The Blog of Lone

Recently I’ve been suffering from some fairly hefty writer’s block. And I know exactly which writer has been blocking me too, it’s that damn Iain Banks again.
Over the last couple of weeks I’ve been reading his latest fiction, ‘The Steep Approach to Garbadale’, and this week it’s been the science fiction ‘Feersum Endjinn’ (say it aloud), which he obviously wrote under the pseudonym of Iain M. Banks; cunningly disguising his identity by the judicial application of an extra letter to his name. As some of you may know, I’m actually a bit of an Iain Banks fan, a geek, a Banks groupie (not like that). At university when we covered him in my Science Fiction module I actually spent more of that seminar talking than the tutor did. I think he was a little embarrassed at constantly being corrected by a student.
So why if I love Banks so much is he giving me writer’s block?
The problem is the sheer damn brilliance of the man. It’s hard when you’re reading one of the best books you’ve ever found to then put it down and get into your own writing. There’s a natural tendency to compare the two that leaves you staring up at a mountainous literary genius from the somewhat soggy foothills of pulp fiction. It’s just not possible to read Banks and then see your own work in a positive light afterwards. You fling pages around the room in despair, you snap your biro in half and jump up and down on it until there’s nothing left but a few shards of inky plastic on the carpet, you scream. Oh, how you scream.
So yes, at the moment I’ve got writer’s block.
Damn you Banks, damn your great big wordy greatness.

[The story I'm currently snagged on is called 'The Rat Princess' and I'll be posting it up on here once it's done for the usual chance for you ppl out there in Blogland to comment, criticise, or more likely, just condemn with silence.]

Who’s got wood? Our favourite chimp in a man suit that’s who’s got wood.
Bushism of the Day:
“I own a timber company? That’s news to me. Need some wood?” –George W. Bush, second presidential debate, St. Louis, Mo., Oct. 8, 2004

So normally I’m a bit ‘bah humbug’ about the idea of Christmas but having already worked a Christmas Fayre at Fichcock’s and having served mince pies and mulled wine to over 700 hundred people it’s hard to maintain that kinda attitude. And today I made 344 mince pies by hand for work and another 10 at home as a surprise for my family as I was so chuffed with my new found ability to bake. So … I am now officially Lord of the Pies.  (It’s a bit like ‘Lord of the Flies’, but without the homoerotic overtones.)

Bushism of the Day:

“I’m not the expert on how the Iraqi people think, because I live in America, where it’s nice and safe and secure.” –George W. Bush, Washington, D.C., Sept. 23, 2004

As you might have guessed I’m back from my short break to Dartmouth. Which was lovely. We wandered around Dartmouth. Browsed charity shops a plenty and played on the beach despite the English weather. We visited many quaint little towns. One, Totnes, is a town comprised entirely of New Age shops and the cheapest bookshops in the country. It actually physically hurt for me to leave that place, and needless to say I left it much poorer than I entered it. I could quite happily have spent the rest of my life wandering around in a wonderful karmic literary daze. We ate fish and chips. I drank lots of wine. Rachel ate bags upon bags of something called Rainbow Drops which made her go insane and spray sweets all over the inside of my car as her hand eye co-ordination was shot to nothing.

Anyway, it was with touch of sadness that we came home again, although on the way I did finally get to see Stardust (look out for a review of that coming to the Blog in the next few days) which cheered me up greatly. When I got back home it was to a house without a living room, which was being redecorated. So not only have I been doing the regular paid work during the week but spending the weekend papering the ceiling, filling cracks and painting, painting, painting. Not really what you want to come home to after a relaxing time away. But at least I have a pretty house now.

Here’s a lil’ taste of Dartmouth for ya’ll.

This one’s taken on Blackpool beach, five minutes from the Old Bakery where we were staying.

And this is me and Racel magic arming it up on Slapton Sands. We’re not really that pale and pasty, not even me, it’s all just crazy lighting I tell ya.

A big congratulations to my good friend Em who’s just moved into her new house. Which she has promptly filled full of enough snakes and reptiley things to give anyone else nightmares. Good luck in the new house matey!

Bushism of the Day:
“This is still a dangerous world. It’s a world of madmen and uncertainty and potential mental losses.”—At a South Carolina oyster roast, as quoted in the Financial Times, Jan. 14, 2000