Influences: the book I could never read

I was thinking of writing about Karl May, Oscar Wilde, Stendhal, Gerald Durrell, Julie Garwood, Briggs or Moaning, but then realized that they are nice, but not my greatest source of strength, inspiration or style.

In 1996 summer I wanted to read a book.

My grandmother remembered a book she had with lots of short stories that she thought could interest me – romantic stories. Being in my tender age, I agreed and we started going through the shelves. While we were searching she kept telling me how lovely it was and how good stories it had and how well it was written compared with others published at that time. She reads a lot and believed her, getting exited about it more and more, imagining myself holding that book, keeping it like a treasure it was and indulging myself with one story per day so I could enjoy it even more. In my dreams it was old, with yellow pages, lost its covers and smelling of wormwood – just like the old newspaper collection from 1920s my brother kept in his closet.

Then, when we reached to the last shelf, she suddenly gasped, turned and said while looking right at me from the chair she was standing on : “I lend it out to my friend in 60s,” she said, “I think she left it on the bench in bus stop.”

I was appalled. There was no book?

I so wanted to read it that I turned down every other book she tried to offer me instead, until she suddenly said: “Why won’t you just write the story you want to read?”

I took pen and paper and started five minutes later. Page long stories, one per each day and in no time I can replace the book that careless borrower lost. I still thrive to fulfill my youth’s promise – to replace that book that borrower left on that bench in that bus stop. No other book – that one.

I am still angry she lend it out, but also glad. Because this lost collection of short romantic stories has given me more inspiration and stamina than any other book that I have ever read.

* * *

Today’s post is my response to the promt on Influences, this month’s topic for the Merry-Go-Round Blog Tour. Throughout the month, you can get to know twenty (or so) other writers from various genres and backgrounds and at various places in their careers.

Next stop on the tour is Tiberius Clausewitz Drusus Nero Germanicus on April 21st, 2012.

Life does its corrections.

I say – life intervenes like bad parent. The thing is I have only a month to finish my book and send it out. Thank heavens I don’t have actual datum fixed by any publishers, but I feel bad about it nevertheless. It’s just two little factors, three even if to count my phone, which also acted as my e-reader.

One – I still haven’t got my computer back. I miss it tremendously. Though I can use brother’s pc and work computer, it is still far less than what I accomplished if I had my own personal computer with 24/7 access. Brother said he wouldn’t mind, but as we pretty much have breaks from work at the same time, I am the one feeling poor for occupying it all the time. There is another pc at home, but that’s strictly for business. Also, it’s looking grim on finances, so it will take few more months before I get it fixed.

Two – school. Surprise! Actually, it’s to do with the fact that my teacher approved my writing plan for bachelor thesis and wants to meet up in the beginning of May for updates on research. I chose the subject well – there’s massive amount of information to work through and even more massive work to write down. Also, school has been so far on the back of my lists and it’s starting to show. I need to put anything else I’m doing away and work on that for now. Bad side of it is that every time I say that I end up scribbling down more ideas than in months.

Three – my phone finished working. Again. Third time already and it’s getting irritated. Last time I had it somewhat 4-5 days and right before it froze and shut down yesterday, I downloaded the last app that would turn the phone from being just a phone into useful tool for me. Managed to load the books up, too… The phone is right now the only place I have time to read fiction from while I travel. It was ideal. And now it must go back in repairs and they’ll try to do something with it again. Good luck, because my patience is wearing thin – I just paid my last payment for it and that little fact is even more irritating in the light of probability of loosing it. So right now I’m putting my writing on the shelf and try to get back on line with my schoolwork, financial state and time planning. I have about ¾ written, so it shouldn’t be big problem to get back on saddle when ever I manage to get a moment.

“I will suggest what you want”

I am a writer in all my heart and body. With this I research a lot and I do mean hours in library and countless hours on internet on topics I don’t even think about in the morning. The idea that Google would recommend me my next search based on my previous “interests” is making me ill in mind. I already have this in Amazon – believe me, it is so weird to see next to each other “Wicker Man” (the novel), blue sapphire beeswax, Scott Cunningham books, Monster High dolls (I guess through Barbie doll I purchased?), Playmobil Underwater Motor (how?), Herbal medicine and Twilight dolls (again – that one bought Barbie). I don’t even search half of this stuff!

I research murder typology  - does this mean that I’m CSI investigator? I need to learn more about torture to reassess if the character profile is coherent with the story he tells – does this make me raise my hand and support torture? I need to find out if a bomb affects the cafeteria glasses in the next street – am I a possible terrorist thanks to this? No, I’m not! But Google will make me into one and I can’t wait the time when some officer in home security (or as the world is going – American home security sounds plausible) picks me up to inquire my interest list that Google has highlighted for them in red.

In the same light, I wonder what they could possibly read out of my latest research? I’ll make it easier for you and give you the list: Treblinka extermination camp, Lazarus effect and syndrome, Mattel’s latest Barbie models, Irmfried Eberl (in relation with Tiergartenstraße 4), Cremation, Pysanka, Love mode, Leader role, Sugar price, Preppers ideas, Survival Under Atomic Attack, Consistency of a drug called benzoylmethylecgonine.  

First – Treblink, Lazarus, Irmfried, cremation. One would say I have cunning interest in Nazzy worldview, including unreachable, radical, disturbed ideas for ideological views.
Reality: I’m researching a book that is based on one woman’s experience in after match of the conflict that grew from that camp. Lazarus syndrome is a surprise find from the side that caught my eye. Barbie in-between all this means I’m still in the Barbie mood and I check what new is up in the world of Barbie. Cremation came right after as I recalled an old story of mine and I needed to check how much human bone is left after cremation of a body. Much more than I expected actually.

Pysanka sounds a weird name, doesn’t it? Relates nicely with Treblinka – they sound similar so they are about the same country, right?
Reality: Pysanky is art of coloring Easter eggs inUkraine. I have collected white egg shells for several months to try this egg art out this year. They are seriously pretty, really! And it has nothing to do with the camp!

Love mode?
Love mode is a manga series. I read it when I was 16. My brother is still having laughing fits over this, especially as I’m searching one particular story from the series and now Amazon is “kindly” offering me all their yaoi line… But I seriously recommend to put your prejudice aside and read it through first, before you jump in childish giggles of this being yaoi (I so love how the automatic translator keeps trying to change the word into Yahoo). It taught me how complex and complicated the thing called love actually is.

I’m reading book on roles a leader has in a group, how the problems can affect the entire group, etc.

Sugar price and prepping ideas. I’m a squirrel in summer and autumn. Can’t help it, it’s in my blood. Unfortunately the rest of the world sees this kind of behavior not as something normal, but as obsessive prepping disease. Who needs food storage with our current access to food, right? It’s not normal! Oh yes it is if your closest shop’s prices are close to double compared with everywhere else and you don’t go out sometimes week at the time. It’s called managing your life with the little you have got. I’m sorry if this looks weird to outsiders, but it’s been our lifestyle since I have ever known it and it is as common here as grass on the fields.

Survival Under Atomic Attack. Mixed with the previous search and it gives a very weird ideas. In reality I just happened on it when going over some bunker idea I found and I would like to ask in return – are you people nuts? You actually believe this kind of ideas? It’s fully idiotic 4 page pamphlet! But utterly adorable in it’s simplicity and cuteness.

 Consistency of a drug called benzoylmethylecgonine. Oh I can totally see how this added to the prepper ideas and building a bunker and Treblinka can work! Riiight. Benzoylmethyleconine in short is cocaine. I wanted to know what it is made of. Why? Don’t remember – it seemed good idea at the time, but it didn’t hold water, so I already forgot.

To conclusion I would like to say that though I research Nazi ideas, I am not left-wing extremist. I believe that under the skin we all have pink muscles and red blood. I do not believe correcting the world by removing part of it through cleaning actions to improve it either and I do not support tortuing any body. Nor do I believe in end of the world or plan self sufficient housing where to hide in case of apocalypse or plan to create illegal business to support such lifestyle and hide from government’s eyes.

I’m a writer. If Google “suggests” me what I should think or gives me only responses that suit my previous needs or some people’s needs, who is working on the same sort of project or local area needs, my government’s needs, then how do you expect me to come up with something original? How can I work out ideas if others don’t find it useful and thus Google has hidden it in some back list of their top billion search results?

I am against this “I will suggest what you want” policy. Even I don’t know what I want  before I come up with the idea and need to research it and if I do I want answers that hold the water, not are popular around in the current area. Nor do I want replies that reflect what I thought about a week or two earlier. My ideas change and I want my research to help me to develop, not degrade back to what I used to be.

Procrastination: the excuse of free time

As seen from the time I’m posting this, I’m using the power of procrastination to its fullest. Reality was that until yesterday I was busy with studying for 4 exams, which make up the Top 5 of reasons right now why not to write. Unfortunately, number fifth is everything else one chooses to ignore.

School is important in any writer’s life. They just fixed our timetable so we had four exams in 3 days. It happens and it brings out the time old question – to write or to study. I’ve been part of the group, who uses writing as procrastination tool – I had no problem putting school on background just so I could finish one scene or put down the main ideas for the next novel.

Yet time comes when this kind of behaviour brings up right at the door of this havoc life that we like to run away from, raising our eyes, we only find mess. Then we must delay everything in your writing life and save your personal life for a change. I fear this times the most – it’s surprising how much mess wrecks through closed doors even if avoiding being part of it all.

I have project in my hands that I’ve been working on for over half a year and try to write. Six times I’ve started and it still flees like being chased by wolves. Every time I try to sit down and write I sense I’ve been so busy doing everything else that I just need that particular day to relax and do nothing. When did I come to this point when instead of using writing as procrastination I’m instead using everything else to avoid writing, using the free time as an excuse not to sit down and write? I don’t do everything to avoid writing, but when I get free moment, I don’t want to spend it behind the computer or researching.

Perhaps that’s exactly what I need. To sit down, rest my back against the green soft fabric and let the fingers fly, let them surprise me with their outcome. That’s vacation, isn’t it? Life has been dealt with, time to procrastinate it until next disaster.

* * *

Today’s post is my response to the promt on Procrastinatin, this month’s topic for the Merry-Go-Round Blog Tour. Throughout the month, you can get to know twenty (or so) other writers from various genres and backgrounds and at various places in their careers.

Next stop on the tour is Tiberius Clausewitz Drusus Nero Germanicus on February 21st, 2012.

The muses are indeed merciful.

I wanted to base some parts of my story monsters on Marfan Syndrome and was thinking of it, when suddenly a girl walked in – huge, and I mean tall! I have seen tall people in my life but she nearly took my breath. I automatically rose, instinctively trying to reduce the distance between us. Later my brother musingly suggested that it wouldn’t matter to someone her size if I was standing or sitting, she’d still see me like little ant. In a way a very correct observation.

I’m usually not that aghast when I see someone her size. It hasn’t bothered me at all – my cousin is well over 2 meters and there are several short folks around here and I saw many in the hospital in my youth.

But SHE! It took me one quick glance to see all what I so far had only read about in flesh right before me. She has all the symptoms! She must be Marfan syndrome carrier! I am not mean person and what a world wouldn’t I wish she didn’t have it, but on that moment I had hard time keeping myself from staring or observing her every move, her every gesture, the movement of her muscle… What a life!

But seeing the syndrome in flesh means I’ve got a monster problem. And I don’t just mean the size of it. If I use this syndrome – the book would be unbelievable and that in a bad way. The characters would be too unrealistic to relate with.

Thank heaven this came out now, not when I have most of the book written out and then discover I have major rotting root in my character build up.

Oh muses – help me find the monster, who is suitable, right and most relatable!

Evening with social freaks

 The day before yesterday I happened on a show from one of the far end channels on our Viasat package. I don’t even know what channel it was, just random number combination, but what I saw there caught my eye. Someone playing Hyde! Like Jeckyll and Hyde!

So yesterday I searched it out. Indeed, someone had made a TV series out of it. The first impression, however, wasn’t very pleasant. I still decided to take peek in other episodes and just check the character built. Until I saw the first, the second, third, fourth, fifth and sixth episode and suddenly it didn’t matter how bad the script was, because James Nesbitt was impressive. And because they used low trick many women are suckers for – the devil with a soul. Sue me – I like it! There is always prince hidden in the monster. Actually – sue Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve, who wrote down the first version on Beauty and the Beast.

To top this off I watched the new episodes of BBC Sherlock.

Sherlock (God’s gift to women)

Wait! When I said “there is always prince hidden in the monster”, it means literature! I like those stories, yes, but you must understand one thing. I do not dream of saving some lost soul. In real world it doesn’t exist and it is one road that will only take you through hell. I fancy the stories, but even there I get enough at some point and it’s far more interesting to sit, relax and watch them… fall. I’m not weird, I just happen to be big fan of Dorian Gray. You seriously should read analyzes on that character!

That would make my ideal character mix of BBC Sherlock, Jeckyll-Hyde and Dorian Gray? Oh my! Now that would be cool one to read about!

I’m back on track, in other words, and I think I figured out another problem on the novel.

 

To write or not to write?

Or should it be called “other people’s paranoia is stickier than gum in your hair”?

 There is so much around us that can shake our belief in ourselves and in our writing. Watching others being braced for choosing different occupation to start with. Today again. How to find courage to actually continue on the journey you chose if the only person interested continuing is right now sitting here, staring at the screen and wondering if it’s not yet next thing to put aside?

Poetry. I have never understood it, never gotten the point or seen the beauty of it. My mind is cross when I think of it and though I know how to breathe through one or how to understand it, I’ve never felt the chill of reading or writing one. Poetry is for other great geniuses.

Yet every time someone new comes to town and they find out that friends of mine deal with poetry, I feel more and more reluctant to come out that I write stories and don’t meddle with poetry. Because that’s what writer should do, right? Write poetry?

Am I going crazy?

They are smart people and honestly, they really are. But my smartness goes missing and my mouth shuts when I’m suddenly glanced at as some mediocre idiot by new acquaintances before they go on brazing how smart my poet friends are.

They are right – who cares about how much research you buried in your last piece or who cares that you just single handedly rolled through entire volume on bugs just to find one that would fit your purpose of the story? They never find out of these things. They just say you’re smartass if you mention that “um… that glue goes through your plastic as if it was paper”, because you have no idea where you know this. The monkey is back and has hidden the key to the library in my head.

I have studied writing deeply for two years. I started learning this, because I wanted more and I felt that I reached to point where I couldn’t get pass unless I took out textbooks and studied how this was done. I can’t live without it and I really feel that this is something I could work on with, something that goes through my heart.

Since I got the first book and didn’t deny that I was actually learning it, I’ve become a joke. Who learns how to write? Come on! It shows lack of talent! Years on I’m starting to feel the same way. What talent is there if I grave for teaching, stepping over the milestone and get rid of the cliché in my stories? If I was talented, I’d know how to do it by mere sniff.

I want to hide those books now. I want to hide that I’m learning to write or that I write at all. I’m not proud anymore that I’m putting so much effort in my work and it takes so slow process to bring results. They don’t even have to introduce people what they do and they are geniuses and smart.

Perhaps I’d just once would like to hear that I’m genius too, smart and talented, educated and wise. I feel I’m rushing myself for nothing. Why go through this? Is it stealing my life from something better? What would be better for me?

It just is undermining, nothing more.