Tuesday, 31 May 2022
Monday, 28 February 2022
By the end of the first post in this series, I was high on enthusiasm for writing a novel that I'm truly passionate about. This second instalment is about my first big bump in the road towards that goal.
After years of wanting to take part in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), I had finally found myself in possession of the perfect combo: plenty of free time in November and an idea for a story that I was actually excited to write.
With a good amount of planning under my belt, the time was ripe to dive in and begin my novel writing journey. But it was my first NaNoWriMo, and I was not prepared for the challenge that lay before me.
A quick refresher for anyone unfamiliar: NaNoWriMo is an annual challenge in which aspiring authors all over the world attempt to stop procrastinating and get on with writing that novel.
The goal is to write 50,000 words in November, which averages out to 1666 words per day. Even in a month where you have a lot of free time, that is a huge commitment, so it's no surprise that I didn't manage it. Having come out the other side of this intense month, I'm amazed anyone ever completes the challenge at all.
I came in at just under 23,000 words, a figure that would have disappointed pre-November Sam. If you'd told me back then that I wouldn't even manage half the word count, I might have sacked the whole thing off. Writing a novel is difficult enough without the prospect of missing your very first deadline by failing to reach an arbitrary word count.
However, lots of people fail NaNoWriMo. And I'm far from the first person to write a blog post about the positives I've taken from failing this gruelling challenge. But the whole point of failure is to learn, and there are lessons that I'll take with me as I continue writing. So here's what failing NaNoWriMo did for me as a writer...
Quantity Before Quality
Though I hate to admit it to myself, I'm a huge perfectionist. I find it hard to call something complete until I know it's as good as I can make it. While this makes me a good critic for my own work, it can really slow me down when it comes to creative projects. And it's definitely not compatible with a time-bound challenge like NaNoWriMo.
It's not that I can't write to a deadline. But it's one thing to come close to a submission date by editing a short story as I write; quite another thing to pore over every phrase of an entire novel. If I was going to come close to 50,000 words, I had to change tack. I had to force myself to do what lecturers and online articles had been imploring me to do for years - I had to grit my teeth and move on even if I wasn't 100% satisfied with what I'd written.
Though it was painful at first to abandon sentences that I felt needed more work, I wouldn't have made the progress I did make without it. But there was another benefit to this approach that I hadn't expected: leaving edits until later has actually improved the quality of my editing.
My preference for editing on the go stems from an aversion to the idea of multiple drafts - why would I completely rewrite something when I could edit what I'm already writing? But it's funny just how much more clarity I feel when giving myself a few days or weeks between writing and editing. Though this might sound like a no-brainer, it's a new discovery for me and I'm going to stick to it.
Living the Literature
While the shift from "edit as you go" to "just keep writing" was a pretty significant one for me, the biggest change in mindset was actually to do with time management.
As I've mentioned on this blog before, I like to structure my creative time. This helps me to make space in my schedule to further my projects, but sometimes I'm just shooting myself in the foot. I don't like sitting down to work on something unless I know I have a big chunk of time to do so.
Once again, NaNoWriMo put paid to my way of thinking. You don't write 50,000 words in a month by restricting your time - you need to have the world of your novel constantly in mind. Waiting 5 minutes at the tram stop? Note down what will happen to your protagonist next. Waiting for a jacket potato to bake? See if you can finish that difficult chapter.
If that sounds unhealthy, I don't mean it to. Of course I allowed myself to switch off when needed. But relegating creativity to long, uninterrupted sessions isn't always helpful. What NaNoWriMo taught me was to be ready for inspiration all the time, and always be ready to make progress when possible. Lots of my best ideas come outside of my writing sessions, and committing them to paper sooner rather than later has definitely paid off in recent months.
A Kick Up the Backside
Even in the optimistic days of early November, there was a small voice in the back of my head that told me I would never hit 50,000 words. What kept me going during the doubt was that, regardless of my total at the end, I would have a significant chunk of my novel written. A chunk that I had previously refrained from getting down onto the page.
It sounds obvious, but once December arrived, it felt so cool to have a big long document full of... my book! Concepts and characters that had lived for so long in my head were now real and telling the story that will eventually become my novel. Though I hadn't even reached half of NaNoWriMo's word count, the feeling of reading through the first chapters of my story was enough to make this technical failure feel like a roaring success.
I always knew writing a novel would be a huge task, but it's only now that I'm facing the enormity of the legwork involved. Even at points where I know what's going to happen, each word still has to be chosen and added to the seemingly endless ocean of sentences.
That's even before considering the huge time commitment needed to write a novel. My free time fluctuates a lot, so it's difficult to build the momentum that was so easy to come by in November.
My journey through the novel-writing woods is far from over. But NaNoWriMo gave me the space and motivation to step into this forest, and has given me the skills I need to stick to the path even when times are hard.
My authorship journey continues, and progress is slow but steady. Thanks for reading, and I'll see you next time.
Friday, 31 December 2021
Not Your Muse (2021) by Celeste
Celeste is one of those artists who I knew about without knowing that I knew about her. Her 2020 single 'Give A Little Love' was the first original to be commissioned for the famous John Lewis Christmas ad, and her powerful voice sings the chorus of 'Stop this Flame' every time Sky Sports Football goes to an ad break. Both songs feature on Not Your Muse, but they barely scratch the surface of this hugely impressive debut LP.
With its songs about co-dependency, one-sided love and self-image, this record explores the relationships between a person and what other people expect of them. Nowhere is this clearer than on the title track. Celeste doesn't want her output to be shaped by the ideas or agendas of others; "I'll hold my pose," she sings, "but I'm not your muse." The result is an album brimming with personality and confidence.
In a shortlist flush with excellent soul and R&B music, Celeste was my pick for this year's Mercury Prize. What made her stand out is her incredible gift for melody. Her voice soars gracefully over the frenetic arrangements of 'Tell Me Something I Don't Know' and 'The Promise', and finds rest on the more assured 'Love Is Back' and 'Some Goodbyes Come with Hellos.' This careful attention to her song's tunes makes this album a joy to listen to from start to finish.
My Highlights: Strange, Tonight Tonight, Tell Me Something I Don't Know, Love Is Back
Inside: The Songs (2021) by Bo Burnham
Cast your mind back - if you can bear it - to the middle of lockdown. The one where every third Facebook post reminded you that quarantine is an opportunity in disguise, after all didn't Shakespeare write King Lear when he was in plague lockdown? This mix of existential dread and pressure to behave as normal was a unique feeling. And nothing captures it better than Bo Burnham's Inside.
Both musically and comedically, this is some of Burnham's best work. Not only are the melodies infectious and the production stellar, he's also matured a lot lyrically. Even the pure comedy songs of the special's first half have a deeper meaning to them. My favourite is 'White Woman's Instagram', which achieves the perfect balance of poking gentle fun at middle-class white culture, while also sincerely reminding us that the internet can be a place for genuine connection and self-expression.
While the special itself is quite an intense watch (albeit one I highly recommend), the soundtrack works as a slightly rose-tinted version that you can consume without it consuming you. Like many of us during lockdown, Burnham has taken the time to explore complex themes like white privilege ('Comedy'), political correctness ('Problematic') and mental health ('Shit'). He doesn't have any answers, but since the internet has ruined nuanced conversation for everyone, it's refreshing to see one of the world's biggest comics tackle these topics with real maturity and care.
My Highlights: White Woman's Instagram, Look Who's Inside Again, Welcome to the Internet, That Funny Feeling
Daddy's Home (2021) by St. Vincent
Throughout her career as St. Vincent, Annie Clark has gained a deserved reputation for genre hopping. Her influences vary from Kate Bush and King Crimson to Talking Heads and Tool, and her musical ability is unquestionable. But it's perhaps the breadth of her exploration that has stopped me from settling down as a St. Vincent fan. Well, that is until she dropped Daddy's Home earlier this year.
The sheer volume of musical heritage on this album is incredible - though it will come as no surprise to die hard St Vincent fans. From the Sheena Easton tribute on 'My Baby Wants a Baby' to the Floyd-esque psychedelic soundscapes on 'Live in the Dream,' Daddy's Home paints an immersive image of the early 70s, complete with misogyny, grey morality and Clark's own dry wit.
But what's most impressive about Daddy's Home is Clark's commitment to the cause. Not content with simply referencing the 70s with lyrics or music, she transports us wholly to a seedy lounge bar in New York. And just like Bowie and Patti Smith before her, St. Vincent is transformed into her album persona, ready to guide us through this sultry, addictive record.
My Highlights: Live In the Dream, The Melting of the Sun, Down, Somebody Like Me
Come from Away (2017) by the Original Broadway Cast of Come from Away
It's a story you couldn't make up: a tiny Canadian town sees its population more than double when 38 planes are diverted to its airport in the hours following 9/11. But it's also the most human story imaginable - one of courage, cooperation and compassion in the face of unprecedented odds. The
perfect musical to discover this year of all years.
As Alison Croggon observes in her Guardian review, the weirdest thing about Come from Away is its lack of a hero. No main character to build the narrative around. But actually that's the best decision Irene Sankoff and David Hein could have made. Without a single protagonist, the small town of Gander - with its thousands of new visitors - becomes a character of its own; a symbol of kindness without borders that is the true MVP of this real-life event.
A good story does not a great musical make. There was still plenty that writers had to get right. And boy did they smash it out of the park. With its quirky characters, uplifting musical numbers, and heart-rending moments of empathy, Come from Away is a small story told to perfection with respect, hope and warmth.
My Highlights: Prayer, Screech In, Me and the Sky, Stop the World
Screen Violence (2021) by CHVRCHES
Chvrches' fourth studio album is a thoughtful study on exploitation - from our desensitization to violence on TV (alluded to in the record's title), to the hypocrisy of the male gaze. These themes come to a head on 'Final Girl', the centrepiece of the album. "In the final scene / there's a final girl / and you know she should be screaming," sings frontwoman Lauren Mayberry, while also wondering if she should have "changed my accent / tried to make myself more attractive." Pop culture has long painted women as helpless objects of desire, with no control over their own story. On this tour-de-force of a record, Chvrches are adamantly stating their intent to flip those outdated narratives.
On Screen Violence, the clean synths we associate with Chvrches are cut with something coarser, a darker edge that suits the often dark subject matter. Real piano and guitar sounds come to the fore at key moments on 'California' and 'How Not to Drown', creating a sound that is at once raw and expertly crafted.
Screen Violence was heralded by many critics as a return to form for the Glasgow trio. And, though I was actually a big fan of their third effort Love Is Dead, I sort of know what they mean. Considering the band's musical evolution since their first album, and Mayberry's tireless advocacy for women's rights, Screen Violence feels like a culmination of all Chvrches' previous work; a creative destination that is not to be missed.
My highlights: He Said She Said, California, Final Girl, Lullabies
- Back In Love City by The Vaccines (2021) - Perhaps this year's best rock album. From the thumping 'Headphones Baby' to the plaintive 'El Paso', Back In Love City shows off the Vaccines' considerable creativity and proves that a great concept album doesn't have to be high-minded.
- Sky Full of Holes by Fountains of Wayne (2011) - A well-written, radio friendly record that punches well above its weight. Endearing highlights like 'Richie and Ruben' and 'A Road Song' show that this band have much more to offer than 'Stacy's Mom' might make you believe.
- Punisher by Phoebe Bridgers (2020) - Lo-fi can be a frustrating genre, with disaffected lyrics sung over increasingly similar-sounding music. This album is the exception that proves the rule. Each song is a wistful poem set to restless, flowing music that gets better with every listen.
Sunday, 19 December 2021
When I was a kid, I thought I loved writing stories. But now I know that's not true. I definitely loved reading, and I loved coming up with ideas for novels. I enjoyed building fantasy worlds based on the ones I explored in books, and I liked imagining what characters might get up to there.
But then there would be actual story writing to be done. And writing was hard. I'd start off well, propelled by the thought of seeing my name - or perhaps a unique nom de plume - on the front of a novel on a Waterstones shelf. But by then I'd have another fun project to get excited about. And busy sixteen-year-old Sam would always favour the shiny new idea over the old one that had become a bit of a slog.
That attraction to writing has never gone away. At each point in my life, when I've had the chance to move away from writing, I've chosen to stick with it. It's been the focus of my A Levels, my degree and now my job. But only now, after nearly 26 years of thinking of myself as a 'writer,' am I enjoying the process of writing a novel. So how have I got here?
The closest I'd got to writing a novel before now was 20,000 words of a sci-fi story set in the near, pollution-plagued future. I spent a few glorious months constructing the time between present day and the start of the novel. I divided the world into 'syndicates,' alliances between nations that clubbed together to fight for resources. I came up with new fuels that humanity was now searching for beneath Antarctica. It was a lot of fun.
The problem was, none of this actually prepared me for writing. The story itself was much more small-scale, focusing on a teenage boy who runs away from his mining community. So you can imagine my frustration when, 10,000 words into my novel, this enormous 'planning' document offered no help as to where the story should go next.
Organisation and planning have never come naturally to me. I never felt like I had to do much planning ahead for school work, so why should I spend my free time doing it? I could only enjoy planning when it didn't feel like planning, and that definitely hindered my staying power when it came to crafting a complex narrative.
As I made my way through A-level and then undergraduate English, I became better at writing long-form prose, and even started to enjoy writing it. And if I could have fun planning and writing complex essays of literary criticism, surely I could give novel writing another go. But, in some ways, my degree in English with Creative Writing was the biggest hindrance to my novel ambitions so far...
Freeing myself from the 'Creative Canon'
Swapping Realism for Role Playing
Sunday, 6 June 2021
It's always amazed me that there are people who read nothing but crime fiction. Though I make a point of reading books from many genres, crime is one section I never really visit on my almost weekly trips to Waterstones.
I can see the appeal, of course. You know what you're getting with a crime novel, especially if you're committed to a single author or one of their series. Detective is having some personal trouble which they have to put out of their mind while they solve a murder or missing persons case. Personal trouble keeps haunting the detective, but in a useful way that somehow helps them solve the case and make an emotional breakthrough at the same time.
But to me, this formulaic approach brings little comfort, especially in book form. I've been known to enjoy the odd police procedural, but it's the ingenious solutions of David Renwick's Jonathan Creek and the psychological focus of CBS' Criminal Minds that have appealed to me - quirks that counterbalance what can often be quite unimaginative writing. When it comes to books, I want a challenge; something that makes me think, or laugh, or cry.
Every so often, I try to circumvent my prejudice against the genre. But while a few books have slipped through the cracks, they've never been the complete package. In Charlaine Harris' Lily Bard Mysteries, the the charming cast of small town residents is more compelling than the mysteries themselves. Conversely, the non-crime-related events of Ian Rankin's Rebus novels feel more like filler than insight into the characters.
So it's unlikely that I would have bought The Thursday Murder Club for myself - even as a fan of author Richard Osman's many TV and radio exploits. But thanks to a delayed delivery, I received it last year as an interim Christmas present. And with all the fantasy and sci-fi on my TBR this year, I thought "why not break it up with some crime?"
I'm very glad I did - it's the crime novel that has challenged all my misgivings about crime novels.
Giving Up Trope
It was very refreshing to find little of this quippy, self-congratulatory comedy in The Thursday Murder Club. The humour - of which the book is full - has a much more genuine edge to it. And - from Joyce's misadventures with technology to Elizabeth's motherly concern for PC Donna's personal life - it's firmly rooted in the characters.
But it's not just where our own observations of older people are confirmed that humour is found. It also appears on the many occasions where they surprise us. We're heading into spoiler territory so I won't give too much away, but don't be surprised if you end up believing that these four septuagenarians could do almost anything if they set their minds to it.
Wheels in Emotion
Thursday, 31 December 2020
It's often said that your music taste peaks at around 14. Whatever music you were singing and dancing to halfway through secondary school will be the music you listen to for the rest of your life. And I think to a certain extent that's true.
I will always have a soft spot for pop punk, for instance, a genre that was at its peak when I became a teenager. I still come back to All Time Low's Nothing Personal and Paramore's Brand New Eyes - both of which were released when I was 13 - and I know them almost lyric for lyric.
But something about that statistic scared me a bit. With so much music from all around the world at my fingertips, I didn't want to end up listening to the same 30 songs purely through lack of trying. So for the last few years I've made an effort to listen to everything and everyone I can. And now I want to share some of that experience with you.
2020's been a crazy year, with few blessings to count. But it's given us some great music, and time to explore music that we haven't heard before. So, without further ado, here are my top 5 albums that I discovered this year...
After Hours (2020) by The Weeknd
The Weeknd's sophomore album Beauty Behind the Madness is firmly cemented in the soundtrack of my university days. What could be more relatable to a hard-boozing student than the self-destructive sentiment of "Can't Feel My Face" or the hungover haze of "The Hills"? I loved dancing and drinking to the Weeknd, but I never imagined liking his music.
But there's little to dislike about After Hours. As immaculately produced as his previous efforts, it retains the bright synths and lilting rhythms that made The Weeknd a party playlist staple. But the lyrics reveal a maturity, a vulnerability we've rarely seen before. "Take off my disguise," he asks in the record's very first line - as if inviting us to see what lies behind his sheen of reckless decadence.
It's a beautiful, brutal album. Regret pulses through heavier tracks like "Too Late" and "Save Your Tears," while the more radio-friendly numbers explore broken relationships and the fear of being alone. A cheery record it is not, but Abel Tesfaye's gorgeous vocals guide the listener through it, and tracks like "Scared to Live," it's clear that inside all this self-sabotage and sadness, there is still hope
My highlights: Alone Again, Hardest to Love, Blinding Lights, In Your Eyes
OK Computer (1997) by Radiohead
As a big fan of Coldplay, Muse and other bands who wouldn't exist without Radiohead, I can't believe it took me so long to start listening to them. And, though I listened to every album in order, it was no surprise to find that OK Computer captured my imagination more than the rest. I've always known it's one of the greatest records of all time, but now I really understand.
Retrospectives all across its 23-year life have claimed that the themes of OK Computer are, if anything, more relevant today than they were in the 90s - and 2020 is no different. Radiohead saw a world of ubiquitous technology coming, and they perfectly captured the all-too-familiar isolation of a world that relies more than ever on technology for a sense of normality.
What's more, for all its technical, musical and lyrical experimentation, it's still a cracking rock album. The pulsing guitars and headphone-busting drums of 'Airbag' and 'Electioneering' contrast perfectly with Yorke's baleful crooning on 'Exit Music (For a Film)' and 'The Tourist'. It's a perfectly crafted record and I can't stop listening.
My highlights: Subterranean Homesick Alien, Let Down, Karma Police, Lucky
Walking Like We Do (2020) by The Big Moon
I'm normally a sucker for the raw indie sounds of a debut album - all the uncut potential of a band writing without a producer. But despite the critical acclaim of The Big Moon's debut Love in the 4th Dimension, its rough, grungy sounds didn't capture my imagination as much as this year's excellent follow-up Walking Like We Do.
This second album has a cleaner, more polished sound that allows the band's inventive melodies and compelling harmonies room to breathe. Lyrically, the record brushes up against the biggest issues of its day - the idolatry of consumerism takes centre stage on "Holy Roller", while "Dog Eat Dog" could be read as a criticism of the institutions who stayed silent in the face of the Me Too movement.
But the light touch with which The Big Moon explore these heavy topics makes this album perhaps the perfect record for 2020. They do not ignore the confusion and uncertainty of these times, but the overall outlook is hope that we can succeed in the face of adversity. "We don't know where we're going," they sing on the penultimate track, "but we're walking like we do."
My highlights: Dog Eat Dog, Take A Piece, Barcelona, A Hundred Ways to Land
Planetarium (2017) by Bryce Dessner, Nico Muhly, James McAllister & Sufjan Stevens
This album is the biggest surprise of the five. I stumbled across it while wading through Sufjan Stevens' back catalogue, and it's been my go-to work soundtrack ever since. Blending poetic, thoughtful lyrics with ethereal electronic sounds, it manages to be at once an all-consuming musical experience and just a great record to 'have on in the background'.
Even in today's musical culture, space is still usually represented through classical instruments. Not so here. From earth-shaking pads to subtle control-panel leads, synth sounds take centre stage, and they capture a sense of unknowable power in our familiar night sky. Stevens' vocals are soft and plaintive throughout - his voice a small space probe, at times echoing in the void, at other times almost drowned out by the sheer gravity of sound.
Finally, this record has something that few concept albums possess: simplicity. Despite its grand subject matter, Planetarium is never pretentious. It's understated, caught up not in the cleverness of the music or lyrics but in the awe of these heavenly bodies. There's no complex narrative, just a series of carefully constructed vignettes on a theme. The result? A body of work about our solar system that even Holst himself would be proud of.
My highlights: Neptune, Pluto, Saturn, Mercury
Hadestown (2019) by the Original Broadway Cast of Hadestown
Les Misérables. Billy Elliot. In the Heights. Broadway's no stranger to portraying the lives of marginalised groups. But is it the best art form for the job? In her video essay on Rent, Lindsay Ellis contends that these shows often fly the revolution flag while pandering to the middle-class tastes of those who can afford the tickets. It's no wonder that the 'oppression' aspect of these shows often plays second fiddle to narratives of love and self-acceptance.
That's what's so impressive about Hadestown. The tragic love story of Orpheus and Eurydice is retold with tenderness and hope, but in every love song there is the shadow of something bigger at hand. The titular town is an industrial underworld where poor workers give their all to Hades, all to enrich and protect him. Hades doesn't appear as a powerful god, but as a scheming businessman whose deals control the prosperity of the whole world. Sound familiar?
And the immediacy of Hadestown's politics is matched at every step by Anaïs Mitchell's musical prowess. From the Jazz club at the underworld's entrance to the deep rumbling bass of Hades himself, the soundtrack is a compelling listen from start to finish. It's a small story with big ideas, and I'll be first in line to see the show when theatres reopen.
My highlights: Wedding Song, Epic II, Why We Build The Wall, Flowers
- Dreamland (2020) by Glass Animals
- An Unwavering Band of Light (2012) by Jenny Owen Youngs
- Giants of All Sizes (2019) by Elbow
Saturday, 28 November 2020
Disappointed with the coloured cream soda served at official Harry Potter locations, I designed this alcoholic alternative. Sweet, spicy and completely vegan, my recipe attempts to recreate the warming butter beer of the books I’ve loved since I was a kid. The perfect magical drink for a witchy Winter ritual.
For 6 medium-sized servings, you’ll need:
For the butterscotch sauce:
- 100g of light brown sugar
- 50g of vegan margarine (Flora, Vitalite, Pure are all great)
- 70ml of soy milk (this is what I use but I’m sure oat, almond etc would work fine)
- ¼ tsp salt
- ½ tsp vanilla extract
- Melt the margarine in a medium-sized pan.
- Add the brown sugar and salt, and heat over a low heat.
- Once the mixture starts to bubble, stir slowly for 3 minutes.
- Add the soy milk and stir into the mixture.
- Bring to a low boil, then stir slowly for 3 more minutes.
- Take the pan off the heat, and stir in the vanilla extract.
- Leave the mixture to cool. It will thicken and separate, but don’t worry. You can recombine the ingredients by whisking the mixture with a fork.
For the butter beer
- 600ml apple cider
- 300ml ginger beer
- 150ml cream sherry (doesn’t sound vegan, but there are varieties available)
- 2 cinnamon sticks
- 4 star anise
- 6 cloves
For the ‘foam' on top:
- 100ml vegan double cream
- Pour the apple cider, ginger beer and cream sherry into a saucepan and stir well.
- Add the cinnamon sticks, star anise and cloves.
- Turn on the stove at a low heat, warming the mixture slowly. Keep an eye on the temperature of the liquid, and stir whenever bubbles start to appear. Try not to let the mixture boil.
- In the meantime, pour the double cream into a mixing bowl. Whisk it with an electric whisk until very soft peaks form.
- Pour a small amount of butterscotch sauce into a drinking glass, just enough to cover the base of the glass.
- Once the butterbeer is hot, remove the spices and pour into the glass.
- To create a beer-like head of foam, cover the top of your butterbeer with a tablespoon or two of the whipped double cream.
- Drizzle a little butterscotch sauce over the cream, and serve while it’s still hot.