Tapping An Idea (On It's Sweet Little Toosh).

I have a rather tempestuous relationship with social media.

I will freely admit to hating Twitter, even though I have frequented that portal way too much over the past few years (Christ - has it really been that long?!). As a marketing tool, I find it a rather desolate yet noisy wasteland where the majority of people desperately shout over one another and (figuratively) shove things in your face in an effort to be noticed. I've done it myself and I'm not proud of my behavior.

On the other hand, I have met some wonderful people through it and have engaged in a few meaningful conversations that I've really enjoyed (so I'm allowed out of the naughty corner right?). And, I have to credit Twitter with facilitating the first meeting with my literary agent and publisher and thus kick starting my career as an author. In itself, that was a pretty significant milestone.  So I can't completely condemn it as a tool.

To be honest though, I really have no fricken idea about what it is I am supposed to do with it as a portal. I've started referring to it as #hashtag vomit.

Facebook presents rather a similar proposition. On the advice of people "in the know" I set up my author fan page as a means to promote myself and my literary works and I did a few things with it in order to garner more interest (aka "Likes"). But people (usually other authors) don't really want to interact with me there either. They "Like" merely in the hope that I'll return the favor and though I take the the time to personally reach out, thank them and open a dialogue that doesn't involve schilling my wares, rarely do I get any response. If I do, it's usually a smiley face or a BUY MY BOOK link.

Considering the metrics of effect, the posts I...post...on Facebook that "perform" better in terms of audience engagement are the ones that don't promote me or my links. They are usually the ones that are just me, dicking around with a momentary flash of comedic insight.

After all, I do believe that I am funny.

G+...

Meh.

LinkedIn...???

Let's not go there okay.

Last week, I chronicled (at ridiculous o'clock in the morning) a period of funk which was basically a bad dose of writer's block. Some of the feedback I received on that post were well meaning, if a little self defeating. Distracting myself with YouTube videos is probably not going to solve my dilemmas or...shopping...(actually, I don't believe that last one was mentioned but shopping is a diversion right...Right??!)

It was in that post, post period of contemplation that I realized, I do have a small yet oft-forgotten part of my social platform that does have the potential to help conquer my ceative sink holes.

I'd given little regard to Pinterest in the past because I felt that it was yet another one of those time wasting things that serves only to...well...waste time.

But it seems I may have underestimated it's value from a creative perspective. I won't go into a deep explanation of what Pinterest is - if you don't know what it is then what are you doing on the internet?

Some months ago, I created a folder there simply titled "The Recipient" and into it, I began uploading all sorts of random pictures and images that satisfied certain creative criteria that were beginning to foment in my mind.

As those criteria began to evolve into ideas and I wrote those ideas down in my journal, the images I began searching for became much more specific and, before long, I found that I was beginning to take this little Pinterest folder somewhat seriously.

In Thomas Harris' novel "Hannibal", sequel to "Silence of the Lambs", he wrote about the concept of memory palace when describing his protagonist's mental profile. I don't have the novel in front of presently so I am recalling this from memory (hah hah), but the idea went that we each have a memory palace - a place where our collective experiences and memories reside and we can access this place again and again in our lifetime. Hannibal Lecter's memory palace was a pretty fucked up place if I remember rightly but it certainly was an interesting one.

I have come to regard Pinterest in a similar fashion and am beginning to see its importance as a tool in my creative journey.

By adding pictures and images to it and cataloging notes about those images, I have been able to retain a lot of ideas that I might have easily forgotten about. it was to that Pinterest folder I returned last week and I have to say...it really has helped.

I am a visual person and, arguably, a visual writer. I respond well to what I see in the world around me and can draw ideas really effectively. I dream vividly too and often times, I'll seek out imagery that represents those dreams as well. My memory palace, as a result, is quite a place. My Pinterest folder "The Recipient" is proving to be quite a place too - not as vivid or as risky as my memory palace, but I intend to be a little more courageous with what I post there. I have a hunch that the project I'm working on will benefit from it.

So, what am I trying to say? Twitter sucks? Facebook shits me? The whole notion of social networking leaves me cold?

None of these really? I can't imagine I'll ever truly give those up even if they do drive me nuts. But Pinterest is something entirely different and, I have to say, a tool for creativity that I am quickly coming around to.

I'd be screwed if I was blind...

DFA.

The Creative Slump.

I've talked about this before, I think.

There is a period between projects that I go through where I feel creatively drained to the point of emptiness. Though there is a project I am working on, I am mired in a soup of doubt about it and I'm finding it difficult to pull myself out of the quick sand. Thus, the project is moving along at a snail's pace and that fact only feeds into my frustration.

I look around me and see other authors producing works at what I consider to be an astonishing rate. Two, maybe three books in a matter of months. And they are fine works. They are juggling the same life pressures as I am. Jobs, family, school runs, weekend sports. Yet, I can barely crawl while they streak ahead, earning their most deserved plaudits and basking in the satisfaction of having added to their catalogue.

Here I sit. 5 in the morning. A cold cup of tea and a clock on the wall above a gurney in a treatment room where I lay. The clock tick tocks, reminding me that my break is nearly over. I have to get back to my patient in the ICU. My notebook lays on the gurney beside me - open to a page that is fairly filled with scribbles of notes. Random thoughts that I've yet to organize into some semblance of order, for a story that is highly developed in some corner of mind. I just haven't yet found the key to unlock the door.

Fuck.

FUCK.

The light fades on my last great work - a work that has largely been ignored. A shitty ranking on Amazon and barely a sale or two in the past couple months does not a best seller make. I wonder whether this endeavor is even worth it anymore.

I am (figuratively) menstruating.

But I fear I am creatively spent.

And, for a restless mind such as mine, that is a dangerous thing.

DFA.

Sketching "The Gift" - Part One.

This past weekend I took my family up to the city for a family day at the Art Gallery of South Australia where we took in an exhibition called "Desert Country" which featured some stunning examples of Aboriginal Australian artwork that simply has to be seen to be believed. We also stopped by the Museum and wandered around the bio-diversity exhibit which features a wonderful collection of South Australian wildlife displays and interactive companions which kept our four year old boy in particular, thoroughly fascinating for a good couple of hours. My 1 year old daughter was similarly fascinated by it all and she spent the bulk of the time just pointing at everything and saying "Da" to everything. It was really great.

While we were there, I took the opportunity to wander up North Terrace a little further and conduct a reconnaissance, if you will, of the University precinct. Specifically, I was interested in The Elder Conservatory of Music. It is here that some of the critical events of my new novel take place and I wanted to get a pictorial study of the grounds as well as the conservatory building itself. I wanted to get a feel for the place - what it feels like to be there - and I wanted also to scope out possible locations for where certain events will take place.

Elder Hall, the centerpiece of the Elder Conservatory of Music in Adelaide.

As one of Australia’s oldest and most distinguished tertiary music schools, the Elder Conservatorium plays a leading role in the country’s musical landscape.  Its origins can be traced back to the foundation of the Adelaide College of Music in 1883. The Conservatorium has close links with other educational and professional bodies within South Australia and across the nation, maintaining strong connections also with important institutions in the UK, USA, Canada, Asia and Europe.  Graduates hold positions of national and international influence as performers, composers, educators, scholars and administrators.

The lawn in front of Elder Hall is a beautiful place to just sit and take in all the loveliness of the University precinct.

Bonython Hall, a grand building that sits on the eastern flank of Elder Hall.

Already, as a result of the photos I have taken, I am refining and thinking about certain scenes which take place that are critical plot points in the novel - where my central protagonist, 8 year old Ruby Crammond, an undiscovered violin virtuoso, is discovered in quite an unusual way. I have chosen the place where Ruby hides herself away and listens to the weekly rehearsal of a prominent Adelaide string quartet, playing the battered violin that had once belonged to her grandmother and dreaming of a life away from her situation of abject poverty.

A window just like any other, but it is a portal to a world away from the one Ruby Crammond resides in now. 

The rock in the foreground sits just a little way from the window in the previous picture. Perhaps the perfect little hiding place for an undiscovered virtuoso.

I get a lot of satisfaction out of this process. It allows my mind to think about the story and it helps me to develop the story, the specifics of the story. I've tweeted this past week that I've been stuck in somewhat of a rut. I think that it's partly exhaustion because of the time of year - what with Christmas coming up, the prospect of a well earned holiday on the horizon and also because I have been working hard on promoting "The Hambledown Dream".  When I have sat down to write, I have kinda locked up and have been unable to put anything much of value down on paper. So, to be able to get out there and immerse myself in the very environments that I hope to portray in this new novel, is an invaluable thing to do. 

I imagine that I won't get much pure writing accomplished in the next few weeks. Which is not to say that I won't be doing anything book related. I'll be doing a lot of brainstorming and developing instead - and allowing myself to actually enjoy Christmas.


Which is not something, I normally do.


But I have two kids now, for whom the magic of Christmas is an all consuming thing, so my steadfast cynicism towards the season is taking a severe battering.

Anyway, I have a renewed enthusiasm for a lot of things lately. I am hoping that all of these will bare fruit as I continue on this crazy journey that has come to define who I am - an author.

Conversing with giants. Ruby will come to regard this fellow as a kind of imaginary friend.

DFA.

 

On The Consideration Of Melancholy.

I'm in a funk right now.

For the past few weeks I have been trying, without much success to get Project Ruby off the ground but to date I haven't put more than about 500 words together. It's pathetic really. I have tonnes of notes, ideas that I have written down in my red leather journal, sketches of characters I wish to populate this new novel with...but I can't seem to make it happen. And it's getting me down - really down.

This past month, my life has been complicated by external factors. I have been under a lot of stress. My daughter has been ill, as I have recounted in previous posts, but she took a turn for the worse a few weeks ago when a boil that had emerged on her inner thigh became infected, then she became septic. In what seemed like an instant, she was in the hospital and all of a sudden both myself and my serioso found ourselves on that "other side" that we nurses often talk about but rarely experience...until we experience it.

My daughter's leg became inflamed with cellulitis, the boil became an abscess and she required days of IV antibiotics in order to knock over the infection before she was taken to OR to have the abscess drained. In a word, she was a sick little chooky and it was several weeks - actually only in recent days, that she is back to something like her lopsided little self once again. She has a scar on her leg now. A mark that will stay with her for life. It's a small price to pay to know that she's alright but still...

Anyway...the whole experience has knocked any creative spark out of me. Not only do I find myself worrying for my children, I worry about providing for them. Money has been somewhat tight lately and that has weighed down on me too. Although I recently cleared some pretty big debts, which has lightened the load somewhat.

I feel under an intense pressure to produce a second work. I get asked all the time 'So when are you going to write a follow up?' It's beginning to become an annoying question. I just respond by saying that 'I'm putting some notes together'. And the thing that gets me the most is that the question is usually asked by people who haven't taken the time to read my first book yet. Please excuse my language here but it fucking shits me. Don't even get me started on the whole lack of support thing...that could get ugly.

I did a ring around the other day, of the stores that are carrying my book on consignment right now. Most of them are reporting back with sales of one's and two's and are happy to keep the remaining copies on the shelves for me for the remainder of this year to give them a chance to move. But I received a rather nasty jolt from one store yesterday when I made my usual check up. They reported that they had only sold one copy and wanted me to come get the remaining ones "because your book is taking up precious shelf space that we need for better titles". 

Suffice to say, my silent response to that was...actually...no, I won't say it here. You get the idea.

So that's messed with my confidence as well, made it all the more harder for me to get some momentum to begin writing this second book in earnest. 

I'm starting to ask myself whether I've gone as far as I can go to sell "Hambledown". I mean it's been 9 months now, since it was first released in digital format, 7 months since it went to print. The fact is, I have a marketing budget of absolutely nothing. I can't afford to take out ad space in the newspaper, or put something on commercial radio. The online stuff has been good but, I fear that is getting to the end of it's useful life now too. 

But there's one other thing that really bothers me...

There's some individuals in my closest circle whose support for the novel I really hoped for - who have been ambivalent about it at best and, frankly, hostile towards it at worst. And you know...it hurts...it really hurts. I've deliberately avoided being pushy about it with them. Have not pushed them to read it. But it's like, whenever something comes up about the book - like an interview with a radio station or some sort of positive feedback I've received, I've been blown out of the water with an ambivalence bomb.

The most hurtful thing I've been told, just recently actually, was this:

"Isn't it time you just got over yourself about this book?"

What does one say to that? How do you respond to that...especially when it comes from someone whose support you'd hope for the most.

All of this contributes to the sense of barren-ness I feel towards the project I'm trying to get off the ground now.

I'm starting to wonder if it's all worth it anymore...

DFA.