Smart Arse
I sent the fart book away on Sunday, after getting a final check by my partner (who chuckled several times, and laughed outright at least twice).
The good thing about writing a 7000-word book is that you just send the whole thing (rather than the first three chapters). So that cuts the response time in half. I’ll probably hear back in about March next year.
Yesterday’s school was great. It was the last school I had lined up (it’s possible others are just slow on the uptake, but it’s probably my last school), and definitely the best for me. I think about 15 people have already joined me on twitter since then, and I bet there’ll be more later. I’m perilously close to having 200 followers.
The fart book send-off absolutely lifted my mood, as did that final school (it is absolutely devastating to work hard for no result whatsoever).
And I’m delighted to have ideas percolating for the next twittertale. When I mentioned the basic plot in a class yesterday, they practically cheered. I hesitate to write something that isn’t 100% original in concept, but I think it’ll be hugely entertaining.
Companion to Day Twenty-Five: Writing Tips
7:30pm
I woke slumped against Oldy’s fuzzy beard. Sol was gone. Only our bodies held us up.
Then Sol appeared with her arms full. ‘Anyone thirsty?’
9:50pm
Sol brought us food and life all night. Our guard almost saw her, but she passed magically through the outer wall of the ship until he left.
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I’ve already talked in a bunch of schools about having an interesting (well-developed and contradictory – like a real person) character with a serious problem, and about using as many of the senses as possible to make readers feel involved. Today’s main lesson is the infamous “Show don’t tell”.
Let’s imagine a character is kind, and you want readers to like them for their kindness.
Method 1: Telling – this method is BAD because readers have no reason to believe you.
Bob was very kind.
Method 2: Telling through dialogue – slightly better, but still awful. Readers still feel they’re getting told what to think.
“Hello Bob,” said Bobette. “I wanted to thank you for all your kindness yesterday.”
“Oh, it was nothing,” said Bob.
Method 3: Showing – this inevitably takes more space, but is the only good way for important information (including personal qualities, relationships between characters, and events that are central to your story).
Bob rushed out of his house, running late for work. He saw his neighbour, Bobette, standing on her front lawn looking up at her Chinese Elm. At once he turned from his car and asked her what was wrong.
“It’s my darling kitten,” said Bobette. “She’s stuck.”
Bob carefully reversed his car over to the tree and stood on the roof. “Here, kitty,” he said. “I won’t hurt you.”
The kitten hissed and climbed higher in a panic.
Bob took off his business jacket and hooked one leg over a low branch. Slowly he found more footholds and at last he held the terrified kitten against his chest. It immediately scratched him, tearing his shirt. “Don’t worry, little one,” said Bob. “I know you’re scared.”
He climbed down with one hand, and gave the kitten to Bobette.
“Oh, Bob!” she said. “Thank you! What can I do to repay you!”
“Think nothing of it,” he said, using his shredded shirt to mop up the blood on his aching chest. “She’s such a nice kitten, isn’t she?”
*It’s also worth noting that this scene has the same structure as any story – there’s a problem (kitten in a tree), the character’s efforts should help, but instead make it worse (Bob tries to reach it, but the kitten climbs higher), and the character makes another attempt (climbing himself) which resolves the original problem (now the kitten is safe).
*In a short story, I recommend:
-Have only a few characters, and a reasonably short period of time (this helps stop the story running away into complexity-land). Make sure each character’s name starts with a different letter so it’s easy for your reader to keep track.
-Write about something you know and/or care about. High schoolers know about high school. I often write stories with magic, because I read a lot of fantasy books and I’m interested in the way magic people deal with their powers.
-When you write your first draft – don’t think too hard. Just write! No human being writes a good first draft. The important thing is to write SOMETHING.
Companion to Day Twenty-Four: SMS/Email
10:00am
The sun glinted on something so we sailed for it: a pirate ship.
“Huzzah,” said Sol, “they’ll have food AND treasure.”
They chased us.
[more to come today]
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Hello to Caleb, Brook, Simone and all the other weird and fascinating creatures I met today. If I can squeeze in a broadside, I’ll do it this very day.
Today’s offer: If you’d like to receive the story by email or by text, just ask me at fellissimo[at]hotmail.com (put an @ in where it belongs). It shall be done – but be advised that some posts happen at strange hours of the night.
Companion to Day Twenty-Three: Daylight
1:00pm
We reached land, searched empty houses, and found a child’s skeleton clutching at dirt.
‘Anyone want to leave?’ Sol said.
No-one spoke.
___________________________________
It’s official: the next twittertale will be entitled “Daylight”, set in Canberra – a tale of a pandemic known as EMO, transmitted among young people. Symptoms include pale skin, dark clothes, and the irresistable urge to bite one’s friends and associates in order to suck their blood. Victims also hate daylight, due to the unfortunate fact that it makes them. . . sparkle.
“Daylight” will begin October 3rd (probably), and end on 31 December this year.
Companion to Day Twenty-Two: Soap
8:00am
I showed Sol our hold.
She said, ‘We still have food for – what – two days?’
‘About that,’ I said, ‘and we’re out of soap.’
‘I’d noticed.’
___________________
Pirates often stole soap. Turns out even the biggest ships lack a general store.
A Time to Fart
I know, I know – I promised I wouldn’t touch my fart book for two months.
It’s been one month today, and I plan to attack it wildly this weekend, then get my partner to critique it (I saved him for last – he’s never read it), and probably send it off on Monday.
My excuses are:
1) Half my publishable books are under construction at the moment, and “Farting my ABCs” only needs a quick polish and it can be out in the slushpile where they all belong.
2) A month is SORT OF like two months. . . right?
3) With all the promotional stuff I’m doing, the goal is to get publishers to approach me, saying, “I’ve seen you in the papers and heard about you on the radio. Somebody said you had written a book?” Since Penguin is Australia’s slowest reader, it seems a head start would be handy, so instead of responding, “Yes. Here you go.” I can respond, “Yes. It’s been on your slush pile for six months now, so has probably already passed a few links up the chain. Enjoy!”
Tenuous, I know. Yesterday’s school visit was the most likely to yield twitter-shaped fruit. It didn’t. I still have other avenues and other schools, and the magic of time (I’m running a competition for that school, which will probably get me a few followers eventually), but it was a day of hard work for absolutely no pay of any kind.
Another one.
So today, I’m going to channel my false hopes in a newer, shinier direction.
My nephew
. . . is four.
He and two of his three parents were over here for dinner tonight, and he took out the bag of toys that I keep for him and enjoyed himself.
He found a piece of plastic, about 10cm long, with a 1cm circle at each end, and smuggled it to the dinner table.
There he sat, with one end pressed to his ear. We told him to eat his dinner, and he said (with umbrage): I’m LISTENING to my MUSIC!!!
Companion to Day Twenty-One: Blackbeard’s Beard
5:00am
Oldy sauntered in and helped himself to salty breakfast stew.
‘Didn’t you go with Li?’ I asked.
He shrugged, ‘I came back.’
3:00pm
‘Who stole my boat?’ Sol screamed.
Oldy raised his hand. ‘You’re a fine captain. We won’t need it.’
Sol said, ‘You’ll live – for now.’
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I may have mentioned that Blackbeard really was evil. As usual, I’m taking my best information from the 1724 book “A General History of the Robberies and Murders of the Most Notorious Pirates”. (I do own other pirate books, they’re just not as cool.)
Blackbeard’s name originated “from that large quantity of hair which, like a frightful meteor, covered his whole face and frightened America more than any comet that has appeared there a long time.
“The beard was black, which he suffered to grow of an extravagant length; as to breadth it came up to his eyes. He was accustomed to twist it with ribbons, in small tails, after the manner of our ramilies [sic] wigs, and turn them about his ears. In time of action, he wore a sling over his shoulders with three brace of pistols hanging in holsters like bandaliers, and stuck lighted matches under his hat, which, appearing on either side of his face, his eyes naturally appearing fierce and wild, made him altogether such a figure, that imagination cannot form an idea of a fury, from hell, to look more frightful. . . his humours and passions were suitable to it.”
So he looked like pure evil, and acted like it, too.
Observant “Pirates of the Carribean” watchers will note than one pirate has a particularly impressive beard, which is smoking throughout the entire movie. It’s clear the costumers read the same book (which is also well known as Robert Louis Stevenson’s inspiration.)
Companion to Day Twenty: Story so far
Here’s the whole story so far, in chronological order with times (set to Jakarta):
1 August. 8am
Sun. Pain. I cracked open my eyes and saw land. ‘Sol!’ I said.
‘CAPTAIN Sol,’ she said – and crumpled.
‘We’re saved,’ I said. ‘Right? SOL!’
9am
Sol awoke. She sat up, unsticking her tarred hair from the deck of our stolen boat. ‘We’re sinking.’
I leapt overboard and swam to save us.
9:00am
I wanted to drink the sea, but I swam. The waves flung me upside down and the sea darkened as I drowned.
Sol grasped my neck.
I passed out.
August 2. 12 midday
The sizzle of frying eggs woke me.
‘Yep,’ said Sol to a bald man beside us, ‘nasty pirates coming. Best hide your treasure. We’ll help.’
August 3. 8am
We ate bread and wine and milk, and a yellow fruit that tasted like chocolate. It was fun, pretending to be good.
I got a stomach ache.
August 4. 3pm
Treasure, I discovered, is heavy. But Sol wore a girlish smile so I didn’t say a word.
The locals thought we were just kids. But we weren’t.
August 5. 9am
The bald elder missed his jewels, so our good times ended fast.
‘Ulandin,’ Sol grinned, ‘don’t waste our loot on food. Let’s steal a ship.’
5pm
A beggar took pity on me and gave us his crusts to gnaw. ‘I’m called Oldy,’ he said.
Sol said, ‘Ulandin’s my first mate. Wanna be our crew?’
6pm
Oldy sang songs until the harbour guards left. We chose the best ship and crept past its crew into the hold.
‘Great,’ I said, ‘we’re stuck.’
August 6. 4am
The crew was dull with sleepiness. Oldy rose like a grey ghost in the bridge.
Sol used magic to fell three men. The rest ran for help.
4:30am
Oldy said, ‘Sol’s a quickener? She moves objects by just touch?’
‘It’s common enough.’
‘Not at sea. It’s bad luck.’
‘Sol’s used to that.’
5am
‘The guards have swords,’ I said.
Sol said, ‘Want one?’
‘I want to go.’
She quickened the ship. We sailed away with every sail still closed.
August 7. 11pm
Sol slept, so we drifted. The sun weighed heavy on my shoulders.
‘At least I wasn’t a slave,’ said Oldy.
I said, ‘We both escaped.’
‘Maybe.’
August 8. 7pm
The ship’s old owners left tasty food in it – salted meat, squishy fruit and lots of crackers. Also rum.
Maybe I drunks a bit too muchness.
August 9. 10am
Sol magically bellied out the sails. We were all surprised when we started going backward.
I tried not to laugh.
Sol broke my tooth anyway.
August 10. 6pm
Sol delighted in the burning wind and sun and the constant desperate clapping of our sails.
‘Look,’ said Oldy. ‘Is that a ship – or land?’
August 11. 6am
‘It’s a ship,’ I said at first light, ‘so do we meet them – or do we run?’
Sol picked at her tarred hair and said, ‘Let’s take their crew.’
12 midday
The wind tore at my eyes. Sol yelled, ‘Trim the sails!’ I actually thought she meant to cut them.
Oldy suddenly knew how to sail – somehow.
6pm
‘Pink!’ Sol screamed. ‘Stupid pink sky! And why is that ship still running?’
‘We’ll get them,’ I said.
‘Or they’ll get us,’ said Oldy.
August 12 – 7am
‘Sol – Captain Sol?’ I said. ‘Hit me if you like, but there’s forty of them and three of us. And Oldy’s. . . old.’
‘Poor them,’ she smirked.
12 midday
The wind dropped and we caught them.
They laughed at us. I longed to hide behind Oldy.
Then Sol arose, grabbed a rope, and swung across.
12:15pm
‘Do you surrender?’ she cried.
They grabbed swords, but she still had her magic.
Their ship shattered.
‘We’re sorry miss!’ they wept.
August 13. 7am
‘A captain goes down with his ship,’ said Sol – and tied him to his mast. His ship screamed as it sank.
He screamed as long as he could.
August 14. 8am
I said, ‘I’m afraid of her – but I know I’m made to follow her. Are you the same?’
‘No,’ said Oldy. ‘I’m not afraid. And I’m following you.’
August 15. 8am
‘Stop cowering,’ Sol told our new crew, ‘I dislike it. Now, hows about we attack a real target – like an island. Who here wants to be rich?’
12 midday
I asked Oldy why he was following me.
He said, ‘Sol has you. Now you have me.’
‘But –’
‘Everyone needs someone. I of all people know that.’
August 16. 3pm
My back and wrists ached.
The sword tutor asked, ‘Will this island have women then?’
‘I suppose.’
He cheered and toasted Sol – with my rum.
August 17. 8:30am
A man muttered something to his crewmates while Sol was out of sight.
I crept up and grabbed his arm.
He shrieked – EXACTLY like a girl.
August 18. 11am
‘But you ARE a girl,’ I said.
‘No I ain’t.’
‘Don’t the men know?’
‘Coz it ain’t true,’ she said, and picked her nose at me.
I gave up.
2:00pm
‘Li’s a girl,’ I told Oldy.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said, ‘she’ll be fine.’
‘How could anyone know that?’
He smiled, ‘I’m much older than I look.’
August 19. 5:00pm
Sol cheated at lessons, using magic to bend the swords – then the teacher.
Luckily Oldy was a healer. ‘Kindly stop breaking arms,’ he said.
8pm
‘Wanna be free?’ Li asked.
I said, ‘Sol already freed me.’
She hauled on a sail: ‘Do you really think that?’
I tied a knot: ‘Don’t you?’
August 20 – midnight
Night wind and stars. I shadowed men to Sol’s cabin, and yelled when they pulled out a knife.
She killed two in an eyeblink.
The rest fled.
4:30am
I threw the bodies away, knowing Li had led them.
Sol and I kept watch in silence all night. Oldy slept on in his cabin.
I dreaded the dawn.
6am
Sol judged us at dawn. Li confessed, and Sol threw her overboard.
The men vanished below like dust swept up.
But I saw Oldy steal the boat.
Drugs
It’s taking me a long time to recover from the nannying. The nannying went fine, but I’m certainly reminded of why I don’t work full-time.
Yesterday I took half a zoloft. Drugs are marvellous (except for two things: They cause weight gain, and they are incredibly difficult to stop taking).
I’ve noticed I always feel great the day AFTER taking a pill, so today should be good.
Every so often I feel guilty for not just taking drugs all the time – I guarantee they make me a better person (and by ‘better’ what I actually mean is ‘more like myself’ – it’s just SO easy to think straight when I take them, instead of having to FIGURE OUT that my husband doesn’t despise me, or whatever the issue of the day is). But my aim is to one day get better, and that means drug-free. So they’d cause me problems eventually (last time it took me twelve months to get off them, with plenty of annoying side effects along the way). Plus they give me a secret weapon when things are harder than usual.
Felicity Banks 