Emma’s Thoughts

Want your name on the credits of a great British film? Then read on…

Eric Colvin (one of the leads in this film) is a very talented actor, and happens to be the big bro of an old chum of mine… he sent me this story, and I just had to share it with you… It shows what you can achieve when you are really inspired, but also shows the increasing  importance of collaboration, especially when it comes to funding Arts Projects. I’ve seen several Short Story Anthologies recently seeking collaborative funding (Willesden Herald seem to be going down this route), and it’s a great way to support projects that enthuse you.  Have a look at the link below, and if you feel inspired, why not donate £20 (or £2,000)… I know I’m going to!

“Andy Phelps and Jake Hawkins celebrated getting laid-off from their respective day-jobs as an opportunity to do what they would much rather have been doing all along – making a low-budget horror movie. Zombie Resurrection was written in 2010, and in January 2011 they started working full time on producing the movie.

After raising the first slice of funding from two private investors, the film was shot over 24 days in August 2011, in the South of England. Zombie Resurrection isn’t like other low-budget zombie movies. It has all the gore, screams and jumps you’d expect from a horror movie, but it has great characters, humour and social commentary besides…

When you’re doing what you love doing, day in and day out, you can get a lot done. In only 18 months they chaps conceived, wrote, financed, produced and shot a highly ambitious feature. The footage and the first edit look fabulous, and they just need the final push to get the movie out there. While the initial investment got the guys through to the end of the shoot, they now need more money to get the film finished and ready for distribution.

At the moment, the UK is a really unhelpful place to make movies – no studios, no government interest in genre cinema, a Film Council that has just been closed down, and all this in the middle of a harsh economic climate. This is why crowd funding is so important in keeping the sparks of independent film making alight.  Independent cinema is the absolute bedrock of a country’s film industry, where actors, crew and filmmakers learn their craft. We will be massively grateful for any contributions to getting us across the finish line; proof that passion and tenacity can still triumph even when the system is stacked against you.”

To see Zombie Resurrection’s completely bonkers and brilliant trailer, or become part of this great slice of British movie-making, visit:

www.indiegogo.com/Zombie-Resurrection-1

It’s been a funny old week…

On the downside, I’ve had a story and a novel rejected, but then on the upside, we’ve had four new clients for the Marketing/Webdesign business, plus I was sent a good review of ’Day Terrors’ from Supernatural Tales magazine. So is that two steps backwards, five steps forward, even if some of those steps are slightly diagonal? Go figure… 

DAY TERRORS – Edited with an introduction by Dru Pagliasotti www.theharrowpress.com

 ”Day Terrors has a fair number of stories that rise above genre cliché and cardboard characters. Of these, a decent number are supernatural. And, though Harrow Press is a California outfit, I was pleased to find that some of the best supernatural tales here came from British writers….

Another Brit, E(mma) C. Seaman, rounds off the book with her ghostly ‘Sands of Time’. In the author notes she apologises for the low-key nature of the tale, but it is in fact an interesting example of the kind of ghost story that used to be called science fantasy, which – if well done, as it is here – needs no apology…

Overall, this is a pretty good anthology; I enjoyed it more than I expected, and it’s always pleasing to come across new names who can really write. It should appeal to more broadminded ST readers; those of us who don’t mind dipping our toes into the murky, roiling waters of the modern horror scene to see what comes up for a nibble.’

It’s available in paperback from www.Amazon.co.uk and also in Kindle format.

I’m sitting typing this at midnight, shivering in my fake fur coat. For reasons far too complicated to explain, I’m camped out at my parents’ house using their computer to print off a manuscript. They’re away for the night and I can’t work their central heating. That’s one reason for my shivering. The other is that I can look out of their study window across Bradley Valley, over to Wolborough Church, where my friends’ young son was buried just a couple of weeks ago. The tower of the church is glowing with light, a beacon in the darkness, and I’m thinking about little Sam, lying there under the crest of pine trees, fresh snowdrops already coming up in the grass near his grave. I can see his parents’ house, just a few minutes’ walk from the church. All their lights are off, and I really hope they’re asleep. I don’t think they’ve been getting much sleep, recently.

It is terrifying how quickly we can be brought back down to earth. One minute we’re celebrating Christmas, debating whether to crack open another bottle, nibble another chocolate, queasily irritated with our noisy, boisterous sugar-high children. The next minute we’re reeling from the news of a sudden, unexpected and inexplicable death, and reaching out to give and receive comfort. One consolation for Sam’s family was that he was a much-loved little boy, who surely knew how much he was adored. I’ve always liked to slip into my kids’ room late at night, to straighten their quilts and steal a sleepy kiss, but in the weeks since Sam died, I’ve been unwilling to leave them, to detach myself from their clinging embrace. Some nights I lie there ‘til morning, holding their warm little bodies snug against mine.

Hold your loved-ones close. Phone your family and tell them you really do care. Make up that feud, write a letter, send an email. Don’t ever have cause to regret the love you didn’t express. If you try, then somehow, the right words will come.

The very inspirational Amy Williams

At the weekend I read an interview with Amy Williams, Britain’s golden girl in Vancouver, and she said something that really chimed with me.

“Every decision I’ve made was: is this going to help me go to the Olympics or is it not? Do I go out, do I not go out? I’ve probably been a bit of a bore for the past few years…. And it’s all paid off.”

How fabulous, I thought, that single-minded drive to success, identifying what you want and then putting every waking moment into it. That’s what I need to do – ensure that my every action takes me closer to becoming No 1 Bestselling Author (which is, when you get down to it, the Gold I’m chasing). Then this morning as I was hanging out the laundry, making school lunchboxes, sorting picture books, organising cat races (don’t ask), I thought – oh yeah? That single-minded pursuit of success is fine as long as you don’t have small children and a husband, all of whom need (and deserve) their fair share of care and attention. Single-mindedness, in fact, works best if you are single.

“There is no more sombre enemy of good art than the pram in the hall,”  wrote Cyril Connelly, a bitter phrase that has always annoyed me, for it gets too-frequently used as a put-down for busy mummy-writers or as self(ish) justification for male authors to pursue their own ends behind locked doors. To achieve my writing dreams, should I have refused marriage and motherhood? I suppose singledom would have given me more time to write, but then what the hell would I have written about? I’m temperamentally unsuited to being alone and besides, though it works for some, without the experiences and fulfilment I’ve had in my ‘real life’, I’d have ended up a sad, strange little person, not writing anything worthy of reading. And having happily plumped for family life, I certainly don’t want to take the ‘bolt the study door and let them fend for themselves’ route – that way lies divorce, and given the tininess of my children, angry visits from social services.

So there’s my dilemma; I’m not prepared to relinquish my dream, but equally, viscerally, feel that I cannot neglect my darlings. And so, like everyone else who can only pursue their dreams part-time, I’ve discovered the joy of compromise. I sit writing until 1am, even though I know the kids will have me up again at 5, I blog while my toddler watches CBeebies, and turn down invitations to go out with my friends so that I can write in my precious evening hours. I’ve even developed an ability to concentrate on my laptop while my husband watches sci-fi on TV; at least that way we can be companionable on the same sofa, though my mind is floating off elsewhere.  I don’t think DH minds my lack of interest in Caprica; he chases me back to my computer if he thinks I’m not writing hard enough, and I tell myself that my children are better off with a mummy who enjoys what she does. So what if I have to squeeze every day to find enough hours? At least I can still dream; at least I’m still going for gold…

Went to see The biggest film ever in the world, it’s official  in 3d yesterday. Darling Husband (or DH, as Mumsnet would have it) weirdly decided it would be an ideal Valentine’s Day treat - though it didn’t exactly create a romantic mood as we both ended up with cracking headaches (3d always makes me feel as if my eyes are bouncing round a pinball machine and my brain is being squeezed out through my earholes…)

Anyway - Avatar left me feeling decidely unnerved, and not just from my 3d hangover. For pure visual spectacle, it is the most amazing film I’ve seen; the scenery of the world of Pandora is stunning, almost literally, as tree branches and fern fronds seem entirely likely to snap back and hit you round the head as the characters leap through their fabulous forest. The 3d adds to the trippy experience, making the film incredibly immersive – I noticed a young girl a few seats away from me reaching out her hands to try and catch dandelion-like seedpods that seemed to float only inches from our faces. Some audiences have formed support groups to deal with the loss and dejection they feel when the film ends, devastated that they have to ‘leave’ beautiful Pandora behind in the cinema (I’m guessing they were Americans.) I even felt a little trace of that strange artificial nostalgia for a place and a time that doesn’t actually exist, for I am secretly sad that I will never get to walk through the beautiful nighttime phosphorescence of the Pandoran rainforest, with the lush moss lighting up under my bare feet at every step, like some kind of eco-friendly Michael Jackson video.

But still… although it is a feat of astonishing technical wizardry, there is something faintly depressing about the film, quite apart from the rather heavy-handed enviro-message being perpetually undermined by the director’s pornographically lustful eye for a huge explosion. The quality of the story, for example, when looked at with a writer’s sensibility… well, it’s formulaic, verging on parodic. There are certain shots (for example, the hero accidentally pushing away his wheelchair in a moment of crisis) that are entirely predictable, places where the plot creaks with convenient devices, characters that are archetypes rather than people, dialogue that never rises beyond exposition or cliche. And then there’s the uneasy, queasy sensation you get when your brain catches up with your eyes and you realise that nothing you are watching is ‘real’, in an even more dramatic way than with most films, for the majority of the characters have been computer-born, spun from pixels and electricity. (Even more disturbing when you realise you’re starting to find these pixellated creations faintly attractive…)

So is Avatar the future of filmmaking? Now the technology is there, and the bar has been raised, I can only imagine that  big-budget films will be getting even bigger (though the role of the actor may be diminishing…. discuss.) Terry Gilliam, for one, has expressed dismay at Avatar’s success, worrying that the big bang boys are going to squeeze out all the small and quirky films that are driven (at least in part) by art rather than commerce. The temptation to create bigger and more spectacular visions has always been a part of filmmaking, but so has the desire to reflect, explore and illuminate human truths and emotions. So I’m just waiting for the film that manages to combine the beautiful landscape of Pandora with a warm and beating heart.

The New Writer magazine celebrates its 100th issue this month – and I’d like to offer congratulations to all involved.

As a magazine, it pretty much does what it says on the tin – offering a valuable forum for newbies by printing  articles, poetry and short stories every issue, as well as giving useful information about upcoming competitions and possible writing markets. I must admit a wee bias here - the magazine has published three of my stories and an article over the last couple of years, but then that’s exactly the reason I would thoroughly recommend it to any other author…

Their annual poetry and prose competition is also well worth entering – keep your eyes on the website for the closing date (usually November), or subscribe to the brilliant TNW monthly email bulletin, which contains a summary of forthcoming competitions as well as useful snippets of publishing news.

Visit www.thenewwriter.com for more details or to subscribe.  There’s even one of my stories printed this month for you to read…

Just come back from holiday – only a couple of days in Cornwall, nowhere exotic, but ohmiGod it was fab. I don’t know whether it was the unbroken nights of sleep, the salty fresh air, thirty lengths of the swimming pool before breakfast everyday, or the vast quantities of fabulous seafood and fish I consumed, but my brain seems to have been working on overtime ever since. I realised I’d made a little booboo in my last short story (to do with the orientation of the Tate St Ives – could only be solved by seeing it for real, not working from memory) and also came back with the most marvellous idea (I think) for another novel. Hurrah! Just have to finish editing Lookeylikey now, though a few days away have given me renewed enthusiasm for that task as well. Hurray for holidays, and BTW, if you are ever in St Ives, try having dinner at The Hobblers House. It’s quaint verging on twee, but serves the most fabulous, simply fresh fish dishes I’ve ever had. And as for their ambrosial homemade date and pistachio icecream…. mmmmmm… (makes contented drooling noises, eyes glaze over at the taste-memory….)

ES with super bestselling author Fiona Walker. I'm the blurry one. She's thinking "Crikey - got a right one here..."

OKAY… so it wasn’t the BBC National Short Story Prize (see earlier blog), but it was still wonderful to win something. Top prize in the International Short Story comp at the 2009 Wells Festival of Literature, to be precise, and I am still glowing from my fabulous day out.

Wells is a beautiful city (WELL worth a visit, LOL) and the Festival was brilliantly organised and hosted by the friendliest folk you could meet. It was great to be handed my certificate and cheque and bask in a little praise, but the highlight for me (apart from my secret visit to Wells Cathedral chained library, more about which another time) was meeting bestselling novelist Fiona Walker, who judged the competition and dished out the prizes.

I’ve met other successful authors, and have been variously inspired or dismayed (e.g. Terry Pratchett – towering genius with oddly squeaky voice, Stephen Fry – extremely tall and  howlingly drunk), but Fiona was something else again. She gave the most insightful and amusing talk about the perils of the publishing industry and her life in writing, and then gamely accompanied us to lunch.

It’s lovely to meet someone whose work you have read and enjoyed, and then find that not only are they exactly as warm and funny and inventive as you’d imagine them to be from their writing, but that they are kind, supportive and encouraging to other writers as well. I’ve got a signed copy of her latest book , ‘Love Hunt’ , lined up as my next  bedtime read and am looking forward to buying the one she’s currently editing, which sounds like it’s gonna be a real ripsnorter!

So thank you Fiona for making the day so much fun, and for being everything a writer should be…

I’ve recently had a query from a new writer called Nick Thompson, essentially asking the question – “But where do I start?” I know how he feels; even if you’re writing an autobiographical piece, it can be daunting, when faced with piles of research notes or a head full of stories and ideas, to work out where the narrative should begin. How many novels, I wonder, languish unwritten simply because the writer lacked the confidence to get started?

Well, the best advice I can give to any fledgling writer is, in the immortal words of the NIKE advert slogan – just do it. Don’t worry about beginnings or endings, about structure or form, simply apply bottom to chair and pen to paper and write.  Jump straight into the juicy bits, the stories that obsess you, the tales you have to tell, the anecdotes that are so familiar they can almost write themselves  – and please don’t worry about crafting that perfect first sentence.  All the technical details of structure, timeline and linking narrative can be tightened and tinkered with at the editing stage – by which time you’ll be feeling more confident anyway.

I think this is particularly important when you are writing (as Nick plans to) a memoir or family history. Personal histories vary tremendously in tone, from the ‘heavily embroidered for humorous effect’ of Gerald Durrell to the melodramatic ‘misery-memoirs’ that have recently been in vogue. By writing down the parts that fascinate you, you’ll find your voice, your style, even your overarching themes, and discover whether you’re writing a comedy, a tragedy or a poignant mixture of both.

Once you’ve got a good chunky word count, read it and discover what your overall tone should be. Better still, work with sympathetic (but not sycophantic) friends or a writing circle and gather some feedback. Then you’re in a position to start mentally editing your work and jotting down a structure, chapter plans, character notes, plotlines. And yes – even for non-fiction, it’s good to have these things; one trend with non-fiction at the moment is to structure it in the manner of fiction, working in a non-chronological order and using flashbacks and reveals to heighten suspense.

My second tip is – don’t ever write anything just because you feel you should - unless of course you’re getting paid stacks of money.  If you’re bored or unengaged by what you’re writing, then why on earth should anybody else want to bother to read it? It’s not so much a question of ‘write what you know’ but ‘write what you love’. That way, even if you never get published (and I hope you will) at least you’ll have had fun in the process!

I do hope that helps, Mr Thompson, and the very best of good luck…

Today, I’m reminded of a joke I once read…

A devout man prays every week – “Please God, let me win the lottery jackpot. I’ll do great things with the money and promise to use it all helping others.”

Finally after many weeks without winning so much as a tenner,     he falls to his knees and says – “Why not me, Lord?”

And God replies, “Come on, help me out here – you could at     least buy a ticket!”

That’s kind of how I feel about the BBC National Short Story Award, one of the most prestigious (and potentially lucrative) short story competitions around. Winning the National Lottery feels more likely than winning this prize; all the previous shortlists have included (as you might expect) excellent, well-established ‘name’ authors, rather than the diffident, part-time, easily-distracted likes of me. But still, I always feel I have to give it another go. Why not join me? You never know – it could be you!

The BBC National Short Story Award – closing date 15th June. For more info see – www.theshortstory.org.uk/nssp/2009.php4