Stephen Fry's Planet Word

Stephen Fry once again has brought out a spectacular documentary, this time focusing on language. He focused this week on the beauty of language and how it can be transformed into art. With focuses on creative geniuses (such as Shakespeare) creating words and phrases which have transformed the English language into what it is today, which shows what a real impact literature can do for society.

A wonderful point Stephen made about language is that there are really no rules within literature. If you have the passion to put it down on paper and someone else enjoys it, then that is art, and in many case the more fresh and unique, the better.

As a writer this is refreshing to hear, especially to hear it from one of my favorite author's (Fry). Sometimes, as a writer, you wonder whether publishers will take on board your work because it doesn't fit in with the rules or the criteria of other books that we are so used to seeing on our shelves. I think the most important part with any art form is to believe in your work yourself and to most of all enjoy what you do. If you enjoy it then it doesn't matter if you sell a million copies, and if you do, it is surely a bonus.

Influences

A question, as an author, I regularly receive is who are my influences? Whose work do I enjoy. It is surprising the variety of work I do enjoy. As a child my favourite authors were the likes of Roald Dahl and Enid Blyton, however I strangely also liked the works of people like Catherine Cookson; that influence has been from my mum who is an avid fan. 

Within my teen years, I loved JK Rowling, Stephen King and Thomas Harris. These days I have turned towards more crime thrillers and mysteries; authors such as Kerry Wilkinson (who happens to be a friend of mine), Ian Rankin and Lynwood Barclay. I am also very fond of a good comical and topical book such as Ben Elton’s collection whose work always manages to capture the hysteria of the time (i.e. Big Brother/XFactor) and naturally I also enjoy Christopher Brooymyre who is a similar writer. I sadly also like the mushy lovey dovey books such as PS I Love You, but hey, it is fantastic work.

What do I look for in a book? I like something which is different. I like it to make me laugh, even when it is a scary thriller or a sad book. Humour is important to me. I love it to be groundbreaking and new and to take me places I have never been before.

But my influences go far beyond literature. Comedians such as Ricky Gervais and Whoopi Goldberg have large influences on all my art whether it is comedy or writing. Whoopi Goldberg very kindly sent me a signed photo of herself recently which meant a lot. The singer Michael Jackson who I have loved and admired my entire life is also a massive influence on everything I do. Michael Jackson became the forefront of my dissertation, which has since been passed on to his family. 

Will I see these influences in my work? Possibly. Possibly not. I try to keep it original, but I do spot where I’ve grabbed ideas and twist them to make them my own. I always quote other people’s work if I’m using them…. University has taught me well not to plagiarise! I also enjoy referencing my heroes too, as I like to show my passion for their work and have others share with it. To be able to have that common adoration for a particular artist no matter of which art form it has taken.

Video Diary

No I'm not begging people to leave Britney alone... I'm merely marketing my book! Enjoy a sneak preview of the book read aloud by Yours Truly! x

Inspiration

It is amazing where inspiration and creations come from... JK Rowling was inspired by the Hogwarts Express when she was on a train, but who knows where the rest of her magical genius comes from. How I would love to get into her mind and see where the rest of the wizard world comes from.

It does not have to necessarily be about literature either; I am a huge fan of Michael Jackson and currently reading You Are Not Alone by his brother Jermaine which provides a personal look at Michael Jackson off stage. One thing that fascinated me was seeing all the childhood inspirations that helped build Neverland; from a train set Michael wanted as a child to an analogy Jermaine once quoted to his little brother, it all has its place in Neverland.

So where has my own inspirations come from?

If you've been following my tweets and blogs, you will understand that my new book is about a medium helping someone who's wife is missing. My inspiration has so far come from the famous mediums such as Sally Morgan and Colin Fry, stories in the newspaper defrauding mediums as well as books by Mary O'Reilly. Of course events within my own life have gone in there too! Are not all authors' work slightly autobiographical?

But occasionally things from my own life or an event will appear and inspire me more than any of the above. I was on an underground tour of Manchester last night learning about the history of the city beneath me. It was fascinating; from the transportation of goods through the canals in the 1800s, to the use of bunkers during the world wars, there was so much to learn and there is so much more to explore. What was interesting, however, was how scared people were wondering around in the pitch black with only the dim torches to guide their way. People were especially freaked out when the tour guide told an anecdote of the time she came down here with a medium who was ghost hunting.

My time there inspired me to write a chapter of the book; obviously it will be very different, otherwise I'll have a bunch of people claiming rights on my work, but I have to admit I am more than inspired. It was interesting to see people's reactions while walking through just a dark, damp tunnel, especially with the idea that there could potentially be a spirit in there.

Inspiration is a wonderful thing and more people should share their inspirational secrets because often where an idea came from can be just as interesting as the work they have produced.

Research

My last post touched on writing about what you know, but of course you can't know about everything your going to write about. The last few weeks I have been conducting research on all manner of things within the book the most interesting has been reading up about mediums, psychics and tarot reading.

I have learned a whole host of things about trickery of mediums, how they've done things and even exposures of some of the country's top mediums. It has been fascinating and some of these have landed in the book. The background to Tarot, its history and the real meanings behind the cards have also been intriguing, whether your a believer or not, the history and interpretation of it are fascinating.

One thing I haven't studied is police work, and as an unknown author this has been pretty difficult. I know many people who work in police may cringe at my shoddy knowledge when they read it, but then again, I know a couple of policemen who hate books or shows that are too real as they have to do it everyday. My knowledge of police work will be mainly from television cop shows and crime thriller books; maybe one day when I'm rich enough to conduct interviews with the police force to get a real sense of how investigations go. However when too much reality comes into fiction, it can get in the way of the story and stops the writer being able to create.

Anyway, here's a little more of a glimpse of the book, hope you enjoy!

‘’This is the last message before the intermission’’. Suzanne sighed with relief as she couldn’t wait to get home and back to her husband, who would have mocked her for turning up here tonight. He had little belief in the afterline and his beliefs lied with science alone. He might have even been angry with her had he known she had come to see Jackie, he would have thought she was dragging out the past. Although the likelihood is he wouldn’t have said anything; they said very little to each other these days; since the tragedy they effectively lived separate lives, he didn’t even ask where she had gone tonight.

‘’Where is Suzanne?’’, Suzanne looked up but didn’t say anything, she knew the cold calling tricks and didn’t buy into Jackie’s attempts for one moment. ‘’Suzanne Walk? Walker?’’. Suzanne stared on in shock but still made no attempt to move, how popular is the name Walker? How would she know she was here?

‘’Is Suzanne not here? Its just, I have a little boy here, Jason. He’s smiling up at me, asking for his mummy’’. Suzanne looked on in shock, but felt glued to her seat; were her ears deceiving her? ‘’Jason’s saying he hurt his head when he was knocked off his bike’’. Jackie began to impersonate Jason’s injured behaviour when Suzanne erected from her seat slowly but didn’t say a word. The audience gasped and stared at Suzanne who was still unable to speak.  Suzanne slowly lifted her hand but continued to be silent.

‘’Suzanne, so wonderful of you to join us here tonight. Its not been an easy couple of years for you has it?’’ Suzanne looked down and wiped away the tears, shaking her head. ‘’Your little boy is so happy and at peace. He has lots of little friends. He just wishes you and daddy would stop being so sad. And he also said to stop visiting the place where he passed on, put the flowers somewhere prettier’’. Jackie was right, Suzanne had frequently visited the site where her son, Jason, had died.She cried, feeling terrible for the doubt she had felt over Jackie’s show.. ‘’I’ll leave your son’s love and memories with you, my love. Now for an intermission! I’ll be back in 45 minutes!’’

The lights came on and the audience left the room and waited around reception and some fled to the bar. Suzanne decided it was time to go home though. She had her message, and just in time it seemed. ? It was as if Jason knew she would be leaving at half time.  She felt some guilt for doubting Jackie’s powers; she certainly didn’t need anymore convincing now. How would she know all that? It was in the newspapers of course, but that was two years ago and how would Jackie know she was there tonight?

Suzanne said goodbye to her companion and left the hotel; her companion had offered her a lift home but Suzanne thought it was best she had some time to think and clear her head, besides she only lived a few minutes walk away. Suzanne walked towards Oxford Road, it was a crisp, chilly night in Manchester and it was obvious that winter was on its way. She passed the hundreds of black cabs which were taking the many students that filled Manchester’s three universities back to their student flats.

She walked past the Sainsbury’s Covenience store and considered going in and getting a bottle of wine to take home but realized that her husband would not approve. She considered her other option of where she could sleep tonight but thought that might not be so conceivable even if her husband never bothered to ask where she would be. She decided to leave the wine and return home.

She took a left off Oxford Road and walked down several stone steps towards the canal. She felt a spring in her step, knowing that she had made contact with her little Jason and felt so relieved that he was ok. She felt at peace. She enjoyed walking by the canal, it was so calm and peaceful, at least that was when the Canadian geese where not chasing her and pecking at her legs. She could look on and find peace with the world despite how much the loss of her son ached her.

Suzanne walked under a bridge, a route within her walk she frequently hated due to lack of light at this time of evening, but it beat paying for a taxi in Manchester. At this point in the walk she was wondering whether she should have accepted the lift she had been offered but knew once she had got passed it she would feel stupid to have been scared, like she did everytime she came home this way. Half way through the bridge it was so dark she couldn’t see her hands in front of her face, it was like the earth had its’ very own little black hole here in Manchester, although it was the death of her son that had sucked the life out of her, not some entry to another universe.

Suddenly she heard a noise and turned around. She could hear footsteps but could see no one.

‘‘Hello?’’ Suzanne shouted through the tunnel. Her voice echoed around her. There was no reply and the sound of footsteps had stopped. She shook her head in embarressment, it was obviously dripping water which was messing with her mind. Its just fear she told herself.

She began to walk on, the light from the exit of the bridge was allowing her to begin to outlines of her surroundings and she felt comfortable once again. The moment of relief did not last long however as she could hear the patter of feet again. She stopped and turned around and could see an outline of a figure.

‘’Hello?’’

The figure stopped and just looked back at her. Suzanne glared at the figure but didn’t know what else to do.

‘’Screw you then’’

.She stepped up the pace but could hear the footsteps behind her speeding up. She exited the bridge and she turned around to see who it was and was immediately presently surprised when she recognized the figure behind her. She smiled.

‘’Oh Hi! Sorry I didn’t realize it was you. Thank you for…’’ . Those were the last words Suzanne ever said. She didn’t even scream. The knock to the head was far too quick for her to react. Cold on the ground, Suzanne laid dead. The dark figure looked around and saw the streets surrounding them were empty; only Suzanne would know who her killer was.

Write about WHAT you know... not WHO you know.

I learned a harsh lesson some time ago after I wrote a novel and published it online on another blog. I had chosen to write a fictional story based on an event in my own life after hearing quotes from my idols about writing about what you know. Unfortunately I took this too far and decided to include characters who were very much real and hadn't even bothered to change the names. Some of those people became quite upset at the descriptions I had put, while others were upset that they didn't get a mention.

I also had to constantly remind my family who were reading it that it was  fictional; because they knew the very basis of the story was true, they assumed every anacdote within the book was also true and began to question what had happened within my own life.

I also found by including characters that I knew, I always had to be careful to include or not include certain traits and had to be delicate with the character, which made the novel uninteresting and safe. You have to be discriminative with art and nothing should get in the way, and this can only be done by creating completely fictional characters.

I had to do a lot of apologizing and eventually took the book down. I've since decided to re-write the book again in the future with completely new characters, destinations and storylines which are far from what I began with or anyone I've ever met. I then began to write a book about a subject I knew very little about... that didn't do too well either. You need a foundation of understanding, otherwise it just doesn't work.

So that is my advice to you my fellow writer enthusiasts. Write about what you know, but not about who you know; this way your stories will be full of depth and far from offending those you love.