Sunday, 19 October 2014
Friday, 10 October 2014
What makes a house a home? For me it was the last house when we were a family, before Dad left, before Dad died. Red brick council estate, anonymous on the outside, all the character behind the door. The wildlife too, with mice that nibbled our power-cut candles, and maggoty caterpillars that dangled and spun from the lace in my bedroom, a part of every view.
As a kid you don't think about money. It was a great treat when Pot Noodles were launched and we had them for our tea. The first clue that money mattered was when I got a Scalextric set for Christmas. I loved racing the cars with Dad until one of us spun out. It was gone by Easter, disappearing from the top of my wardrobe one night, taken by the anti-Santa. Mum told me we needed the money. I didn't mind. We'd all give a thousand Scalextric sets to go back in time and live one week again. Family beats racing cars in the stone, paper, scissors of life. A few years later and my dad was gone too, taken in the night.
Tuesday, 7 October 2014
A recent sign at an Aberystwyth University catering outlet.
What 3 things are wrong with the English text?
Saturday, 4 October 2014
I recommend watching this free documentary about The Pirate Bay - the power of the big media companies in collusion with governments is terrifying.
"Oh, the judge was actually part of the organisation doing the prosecution and never announced it? Never mind, we don't see any conflict of interest there."
Watch it here or download it with subtitles for free from GOG.
No surprise that Hollywood then used US copyright laws to try and silence free speech. On principle I avoid ISPs which block The Pirate Bay (I'm with GreenISP).
[An aside, added after publishing the post]: For background it's worth knowing that as well as a writer I am a librarian, so I make a living from my creative works AND am involved in making information available to all, which helps me see both sides. I think we're currently far too entrenched in restrictions (DRM, blocking, legal cases, take downs etc), and the multimedia industry are incredibly short-sighted and backwards. The loaning of a DVD is a good example, since if I lend a friend a hammer then the hammer industry could argue they are losing a sale, but they'd never get away with acting like Hollywood does. In some cases I've bought a CD/film/book only because I could pass it on to someone else when I'm bored with it (I try not to have too many possessions) - as soon as things are more restrictive then I just don't buy it and they lose out on a sale. Reminds me of when you buy a DVD and are forced to sit through 5 minutes of video clips accusing you of being a potential criminal, and you just wonder why you bothered buying it in the first place. Anyway, here's hoping for some sense in the future - I read this good news earlier today.
Saturday, 13 September 2014
Things are not going well for this ship
I love stories in all their formats, not just books. Give me a good film and I'll be lost for two hours. Give me a good computer game and I can be lost for far longer. For that reason I sometimes avoid games that I know I'll love, particularly perma-death roguelikes. I recently gave in and tried FTL (Faster Than Light). It is a big mistake for productivity! It is one of those "Just one more game!" specials, because when you die you always feel you can do better, that it won't take long to play one more game, and suddenly you are lost again, being the captain of a small space ship on a tense race against time.
The game captures the atmosphere of a cross between a cut-down Star Trek and Firefly. Be a goodie. Be a baddie. No game takes too long to play, each one tells its own story. You can rename your ship and crew to make things more personal (use the names from your favourite sci-fi show or film, or those of your friends, neighbours and loved ones; it's a lovely personal touch which makes each crew member more memorable). Forget the USS Enterprise - my most successful mission so far was in the supership known around the universe as The Kitchen Sink. (I was low on inspiration that day).
Monday, 8 September 2014
Something is wrong in this place.
Stares can be cruel, yes, I see that. Scar tissue does not bleed, it is a sign that things are planned, not random, yes, stories and people, the world's architect, self-evident. I see and know. I am not hurt any more. Look all you like. And I will look back at you. And we will see who is the strongest. I am bigger. Mind, body, scar tissue. Yes. I do not like "vibrations". The term is imprecise. No. It is mood I feel. Mood comes from choices. Mood comes from entities, from people and things which pass through or rest in a place. Rest, yes. All choices.
Dark panelling. A choice. Lighting that makes one area - that one by the bar - bright, that is choice, that makes shadow elsewhere, yes. The mood. It is wrong. I see. I will unravel. I see architect's plans, yes, I see.
Sunday, 17 August 2014
You can sign up for my infrequent newsletters here. For those who wonder what kind of nonsense they contain, I've temporarily uploaded and shared the first two issues. Normally you have to be a subscriber to see them.
Tales From The Lighthouse #1
Tales From The Lighthouse #2
Friday, 15 August 2014
It was done. You grip as hard as you can, and sometimes you still fall. The straps were tight, the white knuckles that were stronger than her own, and the chair shuddered forth onto the track, whip-cracking her neck. Then it began to rumble backwards. She watched the hospital ward recede. Just as the surface had receded. The light was yellow, flickering and artificial. This place had never seen daylight.
There was a shriek from behind her, the direction she was moving, every jerk of the chair punctuated by mechanical clanks. It was a cry of fear, not pain. That would come.
Everything was buried down here. The graveyard of the dirty secrets, and the inconvenients, and the thinkers. Strapped-down freedom, buried hope. She would be in good company, and she wouldn't cry. She was past that. Walk through fire once more. Raw, without painkillers, she'd burn, whatever they did, she'd burn. Friction caused a reaction, always. She was the blister. They were going to cut her out.
Monday, 11 August 2014
Last week I was at an inspirational Ty Newydd writing course in north Wales, led by Mavis Cheek and Francesca Rhydderch. One of the many, many things we learnt in passing was Kurt Vonnegut's 8 rules of writing. I recommend reading them if you do any creative writing. They're in his usual dry and irreverent style. If you enjoy them then his talk about story structures is well worth watching too (I have seen it many times!)