A good Kick In The Ass.

It's only today that I realise that's what was required.

I have the new novel ready to go, yeh see. It has a plot, beginning middle and end, the characters are taking shape nicely(ish), I'm even accepting the mistakes I made during the first book (Me? Admit I made mistakes? That's not a cloud in the sky, it's a pig.)

And yet, for weeks (some would say months), the page has remained blank.

My excuse for the last 12 days, 3 hours and 15 minutes (approximately) is that I'm on my holidays and that I shouldn't feel under any real pressure to write unless the mood strikes me. There's a rookie attitude if there ever was one.

The other justification has been that, before I even think about writing word-one of chapter-one, some foundations need to be dug. A detailed plot-outline, a chapter-breakdown and, above all else, character biogs are required. Except that, yeah you guessed it, I'm not doing those either.

And that aforementioned K-I-T-A? Aptly enough, it was a book. Well a number of books really, but one in particular. No, not the bible.

'Writing To Get Published - Bringing the Dream Alive', the new e-book by Vanessa O'Loughlin (Collca e-Publishing) is what it is. Some of you might know Vanessa from Inkwell Writers Workshops, her company that runs writing courses, classes and workshops, and offers services to writers like proofreading and critiquing. She also set up www.writing.ie, an excellent website for writers. (And those of you who listen to my radio show will know her as my guest on the 11th June.)

Anyway, so Vanessa took from her experience from running Inkwell and the website, and from being a writer herself and this gem of a How-to book was born. I'm not going to review it in detail but suffice to say I read it an hour, it was only about two euro, and it got me back in front of the laptop (poor fella was starting to wonder why it was brought on holidays at all).

Right, back to deciding what is the 'physiology, sociology and psychology' of Justine Locke.

He's All Talk....

Oh dear god, do I really sound like that?

This is a question I find myself asking every Saturday around noon. Because I'm now on the radio.

Internet Radio, to be precise. As of about three weeks ago (first show was on Paddy's Day), I am hosting a half-hour Writing Magazine show on blogtalkradio.com. The show, aptly called Paul The Writer Talks To Himself, broadcasts to the internet-airwaves every Saturday.

The idea is fairly straight-forward - to provide a informative (and hopefully entertaining) resource for writers, celebrate all-thing-writing and to give advice (and not just from me, I hasten to add) on the practicalities such as getting an agent, writing for Film and TV and the pros and cons of Self-Publishing.

This week's show, going out on 2nd April at twelve o'clock, is about Writing For Film and I will be talking to Mark O'Connor, writer and director of the critically acclaimed 'Between The Canals' (which you can see in Dundrum from tomorrow). He will be chatting with me about how the film came to be, where he gets his ideas from and what motivates him as a writer and film-maker.

I would like the show to be as interactive as possible with comments, question, or generally slagging the hell out of me for overuse of the word 'basically'. So feel free to get in touch on Facebook, Twitter or email. You can also post messages on the show's messageboard. No bad language or bad grammar please...

Yes Paul, you do sound like that. Get used to it.

Feel free to listen to previous episodes of the show below. Yep, this is where the 'magic' happens.
(Apologies for the dodgy, and ridiculously long, American ads.)

Am I an optimist? I hope so.

But yes, a week has passed and I am feeling somewhat more enthusiastic about the whole being-a-writer thing. Seven rejection-free days did help, it has to be said.

As did, in no small part, the completion of the aforementioned stage play 'Writing For Brahms', a comedy drama about four 'artistes' all looking for one small thing...to be loved and revered by the world.
The rewrite was finally finished yesterday (pancakes helped a lot, thank you Taste Food Company South William Street) after a six-day-marathon effort and at 5.28pm, I was standing in line at the post of office (very 'of-the-people' of me, I know) to dispatch it the Soho Theatre in London for their Verity Bargate Award competition.

And now...breathe.

Today's chipperness can also be attributed to meeting up with my 'international' writers group last night. Well, international-ish...Eva-in-Berlin-soon-heading-to-Munich, Maria-in-Monkstown-soon-heading-to-Finland..and me, Paul-in-Dublin-not-quite-managing-to-move-to-London. Group also consists of Alena but as she now lives in Melbourne, her attendance at the meetings has dropped off slightly (she didn't even bother showing up last night, the cheek). But, as ever, it was a highly funny, creative and inspirational get-together - I even came up with a fabulous title for a future novel. Gotta love brainstorming, really.

Speaking of which, I do now have the enviable task of deciding what my next masterpiece will be. Fellow writer and blogger MSD did point out that, of everything I've written over the years, my favourites seem to be things in which people aren't actually gruesomely murdered. (And as she's pretty much read everything I've written since Burning Matches - and patiently listened as I waxed lyrical about each and every one - her opinion's got to count for something.) But come on, I love killing off my characters! I'm only human!

So...what? A lighthearted comedy drama about two people who meet up once a year on St. Swithin's Day? No, that's been done. A TV drama about the goings-on in a Dublin restaurant? That one sounds vaguely familiar too.

Or maybe I'll take a few days off and play Xbox. Those zombies won't chop themselves up with chainsaws.

I wonder where I get the inspiration to kill off all my characters?

An outcome, an edit, a rewrite, a decision and yet another outcome.

That's my way of saying that, while I've been heartlessly neglecting you for the last month or so, there's been looooads going on 'behind the scenes'.

Which is true...kinda. The two outcomes were, in fact, remarkably similar in that they were both rejections. The most recent was just yesterday when I found out that novel 'Burning Matches' (remember that guy?) didn't win Poolbeg's 'Write-A-Bestseller' competition. Congrats to Siobhan McKenna, author of 'The Lingerie Designer' . The title suggests that it probably won't be my thing but, then again, I wouldn't have thought David Nicholls' 'One Day' was my thing either and I stayed up til three in the morning reading that.
The other 'Thanks-but-no-thanks', and one that hit me harder (or maybe the Poolbeg one just hasn't sunk in yet) was from Literary Agency Blake Friedmann on behalf of 'Square One'. I'll be honest, I did think I was at least going to get over the first hurdle on that one, due in no small part to the excellent recommendation it got from Accomplice TV. But hey, it's the 'real' rejections that make us stronger...or something.

But, not to worry, it's not all doom and gloom. I am today, after a brief sojourn to do some actual paid work (heaven forbid), starting the rewrite for 'Writing for Brahms', my first attempt at stage-writing. Needless to say, it wasn't quite the masterpiece I had decided it was the day I finished the first draft, but thanks to my ever-honest and pragmatic writers' group, I was shown, in no small detail, the error of my ways. So the re-write starts now, and not a minute too soon - it has to be on the desk of the Soho theatre by Friday week.

And lastly, the sad announcement that I have made the momentous decision not to proceed with writing the novel 'Lividity'. Having written the first three chapters, I've kinda 'fallen out of love with it'. It also might have something to do with a large part of it being about a person working in Dublin's new state-of-the-art crime lab...and then the other day, I came across the recently published 'Taboo' by Casey Hill, about a person working in Dublin's new state-of-the-art crime lab. Ouch. Can anyone spell 'Missed-The-Boat'?

Not to worry, the next novel is already stewing away in my brain ready to pop out just when I need it. Coz that's how creativity works, right?

Dems fighting words...

As some of my fellow scribes will certain attest to, there is one thing that I love doing more than actual writing. Talking about Writing. I do. A lot.

I'm no different from the rest of the world, really. We all have something we're passionate about and we'll talk passionately about it at any opportunity. This is something I learned when researching for Burning Matches . Chefs talk food, climbers talk climbing and pathologists talk, yes you guessed it, pathology. (What the hell is this book about? I hear you ask.) And so, by the same rational, I talk writing.

And now, lo and behold, I have found a place, a controlled environment so-to-speak, where I can talk and people listen! I am, in fact, referring to Fighting Words, the creative writing centre in Russell Street, Dublin 1. It was set up by Roddy Doyle and Sean Love to give everyone a place to go to write and to help students develop their writing skills. It was inspired by 826 Valencia, a similar centre in San Francisco.
Fighting Words provide story-telling fieldtrips for Primary school groups, creative writing workshops for secondary students, and seminars, workshops and tutoring for adults. All tutoring is free.

I'm involved in the secondary student workshops, which start with a brainstorming session in which all aspects of creative writing (plot, character, dialogue etc) are discussed between the group. After that, the students have an opportunity to work on their writing and the volunteers (that's me) are available to offer guidance, answer questions and help the writers create their masterpieces!

I've been to two sessions so far and I'm going back for more next week. Tiz great fun!

The Universe Expandeth...

I am simply referring to Paul_The_Writer's writing universe of all-things-writing, not the, yeh know, actual universe. It might have expanded too, I suppose, but I am so self-involved these days that it's likely I wouldn't have noticed. I didn't even realise that Ireland's politico had it's own little melt-down yesterday until my fellow writerbloggertweeter MSD told me about it.

Speaking of melt-downs, I had one myself this week. (See? I can even take the imminent destruction of our government and make it about me). But, yes, I did have a melt-down.

I should have seen it coming, I suppose. Having started my second novel after Christmas, and telling anyone who asked that I was inspired, motivated, even excited about writing it, how many chapters have I written thus far?
One.
Yes, that's right. No need to adjust your set. One.

And I know why. Because I'm not inspired, motivated or excited about it. Not even a little bit. I like the story, I'm pretty sure it works and, without doubt, it will be an easier book to write than its predecessor. But that's as enthusiastic as I can get.

But in the spirit of that whole 'closing-a-door-opening-a-window' thing, I discovered (during one of my many moments of procrastiation) that I have a interesting date in my diary. March 11th.
March 11th is the deadline for the Verity Margate Award. Soho Theatre are looking for a new play that will stand out from the crowd. 'The only limit is your imagination'...apparently.

Yes I know, what do I know about writing for the stage? Well do I have an idea for a play? Thank god, yes. First hurdle.

Technically, I probably don't know much, but I've seen enough theatre to know the basic rules and I hope that if I apply my own 'process' (there he goes talking about that shit again), the rest will fall into place...with the help of my wide circle of fabulous writing friends and the few thespian-types that I know (CS, you reading this?).

And the most important word in that paragraph? 'Deadline'. I realised that that's what I need right now. Writing a novel (or anything) for publication on some indistinct far-off date doesn't exactly lend itself to being desk-side by nine, does it?

So, huge sigh of relief right now - I know what I'm doing...until I change my mind tomorrow, that is.

You don't have to follow me. You don't have to follow anybody!

Denis Lehane, Aaron Sorkin, Tony Jordan...yes you guessed it, some of my writing heroes. But do I really want to know what's going on inside their heads?

The knee-jerk response will of course be 'Yes of course you should'. They have been doing this forever and have managed to make a very successful career of it, so anything they have learned, discovered or invented to make me a good write should be noted and copied with immediate effect. And thanks to Facebook (somewhat), Twitter (big-time) and now websites like bloodsandscripts.com, the brains of these behemoths could not be more accessible.

There are two reasons why knowing the processes of other writers, whether you bow to their superior talent or not, is not such a good idea. The first one comes via Monty Python, or more specifically Brian - 'We are all different.' A truism, I will admit, but it is valid. Basically, if I wrote the way a certain horror writer (initials SK) does, I would get nothing done. Not a jot. Because he writes with classical music playing at Volume 11.
I would, first-of-all, spend most of my time recovering from the daily beating from my neighbours on the other side of the cardboard walls. But, more importantly, with any music on in the background, my concentration levels would be at minus-11. I have to have silence.
Irish romance novelist MB tells us that she does her best work in the pre-dawn hours. Me? Get out of bed while it's still dark? Give me a break.
Another successful novelist (the name currently escapes me) writes everything by pen in a notebook and later transcribe to print. No thanks. I need my laptop. I once scribbled a chapter in a notebook while drunk on an Arran island (I forget which one). I then duly forgot what I had written and lost the notebook. I'm still certain that it was the best thing I ever wrote.

Which leads me on to sunny point number two. And that is that I'm precious. I'll freely admit that. I have spent the last almost-three years (more like eight if you include my years as a part-timer) creating my own writing process out of a combination of circumstance, habit, technology-addiction, caffeine-addiction and procrastination. I'm not saying it's perfect or that it's etched in stone - it continues to be sculpted and honed on a daily basis - but it's mine.

So by all means, hero, write your next masterpiece by dictating while hanging upside-down in a door frame, but don't expect me to follow. I'll be too busy drinking a cappucino.