One from the heart (not)

There's a lot said about what art is meant to be, and what you need to do to be a true artist.

You often hear it said, when a particular artist is referred to, that he or she is really digging deep and baring their soul for the world.

It seems to be a particularly big deal in the world of music, where singers seem to think it's their goal to appear as if they're in the greatest of pain and heartbreak with every song that they sing.

That's all well and good, and I'm sure there is a place for this kind of art. But I have to say that, personally, I find it all a bit exhausting. I don't need everything I read, or watch or listen to, to take me so deeply into someone else's pain (concocted or not). Sometimes, I just want to read a really good story, or listen to a really good song that's sung well without the need for paroxysms of pain.

So what does that mean for me as a writer? Am I somehow seen as less of an artist because I'm not baring the depths of my soul for all the world to see? Is it my job to be eviscerating myself publicly for the benefit of my audience?

I don't think so. As a writer, I'm quite happy to be coming up with great stories that move and engage and entertain. And yes, there is always a little bit of my heart and soul in there. I can't help that because it's the way I write. But it isn't every last bit of me. When it comes down to it, it's just a story I've made up that I feel some readers out there will enjoy.

Because I'm not baring the deepest, darkest depths of my soul for the world, does that make it any lesser? Does that somehow mean that maybe I'm not as genuine as other writers? Is my work somehow less worthy as art?

I don't think so.

One in, all in

I've talked before on this site about the question of whether the ability to write is inherent or something that can be learnt.

The conclusion I've always come to is that it's somewhere in between. I think there are some people who are natural writers, but you can always learn to be a better writer. To me, the best way of learning has always been to read lots, and especially read lots of really good writing. But I've always been prepared to investigate more direct methods as well.

I've taken more than my fair share of writing classes. Some have been useful. Others less so. I've had some really fantastic teachers who have really inspired me in my writing, and others who were clearly there just to take the paycheck.

But no matter how good the teaching was, there has been one thing above all that has really put me off ever wanting to do any more writing classes: the dreaded all-in workshop.

You may know what I'm talking about. Every week, one or two people are nominated to read their work out to the class. And then it begins. Open slather. One in, all in. It's really not a pretty sight.

It seems that everyone has an opinion. No matter how little sense they have of what your story is actually about, they'll have something to tell you about what's wrong with it. Your head gets pulled this way and that way, until you know longer have any idea of which advice is actually useful (and yes, you can get the occasional pearl of wisdom) and which ones are completely nonsensical, particularly as the most nonsensical suggestions often come from the loudest and most persistent members of the class.

Don't get me wrong. I really value feedback, and wouldn't dream of putting anything out without seeking the considered advice from people whose opinions I value. But random suggestions, thrown at me from all directions from people whose expertise range from zero to nil - I really don't find that useful at all.

Will I ever do more writing classes? Never say never is what I say. If the right class and the right teacher shows up, I'd be mad not to consider it. But as soon as there's any suggestion of an all-in class workshop, then I'm out of there.

A story's not a story without a swordfight

I used to be a theatre buff.

Well, that might be exaggerating just a little. I used to go to the theatre quite a lot, but I'm not sure if I could really call myself a buff.

My parents are definitely theatre buffs. They go to the theatre all the time. For a while, back in my long distance past, I used to come along with them. Not sure why. I guess it seemed like a good thing to do. Maybe it was the pizza restaurant we always used to visit beforehand that had quite a bit to do with it.

It didn't take long for me to realise I wasn't that excited by theatre, although I did stick with it for a while. It took me a little longer to realise what the problem was, and why I wasn't so enthralled by the drama on the stage.

Unfortunately, in the end, I just couldn't get over the staginess of it all. And that no matter what ideas or themes underlined the play, and how potentially worthwhile or dramatic they might be, in the end it was just a bunch of people talking to each other.

Maybe it's just me, but I need more than that. I need more than just seeing people on stage talking to each other to really get engaged. I need excitement. I need action. I need swordfights.

That was the moment when I realised what the problem was. There just weren't enough swordfights in these plays. I want to hear the clang of metal on metal. I want to hear cries of "en-guarde!" I want to be as enthralled as I am in that amazing scene in the Princess Bride where Westley fights Inigo ("I have a secret to tell you - I'm not left-handed" - I love that).

Of course, when I settled down to write my own stories, I had to be as good as my word. I couldn't very well complain about boring plays without swordfights if I ended up writing boring stories without swordfights. That's why I was really pleased when I was able to insert swordfights into not just one but two of my novels. And even as I scan ideas for new novels, I'm constantly thinking, "How can I insert a swordfight in here?"

And before I finish, I just have to throw in one more thing that I think is kind of cool. I actually have first-hand expertise when it comes to swordfighting, because I used to work with a former Australian fencing champion. I even got a chance to put on fencing gear and have a bit of a spar with them. It was kind of frightening actually. I kept on asking if I could run away a bit more. Luckily, she wasn't too rough with me.

Have a great week, full of excitement and derring-do. 

End of Summer 2014 - New Visions

Today I interrupt my regular stream of conscious nonsense for a really important (and kind of cool) announcement.

Just over a year ago, I first entered into a contractual arrangement with Evolved Publishing. No, that's not the announcement, that's old news. Since then, it's been really exciting to see what a great job they've done with my first children's picture book, Thomas and the Tiger-Turtle, and to get to know this fantastic team of writers, editors and artists. No, that's not the news either.

The really cool news is that Evolved is currently running a fundraising campaign through Indiegogo. The title of this campaign is End of Summer 2014 - New Visions and there are some fantastic packages on offer.

The options range from $2.00 all the way up to $500. At the lower end, there are some really great ebooks available. At the higher end, there are some amazing packages featuring a range of hardcopy children's and adult books (including Thomas and the Tiger-Turtle of course).  And at the absolute top of the line, there is the opportunity to receive a copy of every ebook produced by Evolved Publishing. That's right, every single one. And these are not just any books. These are the cream of the crop when it comes to independent publishing. Every single one is carefully vetted and then edited with love and care. I can speak to my own personal experience on that.

So hopefully lots of you out there will be happy to support a fantastic organisation giving lots of great writers an opportunity they might not otherwise have had, and in the process releasing lots of wonderful stories for the world to read. If that's not a big enough reward, the terrific book packages available should be.

Make sure to check out the End of Summer 2014 - New Visions page for more information.