Stuart-Hall-a-like link-man stopped being funny during the 1st series of Shooting Stars?

Thought: Why is Davina McCall on BBC’s “Who Do You Think You Are” trying to find out who her mother is, when she patently calls her nightly to discuss hair-dye?

Thought: I wonder if I set up an online store in Yorkshire supplying Wrigleys and Orbit, it should be called “e-buy-gum”?

I have had small experience of the “blogosphere” about which I will bore you for a paragraph. About 2 months ago I sat in a London pub with my publisher and he laid out his plans for what I can only describe as the “web-marketing” or “e-publicity” for CONMAN (“publicit-e?” No, that doesn’t work either.) We decided that as the book concerns itself with the criminal adventures of a hapless shop-owner, it would be terribly modern and clever to create a fake website for the shop. So being a good author, I promptly did so.

(You can enjoy its faux links and phoney photos here www.heroesincorporated.homestead.com.)

I was moved to recall during that meeting – as I do now – that when my first 2 books were published, silicon-based publicity opportunities simply didn’t exist.

See, when I began, book marketing was entirely inky print. The biggest move a publisher made was a 48-sheet tube ad and a fancy fold-out spot varnished blad. “Web-presence” was what Mary Jane gave Peter Parker for Christmas. Ahh. But how things change, and how we change along with them. One can’t stay still, even if – like me – one would like to. Apparently in order to remain a novelist (a frankly archaic way to earn a living) I need to keep up to date with parts of the world covered in Wired magazine. I know it seems foppishly-fogeyish and punchably poseury, but given the choice dear reader, I would like to remain a writer and also keep my head clear of bandwidths, USB sticks and the letters “http.” I simply don’t care about them.

However. Being me, and wanting to both eat my cake, have it (and put some in the fridge for later), I don’t really wish to be left behind by technology either. I don’t want to wind up a doddery pensioner who locks himself indoors with his vinyl because he’s frightened of jet-packs and flying cars. But I know this is what awaits me. As the much-missed Doug Adams said: “Anything invented after you’re thirty-five is against the natural order of things”

I suppose I could build an Anderson shelter out of PG Wodehouse hardbacks and distance my novelist-life from Blu-Rays and e-Readers and Twattering. Leave it to horse-faced popsies in the publicity dept to worry about as I bang out my next story on a battered Underwood. However as a comic writer and performer, I do not have such ludditery luxuries. I have no choice but to keep my conversational allusions, metaphors and observations topical. Something it’s tricky to do while cowering within my Casa Del Jeeves.

Fact is, dear reader, much like my grasp of technology, all my references too are slipping dangerously behind. You say “fat,” I default to a Rik Waller simile. Rik Waller. It takes me 5 minutes of pacing and nail-biting to finally yell “I mean Beth Ditto!” by which time the conversation has moved on. You mention someone acting weird, I pipe up with “Rain Man.” Rain Man? A hit movie TWENTY ONE YEARS AGO! (Calm, Richard. Calm). So it seems I have to not only read Wired and Which PC every week but also Heat, OK, Vanity Fair and Premier. When I’ll have time to write the damned novel, Lord only knows. (See? Did it again. “Lord”? That was 2000 years ago).

Maybe I’ll just remain behind the times. It’s where I feel I belong, as my tailor will concur. Those who have the misfortune to know me have me pegged as a retro, anachronistic SOB anyway what with my brogues, jazz records, Brylcreem and uncanny resemblance to a Greg Proops / Mark Kermode stem cell experiment. (Mark Kermode’s name surely means Mark The Toilet? Why has no-one on The Late Review ever mentioned this?)

Anyhoo, that’s enough for now. Thanks for hanging out with me for a couple of pages. This has been my first wobbling, shaky steps into the web based world of the future. I appreciate you being my stabilisers.

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Richard Asplin's latest novel is, indeed, called Conman.

He doesn't appear to have a blog.

Cheerio

That's it.

I am off on holiday.

We are heading off to this place.

Not my video or plinky plonky music, I hasten to add, but some nice shots of this wonderful old building nonetheless.

When I am not sitting out on that lawn reading eBooks on my Sony Reader I will be in the barn playing table tennis against my children.

I won't pretend I will miss you but then you won't have to pretend to miss me either.

And actually you won't have a chance to miss me at all as my place is being taken by a series of guest bloggers - novelists, a film director, one street culture guru, a bookseller and my favourite Twitterer.

Do please make them feel at home. I will see you when I get back.

Mercury Mini Marathon

I listened to all the Mercury nominated albums yeterday and here is my rundown in reverse order of wonderfulness.

La Roux - La Roux. A classic example of emperor's new clothes with the music press wetting themselves over something thin, vapid and uninspired. I can often see the point in music that I personally don't like but this is just silly.

Kasabian - West Ryder Pauper Lunatic Asylum. Take a mediocre indie rock band from the mid 90s. Dilute them. You have Kasabian.

Friendly Fires - Friendly Fires. Forgettable synth pop. Bring back Frazier Chorus.

The Horrors - Primary Colours. Not terrible by any means but a poor relation to The Wedding Present. Might as well play George Best, it sounds less dated and is miles better.

Led Bib - Sensible Shoes. Mad jazz screeching. Great fun but practically unlistenable.

The Invisible - The Invisible. Neither wonderful nor all that bad. I concede this may grow on me.

Glasvegas - Glasvegas. The more I hear this band the more I like them but I can't help thinking they are basically The Proclaimers singing JAMC cover versions.

Bat For Lashes - Two Suns. By rights I should love this. Cute singer, breathy vocals, weird and all that, but for some reason I find it a bit wishy washy. Nina Kinert sounds very similar but she has more clout. Also, the first album was better.

Florence & The Machine - Lungs. Not as good as it could have been but some cracking songs on here. Dog Days sounds great at full volume and this is MOTC's favourite.

Speech Debelle - Speech Therapy. The real surprise package. I am not a huge fan of hippity hop music but this is clever, catchy, intelligent and with some great tunes. I will be listening to it again and have almost taken the plunge to download it.

Sweet Billy Pilgrim - Twice Born Men. Had never heard of this lot but they are on David Sylvian's label and remind me of a cross between Anywhen, The Blue Nile and Papa M. Fractured alt.rock with a bit of atmosphere. Have downloaded.

Lisa Hannigan - Sea Sew. This is the pick of the nominees if you ask me. Beautiful songs with a dark edge. Of all the albums on the shortlist, this is the one that stands a chance of being hailed a classic in years to come. She also looks like a young Lena Olin. Ding and, I should add, dong.

There you go. All based on one listen so purely an instant response. Feel free to disagree.

Call The Freak Cops

My old school pal Tim has just launched a website to support a series of novels he is writing for teenagers. They are collectively known as The Quantum Entanglement and chronicle the adventures of Joseph Taylor and his time spent at the sinister Ravenwood school for boys.

You can read the first three chapters on the site as well as view a whole bunch of pictures, photographs and models Tim has created to illustrate the stories.

One such creation is the Freak Cop which you can see in this photo. I don't know about you but it scares the bejesus out of me.

The site is good fun and a wonderful introduction to the books. If you have any teenagers or fantasy fans in the house then I would certainly suggest pointing them in its direction.

Interview: Joel Grey

It is not every day that I welcome an Oscar-winning actor to my blog so I hope you are all suitably impressed and excited. Although it is his role as an acclaimed photographer which brings him here today. I reviewed Joel's fascinating new book of photographs, 1.3 , last week and he has kindly agreed to answer some questions.

SP: For the uninitiated can you explain how 1.3 came about?

JG: I was on a trip and had forgotten my trusty Nikkormat. I'd always had great disdain for people who take cell phone pictures, but it was all I had on me, so I thought I'd try it. And I became intrigued by the idea of shooting things on my simple camera phone that I'd ordinarily shoot with my Nikon. I came back, showed the photos to the editor of my first two books, and he said "This is your next book." And it is!

SP: Go on, be honest, how many of the shots you took with your phone turned out to be really bad?

JG: They were rarely not good, because you could see immediately, looking in the viewfinder, what the shot would be, and if I did shoot something that didn't work very well, I deleted it immediately. Not all of them were suitable for the book, but they were all good.

SP: For me, much of your photography is about presenting a slice of life, a fragment of a scene and making us look at it anew. What are the images that have most surprised or delighted you?

JG: I think the image of the two men walking arm in arm (below)...

 

I just happened to be behind them walking down Horatio Street in New York City. Somehow, there was such a symmetry and a kind of design made by their two bodies and colors that I said "Wow." That turned out to be a picture that a lot of people seem to like.

SP: What other photographers excite you with their work?

JG: Bravo, Arbus, Eggleston, Sander... to name a few.

SP: One of my favourite movies of yours is The Music of Chance which, I think it is fair to say, is somewhat of a hidden gem. Do you have any favourites among your screen performances that you wish more people had seen?

JG: Man on a Swing (1974). It was a great part and people still seem to see it at 4 AM...

SP: Finally, I always ask visitors to my blog to recommend a good book. What would you suggest as a good read for us all to check out?

JG: Divisadero by Michael Ondaatje is one I read last year that really sticks with me. Also The Story of a Marriage by Andrew Sean Greer.

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1.3 is published by powerHouse Books. Joel Grey has a cracking website where he shows off his photographs, it is well worth a visit.

Summer Downloading

As opposed to Summer Reading, of course.

We leave for our summer holiday at the end of the week. Ten days in a 16th century manor house in the middle of nowhere. Bliss.

We stayed there last year and I took about a dozen short books and got through most of them. This year I am seriously thinking about packing just my Sony Reader.

Apart from the fact that I am bound to buy loads of books at various secondhand shops during our break, the Reader is packed full of classics I have never actually read and this summer may be the time to remedy that oversight.

I may finally tackle some Austen or Melville or more of the Russians and hope that they prove to be worth the wait.

There are also some less obvious 'classics' that I might have a crack at. Lafcadio Hearn's Glimpses of Unfamiliar Japan is certainly on the shortlist. Edward Vallance's recent guest post has alerted me to Thomas Paine, whose Common Sense is sitting on my Reader waiting to be read.

But perhaps now is the time to finally take the plunge and download something new. An eBook that I will actually pay money for. After all, I have had the machine for nearly a year and haven't coughed up a penny so far.

But what book should that be? Any recommendations? I'd love to hear from people who have bought downloads and discovered a great book as a result.

My finger is hovering over the download button.

My Sony Reader Diary: 10 Months On

If you missed all the excitement first time round I was sent a free Sony Reader last September to review on the blog. The original posts are all grouped here. Now, ten months later, I thought I'd give you a bit of an update.

Well, I am still using it, fairly regularly in fact. I try to do my bit to save paper so tend not to print out any submissions or manuscripts I receive. Instead, I load them on to the device and this means I can read them on the go - during the commute to work, while waiting for a meeting to start, on the loo etc. It has been an extremely handy tool in that respect and I think I would consider it an essential part of my kit as publisher at The Friday Project. I wouldn't quite be lost without it but I would be more than a tad inconvenienced.

My Reader hasn't survived this period completely unscathed, however. There is a deep scratch to the screen which appeared mysteriously one day (shortly after one of the kids borrowed it). At a certain angle I don't really notice it and even when I do it doesn't bother me all that much but if I had paid £200 for the thing I would be mightily annoyed with myself.

One thing I haven't done is actually purchase an eBook. I have downloaded lots of (legal) freebies to add to the 100 classics that came with the machine but I have yet to be tempted to shell out for anything with a price tag. This is something I intend to rectify shortly, but more on that later.

I can honestly say that my Sony Reader has changed the way I read certain stuff but it has yet to convince me to part with any cash for new content. I am pretty sure that the makers would rather I did cough up and there is clearly a debate to be had as to why I won't but let's not go into that now. What I can report is that my Reader remains a favourite gadget and one that is unlikely to be gathering dust any time soon.

A Song For Sunday

Sing For Your Supper by Cathy Davey.

Quick Flicks

My Quick Flick reviews usually go in the sidebars, over there on the left. But I have two to mention that aren't on Amazon so I shall list them here.

The Sacrificial Man by Ruth Dugdall will be published by Solidus Press in 2010 and was originally posted by the author on the Authonomy website. I am not sure if Ruth got the book deal through Authonomy or not but it is a site that is gathering some momentum when it comes to helping to get books published.

Anyway, back to the novel itself. Alice responds to an internet ad from a man looking for someone to help him to die. They have a brief affair which ends in his death. The Sacrificial Man explores the aftermath of this event as well as the hidden past that leads up to it. An accomplished novel that could more than hold its own against the Myersons, Picoults and Hellers of the bestseller charts.

Push Comes To Shove by Wesley Brown is the latest book from the awe-inspiring Concord Free Press and is set around the civil rights movement of the 60s and 70s. A hard-hitting but acccessible novel that makes you think while it entertains you. This book is available completely free of charge from the publisher but they don't have many left so get cracking.

The rest of the Quick Flicks in the sidebars are updated regularly so please check them out when you visit.

Ed On The Web

Just a quickie to alert any parents or teachers reading this that Ed's Reading Room, a website for kids who are looking for good things to read, has been relaunched. Lots of recommendations and reviews as well as interviews with celebrities about their favourite books.

Guest Blogger: Tim Relf

Tim Relf is back again with more musings.

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If you’re worried about people not liking your book, don’t publish it.

It’s quite simple. Keep it on your word processor. Print it off and stash it away in a box in your garage. Become one of those bores who bang on incessantly about how they’ve written a potential bestseller (your mum’s sure of it) and you would show it to a publisher, you really would, but it’s so good they’d only steal it.

You accept, when you shepherd it to the shelves, that opinions on it will vary. You want reviewers to review it. Some will like it, some won’t. That’s the deal.

Writers, sadly, seem incapable of remembering this. They get a good review and critics are incisive and thorough. Get a bad one and suddenly they're oafish and probably didn't read the book anyway.

Take Alain de Botton and that business with the New York Times reviewer. He declared: “I will hate you till the day I die and wish you nothing but ill will in every career move you make.” Alice Hoffman also recently took offence at a Boston Globe reviewer, encouraging fans to bombard said critic direct expressing their displeasure.

Come on, guys, loosen up. Get over it. Grow up. Bad reviews are a fact of life. Have you never heard the old saying: ‘The vocabulary of criticism is infinitely more varied than the vocabulary of praise.’

No one enjoys having nasty things said about their work, but at least it sparked a reaction. At least it’s been noticed. Most aspiring authors would kill for a review in The New York Time or Boston Globe, however withering. Be a bit more gracious.

De Botton’s gripe was that the reviewer wasn’t even-handed, but why should they be? Critics are paid to have polarised views: that’s what they do and, ultimately, that’s why we read them. Retaliation won’t achieve anything. It might make you feel briefly better but so, sometimes, does thumping someone in a pub – and you usually regret that afterwards.

It’s not as if lashing out at a critic will make them reconsider. It merely risks increasing the likelihood of a bad write-up of your next book. They’d never admit to that, of course, but a lot of critics are like elephants: as well as having very thick skins, they’ve got very long memories.

It wasn’t even a particularly good insult by de Bottom – wishing the man in question, Caleb Crain, nothing but ill will in his career. It’s more Last of the Summer Wine than Tarantino. A bit like saying: “I do hope your house depreciates in value”. Or: “With any luck the lease repayments on your Mondeo will prove slightly higher than you’d budgeted”.

I’ve never read any of de Botton’s work so can’t give an opinion on that (I’m trying to be even-handed here, because I wouldn’t want him wishing some dreadful calamity on me – like, for example, my pension annuity proving to be considerably less than I’d hoped), but the man obviously is a talented writer.

A piece by him in the Observer recently about Tolstoy’s The Death of Ivan Illich described the novel as “terrifying... the literary equivalent of receiving the news that the dark shading across your liver is, unfortunately, the worst possible of the 12 scenarios you’d Googled.” That’s nice writing.

To his credit, as well, at least he had the good grace to apologise for his outburst. Who knows, maybe the publicity the whole episode has generated could outweigh the negative effect of the original bad review.

An irony, indeed – and one, presumably, that would leave de Botton hoping the critic in question gets promoted and does rather well in his career.

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Tim is a novelist and blogger. You can find out more about him here.

Firestation Update

So, the Firestation Book Swap is really starting to shape up nicely. Our first night is on Thursday August 20th at 8pm. Tickets are £5 and are on sale now!

For those who missed my original post, the Book Swap will be a regular monthly literary event taking place at The Firestation, a lovely arts venue in Windsor. Hosted by myself and novelist Marie Phillips, it will essentially involve us sitting down on a sofa with a bunch of guests from the world of books and chatting about, well pretty much anything. The emphasis is very much on getting to know the authors so rather than having them read from their books we will engage them in banter about all manner of other things - music, cake, gossip - and hopefully it will end up a rather endearing, if chaotic, night for all concerned.

Oh, and then we have the book swap bit. Everyone who comes along is required to bring a book with them, one they don't want any more. During the evening they will get to swap it for another book, ideally one they do want.

Lots of other audience participation as well, including the Question Jar into which you can plop a question about absolutely anything except books. It shall be regularly dipped in to throughout the evening.

We have almost sorted our line up, just waiting on one person who wants to do it to 100% confirm, and we have some amazing authors who are up for the September and October events.

The people we can announce are, we think, rather exciting.

Jessica Ruston is the author of Luxury, a sleek and sexy new blockbuster with a brain. She comes from exlempary literary stock and is not backwards in coming forwards so will certainly be up for a good chat. If possible we want each event to feature at least one debut or up-and-coming writer alongside more established names. Jess is currently the former and will most certainly become the latter.

Alongside Jess, and ensuring that I won't be completely outnumbered by attractive women (thank the lord!), will be Robert McCrum. Robert is currently associate editor of the Observer and was that illustrious publication's literary editor for a decade or so, prior to which he spent 20 years as editor-in-chief at Faber and Faber, working with authors such as Paul Auster, Peter Carey and Milan Kundera. He is also the author of several books including a biography of PG Wodehouse, an account of his recovery from a stroke and a number of novels. He is now a regular blogger at the Guardian.

I really hope that lots of you will make the effort to come along. We'd love to see you there. Windsor is really easy to get to from London, directions to the venue are here.

Tickets are £5 and are available from the box office right now. I have no idea how they will do but will report back if they start selling, as the saying goes, like hotcakes. We will shortly be setting up a Twitter feed and a Facebook page. Links galore once they are up and running.

Do please spread the word.