Month: March 2013

You’re now reading from the mother-fucking greatest.

Oh, that sounds arrogant doesn’t it? For a lot of you reading it probably doesn’t sit quite right. And to be honest, it shouldn’t. How can someone so young and so inexperienced be so bold as to call themself the greatest? What have I possibly achieved to warrant making such an outlandish claim when history has bought so many fantastic writers whose skills far surpass my own? Well, it’s at this point that I ask you to bear with me for just a little while longer before you pass judgement and write me off as an arrogant prick.

I believe every single word of this entry’s title, yet at the same time I am willing to concede that I am nowhere near worthy of having such adulation bestowed upon me. So, now that I have utterly confused and frustrated the reader, I better back-track and explain just what the fuck I am talking about.

I’ve been doing a lot of self-reflection over the past week or so. Now that I have (finally) sent my manuscript in its entirety to the Brooklyn based literary agent that I have been dealing with throughout the last few posts, I’ve had a lot of downtime to reassess myself as a person and more importantly, as a writer. While my little adventure down the path of self-discovery was designed as a way to take a few days off before delving into novel number two, I have managed to stumble upon a few gems of wisdom that will alter the course of my writing journey along the way.

I’ve learnt over the course of the past week to fully immerse myself in an ideal that I have been trying to implement into my life for a while now. The idea that people don’t buy what we do, they buy why we do it. This little nugget of motivational wisdom is something that I have been trying to base my professional career upon ever since stumbling across it. But now it’s something that I have learned can be immensely valuable to my continued development as a writer. How? Well, I’ll give you a hint. It’s hidden in the subconscious undertone of this very post’s title. I believe that I am the greatest writer there is. I believe that my skills are developing every single time I put pen to paper. And in doing so, in immersing myself so completely in an unwavering belief in my own abilities, my writing is improving accordingly. And as a result, I just might be able to convince a few others to believe it to.

I’m continually evolving as a writer, and as a man. Yet until I found the self-belief to expose myself to the world, to stand tall and say ‘fuck it. I am good enough to scream my own name from the rooftops’ my writing was only ever going to develop so far. Yet with my new found vigour and unwavering devotion to my craft, there is no limit to what my mind can create. I whole-heartedly believe that I am the mother-fucking greatest. I believe that I am going to be a writer worthy of acclaim sometime in the foreseeable future, and I believe so strongly in my convictions that I can no longer envision myself as a failure. Whether I sell a hundred thousand books or whether I sell zero, I have already achieved everything I ever dreamed of just by having you read this blog on a (somewhat) regular basis. Everything from here on out is just a bonus.

But alas, that’s enough procrastinating for now. It’s time to step down off my hastily erected soap box and start making some progress on the Midas sequel. So for now, I am happy to leave you somewhat baffled as whether you should love me or loathe me for my confidence. Or is it arrogance? Either way, I promise to be in touch very soon.

A side project of a different kind.

I’ve been thinking about the future a lot over the past few days. As I draw closer to finalising the edit of my manuscript before I send it off into the literary world, my mind has started to wander to the projects that lay ahead of me now that I have completed a script that has been six years in the making. I have just a few precious days left labouring over the manuscript that has come to be known as Midas, and after that I will delve straight into part two of what is set to be a four novel saga. And from where I sit right now, in front of a blank document that awaits my mind’s eye to weave a gripping tale of destruction and woe, the future appears to be full of possibility.

While I am in the very early stages of planning this novel and researching exactly what I need to in order to construct a compelling read, there are a few certainties that I have already locked into place. While I would love to sit here and outline exactly what I have planned, I feel that doing so would take away from the beauty of Midas when it (hopefully) makes it into print in the near future. So for now, all I will say is that I have settled on the name of what will hopefully be one of my two protagonists and the character histories of two new antagonists who will elevate my script to a whole new level.

But even as my mind is feverishly creating these fantastic characters, scenes and plotlines, I can’t seem to ignore that little voice inside my head that is urging me to branch out, take on a side project, and start dabbling in alternate genres. A while back I quoted comic book writer Alan Moore, stating that to be a successful writer you need to immerse yourself in the least desirable element and swim. To dive head first into ideas and genres that are foreign to your talents in order to continually develop as a writer. It is an idea that I have used before to great success, this very blog was a product of Moore’s ideals, and now after a considerable number of posts it is continually gaining momentum and humbling its creator every single day. So, if I was to create a side project; something to dabble with while I continue to develop the ongoing saga that I have started, what genre would I choose to write in? Well, as crazy as it seems (and trust me, it’s fucking ridiculous), I want to write a love story.

Every single thing I have ever written has been written with a view to please myself. A view to create something that I would love to read if it were ever presented to me in print. So as a young male, my stories are almost always fast paced, incorporating elements such as sex, murder, drugs, and all round debauchery and mayhem.  So, imagine the effort it would take for me to generate a piece of work that focuses almost entirely on the intricacies of man and woman, and the delicate unfurling rose that is their courtship. In all honesty it wouldn’t be the first time that I have tried to write such a story; I have been down this path a few times before. Twice I have submitted university assessments based loosely around love and romance; however both were labelled as vulgar, sexist, and downright offensive by my tutors. Apparently there is something taboo about creating a love story that ends with the female cutting out the male’s heart and burying it in her back yard….

Obviously I know my place in the literary world; I know that I am not going to be the next Nicholas Sparks, and nor do I want to be. Rather I want to take the ideals of the classic love story and breathe new life into a genre that has been beat down by writer after writer cashing in on society’s desire to feel in order to make a quick buck. I still want the piece to feel like a Chris Nicholas artwork. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll will still feature heavily in any work I produce at this stage of my writing evolution, but I want it to do so in a manner that aids the story, rather than defining it.

But this idea, this love story, if it is ever to come to fruition, will never be more than a side piece. My heart and my head are still firmly embedded within the saga that I have begun. Midas is a piece of writing that I will forever hold close to my heart, but it is merely the beginning of a journey that will (figuratively) bring the world of my characters to its knees.

Holding a wolf by its ears

Have you ever reached a point in your life where it feels like you are holding a wolf by its ears? A point where you have somehow wrestled every single aspect of your chaotic life into a (barely) manageable timetable that you bust your arse just to keep in check? – Well right now, that’s my life. Chaotic would be an understatement. Even calling it exhausting would seem less than fitting.
Since my last blog my life has become incredibly frantic, and I have done everything within my power to keep a handle on each component as best I can. But despite my best efforts it’s getting increasingly difficult to maintain the insane pace of my current existence. In the past two weeks I’ve moved house, worked non-stop, recommenced university for the year, and had some rather unexpected (and extremely positive) contact with the Brooklyn based literary agent mentioned in my last post. And it is this final point threatening to disturb my barely manageable timetable and leave me teetering on the verge of another writing induced meltdown.

Don’t get me wrong, I am extremely thrilled and humbled by the incredible feedback that my work has received from an external body. It’s something that every writer strives for; for someone to deem their work and their skill set to be of a publishable quality. But the fact that I am still editing the work has left me in the difficult situation of trying to finalise the edit as quickly as possible whilst still maintaining a keen eye to tweak and edit the manuscript’s finer details. I realise now that submitting a query to an agent when my script was still undergoing an edit was about as intelligent as pissing into the wind. But in all fairness I never expected such an efficient turnaround time from a company located halfway around the world.

Every spare moment I have right now is dedicated to finalising my script so that it can be sent in its entirety to the agent so that a final decision can be made in regards to the marketability of the finished product. I am quietly confident that what I have will be successful, but it’s still a daunting concept to know that each day will follow the same exact process of rising at five o’clock in the morning to edit before working an eight hour day, to then return home and dive straight back into my editing until I’m happy with the end result. And I’m doing this whilst still trying to juggle my university studies and maintain a social life. My body hates me for all the hours of inactivity it is enduring lately. I’m exhausted and I feel like shit after spending such long portions of the day painstakingly dissecting a piece of work that I already know like the back of my hand. But I will continue on this path of reckless inactivity until I can proudly proclaim my edit complete and submit a fully polished script to my agent.

But alas, this is the life that I chose to live when I (foolishly) decided to set myself the goal of becoming a published author; a life of anxiety, inactivity, and sheer frustration over the fact that my edit is still roughly two weeks from completion. I know that right now I am holding a wolf by its ears as I struggle to realise my dream whilst maintaining a normal existence. But if my labours pay off than the spoils will far outweigh the countless hours slaving over laptop, pen and paper.

Patience is bitter. But its fruit is sweet. – Aristotle.