Introducing Writers Connect

It's a very difficult job and the only way to get through it is we all work together as a team. And that means you do everything I say.

-Charlie Croker (Michael Caine), The Italian Job

A good portion of the entries on this blog are examples of how to develop creativity with group writing exercises. I’ll explain how to perform the exercises, then give my example of what the task helped to produce.

The majority of these exercises are the fruition of the meetings at Writers Connect, a fortnightly-meeting group in Manchester. I’ve been with the group for over a year, and we have a good core of regular contributors who are all becoming damned fine writers.

The group meets fortnightly on Sundays. We meet in the Costa Coffee section of Waterstones in Manchester’s Arndale Centre at 1pm. We’ll start with a ten-minute exercise like the ones detailed on this site. We’ll then listen to people’s stories and poems.

If you’d like feedback on your work, turn up with 6 typed and stapled copies. We’ll dish out the copies for people to make notes on, and we’ll normally read out our own work. Reading and listening give us two ways of spotting errors and weaknesses.

We might do this a little differently in future- it’s suggested that we read out another contributor’s work and we let others read our own. This might help us to spot things we didn’t notice when writing.

Writers Connect is a fair but critical group. It isn’t a group offering mindless praise for writing of all levels. It IS a group for adults of all abilities, although a few of us have had our work published. But it is essentially a group that prepares writing for publication. This can mean dissecting a story or poem and weeding out what doesn’t work.

But we’re really nice! No, really! We all have open minds, senses of humour and strong stomachs. So feel free to join us over a coffee and we’ll give a helping hand.

Here’s the Meetup group, where we post messages and organise meetings.

I look forward to seeing you there.

Charlie Croker wannabe-s need not apply.

Wombats, Words and Mesrine

“I like the idea that through what I do, I complete myself as a person. I'm always ready for new experiences. I love when what you do becomes part of your revolution."

- French Actor Vincent Cassel

Another few bizarre weeks have flown by. An interesting website opened for people who hate words.  Editor Ben Judge wants your submissions regarding ridiculous wordiness. I went to Alton Towers theme park and left the contents of my arse in the tunnel of Oblivion. The UK no longer has a heavyweight boxing belt after Russian Vladimir Klitschko twatted David Haye. A stomach bug knocked me for six. I went for an assessment for work experience at a local TV company and got through to the final 100, down from 2000 applicants. And I'm still in the running. The BBC reported about a prehistoric “wombat on steroids”.  I gave the Matt Tuckey Award for Funniest Website to Animals Being Dicks.

I also watched Mesrine parts 1 and 2, the biography of the French gangster, known for being gunned down by the Paris Police, who famously claimed no jail could ever keep him. Director Jean-François Richet spends 5+1/2 hours proving this to us. These are two very well-made, entertaining films. The two Mesrine movies offer two very different versions of one clichéd gangster story- albeit one fronted by France’s very talented leading man, Vincent Cassel. Jaques Mesrine is a hard, dangerous and ruthless gangster who bullies his way to success, disposing of his enemies and numerous girlfriends along the way. Vengeful policemen, downtrodden prostitutes and sleazy nightclub owners all appear when needed. But when you strip away the fine acting, accurate attention to period, solid direction, inventive split-screen editing and good pacing, you are left with little more than Scarface in France. (I’m comparing it to the superior 1932 original Scarface, where the police- not the gangsters- kill Montana.)

“But it’s a true story, Matt.” Yes. Yes, it is. Does that excuse the director using a well-trodden path? The film industry has churned out countless truth-based gangster stories. Some are better than others, but more often than not the stories are identikit- like this one. The films begin with some text indicating that there are many sides to each story and that a totally biographical version of a series of events would be impossible to create.

One other gripe: The film begins with Mesrine dead, shot in the face by police. He’s been machine-gunned by the officers in the van directly in front of his car, yet his face is still intact. Doubtful. His girlfriend is sat next to him. She’s shocked but unharmed physically. Perhaps this is plausible. Her dog, however, which she is carrying on her lap, is dead. Explain this to me, director! How can this be? Is my knowledge of machine-gun fire insufficient? Is the portrayal of Mesrine’s death technically- and historically- accurate?

They’re definitely worth a look but Mesrine Parts 1 and 2 will not take on the gangster heavyweights in many “top ten of all time” lists.

Who's your biggest retweeter?

I know I’ve already said that blogging about blogging is largely masturbatory, and that trying to get blog hits by slamming links in as many places as possible isn’t going to get you sustained readership. I know I said all that. I know I said regular posting of helpful, well-written content is the best way of getting punters back to your site. (Did I say that? A thousand web gurus definitely have. I’ll say it too.)

I also know that constantly banging on about your own blog on Twitter will mark you out as someone who needs to open his eyes and see the real world once in a while. I’m in no denial of needing to act on that. I once saw a youtube video where a web advisor said that the first thing to remember is: Nobody gives a shit about your blog. I get this completely.

But...

I’ve thought of another blogging challenge.

Here’s a piece on how to gauge how famous somebody is, based on their Twitter account.

Followers are everything on Twitter. The more followers, the more fame, the more influence. Now. In a recent blog race I managed to get a few retweets from some well known individuals: adult stars Kerry Louise, Angel Long and Claire Dames. I knew that the more followers a retweeter has, the more exposure my blog will gain.

My top retweeter was Kerry Louise, tweeting to 43,000 followers. My task- get retweeted by somebody bigger, in exchange for a good mention and link on the blog. If you’re a blogger, give this a shot too. I’ll post again in a month and let you know what happened. One word of advice: when you tweet to celebs, put their @handle at the beginning of the tweet. As you’ll be doing this loads, don’t clog up your followers news feeds with your tweets that are aimed at one person. I'm conscious as I think I’ve annoyed enough people…

For the record, here are my current blog stats:

Total hits: 18265

Hits last month: 4011

Referring URLs from Twitter this week: 17

Referring URLs from Twitter this month: 195

Let’s compare this in a month’s time.

The Private Tutor

Sit at your table with your group. Take a sheet of paper each.

Write a name. Pass it on.

Write an age. Pass.

A profession.

A place.

An emotion.

In our group, this brought our first sheet full circle. My task was now to write a short scene featuring Neil Ruby. He’s 15 and is privately tutored. He’s in a café in a village in Iceland, and currently, he’s disappointed.

--

Sludge. That’s what he’d call it. It wasn’t what he thought it would taste like. Hot chocolate was sweet. This was not. It was just sludge.

Why do adults drink it? He thought. Adults do a lot of strange things. Like drinking weird shit. Or moving to Iceland. Or privately tutoring their son.

The shop smelled strange- the wood furnishings, the non-British brands, the freezing summer air.

A jingle from the door’s chime. Neil turns. A man stamps his feet, shedding snow from his fleece and boots. His bobble hat marks him out as a local.

He finds Neil instantly. It’s a weekday. The rest of the kids are in school.

“Neil”, he says. “I’m Richard.”

“Hi.” Neil forces a smile.

Neil shakes his hand, like an adult. Sits down with purpose. Pulls his sleeves back, like he’s about to help a sheep give birth. “Your life’s been a bit upside down for the last few weeks, then?”

“Yeah,” says Neil. “You could say that.” He grimaces.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’ve been divorced for two weeks now. It’s a similar feeling. And I know because my dad, he was a businessman. Sold timber. We travelled a lot. Was in your situation when I was your age. Pretty shitty isn’t it?”

Neil smiled for the first time in two weeks. “You could say that too.”

--

Hmm. Fragment sentences seem to appear more when writing under pressure. Do you find this? Well, James Ellroy does it a lot- both pressurised writing and short stubs of sentences. That’s my excuse.

It’s not normal that I write a scene with no violence and with two amiable characters. Neil could have been me ten years ago (okay, fifteen). Richard was an amalgamation of a range of maths tutors, support tutors, a guy who advised me in a sales job once- a keen-eared, plump version of Terry Pratchett- and the odd counsellor. They were all men who had advised me or taught me (or at least attempted to) over the years.

I totally guessed at Iceland.

Ten Great Quotes on Power

I occasionally dish out blog cards- business card-sized affairs- to other writers and people who might check out my work. Each card has the title of my blog written across it in black, accompanied by a grey, stylised background. It's pretentious as hell and makes me look like a 1980s Manhattan yuppie, but it does arouse curiosity in those I give it to. Some just take me for a nerd. Well. That's until they find out they might be in the blog, when they become either really pleased or really nervous.

I've been asked a few times: "Power is a State of Mind... What does it mean?”

It's at moments like this that I go quiet. I'm not entirely sure. It's certainly an ethos that I reckon is true. Money can bring power. But just because you've got money doesn't make you powerful. How many lottery winners end up out-of-pocket by the time they die? I believe a lot do. Status can make you powerful. But how many men can impress a woman by bragging about their job? I used to work for quite a well-known radio station in Manchester. When I told girls, none of them gave a shit. Being a hard case can get you power. I've hung around in bars in Oldham long enough to know a few dangerous fighting types. But they all admit to being filled in once in a while and, like the rest of us, they occasionally complain that they need more money. Sometimes their women leave them, just like other, less "hard" men.

The only thing that can consistently give you power is confidence. Confidence comes from understanding your own personal strengths and being able to employ those strengths as often as possible. Take myself, for instance. The more I write on this blog, the more I improve as a writer and the more hits I get. The more hits, the bigger the blog, and the more reason I have to believe in my writing abilities- prompting me to write more. Ad infinitum.

I'm also a Mixed Martial Artist. I remember the first few months- years, even- of training. I was getting pinned and submitted time and time again, not pulling off the moves when I should have done. I frequently had to shove self-doubt and self-pity out of my mind. I had neither the time nor the space in my brain for thoughts of that nature.

Then, one session, I felt something click in my mind. I started catching people in holds and chokes. Most of the time they were newbies, but sometimes I'd tap out someone who'd trained just as long as I had. Sometimes they were 10, 20 Kilos heavier than me. If I hadn't persisted- If I hadn't found that mental power- I'd have resigned to a life of lifting weights endlessly, yet being just as vulnerable as I always had been. A guy like me is never going to get big through weights. Even if I did, it wouldn't mean much.

Confidence and power do become evident in you when you prove to yourself your strengths, but to prove power, you must have it in the first place. It either creates and drives itself or it doesn't exist.

That's my take on power. Other writers put the ethos in a different light. Which do you agree with the most?

1) It is said that power corrupts, but actually it's more true that power attracts the corruptible. The sane are usually attracted by other things than power.

-David Brin, US engineer and science fiction author

2) Ultimately, the only power to which man should aspire is that which he exercises over himself.

-Elie Wiesel, US (Romanian-born) activist, novelist 

3) Knowledge is power.

-Sir Francis Bacon, English philosopher, 1597

4) Only a man who knows what it is like to be defeated can reach down to the bottom of his soul and come up with the extra ounce of power it takes to win when the match is even.  -Muhammad Ali, boxer

5) Mastering others is strength. Mastering yourself is true power.  -Lao Tzu, Japanese philosopher

6) You have power over your mind - not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength. -Marcus Aurelius, Roman emperor

7) Immense power is acquired by assuring yourself in your secret reveries that you were born to control affairs.  -Andrew Carnegie, US steel entrepreneur

8) Power is given only to those who dare to lower themselves and pick it up. Only one thing matters, one thing; to be able to dare!  -Fyodor Dostoevsky, novelist

9) “Only through destroying myself can I discover the greater power of my spirit.” -Chuck Palahniuk, author

10) Power is retained by attracting loyalty, and subjugation is guaranteed by giving it.  -Neil Strauss, author/journalist/pick-up artist

The Reality of Hollywood.

Director Michael Bay sits in executive producer Steven Spielberg’s opulent office. The joint in Bay’s hand is so large he can hardly hold it, and he’s smoked half of it already. Through the smoky haze of crack and cannabis filling the room, Bay can hardly see Spielberg, sat there behind his blood-diamond-encrusted desk.

Spielberg’s crack pipe stretches off his work surface like an immoral didgeridoo. His lit end almost meets Bay’s.

Spielberg exhales a cloud. “Okay,” he says. “Transformers. Very silly. But they loved it.”

“Yep”, Bay says, chin tucked into his neck, choking on fumes.

“Transformers 2,” says Spielberg. “Louder. Sillier. Noisier. And more successful.” He greedily snatches the crack pipe off Bay and slams in a lungful. He coughs it out. “Let’s do a third. I want to hear your ideas. You’re the artist. You make beautiful work, Bay.”

“Really?” Bay asks, like a ten-year-old.

Spielberg slams his fist down, making the table jump. Bay jumps too.

“Yes, Goddamnit,” Spielberg says. “But this time, I want it bigger. Bolder. And utterly retarded. Gimme a premise, Bay. Where shall we set it?”

Bay takes another noxious drag. “Um… the moon.”

Spielberg begins tapping his pen loudly on the desk’s surface. He stares at Bay. Bay stares back. They trade smirks.

Spielberg lazily grabs some letter-headed paper. “Okay…”

X-Factor Rapes Western Movie

Here's Louis Walsh's latest protégé spawn Cher Lloyd, who is currently plumbing the depths of shit pop music with this bizarre and utterly horrific song:

Now feast your ears on this western piece by Connie Francis and Johnny Hill- My Darling Clementine- made famous by John Ford's classic 1946 western movie of the same name.

I'm not really into country and western, but I still prefer the latter track. I hope you do too.

Mr. Ford would be turning in his grave.

Curious? Here's the movie: