Contemplative Christmas.

A flying visit between extremely exhausting bouts of doing relatively little.

Christmas has been unexpectedly relaxing. I’ve eaten too much, of course, and complained bitterly about just how abysmal the Christmas episode of The Royle Family was (Caroline Aherne has really lost the plot), but the time away from my work has provided me with an opportunity to reassess — something I felt was needed after recent conversations regarding Tomorrow Will Come.

To cut to the chase, I’ve realised that I need to set this piece of work aside for a while. Certain aspects of it are proving problematical and I now know that it’s because I’m not entirely comfortable with it. I could hammer away at it and fix it, of course, but that would only risk damaging the novel and its author! And so, it’s on the backburner.

I seem to be going through a period of creative flux. I’m very aware of the need to find something that stands out, especially in these difficult times. I am also very aware that I’ve moved away from the kind of material I do best — tragicomic, almost absurdist pieces that draw on my early influences (John Irving, Garrison Keillor, Joseph Heller et al.) I think Mike helped me see this, even though he possibly didn’t realise it, by mentioning Heller a few days ago. Cheers, mate.

And, so, I’m going to take about another a week or so away from the problem of what I’m going to do next. I do already know that I need to write something humourous — not flat-out comedy, but something with my trademark eccentric characters. I haven’t written anything like that for… well, since before I started writing this blog, and I think the market for that kind of material has probably improved in the interim. Nonetheless, I’m not rushing into anything. I have probably been pushing a little too hard.

Time to just sit back and let the story come to me.

Everyone have a nice Christmas/holiday/anti-Christmas?

© 2008 Gary William Murning

Oh Happy Day!

Some days you just shouldn’t look at the news. I mean, you shouldn’t even peek at it out of the corner of your eye in a squinty way. Some days the news just seems to be one malicious belly laugh of a story after another.

Take today, for example:

• More financial turmoil as a US hedge fund (no, I don’t understand them, either… nor do many of their investors, methinks!) fraud kicks some of the world’s biggest banks well and truly in the goolies.
• A woman in Belfast has rabies. You know, the one they used to run all the adverts about back in the 70s… (They always scared me witless, when I was a kid. I was convinced that if a dog so much as farted in my general vicinity I’d catch it).
• The winter vomiting virus (I didn’t know viruses could vomit) is threatening to spread rapidly across England “unless people are sensible and stay at home”. At Christmas. With all that shopping to do. And the partying. Fat chance.
• And if that wasn’t bad enough, three Scout leaders from Cornwall had their canoe sunk by a hippopotamus in West Africa! Rogue hippopotami! What is the world coming to? (So much for Scout leaders being prepared!… sorry.)

Makes you wish you’d stayed in bed, doesn’t it?

But, of course, it isn’t all bad news. No, really, it isn’t. Oh, all right, then, have it your way. It is all bad — but some news is less bad. For example, tomorrow should see me hitting 20,000 words with Tomorrow Will Come and Will Be Just Like Today. Granted, that means that I still have somewhere in the region of 140,000 words to go — but only a couple of weeks ago I still had 150,000 words ahead of me. See?

Joking aside, all being well I’ll hit my aforementioned pre-Christmas target of 20,000 words tomorrow. I’ll then be focusing on tidying up what I’ve written so far, sorting my notes ready for the new year and generally concentrating on trying to switch off from it for a while. I’m looking forward to the break, even whilst I’m not looking forward to the break! Novels such as Tomorrow Will Come… can tend to be rather demanding. They want to be written. They want to dictate the workrate. It can be hard to resist. But sometimes it’s very important that you do.

If I return to work before the first of January 2009 you have my permission to call me nasty names and stuff.

© 2008 Gary William Murning

An Apology (or, It Doesn’t Happen Often so Make the Most of It.)

As I’ve just been explaining to a friend, “things” are starting to get away from me a little. Tomorrow Will Come and It Will Be Just Like Today is drawing me in and I’m finding it difficult to concentrate for too long on other matters. Consequently, I’m behind on emails, blog-reading and the more sociable aspects of this Worldwide InterWebNet-thing we all love and, to a degree, depend upon.

I’m also concerned that my blog posts of late might not have been quite up to my usual (admittedly quite pitiful!) standard. I like to post something every day. It’s demanding, especially on top of working on the novel, but I have received so much support, appreciation and encouragement through Gary William Murning Online that I at least want to try to continue delivering the things people seem to enjoy.

I’d therefore like to apologise for not being quite as on the ball in these areas as I usually am and also offer you the chance to suggest topics you might like me to cover over the coming weeks. I can’t promise to do them all, but I’ll certainly give it my best shot. (Think of it as an early Christmas present… the socks that you’re elderly aunt gives you, perhaps )

Fire away!

© 2008 Gary William Murning

The Value of Elbow Room.

As I work on Tomorrow Will Come and It Will Be Just Like Today, it’s once again becoming more apparent that outlining excessively in advance isn’t always the best way for me. With a novel such as this — and I’ve realised this many times over the years, but still I sometimes succumb to the apparent safety of a detailed outline! — it’s vital that I allow room for movement, for developments that surprise even me. To nail everything down very precisely and methodically makes it too “safe”.

Knowing the main sections of the novel beforehand is fairly important, however. The beginning, the middle and the end came to me roughly sketched but conclusive overnight, as I’ve already mentioned. But the finer details, the characters and how they develop and interact, the landscape, the twists and turns of plot, the back story and unexpected infidelities (I think!) — all these grow with the novel.

And it’s this that keeps it fresh. Working from a detailed outline, as I did with the Children of the Resolution, can often feel more like an act of transcription rather than something creative. Yes, this way can be rather unnerving on occasion (shit, I’ve got nothing outlined for the next chapter!), but it gets the blood pumping.

That can only add to the work’s vitality.

Can’t it?

© 2008 Gary William Murning

Tomorrow Will Come… Chapter Two.

After a few days of interruptions, I today finished the first draft of Chapter Two of Tomorrow Will Come and It Will Be Just Like Today.

It’s pretty intense and very difficult for me to judge at this stage, but I think I’m achieving everything I want to achieve. It will, however, be really helpful to hear what my readers think. I’m touching upon quite possibly some of the darkest things I’ve ever written about and I’m trying to create an almost understated sense of tension. It should be as much about what isn’t said as what is, if you see what I mean.

Anyway, take a look if/when you have the time and the inclination.

© 2008 Gary William Murning

Tomorrow Will Come… Progress Report.

It seems quite absurd that up until a couple of weeks ago I’d spent about three months piddling about trying to find a story idea that I was comfortable with. Three attempts at quite detailed outlines didn’t really help, although I tried to convince myself at the time that they did, and then, out of the blue, came Tomorrow Will Come and It Will Be Just Like Today. And with it everything started clicking back into place.

I now have 10,000 words “in the bag”, well into Chapter 2, and I’m really happy with the tone and direction. For a first draft it’s certainly well on the way to having the degree of intensity and character complexity I’m aiming for. As exhausting and demanding as I know these characters will be over the coming months, it really is a huge relief to be working again on something that I feel passionate about and, more to the point, that I enjoy.

I will be putting the first four chapters in my Sample section but the following chapters will not be available via this website. If you are, however, interested in becoming a reader, drop me a line and — if I know and trust you — I’ll see to it that you get the chapters as they are completed. The only conditions are that you do not breach copyright by sharing the work in any form and that you give an honest opinion of the work.

© 2008 Gary William Murning

Snowy Sunday.

This morning we woke to snow — not exactly crisp and even (more slushy and patchy), but snow nonetheless. I looked at it from my window, contemplated the hills and the admittedly vague possibility of careening down them with nothing separating my bottom from that chilly substance other than a Marks & Spencer carrier bag, had a mug of tea and, as my still being fit and well and all in one piece attests, decided that I would leave such foolishness to those better equipped (i.e. children who haven’t yet acquired enough bumps and bruises to understand the dangers and eager-to-impress grandfathers who should know better, but never do.)

Instead, I started work on chapter two of Tomorrow Will Come and It Will Be Just Like Today. The second chapter can often be a little difficult, I find. After the initial buzz of starting the novel it can feel as if it has the potential to stall — it’s almost as if it tries to rein me in, settle me down for the long haul ahead. Something I don’t appreciate, and something that just hasn’t happened in this particular case.

I think the complexity of character and relationship within the novel is the key to ensuring that I remain as intrigued and committed to it as I want the reader to be. As I’ve already mentioned, the larger framework of the novel came to me pretty much fully formed. I know the beginning, the middle and the end. Nevertheless, there is still enough to hold my interest, to keep me on my toes. And there’s still room for me to improvise subplots etc if appropriate ones spring to mind as I write it.

I’m really glad I didn’t outline this in detail beforehand.

© 2008 Gary William Murning

Tomorrow Will Come… Chapter One.

As promised, here is the first draft of chapter one of my new novel, Tomorrow Will Come and It Will Be Just Like Today.

It is, intentionally, a dark, introspective psychological piece and I will, naturally, be very interested in hearing if I’ve managed to achieve this dark introspection without the reader losing his or her wish to continue. There are a couple of story hooks, and, in spite of their difficulties, I think my characters are quite engaging, but I am of course too close to it at this stage to know how successful it is (or isn’t!)

Take a look when/if you have time and feel free to share any comments here.

Tomorrow Will Come and It Will Be Just Like Today — Chapter One.

© 2008 Gary William Murning

Sergeant Marches.

Former political journalist and the unquestionable star of BBC1’s Strictly Come Dancing John Sergeant has, alas, decided that enough is enough and the joke has gone on long enough. After being continually criticised by the judges, and in spite of the huge public support, this funny, charming and thoroughly entertaining gentlemen has quit the show.

Whilst I certainly understand why he felt the need to do this I can’t help feeling that this light entertainment show has, in this case, lost some of the very things that made it successful. Humour and the opportunity for the viewing audience to stick two fingers up at the judges and vote for whoever they judge fit. Contrary to the insistent proclamations of some, this is not a dance contest. It’s more than that. If it were not, the old format Come Dancing would never have become unpopular and faded from our screens.

Strictly Come Dancing is purely and simply light-hearted entertainment. It’s disposable television intended for those of us who just want to turn off for a short while and watch something that demands nothing.

Let’s not take it too seriously, please. It kind of defeats the object.

John actually looking quite graceful in my humble opinion.

© 2008 Gary William Murning

The Secret to Publication.

It took Barack Obama to show me the error of my ways. Sitting here, working on my new novel (Tomorrow Will Come and It Will Be Just Like Today), I was wholly unaware of just how deluded and misguided I actually was.

You see, I was completely oblivious to the fact — in spite of masses of evidence — that in order to be a successful writer you first have to follow an unrelated career, become successful at that (“successful” being defined however you wish) and then sit back and wait for publishers to come to you! Such folly! What on earth was I thinking of? A writer sits in front of his computer, working off his squishy bits, day in, day out, produces a masterpiece and then gets published? No? Perish the thought! What an absurd notion!

Thankfully, I today found myself completely disabused of this ridiculousness when dear old Amazon.co.uk sent me a charming email (“Dear customer”… isn’t that sweet?) offering me 50% off selected “celebrity books”. Amongst them was Barack Obama’s memoir, Dreams from My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance. Actually one of the few I might consider reading, though it did occur to me that the usual way of doing these things is to get the presidency out of the way first and then write the memoir. But what do I know?

He was in good company, however. Dawn French, Alan Carr, Fern Britton and someone I’d never heard of called Marcus Tescothick or something all have autobiographies (“alleged” autobiographies, I should probably say) out at the moment and, suitably inspired by this Celebrious deluge, I came up with, as Baldrick might well have put it, a cunning plan.

I’m going to become celebrated for something other than writing! I haven’t decided quite how I’m going to do this, yet, but I figure it need not be anything too difficult. Falling out of a nightclub, knickerless and with a footballer on my arm would probably do the trick, but it’s a long time since I saw a fanciable footballer and, well, you know, I wouldn’t want to get a chill.

So… this is your mission if you should choose to accept it. In order to achieve fame/infamy (I’m not really all that particular) and, ultimately, get my work published, what rocky route to stardom should I take?

My future, ladies and gentlemen, is in your hands.

© 2008 Gary William Murning