A Can of Worms Part 3 - Telling The Right Story
Continuing this little series of posts, which began here and proceeded here... in this post I want to address issue 4):
"Do I have a book in me? Sure; more than one, in my opinion; books, plays, screenplays... but the ones I would *like* to write (indeed, have part-written) would not be *this* one, if I'm honest. This is such a fundamental issue for me that I'm going to write another post on this issue alone."
As you might have gathered, I am something of a frustrated would-be writer. Then again, isn't everybody (apart from those who *are* published, of course!) I'm not going to comment on whether the world has been spared a horror by the fact that I haven't actually published anything; it's a racing certainty that I'd need a good editor with a plentiful stock of red pens, otherwise I'd tend to works of a Proustian scale rather than an elegant Haiku. ;-) Actually, I'm probably being a little unfair on myself; I love Haiku, and have written a fair few in my time. Maybe I'll dig some out and post some somewhere... But I digress!
OK, I *have* to give a little historical context here, but it isn't really "dwelling on the past" so I'll cut myself a little slack. In February 2001, I had pretty much a full-on emotional melt-down, and spent the best part of seven months trying to recover. At the time, I was running my own company, so that was, er, "interesting"! By August 2001, I was starting to get back on my feet, but was (because of the work hiatus) seriously stretched financially. But I plugged on, and started to build up my business again... and then really crashed hard in January 2002. The reason is simple enough; I knew I was transgendered, and was trying everything I could think of to deal with *being* transgendered, *without* transitioning. But I was also fighting clinical depression; and while I still think that my depression is actually a separate beast, I am convinced that the strain of not dealing with being transgendered was like throwing petrol on the fires of my depression. Something had to give. It did. Me. In early 2002, I knew that I couldn't continue trying to work, trying to keep one step ahead of creditors, trying to keep a lid on being transgendered and trying to deal with depression. Two wonderful friends of mine stepped up to the plate. "Get your backside up here; come and live with us while you get yourself sorted". Which, on reflection I decided to do. In one sentence that hides a multitude of activities, I petitioned for personal bankruptcy, told the friends in question about my being transgendered (which I felt it was only fair that they know), packed up and moved up to Scotland.
So, how did I occupy my time? They gave me the space and encouragement to do something I'd long wanted to do, but had never had the time to do; to write. I've had ideas for books, plays and screenplays in my head for years; time to realise one of them. And that's what I set about doing. It was slow going, because I was *still* not dealing with being transgendered, and was really feeling the effects of depression; but I made progress. I'd set myself the goal of plotting and producing a compelling work of fiction written as book *and* play; i.e. rather than writing a book which someone might adapt to a screenplay (assuming it was worth filming) or writing a screenplay which might be novelised if the film was successful, I tried to ensure that the story was constructed such that it would be visually captivating if filmed, yet work as a good book if novelised (I'm sure that some of the people who read what I write will agree that books and screenplays are completely separate beasts). Well, I love a challenge, and that was the one I set myself. I think I was probably about 40% done when something completely unexpected happened.
I fell in love.
I'm not going to be any more specific than that at this point, because of issue 11) I raised in the first of these posts. All I'll say, for now, is that I relocated once more, was not able to devote any more time to my writing at that point, and then circumstances occurred which destroyed the latest state of my work-in-progress. Yes, backups are wonderful things... but I had been lax in my backup regime (I had a few things on my mind) and so the latest version I have of what I'd written is, maybe, 20% complete. Circumstances dictated that I needed to really get back to full-time employment, which I did. And I haven't written a word more since, of that work, at least.
Why have I written all this? Because I want to justify my position, which is that, *if* I have the talent to write something worth publishing... then I'd rather like it to be the book & screenplay that I worked on back then. However... it's entirely possible that, good as I hoped they were and better as I hoped they would become, neither was good enough in their own right.
But another thought nags away at me; maybe they *are* good enough... but maybe the chances of something happening with them would be significantly improved if I'd already been published. I have no idea if the publishing industry works that way... but what if it did? What if, much as I might have reservations, by writing the kind of book Susan suggests I made it more likely that one of my other works might see the light of day? OK, I'll admit it; *that* is a tempting prospect, for me at least. But, as I've said, I've no idea if the world works like that.
This blog has been migrated to new software on a different server (http://www.multidimensional.me.uk) and comments on this post on *this* blog are now closed. All existing comments have been copied to the equivalent post on the new blog. If you still wish to comment on this post, please use the equivalent post at: http://www.multidimensional.me.uk/
"Do I have a book in me? Sure; more than one, in my opinion; books, plays, screenplays... but the ones I would *like* to write (indeed, have part-written) would not be *this* one, if I'm honest. This is such a fundamental issue for me that I'm going to write another post on this issue alone."
As you might have gathered, I am something of a frustrated would-be writer. Then again, isn't everybody (apart from those who *are* published, of course!) I'm not going to comment on whether the world has been spared a horror by the fact that I haven't actually published anything; it's a racing certainty that I'd need a good editor with a plentiful stock of red pens, otherwise I'd tend to works of a Proustian scale rather than an elegant Haiku. ;-) Actually, I'm probably being a little unfair on myself; I love Haiku, and have written a fair few in my time. Maybe I'll dig some out and post some somewhere... But I digress!
OK, I *have* to give a little historical context here, but it isn't really "dwelling on the past" so I'll cut myself a little slack. In February 2001, I had pretty much a full-on emotional melt-down, and spent the best part of seven months trying to recover. At the time, I was running my own company, so that was, er, "interesting"! By August 2001, I was starting to get back on my feet, but was (because of the work hiatus) seriously stretched financially. But I plugged on, and started to build up my business again... and then really crashed hard in January 2002. The reason is simple enough; I knew I was transgendered, and was trying everything I could think of to deal with *being* transgendered, *without* transitioning. But I was also fighting clinical depression; and while I still think that my depression is actually a separate beast, I am convinced that the strain of not dealing with being transgendered was like throwing petrol on the fires of my depression. Something had to give. It did. Me. In early 2002, I knew that I couldn't continue trying to work, trying to keep one step ahead of creditors, trying to keep a lid on being transgendered and trying to deal with depression. Two wonderful friends of mine stepped up to the plate. "Get your backside up here; come and live with us while you get yourself sorted". Which, on reflection I decided to do. In one sentence that hides a multitude of activities, I petitioned for personal bankruptcy, told the friends in question about my being transgendered (which I felt it was only fair that they know), packed up and moved up to Scotland.
So, how did I occupy my time? They gave me the space and encouragement to do something I'd long wanted to do, but had never had the time to do; to write. I've had ideas for books, plays and screenplays in my head for years; time to realise one of them. And that's what I set about doing. It was slow going, because I was *still* not dealing with being transgendered, and was really feeling the effects of depression; but I made progress. I'd set myself the goal of plotting and producing a compelling work of fiction written as book *and* play; i.e. rather than writing a book which someone might adapt to a screenplay (assuming it was worth filming) or writing a screenplay which might be novelised if the film was successful, I tried to ensure that the story was constructed such that it would be visually captivating if filmed, yet work as a good book if novelised (I'm sure that some of the people who read what I write will agree that books and screenplays are completely separate beasts). Well, I love a challenge, and that was the one I set myself. I think I was probably about 40% done when something completely unexpected happened.
I fell in love.
I'm not going to be any more specific than that at this point, because of issue 11) I raised in the first of these posts. All I'll say, for now, is that I relocated once more, was not able to devote any more time to my writing at that point, and then circumstances occurred which destroyed the latest state of my work-in-progress. Yes, backups are wonderful things... but I had been lax in my backup regime (I had a few things on my mind) and so the latest version I have of what I'd written is, maybe, 20% complete. Circumstances dictated that I needed to really get back to full-time employment, which I did. And I haven't written a word more since, of that work, at least.
Why have I written all this? Because I want to justify my position, which is that, *if* I have the talent to write something worth publishing... then I'd rather like it to be the book & screenplay that I worked on back then. However... it's entirely possible that, good as I hoped they were and better as I hoped they would become, neither was good enough in their own right.
But another thought nags away at me; maybe they *are* good enough... but maybe the chances of something happening with them would be significantly improved if I'd already been published. I have no idea if the publishing industry works that way... but what if it did? What if, much as I might have reservations, by writing the kind of book Susan suggests I made it more likely that one of my other works might see the light of day? OK, I'll admit it; *that* is a tempting prospect, for me at least. But, as I've said, I've no idea if the world works like that.
This blog has been migrated to new software on a different server (http://www.multidimensional.me.uk) and comments on this post on *this* blog are now closed. All existing comments have been copied to the equivalent post on the new blog. If you still wish to comment on this post, please use the equivalent post at: http://www.multidimensional.me.uk/
posted by Koan @ 8:49:00 pm
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