Little by Little… Word Counts

I’ve been a bit quiet on the blogging front for the last couple of weeks, but there’s a good reason. I’ve been working on a short story; a tale that began life as One Night In England back in October of 2014. Today I finished it. I call it a short story but in actual fact it’s the longest thing I’ve ever written, at 27,000 words. I also say I finished it, but I feel the ending is a little truncated and that a redraft is in order before I even let some willing volunteers take a peek at it. Nevertheless, I’m chuffed. I’ve completed a coherent piece of writing that has exceeded the length of anything I’ve written before.
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Upside-Disney: Subverting the Fairy Tale

I watched Maleficent this week – it’s Disney’s live action revision of the studio’s own Sleeping Beauty, told from the point of view of the eponymous villain. I enjoyed it; Angelina Jolie in particular pulls it out the bag with a great performance that forms the central pillar of the film. It got me thinking about the style of modern Disney films, and about the modern approach to adapting or reimagining fairy tales.
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The G Word(s): The Gothic Genre

Two confessions. One: I’m one of those people who like to pigeonhole everything. Always have been. There are boxes all over my house, each one with its own specific contents. My books are sectioned into fiction (ordered alphabetically) and reference (subdivided by subject). My iTunes library is organised fastidiously, using all the sort fields that my friends ignore. My second confession: I’m not a goth. But then if I was I wouldn’t admit to it.
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Depths: A Short Story

I wrote this short story a few years back and, after reading a fair bit of H. P. Lovecraft’s work this week, realised there was a fair bit in common between the two. After digging the tale out, I polished it up and tweaked it in keeping with my current style. There’s a definite metaphor at work in it; I’d love to know if anyone else interprets the story in the way I do.

Depths
It had been three days since Joshua had left the port.
He was alone but for the vessel he was steering through the ocean. As he had left the land behind he had seen the blurred outline of cliffs wane slowly in his vision, and heard the cries of gulls and sea birds grow less frequent and excited. On the first day of his journey he had seen new smudges of land to the north and some to the south. He was heading west. Explore further…

The Perfect Medium

Earlier this week I listened to Red Barchetta by Rush. Haven’t heard it? Give it a listen. Red Barchetta is a narrative song about a future in which a ‘Motor Law’ bans many vehicles, such as everyday cars. Every week, the story’s protagonist sneaks out to his uncle’s old farm and takes an old sports car, a red barchetta, out for a spin on the country roads. The music ramps up in intensity as the car picks up speed, and cymbals crash in time with guitar crunches as the barchetta is spotted and chased by modern air cars. This would make a brilliant story, I think to myself. But then, it’s already a story. It’s simply a story written in sound instead of sentences.
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