web analytics

Writing

You are currently browsing articles tagged Writing.

Random thoughts

July 22, 2024 in Life as we know it | Permalink

“There’s good random, and there’s bad random. There’s good silly and there’s bad silly, and you’ve gotta know the difference”.

Conan O’Brien

“I ride tandem with the random, things don’t run the way I planned them – in the humdrum”

Peter Gabriel – ‘Humdrum’

A few random thoughts and observations…

Close to home

When The Girl and I were planning our recent trip to Scotland we went looking for appropriate cultural events that might round out our visit to places and peoples. I had of late been doing quite a lot of reading on the subject of storytelling – and in particular of Celtic storytelling – so one of my focuses was very much on finding events along these lines.

Unfortunately it turned out that, because our trip was really quite early in the season, many such programmes were not yet up and running and we found ourselves drawing a blank.

As is the nature of such things, however, little sooner than we were back in Victoria than The Girl found an event at the Victoria Scottish Community Centre (the existence of which I was unaware) entitled ‘Stories of Scotland‘. Stand-up comedian and former physics teacher, Bruce Fummey, combines scabrous humour and a fascination with Scottish history to great effect – spinning yarns about the evolution of a peoples as revealed in their DNA. This was in itself quite a coincidence as I was just finishing Alistair Moffat’s book – ‘The Scots – a Genetic Journey‘ – the which I had purchased at the museum in Kilmartin Glen.

Small world!

Going Back to the Well

Whilst staying in The Girl’s brilliantly chosen Scottish AirBnBs and searching for some suitable evening viewing fare, we were able to re-acquaint ourselves with British TV. On Channel 4 we discovered that all seven series of ‘The West Wing‘ have been made available for streaming. As huge Aaron Sorkin fans it was a complete delight to start the whole oeuvre again from the top. We are still working our way through back here in Canada and have nearly reached the end of season 4.

I don’t think I need labour any points here regarding the quality of the writing, acting and direction that this ground-breaking series has to offer. Some will complain that it is unrealistic, naive, too liberal, sentimental, chauvinistic – yada yada yada… Don’t care!! This show delights in ways that most do not, moves us to  tears and to laughter – and rewards our time with the sheer joy of absorbing something brilliant. It is so good to be able to recharge the batteries thus…

Narrow Margins

There has been much debate over the years as to the feasibility of Lee Harvey Oswald having acting as a lone operator in the assassination of President John F. Kennedy. Leaving aside the wilder conjectures of conspiracy theorists, Oswald’s somewhat average record as a marksman in the Marine Corps and the less than ideal performance of the Italian Carcano Model 38 rifle shown to have been the murder weapon have long left doubts as to the physical possibility of his having carried out the assault in the time known to have been taken. Quite apart from such practicalities the pressures of the moment and of the act itself must be taken into account.

The reasons for this being on my mind now are, however, unrelated to the viability of the act itself. Instead I find myself pondering the consequences of the narrowness of margins. A mere inch either way might have resulted in all three shots missing (instead of just the one) or, perhaps, in inflicting only non-fatal injuries. How different might the world have been had Kennedy gone on to run for a second term.

By such small margins are the vagaries of history moulded.

Tags: , , , ,

Breathe in…

May 3, 2024 in Life as we know it | Permalink

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidThe Girl and I are touring in Scotland.

Now, The Girl is something of a genius when it comes to planning a trip. Not only is she unbelievably thorough – leaving no stone unturned when it comes to the small detail – but she is also quite brilliant at orchestrating the greater movements on which such an expedition is based. As we arrive at each place on our itinerary – taking each new step on the journey – we discover that she has (in only marginally obsolete parlance) once again ‘absolutely nailed it’ when it comes to choices of where to stay and what to do!

My role in all of this brilliance is far more straightforward. It is my job to experience whatever comes our way – to live the moments and to absorb the impacts thereof, complete with thei underlying narrative and subtexts. It is my small (yet important) task to take photographs and to formulate pithy jottings that can then be imposed on the casual and unsuspecting reader of this journal – in the name of some arcane form of art (see this recent post for further information).

There is also the added bonus that I may – if I am truly fortunate – be able to draw out the germ of some nascent composition… to uncover the basis for yet another song.

Here’s hoping…

i hear mutterings at this point that I have clearly been falling down on the job – that I have not posted an update since we were in Edinburgh more than a week ago. This is, sadly, true… What happens is this: I get so wrapped up with the breathing in… absorbing what is happening and what we are experiencing… that I don’t have the time or capacity to exhale – to share with gentle readers that which we are living through…

…until now, of course.

Today we arrived on the island of Skye – and not just any part of the island, but one of the more remote corners thereof. We have three days here to rest and recuperate.

I will take advantage of this welcome downtime to bring these scribblings up to date.

That’s a promise…

 

Tags: , , ,

Leaving us speechless

April 21, 2024 in Life as we know it | Permalink

“Traveling – it leaves you speechless, then turns you into a storyteller.”

Ibn Battuta

Almost exactly eleven months ago The Girl and I set out on the journey that is not to be mentioned. Since then my only contact with airlines and airports has been to drop off or to pick up those who have themselves been traveling.

The Girl took a much needed break in Mexico at the end of last year, but I was teaching and could not abandon my students. Since then all of the excursions that have taken place have featured her alone. The new job (concerning which I will shortly be able to divulge more) has taken her – since the New Year – to New Westminster, Vancouver, Kamloops (twice), to Seattle, to Prince George and – most recently – to Fort St. John (practically up in the Arctic circle!). That’s a lot of running around…

Now, though, it is finally time for us both to set forth together again on an expedition that has already been trailed in these postings. We leave in a few days time for Scotland – land of my forefathers – for three weeks of touring.

I liked the Ibn Battuta quote that heads this piece not only for its astute reflection on the manner in which foreign lands can initially overtake one’s power of speech, but also for the notion that we return from such expeditions laden with incidents, encounters and experiences which we are just bursting to share with the world. We are able to do this through the medium of storytelling – in any of its various forms. The subject has been in my mind a fair bit of late because Anam Danu’s recent musical creations have included meditations on the importance and relevance of storytelling. That may well indeed prove to be the key topic of our nascent album (regarding which much more later)…

I feel moved to include here a second quotation – this time from Rainer Maria Rilke (a poet whom I have long admired most highly) from the ninth of his Duino Elegies.

“For when the traveler returns from the mountain-slopes into the valley, he brings, not a handful of earth, unsayable to others, but instead some word he has gained, some pure word, the yellow and blue gentian. Perhaps we are here in order to say: house, bridge, fountain, gate, pitcher, fruit-tree, window – at most: column, tower. . . . But to say them, you must understand, oh to say them more intensely than the Things themselves ever dreamed of existing“.

More scribblings – and images – to follow…

Tags: , , , ,

Failing better

March 30, 2023 in Flotsam and Jetsam | Permalink

"This work" is licensed under CC BY 4.0“Ever tried? Ever failed? No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.”

Samuel Beckett

A handful of posts back I gently mourned the lack of a decent (IMHO!) Sunday Paper here in western Canada and breathed an authored sigh of relief at the discovery of The Atlantic magazine – by way of compensation.

As it happens I had not originally intended the subject of that missive to be my quest to find an agreeable journal here on the island, but rather an appreciation of a particular article that I had come across within the digital variant of my new favourite source of commentary.

The piece concerned is titled “The Fine Art of Failure” and is by the Canadian novelist, Stephen Marche. In fact, the article was adapted from the Marche’s slim Field Notes volume – “On Writing and Failure” (the which is also apparently subtitled – “On the Peculiar Perseverance Required to Endure the Life of a Writer”). I was so taken with the article that I Amazoned forthwith and purchased the real thing.

Marche’s premise is that it doesn’t matter how famous or well-respected one becomes as a writer – the main focus of one’s existence is exactly the same as for the complete beginner… that of being continually rejected (albeit at a somewhat elevated level). Marche writes:

“Failure is the body of a writer’s life. Success is only ever an attire. A paradox defines this business: the public only see writers in their victories but their real lives are mostly in defeat“.

Much of this slim tome is made up of the sort of anecdotes that should be taken to heart. A few pages in Marche discusses the “cruel species of irony [that] drove the working life of Herman Melville“:

“His first book was Typee: A Peep at Polynesian Life, pure crap and a significant bestseller. His final book was Billy Budd, an extreme masterpiece he couldn’t even manage to self-publish. His fate was like the sick joke of some cruel god. The better he wrote, the more he failed”.

For those dreaming of literary success Marche is clear-eyed:

“The internet loves to tell stories about famous writers facing adversity. … What I find strange is that anyone finds it strange that there’s so much rejection. The average telemarketer has to make eighteen calls before finding someone willing to talk with him or her. And that’s for s*** people might need, like a vacuum cleaner or a new smartphone. Nobody needs a manuscript”.

…or a song …or a play …or a screenplay …or a painting! Marche acknowledges that his thesis is not restricted to the literary arts. It is the same all over.

I cannot recommend this slender volume enough to anyone who harbours the creative urge. It is strangely and contrarily reassuring to all those of us who had – at some point – to choose between keeping the stacks of rejection letters or throwing them away (or indeed burning them!) and giving up the whole idea.

You know who you are!

 

Tags: , , ,

Every glittering ounce

February 28, 2023 in Flotsam and Jetsam | Permalink

“Good news is rare these days, and every glittering ounce of it should be cherished and hoarded and worshipped and fondled like a priceless diamond.”

Hunter S. Thompson

It is hardly feasible – no matter how hard our forefathers may have attempted so to do back in the bad old colonial days – to relocate to the far side of the world without making changes to the way one lives. Such modifications may turn out to be unexpectedly significant or even life-changing. Lesser amendments, on the other hand, might go virtually unnoticed in the moment – though perhaps acquiring greater import with the passage of time and with the benefit of hindsight.

I am writing this – for instance – on a Sunday. Back in the UK a key part of the Sunday ritual would have been the quick trip out in the morning to purchase coffees and a stack of Sunday newspapers. My personal and long standing favourite was The Observer – now part of the Guardian group.

When we came to Canada we looked around for a substitute; only to discover that there really isn’t one…  at least, not in a truly satisfying sense. There are some multi-part weekend papers to be sure, but they are very meagre fare by comparison to their British counterparts. They lack weight in all senses and are sadly not able – in my view – to  boast columnists or journalists of a comparable calibre to their UK equivalents.

It is, of course, quite possible to purchase British newspapers – including The Observer – in Canada… if one is prepared to wait for half a week and to pay a hefty premium for so doing. We are – needless to say – not!

It is further a fact of life these days that pretty much everything print-based has now been moved (or duplicated) online. It is certainly possible to read all of the titles with which we are familiar on the tiny screen, though some are protected by pay-walls to which I am not prepared to donate. Not all of these transitions online has been effected in an agreeable form. The Independent (my daily paper of choice in the UK when I had time to read such a thing) is now an online only journal that is sadly (but inevitably) beset by advertising. No big deal in itself were it not that the implementation in this case results in the screen constantly refreshing and jumping about as one tries to read – in the service of dandling fresh adverts before one’s weary eyes. The whole experience is so irritating that I was obliged to withdraw a routine contribution to their funds and to look elsewhere.

With the BBC website now a shadow of its former self – though still indispensable – I find myself now a subscriber to The Guardian – something that I had not anticipated. Though The Guardian‘s politics have always found favour in our household we have often thought them to be a little too po-faced to be likeable and their writers a little over-fond of the sanctimonious.

A year or so back I found myself searching furiously for a new source of cultural and current affairs analysis; a journal with its heart in the right place but still attractive to writers who knew how to turn a phrase and to frame a persuasive argument. I found just such in The Atlantic – that venerable literary magazine that has evolved into an influential platform for long-form storytelling and news-maker interviews. In addition to its monthly edition it produces a most useful daily digest of articles during the working week – and I would not now willingly be without it.

I recommend it – regardless of where in the world you reside.

 

Tags: , , , ,

Jonathan Raban – David Crosby

January 23, 2023 in Life as we know it | Permalink

David Crosby
1941 – 2023
Jonathan Raban
1942 – 2023
RIP

Joe Mabel, Jonathan Raban 07, CC BY-SA 3.0
Eddie Janssens, David crosby-1547297410, CC BY-SA 4.0

It is a sad fact that the passing of those who have shaped our lives – those who have, in some form or other, become our heroes through the years – should occur with increasing frequency as the years go by. It is also the case that these sad occasions come thicker and faster during the winter months.

Such is life… and death.

This week two huge figures in my personal pantheon have gone beyond this place:

David Crosby was a major musical figure for much of my life and, whereas CSN(Y) were maybe not quite in my premier league of immortal bands, I found myself coming back to them again and again as the years passed. What drew me in were, of course, the sublime harmonies… to which I still routinely refer whenever I have a harmony of my own to write. For this – and for the bittersweet songs – much respect. ‘Helplessly Hoping’ indeed…

Jonathan Raban was a year younger than was Crosby but, I suspect, hailed from a very different world. The Guardian’s obituary starts:

“The British author, who lived in the US, blended memoir and travelogue in books that were often inspired by the sea”

Another Guardian piece is entitled:

“Jonathan Raban: his travel writing could pierce your heart”

What’s not to like?

Raban’s best book – for my money – is “A Passage to Juneau“. What appears on the surface to be an account of a sailing trip from Seattle, up the Inside Passage to Juneau in Alaska, is actually a disquisition on the death of Raban’s father and the slow-motion wreck of his own marriage. It is also a revelatory and sublime introduction to the Pacific Northwest – and thus not to be missed.

David Crosby – Jonathan Raban – Rest in Peace…

Tags: , , , , ,

Peter Brook

July 6, 2022 in Life as we know it | Permalink

Peter Brook
1925 – 2022
RIP

There is little that I could write about the towering figure of post-war British theatre that was Peter Brook that could not – and will not – be far better addressed elsewhere. His influence on the theatre was immense, even once he had retreated to Paris and was less frequently seen in the UK. Sadly I was too young to catch the productions at the Royal Shakespeare Company that cemented his reputation (the which famously included ground-breaking productions of ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream‘ and ‘Marat/Sade‘) and I only saw the filmed version of ‘The Mahabharata‘.

Brook was – of course – not only a theatre practitioner, but also a teacher, a thinker and a writer on the subject of the noble arts. Theatre students today would do just as well to seek out his many books. A quick hunt around my shelves reveals copies of ‘The Shifting Point‘, ‘There are no Secrets‘, ‘The Tip of the Tongue‘ and – of course – ‘The Empty Space‘ – without which I would not be.

A sad loss to the theatre and to the world.

Tags: , , , , ,

Antony Sher

December 5, 2021 in Flotsam and Jetsam | Permalink

Antony Sher

1949 – 2021

RIP

It is, sadly, that time of year when those who are elderly or infirm – or who have been fighting against illness or disease – are perhaps at their most vulnerable. It should come as no surprise that amongst the number of those who pass at this time there will inevitably be found great men and women whose loss – though no more profound than those less known – may touch a greater number of those of us who remain.

It is but a few days since Stephen Sondheim was mourned in these jottings – and of course in many other fora. Now comes news of the passing of the great Shakespearean actor – Antony Sher. Sher was born and brought up in South Africa in the 1950s and 60s, before fleeing to London to train to be an actor. His record as a great Shakespearean – with the Royal Shakespeare Company and with other prestigious companies – is detailed splendidly in many other places and one could do worse than to start with Wikipedia.

Sher also wrote a number of books and his memoir of the year in which he played Richard III at the RSC – a role that cemented his reputation – was published in 1985 as “The Year of the King“.

Sher was married to Greg Doran – the Artistic Director of the RSC. I had the very great fortune to meet both men whilst working at my penultimate school. Doran had – as I recall – been invited to judge one of the School’s many competitions and Antony Sher accompanied him. At the dinner that inevitably follows such events I found myself sitting beside the latter for a while. I had just read his autobiography – “Beside Myself” – in which he wrote movingly about his relationship with his late father. At that point (in the early 2000s) my father had also recently died and we had a conversation about the effect that this has on one. He was entirely gracious and thoughtful and I was most grateful that he had been prepared to be so open with someone that he had not previously met.

Tags: , , ,

Nothing without work

October 24, 2021 in Flotsam and Jetsam | Permalink

“The artist is nothing without the gift, but the gift is nothing without work”

Emile Zola

I am currently reading “The Gift”, by the estimable Lewis Hyde. I shall have more to say about the book once I have finished it, but already all manner of fascinating thoughts and notions have been triggered thereby.

Sadly, as befits my increasingly elderly status, I cannot now recall exactly how I came to the book in the first place, though I feel certain that it must have been referenced in something else that I was investigating. That is normally the way these things happen – to me in any case. I do know that I was greatly attracted by this quote from the foreword by Canadian icon – Margaret Atwood:

”[A] classic… If you want to write, paint, sing, compose, act or make films – read ‘The Gift’”

One motif from the book has already attracted my attention and formed itself into the outline of a song. I certainly did not set out with this in mind, but the muse – as we all surely know – works in wondrous and unexpected ways…

…as became all the more apparent late one night last week.

I find quite frequently that one of more elements of a new song will unfurl themselves relatively rapidly and without my having any real idea as to how this has happened. At this point I might well get stuck – with no idea how the piece will proceed from its temporary conclusion.

My normal procedure – with a view to jump-starting proceedings – is to play/sing repeatedly that which I have already written, in the hope that the next part of the composition will suddenly reveal itself to me by emerging organically from the elements that I already have. This sometimes has the desired effect but as often as not simply results in my straining way too hard for a result and ending up with nothing of any use.

Now I am a night owl. The Girl heads for bed reasonably early but I often get in a couple of hours work before I follow her. This I was doing the other night, in my search for a suitable chorus for the new track. I could feel that my efforts were going nowhere and – having an early start the following morning – I decided to call it a day.

I shut everything down in the studio – doused the lights and tip-toed upstairs in the dark. No sooner than I had emerged onto our main floor than the whole chorus arrived in my head – out of nowhere! Not only did I get the melody and the phrasing but also the harmonic progression and half of the words.

Now – how did that happen!

Of course – to ensure that my flash of inspiration was not lost to posterity I was obliged to scuttle back downstairs, to power everything up again and to rapidly commit this latest gift to my recording software – lest I should forget it again overnight…

What a wondrous thing is the creative process!

Thank you…!

 

 

Tags: , , ,

Reflector

February 27, 2021 in Life as we know it | Permalink

A very dear friend here in Victoria gave me for Christmas a copy of Bob Woodward’s 2020 book on Donald Trump – ‘Rage‘. This friend is building an excellent reputation for giving me thoughtful and imaginative gifts – particularly in the form of books that should be read – and this is no exception.

Now – some readers might well demur.

“Trump is gone – thank heavens!” – they may say. “Why would you not just consign all thoughts thereof to the dustbin of history?“.

The reason for not so doing, of course, is that one must always be on guard and must without fail be able to recognise the enemy. That Trump was elected in the first place is scary enough. That he might be so again – or that someone in his image could so do – is an ongoing, clear and present threat.

At one point in the book Woodward recalls an English professor at his college who advised him that – to be an effective biographer – the writer must find true ‘reflectors‘ of his subject – ie: those who know the subject intimately and can provide perceptive character assessments. Woodward toys with the notion of casting Jared Kushner (Trump’s son in law) in the role, but decides that he is too much in thrall to the man himself.

What changes his mind is advice that Kushner gives to unspecified others on how to understand Trump. He points them in the direction of four texts:

  • A piece on Trump by Pulizter Prize-winning columnist from the Wall Street Journal – Peggy Noonan. Noonan writes:

“We are not talking about being colorfully, craftily unpredictable, as political masters like FDR and Reagan sometimes were, but something more unfortunate – an unhinged or not fully-hinged quality that feels like a screwball tragedy.”

Noonan continues: “Crazy doesn’t last. Crazy doesn’t go the distance. Crazy is an unstable element that, when let loose in a stable environment, explodes.”

  • Kushner’s second text is ‘Alice in Wonderland‘ – and specifically the Cheshire Cat! Kushner paraphrased the cat:

“If you don’t know where you are going, any path will get you there.”

  • The third text is Chris Whipple’s book – ‘The Gatekeepers: How the White House Chiefs of Staff Define Every Presidency‘. In a section on Trump added in 2018 Whipple wrote that:

“Trump ‘clearly had no idea how to govern’ in his first year in office, yet was reluctant to follow the advice of his first two chiefs of staff – Reince Priebus and John Kelly“.

  • The final text is Scott Adam’s (the creator of the Dilbert comic strips) book – ‘Win bigly: Persuasion in a World Where Facts Don’t Matter’. Adams argues that:

“Trump’s misstatements of fact are not regrettable errors or ethical lapses, but part of a technique called ‘intentional wrongness persuasion’… Trump ‘can invent any reality’ for most voters on most issues and ‘all you will remember is that he provided his reasons, he didn’t apologise and his opponents called him a liar like they always do’.”

Kushner adds:

“Controversy elevates message… A controversy over the economy – and how good it is – only helps Trump because it reminds voters that the economy is good. A hair-splitting fact-checking debate in the media about whether the numbers were technically better decades ago or in the 1950s is irrelevant“.

Remember that these are texts that Kushner – a fervent acolyte of the then-president – volunteered by way of trying to help others to understand Trump. Woodward concludes:

“When combined, Kushner’s four texts painted President Trump as crazy, aimless, stubborn and manipulative. I could hardly believe that anyone would recommend these as ways to understand their father-in-law, much less the president they believed in and served“.

We would be wise – to quote Thomas Cranmer – to: “Read, mark, learn and inwardly digest…“

Tags: , , , ,

« Older entries