Fishing....

I've only just started revising Sidewalks, but already my mind is fishing around, searching for ideas for the next book.  But there's nothing grabbing me.  Maybe that's a good thing.  Maybe it's my brain telling me I haven't finished Sidewalks yet, and that I need to focus on that, not get distracted by something new and shiny.

Usually I'm full of inspiration and story ideas.  They pop up at the most inopportune times, tearing my attention away from whatever I'm supposed to be working on at the time.  But right now, nothing's interesting me enough to want to spend 9 months or so on.  I have a couple of half-finished projects gathering dust on my hard-drive, but neither of the them feels like the right story to tell.

So I guess I wait.  I revise.  And I'm sure a new idea will come.  They always do.  And the Film Festival is coming up.  I almost always find inspiration in movies.  The spark for Sidewalks came from a single line in a documentary I saw back in April.

So while I'm fishing, I'm not counting on catching anything to keep me fed.  That's the best way to ave fun with it, right?

And we're off!

Yup.  I started revising Sidewalks last night.  I spent the second part of last week outlining the way I thought the story needs to go, and last night I dove in a worked my way through chapter one.  It wasn't so bad.  The early part of the book isn't.  It's at about the halfway point things get funky and I'm going to have a lot of untangling to do.

So this morning I re-read my revised first chapter, and with much trepidation, posted it for my critique group to gnaw on.  I've never been so nervous about letting my work out in the open!  I feel like this book is my ugly baby and I've just taken it out in public for the first time.  A couple of my CPs have already said they're going to read it tomorrow, so I'm just white knuckling my way through until then...

It's weird because I've never felt this way before.  I'm usually champing at the bit to get my work in front of fresh eyes because I know how awesome my CPs are at finding the mistakes and flaws in it and offering solutions and fixes for them.  But this book is probably closer to my heart than anything I've ever written before.  Not that I haven't loved my other projects - I have.  But this one's kind of special.

Have you ever had one project you've been terrified to show people?

I don't often post film reviews here, but this film is so extraordinary wanted to share it with you.  It probably won't be playing at a theatre near you, but see if you can find it on DVD because it's awesome.  Probably the best film I've seen so far this year.

KING OF DEVIL’S ISLAND

Norway, 2010

Running Length: 116 minutes

Cast: Benjamin Helstad, Stellan Skarsgard, Trond Nilssen, Kristoffer Joner

Director:  Harius Holst

Screenplay: Dennis Magnusson

Cinematography: John Andreas Andersen

Based on the true story of a rebellion in a boys’ borstal on a Norwegian island, this is a striking and unusual film.

Director Holst uses the island location to great advantage, showing the young prisoners as being both trapped and free to roam.  The ocean surrounding the island cuts them off from the rest of the world and is as effective as bars for keeping the detainees detained.

The crimes that have landed the boys here are not huge.  One boy has been incarcerated for six years for stealing from the church collection plate.  You get the sense that in many cases the boys have been sent away because they were difficult rather than criminal.

But when Erling arrives on the island, the dynamic of the prison changes.  Erling is a real criminal and coming to Bostoy is the only thing keeping him from prison.  A former sailor on a whaling ship, Erling has a powerful physiology and refuses act or feel like a prisoner.

Time and time again he pushes against those who detain him, and refuses to be broken by even the most brutal punishments.  His polar opposite is Olav, the boy accused of stealing from the collection plate.  Olav is about to be released and has the role of leader in the overcrowded boys’ dorm.  Olav is tasked with getting Erling settled into the routine of the prison and soon finds himself enmeshed in a strange kind of friendship.

Small indignities add up, and when one of the housefathers is revealed to be fiddling with a young boy, Olav’s repressed anger surges to the surface and rebellion is unleashed, the power shifting from the guards to the prisoners.

The cinematography is gorgeous, capturing the starkness of the buildings and the surrounding landscape.  Shots of the sea crashing in on snow-coated beaches are particularly gorgeous.  While the adult characters are not given much in the way of character development outside being brutal authority figures, the boys are all too human.  They fit the roles perfectly and it is their performances that make this a compelling, exciting and tragic viewing experience.  If the final scene doesn’t break your heart, then your heart is as cold as the ice Olav and Erling struggle to cross.

If you've seen it, what did you think?

Caught in the Act

When I'm stuck on novel projects, or just in between them, I like to dabble in short fiction.  Then, to tighten things up even more, flash fiction which is usually stories under 1000 words.  Sometimes though, to make things really concise, I challenge myself to write stories in 500 words or less.  That makes every word count in a way they don't have to in a longer work.

So here's one of these super short stories.  Enjoy!

CAUGHT IN THE ACT

By Kate Larkindale

The clouds above the city are blushing.  Streaks of yellow gold pierce them as the sun peeps over the horizon.  I sit by the window in the pre-dawn silence, watching, waiting.

At exactly 6:03am the light flicks on in the apartment across from my own, a single square of brightness in the otherwise dark building.  A figure crosses to the window, yawing as she peers out at the street six floors below.  I hold my breath, wondering as I do each and every morning if she can see me.  Wondering if she knows I’m there.

She pulls her short white nightgown over her head, letting it drift to the floor.   Her body is lean, breasts small but perfect.   A small tattoo – too small for me to see properly – adorns the golden skin above the left one.  Something delicate, I imagine; a bird or butterfly, perhaps.

She turns, running long fingers through her mass of dark curls, lifting the hair from her neck then letting it fall back to cascade over her shoulders once more.   She picks up her brush from the low table and runs it through her hair, slow and gentle to begin with, the strokes growing quicker and more savage as she continues.  I count under my breath, knowing she’ll brush exactly one hundred times.

She sets the brush down and crosses out of sight.  A moment later she is back, sliding into her ugly pink uniform, contorting herself as she jerks the zip on the side to the top.  She smoothes the cheap fabric over her hips, tugging the short skirt down over narrow thighs.

Sitting on the end of the rumpled bed, she pulls on pantyhose, inserting each leg languidly into the rolled-up nylon, taking care that her toe-nails don’t snag.  She leans back, points her toes and inspects each leg for flaws before rising and inserting her feet into the white shoes that await, lined up like soldiers by the bed.

A quick check in the mirror and she’s gone, the light snapping off abruptly, plunging her room into darkness once more.  I think, for a moment, I see her shape in the window, staring back into my own.  I shrink back, momentarily ashamed.  Caught in the act.  Branded a voyeur.

My breath is just returning to normal when I’m startled by an unfamiliar sound: the ringing doorbell.

What now?

It's been a week now since I finished the first draft of Sidewalks, and it hasn't been far from my mind.  I've done a read through of the entire manuscript and was pleasantly surprised to discover it isn't quite the mess I thought it was.  There's some pacing issues, and my MC's character arc isn't quite as satisfying as I'd like it to be, but overall I enjoyed reading it.

Which is actually pretty unusual...

So what now?

I was going to leave it for a few more weeks before jumping into revisions, but I'm kind of bursting with ideas for them and want to get started.  I know I should leave it longer to marinate, and I will at least until I manage to catch up on all the beta reading I've promised people.  But then I will start the revision process.

First up, an outline.  Because I'm a total pantser when I write first drafts, I don't have one already.  So the first part of revising is to draw up a fairly detailed chapter by chapter outline.  This helps me see where the pacing is off and whether all the major plot points occur at the right times.  it also helps me to see the character arcs and to make sure they are paced appropriately.

Once I have an outline I'm happy with, I can get down to the nitty gritty and revise each chapter so it fits the outline and the story plays out the way I want it to.  Then we get into the more detailed editing where I iron out stylistic wrinkles like overused words and images and make sure the prose sings the way I like it to.

The it's off to the critique group where I'm sure I will be given excellent suggestions on how to make it even better.

But for now, even though I'm itching to get started, I'm going to ignore that little voice in my head and get on with reading for other people.

What's your revision process like?

Fireworks

Since it's the Fourth of July, I thought I should share my story, FIREWORKS which was first published in Halfway Down the Stairs.

Hope you enjoy it!

And have a great Independence Day!

Boys are different

I'm really loathe to admit this, because I firmly believe that people are people and we're all pretty much the same.  But having two sons, and watching them interact with other kids has lead me to the conclusion boys are different to girls.  Even as very small children.

My kids are off school for two weeks and because (miracle of miracles) I don't have any festivals or major events at work this week, I decided to take this week off to spend with them.  Since the weather forecast is crap for the rest of the week, I decided yesterday was our 'outdoor activity' day.  I had one of my eldest's friends to take care of too, so we trekked off to the Botanic Gardens.  It's nice to walk around and look at plants and there's a really good playground there.  So we climbed the gargantuan hill to the playground and the boys ran off in every direction.

It wasn't long before they gravitated toward another group of boys who were playing tag.  No one ever asked or invited the others to join in, but soon all these boys were playing freeze tag together.  No one asked each others name, or age or anything.  They just ran and tagged.  Other boys joined in.  Soon there were about 9 or 10 kids all playing, all calling each other 'hey you!'.

If this had been a group of girls, they all would have exchanged names at least before or during playing, and I'm pretty sure invitations to join the group would have to have been issued before anyone was allowed to join in.

Afterward, when I asked my boys who the kids were they were playing with, they just shrugged and said 'just some kids.'  They played for over an hour together...  Different.

Have you ever noticed the ways boys are different to girls?