Where DO they go?!

        The days. The days the weeks the years, zooming by like F1 revheads.

        I can't quite believe it's been over 3 weeks since I got to this on my list. Definiltely compounded by the age of my old PC. I change it over every five years on principle, nice shiny new Hewlett Packard desktop with all the latest clobber to drive you crazy. Thought its time must be coming up, checked the box of tricks, found it's actually over six and a half years old. Geez where does the time go?

        So, last ten days have been a non-stop wrestling match with HP and Microsoft and Adobe and Canon and more. NEVER seem to have the right driver for anything. AND MS doesn't support the previous version of Office anymore, so new one needed. AND HP doesn't have a disc tray OR an SD card reader built in anymore, so new peripherals needed too. Which have to be installed. AND the built in Windows 11 magically doesn't play the audio of MP3 home-made videos. It took me three days to finally ask Google the right question, thankfully just before I was about to fork out $80 for a software update, as what I really needed was a freebie download from the MS Store. Took 30 seconds. Job done.

        But at least now I have an enlarged vocabulary of swear words.

< >

        So, back to the fun stuff.

        Between the bouts of chaos I've been getting through my collection of Pascoe's short story publications - I had 5 of them in my last Xmas box, thought I'd better clean them up before the next lot arrives - and somewhere along the way it occurred to me that of the 20-odd stories in each, on average I find 4 great, 4 unreadable, and the rest okay enough to pick through. Then realised it's the great 4 and the unreadable 4 that are most important to analyse, to ask - why them? What makes - for me - a great story, and an unreadable story. What's the lessons? And again, this is just ME.

        First, superficially, size matters. It's a rare story over 3,000 words that can suck me in. A short story should be short, longer ones tend to wander about too much. Then there's - an old hobbyhorse of mine - paragraph length. I like short paras. No less than 3 on a page, preferably about 5. It gives the sense of action. Things happening.

        The only other things are the subject matter - there's a bunch of stuff I struggle with - politics, gratuitous sex, excess violence, drugs. Most other things can be woven into a decent yarn. Lastly the writing style. I won't say writing "quality" as that's way too subjective. And it's far too varied to pin it down any better. You know it when you see it, but one thing it has - I said it a couple of weeks back - is surprise. I love some unpredictability, in words and themes.

        Okay, that's it. My old PC is in the wings waiting to be wiped clean and passed on to a mate, as it's been a great workhorse and has a lot of mileage in it still.

        Cheers.....

                T.R.E.

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Classic or what?!

"THE HOUSE IN GONDWANALAND" - T. R. Edmonds (Aus 2018)

        What can I say - this novel is an Aus Lit classic or I don't know my aorta from my elbow. And the author should be publicly pissed on for not having the balls to get up off his skinny backside and attack the world of commercial publishing so that it could've claimed its birthright.

        Why? - because not only is it a history of a now long-gone Time in Aus, of how we went about re-building our little part of the fractured world that existed for a universal nano-second between Glenn Miller and Bill Haley, but it rocks along, full of strength and passion, in that other battle we all had to fight after the war, to reconstruct our lives and loves and families. Sometime with mixed results, because we were all pretty average human beings.

        When I pulled this one out - my last re-read of the four - I thought I would find it to be the lesser of them, but about half way in - it's been 17 years since I read it - I was wishing someone else had written it, so I could cherish a copy for the right reasons. Because in fact it's the best, strong characters with just the right amount of complexity (all real people), and it moves constantly between action, personality, landscape, the changing historical time, and the resourcefulness of this cluster of dogged battlers who had the task of turning old wheat paddocks into some resemblance of suburban heaven, without the help of electricity, sewerage, Bunnings Hardware, or the bloody internet!

        I lived every word of this novel, and about 95% of me is in these pages - body, mind, soul, memories, philosophies, talents - and to be perfectly honest, I can't quite believe I wrote it. It's actually better than me. I know I'll never find this much of The Ghost in me ever again.

        Cheers...

                T.R.E.

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The uncertain craft of Freewheelin...

        The realisation of what this is came to me while I was into my current read - more on that soon - as I was impressed by the writer's attempt at UNPREDICTABILITY.

        Do you ever listen to a never-heard-before pop song and know exactly what the next line is going to be? - you can hear it coming, the rhyme and all. It's just about disappointing. Because it's so predictable. Freewheelin is about catching the consumer by surprise.

        The craft - in creative writing I'm talking here - of Freewheelin - and it's not expressed as "free wheeling" because that's way too formal - is when you get in The Zone, when you block out the entire outside world, and really feel what you are feeling, without dwelling on it, there's just you and the page/screen and you're so into it that you're thinking faster than you can type or scrawl.

        Okay, you leave a trail of misspells but it's truly belting out of you totally unfettered, and you don't pause to find some "exactly right" word, but you use any word that feels like what you're feeling at that second,  and sometimes it turns out to be exactly what you want, but even when its completely stupid in that context, it leads you to the right one when you edit, because it embodies the feeling.

        Dylan Thomas was the master at Freewheelin. He threw words down onto the page, revisited it later, or maybe not. Sometimes when I read his stuff I think maybe I'm looking at his Freewheelin draft...

Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs
About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green,
    The night above the dingle starry,
         Time let me hail and climb
    Golden in the heydays of his eyes...

....and I think, geez if only I could do that. So I always try. Try to create some unpredictability. Is that an oxymoron? Try to let loose some unpredictability? I'm struggling here! Maybe it'll be clearer, or I'll express it better, after I think on it some more. Here inside this old head I know what I mean, but I probably need to talk it out. Wish I could.

        More ramblings soon....

            Cheers....

                    Trev

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Just finished loving...

"FOSTER" - Claire Keegan (2010 UK)

        At about 16k words, this small gem is somewhere between a long short story and a novella. Not that I care as it's a great read.

        One thing though - the movie is even better than the book, so if you see it going by on SBS World Movies, dive in and record it as it's totally faithful to Keegan's words, but just has that something in the way of emotion and the subtlety of the relationships - and the setting of 1980s (?) rural Ireland - that words on the page can't quite get hold of as well, of a young girl's blossoming time caught between two sets of adults.

        Claire Keegan (born into a farming family in Co Wicklow in 1968) has justifiably won a heap of awards for her short story / novella writings, and at least two of them have been made into movies.

        So, you could do worse than track down anything she has written, book or film, as always, there's lessons for all of us to learn from the experience.

        Cheers....

                T.R.E.

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Decisions decisions ...

        There's Fun, there's Semi-Fun, then there's Work.

        I was indoctrinated at an early age by a hard-working Mum that you always had to finish your Work before you could have Fun. I've never been able to shake it off, although some mornings (like today) I grit my teeth and break Mum's rule, even though I can feel her shaking her head and tut-tutting over my shoulder. Sorry Mum, this morning I cracked under pressure. The pressure build up of seemingly never-ending Work and not a lot of Fun.

        Work (for me) is all of those HaveTo things - finish my two big Xmas pressie projects, wrap up our funeral arrangements before they're actually needed, paint the bloody outdoor furniture, blah blah blah - all that HaveTo shite that have deadlines and the clock always running.

        Semi-Fun is doing this blog. And selected research that I promised someone in a moment of weakness. And cafe stops in the early morning. Afternoon walks when the Spring sunshine is too good to waste. Being at the shed workbench fixing something.

        Fun is Creative Writing. Being on your own with your deepest thoughts. Either at a blank screen and the winking waiting cursor blinking in anticipation, or in a quiet place with pen and pad. There is no better Fun (at my age!). I just love it.

        But last couple of months it's been mostly the first and some of the second and none of the last. My soul starts to shrivel up when life gets like that for too long. So this morning I shut my ears to Mum and dived into some writing, first time for way too long. Felt sooooo good. But after two hours I ran out of steam so I thought to wrap up my free morning I'd opt for some Semi-Fun and waffle on here for a mo.

        Hmmm ... that's all. More soon. But something a touch more interesting next time.

        Cheers....

                T.R.E.

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What can I say...

 "The Prologue Of JEMMA RAGLAN" - T. R. Edmonds (2018 Aust)

        I've read all of this guy's stuff, and this true story is easily his best, the structure and balance just right, pace continuous, and written as it is in the Third Person but Present Tense, doesn't just put you into the story, but into the kid herself. You become her, go through every poignant, shitty, sad, joyous day of her first 13-14 years from the inside.

        But he does need a significant kick up the aorta for not pursuing a commercial publisher harder, but settling for self publishing. albeit through one of the best book printers around, giving it all the quality of the "real" thing. Whatever the hell "real" is in this day and age of book publishing. It deserves to be on more shelves, in more hands, although she is in the USA, UK, and Ireland, and in all of Aust's One-Library systems.

        It's been 6-7 years since I read this the last time, and it's as fresh and new as ever, a true page-turner, I've had dead foot syndrome every morning this week following this kid's challenging childhood as the eldest of five daughters of two hopelessly dysfunctional parents.

        And a footnote for aspiring writers - I'm again reading my Proof Copy, which I wasn't happy with (it was my first foray into self-publishing), as the font size was one point too big, reducing the commercial print run copies by 60 pages. And I reduced the size of the front and back cover images, and the spine, by 10%, and darkened up the background colour a touch. Made a much better presentation. So don't be afraid to be critical of your Proof, no matter how you get it done. And get someone else to proof read it too, I still found a typo in the final copy.

        Okay, that's enough. Find a copy, dive in, see what you reckon.

        Cheers...

                T.R.E.

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Just finished escaping with...

"ASTERIX the Gaul" - Goscinny & Uderzo (1970 UK)

        Every now and then you just have to get away from all the frivolity of life and tackle something seriously serious. Like a graphic novel about how a pocket of ancient Gauls defied the might of the Roman army. With the help of a Druid and a secret potion. I mean - seriously.

        Found this one in the chuckout tray last Saturday, and once again have to question the standards of the reading public of South Australia. C'mon fellas, this is the stuff of history and legend and fables told around the blessed camp fire. So get with it. Brush up on History.

        These two French guys kicked off this saga back in 1961, and probably haven't been out of print since. Because of a discerning market who know a good read when they see it, so if - like me - are in the middle of writing your Will, planning your funeral, and generally getting ready to wrap things up, Asterix and his mate Obelix are just the distractions you need. There is WAY too little serious whimsy in the world and these two have the ability to offset the horrors of the nightly TV News.

        Okay, that's all, just thought I'd share.

        Cheers....

                T.R.E.

ps - no way even near popping off, fit as the proverbial Mallee Bull, just want to be ready for the only totally predictable event in Life.

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Here be the world...

 "SEVEN HUNDRED YEARS OF POETRY IN ENGLISH" - John Leonard [ed] (Aust 1994)

         I've come to the conclusion that at least half of the known world exists between the covers of books, and while this one (roughly the size and weight of your average breeze block) journeys backwards in Time (1991 to the 1300s), from the Now that we know through those other Times that we don't know, from Les Murray and Seamus Heaney to Chaucer and Langland. (But I have to add there's nothing of yours and nothing of mine in it and without them no version of the world would be complete, eh).

        This is the third of my "chuck-out" OpShop freebies, (why oh why do people throw out such treasure?), and will be a keeper, as surely no-one has ever read it from end to end, but will go on picking it over., a real browser. It's one of those. It's going up onto my shelves. So I can take it down every so often when I need to re-visit the other half of the world. Even if it is incomplete.

        It contains about 700 poems by 150 people, includes all of the "greats", plus heaps that should've been, and heaps that are (for me) completely unreadable. Especially before 1800. 1850. 1880! And I have to publicly own up to why that is. And okay, you may disagree, but we each like what we like. Especially when it comes to poetry.

        I approach reading poetry the same way I approach all creative writing. A novel has to suck me in by page six, a short story by paragraph two, and a piece of poetry by line four. If it doesn't, I move on.

        First, I can't get into stuff that's self-consciously pretentious, those pieces that are simply chopped up into 3-liners or 4-liners to look like "poetry", and often when they are actually really great prose. (Check the piece on Jeff Guess posted 8th April below). Give it away guys, it's irritating and a waste of your talent. Find a more natural rhythm to suit the content. Then there's the old-fashioned, strict-metre, twisted-syntax, rhyme-at-any-cost stuff. This is a legitimate art form but so little of it works well. They're way too often simply exercises in being clever.

        What else? I found that much of the 1800s pieces, so much of it by the "greats", were  just public competitions of the day in describing Nature. Geez they wuz boring fellas. The Romance crap from the 1700s - ohmygod - indigestible. Then there's all that Religion wallop back in the 1500s-1600s, compounded by being in Old English. And the literary lengths some went to! - 43 verses and they still couldn't find what they were trying to say. Spenser's "Faerie Queen" (c1590) goes to 36,000 lines, but the longest poem ever written in English is 131,000 lines, and that was in the early 1800s.

        So, what can I say? Walt Whitman (1819-1892) showed us the way to write poetry in so-called "free verse", to break away from the rule-driven poetic conventions of the past, and (okay, as I see it) capture in words the inner workings of your body mind and soul in the dealings you have with the world as you find it - the whole funny, sad, brutal, loving, hating, creating, destroying, shitty, uplifting - experience.

        As I ploughed through this tome, I tagged everything that caught my eye. I'll put bits of these up in "Pandoras Box", give you a chance to bucket my opinions. Ah, I do so love this job!

        Cheers....

                    Trev

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Some words of wisdom...

 "ALL I WANT IS A WARM BED AND A KIND WORD, AND UNLIMITED POWER" - Ashleigh Brilliant (USA 1985)

        This is the second of my three chuck-out freebies from my favourite OpShop, a very good browse-then-ditch job.

        First up, I never heard of this guy, but he was apparently big in the US world of syndicated newspapers and greeting cards and tee-shirts in the 80s and 90s. Second up, his name isn't a cutesy invention, it really is Brilliant, and he encloses a copy of his birth certificate (born in London 1933, lived mostly in  the US) to quash the doubters!

        His large body of output is just about all through epigrams, confined to 17 words or less, accompanied by an appropriate illustration, apparently mostly from old out-of-copyright works, and called "Pot-Shots". And okay, it's not all brilliant, but there's plenty that's good to great, here loosely arranged by subject, and a very satisfying browse. (And when I first saw the title, about seven current world leaders' faces sprang immediately to mind!)

        He precedes each section with a short observation, about Life, which are all worth reading, albeit at times a touch cynical, not all pretend I suspect, and if you're curious about his life and work, have a dig into Wiki...

THE BRILLIANT LIFE

        A book well worth the browse, but if you Google his name and "Pot-Shots" and hit "Images", you'll find a whole bunch, such as...

        Cheers....

                T.R.E.

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If you're serious....

"OUT OF US ALL" - Susan Cooper (UK 1969)

        I love Op Shops, not those so much that are mainly clothes and shoes and handbags, but the big ones where you can find (if you want one) a spade or a bike or a rice cooker or a bed lamp, or two books (or five DVDs) for a buck, and they have a freebie chuck-out stand at the door. We visit one of these every week. I always scab through the chuck-outs.

        A couple of weeks back I found three books there. This is one of them, a  once-proud volume from the shelves of the Barr-Smith Library of Adelaide University (and justifiably so) long ago. The other two I'll get to soon and report back.

        This book could just as easily been titled "IN ALL OF US" because that's what Susan Cooper is saying - we all have stories in us, if you have the desire (the compulsion!) to weed them out and get them onto the page. This could just be a huge help if you're struggling to find a start.

        It was compiled for Years 10 and 11 High School Lit students, but if you're serious about creative writing, you can do a helluva lot worse than read this excellent compilation of story excerpts from the pens of such worthies as Dylan Thomas (still one of the all time best ever ever ever), as well as some poetry, and arranged by subject matter - "Memories", "The Sea", "Love", "Gangs and Rebels", et al - with lists of suggested exercises at the end of each, designed to get you off your rear end and thinking and creating.

        Okay, may be a bit hard to find, but there's copies out there online. You could do a lot worse.

        Cheers....

                    T.R.E.

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