My brain works like my brain, and this tends to mean that when I’m without ideas I don’t write. The two issues with this are (a), inspiration shouldn’t be the reason to write, just the occasional genius that populates writing and (b), it tends to mean that I’m lacking input.

Narrative.

Since a young age, my brain has been narratively driven in the way that…well, I assume most people’s are (we all enjoy stories) – so as to applaud extensive cohesion and the development of ideas.

Yet I think my brain requires narrative in extraordinary quantities. It wants to gorge on them, chew them and taste the best bits, the worst bits and process the whole. Not to produce inspiration, but to produce more appreciation of words, language and my own understanding of the work I enjoy so much.

Gao Xingjian, the Chinese novelist, playwright, critic, translator, screenwriter, director, painter (read as: ‘work ethic guru’) has said:

Writing eases my suffering…writing is my way of reaffirming my own existence

…and I get that. Not so much the first bit, but certainly the last. Writing is my life’s work, and I’m now realising that writing is dependent on reading. On listening. On the input of words into my narrative combustion engine.  No input = no output, and no output means no writing. No blog posts. No anything.

I’m trying to address that. Not only have I signed up to Lovefilm to plug the visual arts sinkhole, but I’m taking and making time to read more. First up are the essays of Ralph Waldo Emerson. I read them before at university, but never really paid much attention. Couldn’t have done, else I’d have been as inspired going into Am. Lit seminars as I was when I got off the train today. Superb. Check him out if you’re at a loose end.

And that’s that. I only wanted to type something here just to keep people updated on me. This being a blog of sorts and all. To writing. To narrative. And to input.

Til next time.

Anywho, I happen to work in the vicinity of the BT Tower and so on my walk to work I occasionally see (or should that be on my occasional walk to work I see?) this brick wall, pebbledashed and hidden behind some very sharply defended gates. Not too sharp for London’s intrepid Banksy however, who one evening or morning, who knows, provided the world with another piece of his stenciled genius. Not that I think it’s genius, I’m not even a massive fan, I just happened to like the fore and backgrounds involved in this particular photo. Because, you see what he’s done don’t you? ‘One nation under CCTV, is a change to the phrase ‘One Nation Under God’ (which is American in origin, so I don’t much see the relevance, but anyway). He’s clearly saying that CCTV is our God and that we’re being watched evermore until our very freedom is at stake, and that BT is a huge corporation corroborating with the government in the expansion of the CCTV deity and the ever shrinking of our personal freedom.

Or not. Like I say, I don’t much care for Banksy, nor for this piece of his work, rather I like the photo as a whole, If that makes sense.

Reviewy Bits

I’ve been a little busy of late as well, and that’s the main reason behind my lack of updating here. I’ve had a couple of film reviews published on Den of Geek for both Lakeview Terrace (Samuel L. Jackson’s new film) and Inkheart (Brendan Fraser’s), so if you want to check those out…well please do :)

Finally, I’ve written the first chapter of brand spanking new novel. Oh yes. In one week. The next one is due this week, the next one the week after, the one after that, the weeke after that and so on for 27 of the buggers. One week in, and I’m feeling optimistic. But it is only one week in. Wish me luck, and more snippits on the work as it happens.

Ta ra for now though, take it easy :)

Kevin

It applies to me for sure, at least in regards to visual artforms. It doesn’t apply to my brother though, not when it’s photographic art anyway. His site has undergone a reimagination at stevenpocock.com and today sees the closing of his first exhibition in alliance with four other photographers from the UCA (University of the Creative Arts).

Said exhibition’s name was ‘Entropia’ and more can be seen about the work shown there at http://entropia-exhibition.co.cc/. It’s very imporessive, but I don’t pretend to understand all the theory behind it. Maybe you will though, so enjoy :)

Best,

Kevin

p.s: See, told you I was here.

The most devastating realisation to a writer in consideration of his work – or at least to this one – is that a project might never be completed. I realised this fact today when, on a whim, I clicked the link on this site that says ‘Novel Twists’.

For those that do not know, Novel Twists was a collaborative writing project where the opportunity to write the next page of the story was auctioned on eBay, with the proceeds of each auction going to MacMillan, the cancer care and support charity. I was determined enough to write one of the pages that I won one of the auctions and did type page 19 for the project leader (and originator) Phil McArthur. 

However, if you click the link to the project you will see the following message:

Collaborative internet novel writing does not work.

People never stick to the established facts of the story.

People are not interested in writing the story once it has been established.

It might be possible if you had 50 talented authors in one room working together on a collaborative novel.

But open it up to the ‘public’, and it is doomed.

This is fact, learned by experience.

How depressing is that? ‘A little’, you might say. Well no, it’s very sad, and personally it’s disasterous. Personally I wanted to be part of a project which was not only finished but was something to be proud of. Personally, I wanted to be one of many writers who gave something to a collaborative project which benefited a worthy charity, and might actually end up in print to the enjoyment of the public.  And personally I wanted to see how the development of ideas would unravel after my page, as I’m sure those before me did after theirs’.

That the project is now effectivly over but incomplete, pains me. It might never see the light of day because a few members of the public couldn’t stick to (and develop) a previously well-considered plot. I’m not sure what to do, but I know I don’t want that to be it.

I think I’ve got Phil’s email, perhaps I should get in contact and ask him what he’s done (and I dread to think he has deleted it… no, surely he hasn’t).

I’ll report back when I find out, but in the meantime, you can read what exists (existed?) of the story here using the power of Archive.org.

The main problem with – or rather issue arising from – any poetry/music crossover concerning how best to take the material, is the POV the song/poem takes.

Due to the understood and excepted rules of both singing and speaking, it is far easier in Poetry to assume an angle/belief/thought not actually held by the artist. Songs, as heartfelt as they tend to be, are largely taken to reflect a mood or an opinion of the artist.

There are grey (no grey, not gray, thanks spell-checker) areas, but like I say, a random thought, but one I think which holds some weight and is worth considering, and something I might pay further attention to later today.