Conferences, journalism and voice-recognition

Attended a conference in Melbourne at the start of the week.  One of the highlights was listening to Sushi Das, senior writer with The Age.  Enjoyed hearing someone with so much journalistic integrity describe her approach to writing news stories and feature articles.  This seminar also had me taking note afresh of the similarities and dissimilarities with writing fiction - things which can be learned or borrowed from journalists to sharpen fiction.

Have been playing around with Dragon Naturally Speaking across the last fortnight.  Wanted to try this program for years, but finally got round to loading it recently.  Was a little sceptical after hearing of Mrs T's difficulties with this Voice-Recognition software over at her Witty Ways blog, but given that stories grow out of an oral tradition, it seemed a reasonable idea to try and take story-telling back to an oral approach, as long as the Dragon and I were compatible with one another.

Thought I'd try reciting Jack and Jill as one of my first exercises, before cracking into a lengthy short story I've been telling for years but have never written down.

First time I tried, it came up with:

Jack and Jill went up the hill

To Japan across the water...

Hmm, not sure how it managed that.  Second and third time it did exactly the same. To Japan across the water.  Thought maybe I'd read too much Haruki Murakami of late or that it was having difficulties with my peculiar blend of accents, so did some retraining.  This involved reciting all of John F Kennedy's speeches to Congress, or some such, along with a couple of comedy sketches that the program obviously enjoyed hearing read aloud.  Anyway, a couple of hours later, I try Jack and Jill  once again.

This time it comes up with:

Jack and Jill went up the hill

To bitch about the water...

It might not be 100% accurate, but at least it seems to be on a similar wavelength to me.  If I had to climb a hill every time I wanted to fetch a pail, I'd bitch about the water too. The program stays. It can shape the grittier, less-tolerant voice behind my next story. 

Stories, commas, Vampire Weekend and stuff

Am putting a few workplace hours into exploring and discussing the whole business of story-telling at the moment, as well as developing some short stories of my own at home.  Editing too, having left Number Two to rest in a dark cellar for a few months.  It's now time to dust it down and edit the wee beastie before it goes to print.

Across at The View From Here, we're beginning to build a new Opportunities page, to list forthcoming Opportunities, Competitions and Awards for writers.  As well as getting ready to profile a publisher (and what submissions they're looking for) on a regular basis.  So, if you know of any Opportunities, Competitions or Awards that would interest the writing community, email me and we'll do our best to include them:

opportunities at viewfromheremagazine dot com

Didn't use an Oxford comma above (that little comma that sometimes precedes 'and' or 'or' to simplify meaning in a list), although I'll happily use them when occasion demands.  To be honest, I didn't know that the little blighter even had a special name until recently, and then - Shazam! - a couple of weeks after discovering what an Oxford comma was and a couple of weeks after being interested by a band I'd not come across before, I come across the same band singing about Oxford commas.  Serendipity, eh?

Here's Vampire Weekend.

Sian Burman exhibition

Here's a bit of a plug for my talented partner, Siân Burman, who is exhibiting several of her recent works at Blarney Books Art Gallery in Port Fairy at the moment: acrylics, oils and mixed medium collages.  It's been a busy house of late.  She's also been blog-building recently, and some of her work can be seen in a little more detail over at her blog spot.

Ghosts at The View, Angel Delight and whales

Have just posted a piece I've been working on for The View from Here: The Ghost Poetry Project: an interview with Nathan Curnow - Part One.  Part Two should be appearing at around 1.00 pm (AEST) on Tuesday.

 

Recently read Toast, the story of a Boy's Hunger by Nigel Slater (Harper Perennial, 2007) and Dissection by Jacinta Halloran (Scribe, 2008).  Well, I stopped with Toast after a hundred pages.  I found it interesting to be reminded of the various food fads of 60s Britain - Heinz Sponge Pudding, Arctic Roll, Angel Delight, to name but a few - but wanted something more of a story behind all the humorous observations.  After a while it felt like I was being spoon-fed bowl after bowl of Angel Delight: too much saccharine, too little substance.  Dissection was a much more substantial dish.

The whales have left our stretch of the Southern Ocean for the time-being - their presence during the winter months is always impressive - but to make up for that, I've rediscovered (courtesy of ComedyOnABC) a favourite short animation.  Anything for mindless amusement.  Love the 'New Zealand' accents.

Here's episodes 1 and 6.

The Fun Theory

After a fun night at the art auction (and what better way of raising money for a local charity than involving everyone, loosening wallets with champagne and having a good laugh?), thought I might keep the Fun theme rolling with these excellent ideas from TheFunTheory.com.

Go have fun.

Last Suppers and Tea Parties

Have been caught up in a number of projects recently, which have swallowed all my spare moments, it seems. Not quite clear yet, but getting there. Some have been enjoyably creative, some administrative and some domestic ... and then there's the work that pays to put bread on the table ... next to the wine and fish, of course. Escaped to Melbourne at the weekend to veg out, hang out and catch a couple of exhibitions devoted to Leonardo Da Vinci: Anatomy to Robots and Peter Greenaway's superb Leonardo's Last Supper. Also took the chance to visit The Horn, a wonderful Ethiopian restaurant in Collingwood. What a supper that was.


Either side of that, have been throwing a bit of acrylic paint at a canvas again. All in the name of charity.

Made a decision a few years back not to spend any more time painting, but to concentrate on writing instead; however, was asked recently to create a painting for a charity auction - for the local hospital - which will take place this weekend. (Resolutions are worth nothing if they can't be broken.) It became a family affair, with three of us swearing at easels, trying to meet the deadline.


Mine (Tea Party - Encroaching Shadows below) was influenced by Lewis Carroll's mad Hatter's tea party and Charles Blackman's Alice in Wonderland series of paintings, which I saw a couple of years back (see above). Also by the 'dark forest' as a motif in story-telling. There's a lot I'd have to learn about technique and ways of seeing before I ever got to be a half-decent painter, but I had a great time experimenting with perspective, light, shadows and brush strokes to create visual images rather than with words, rhythm and silences. All very therapeutic. Time to get back to the written word again now though ... once I've had a bite of supper.

The Ghost Poetry Project

Had a wonderful surprise a couple of weeks back, when a friend posted me a copy of The Ghost Poetry Project by Nathan Curnow. I didn't know it was on its way - just opened the padded bag and ... Hey presto!

Happy day. (Thanks, JL. You're a gem.)

It's an intriguing idea for an anthology of poems, built from Nathan Curnow's decision to spend ten nights in ten of Australia's (reputedly) most haunted locations. From sleeping in the back of Elvira the haunted hearse to a night at the notorious Port Arthur penal settlement.

And the writing is stunning too. Superb poetry.

Won't say much more at the moment because I'm going to interview Nathan for The View From Here very soon, except that The Ghost Poetry Project is available from a number of Australian booksellers and directly from the publisher, Puncher & Wattmann.

Recent Reads

Have just finished reading Haruki Murakami's Dance Dance Dance (Vintage). I'm a bit of a sucker for Murakami's novels (haven't read any of his non-fiction yet) and have been ever since I first came across The Wind-up Bird Chronicle about ten years ago. However, Dance Dance Dance, which was first published in 1988, has catapulted itself close to the top of my Murakami favourites.

While his novels are wonderfully surreal at times, it's a quality of the narrative voice that sucks me in and draws me along - a quality that the translator (Alfred Birnbaum on this occasion) obviously manages to retain.

High-class call girls billed to Mastercard. A psychic thirteen-year-old drop-out with a passion for Talking Heads. A hunky matinee idol doomed to play dentists and teachers. A one-armed beach-combing poet, an uptight hotel clerk (in a hotel that houses a metaphysical hotel) and one very bemused narrator...

Book Group

Spent Thursday evening as the guest of a local Book Group, who'd chosen The Snowing and Greening of Thomas Passmore as their October selection. Thanks, folks.

I've been involved with answering the questions of a couple of Book Groups via email in the past, but this was my first 'live' involvement, and what a great night it was: a lot of laughter and a very decent drop of wine - not necessarily in that order. I could get accustomed to that.

While I'm posting, here's a plug for the delightful and witty Mrs T, who, when she's not blogging away at her own site, writes very entertaining pieces for the BBC. Check out her latest contribution to Mum's The Word here.

Surreal Italy

Flicking through some photos of Italy from May, there seems to be a surreal theme to my favourites. Was really taken by this stone tree in the courtyard of the Medici Palace in Rome and wouldn't mind growing one in our backyard.


Brilliant light and Italianate buildings suggest Giorgio de' Chirico. The only thing missing was the long shadows and the outline of a train.


The roofline of buildings spiralling down the cliffs of Cinque Terre put me in mind of Maurits Escher.


As did the rooftops in Siena.


And this Sienese beauty speaks for herself.