tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post8103439510924356382..comments2023-10-03T11:41:21.191+01:00Comments on The Truth About Lies: Drowning in chocolate: an apology ... eventuallyJim Murdochhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12786388638146471193noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-15452053681607791202012-05-13T14:34:03.022+01:002012-05-13T14:34:03.022+01:00It's hard, mate. And when the other half is aw...It's hard, mate. And when the other half is away, it's harder still. I know this myself. It's cool to play at being a tough literary island but it's much easier when your favorite person is with you to give warmth and companionship and... proximity.<br /><br />Things get magnified when the favorite person is away. Don't be too hard on yourself, particularly in the period of separation.<br /><br />None of us are doing much good, really. I wish I was producing more and pushing myself more - I'm doing neither. There's a song by Colin Hay called 'Waiting for my real life to begin'. I sometimes think that sums me up. I try to push to make it begin but it's never going to happen now. Someone down the line, there's an adjustment coming and it may not be an easy one.<br /><br />Hah! A cheery fecker for your Sunday afternoon, me. :) Mind yourself. You're a great writer, in my book, and doesn't mean you have to do it every day.Ken Armstronghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07775956557261111127noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-82412036482451019632012-05-13T13:01:13.868+01:002012-05-13T13:01:13.868+01:00But that’s exactly the point, Ken! You see me one ...But that’s exactly the point, <b>Ken</b>! You see me one way and I see me in quite a different light. Neither, I suspect, are accurate representations of what I’m really like or capable of. I actually teared up when I read your comment (never a good sign, let’s blame it on me being maudlin since Carrie’s away and not an early sign of my next bout of depression which I worry about constantly) and got up to make a coffee not realising it was suddenly lunchtime; where did that morning go? I think of myself as a disorganised, inefficient, unproductive individual; a two-steps-forward-one-step-back kind of bloke. I read about these writers who believe passionately in what they’ve written and promote themselves constantly (where do they get the energy?) and yet I’ve allowed myself to get dragged down by the lack of interest in <i>Milligan and Murphy</i>; I’ve really not promoted it with the fame fervour that I did <i>Living with the Truth</i>. <br /><br />But that’s not the worst of it. It’s the middle of May—almost halfway through the year—and I’ve written nothing. (Not true; I’ve written 4000 words of a new work of fiction but I have no idea where it’s going and can’t bear to look at it so it’s as good as nothing.) Four thousand words is nothing; I write longer blogs; I can write that many words in a day when I’m on a roll. I read Facebook entries every day about all these writers writing away posting their latest word counts and trying to drum up enthusiasm for their latest ebook and it just sucks the life out of me. I feel guilty. I feel I’m misrepresenting myself as a writer; I’m not a writer, I’m a wroter. <br /><br />I don’t just get the odd visitor coming to me through Google, Ken, I get hundreds upon hundreds; the vast majority of my readers find me via it. I’ve followed the ‘rules’ but my regular followers only increase at a snail’s pace. Five years and I’ve only just managed to pass the 200 mark. If I were only to visit sites that interested me and only read books that interested me I might be happier because I’d only be reading about six blogs a week but the whole point of being on the Internet is to make and help friends who, in turn, will help you out sometime down the line. I’m not naïve. I don’t wear pink-tinted glasses. It is possible to be a decent person without being completely altruistic. I don’t do things for other people simply so they’ll support me in the months to come but that doesn’t mean I’m not puzzled when they don’t support me. This is perhaps because I have an inflated sense of my own worth which is an odd thing to own up to having considering how negative I am about myself most of the time. <br /><br />Basically I’m an old-fashioned guy. I like technology and think the Internet is a great resource but I’m also an antisocial pig. I’m completely ill-equipped to be the kind of writer that succeeds in this world, someone like Ian Rankin who is camera-friendly and always ready with a quip of an anecdote. I never go out of the house if I don’t have to. So I have all this time because what little housework there is takes no time at all and we’re not exactly house-proud and yet I get so little done. Because I’m slow. Because I have no stamina. I’ve been writing this comment since noon. I expect I’ll finish and post it by one; that’s an hour gone: pfft!<br /><br />My health—and Carrie’s too—is a worry. I had thought I’d recovered from my breakdown a while back but since December—Carrie’s last trip to the States—the brain fog has returned with a vengeance along with constant headaches and I can go for days without a clear spell. I was talking to Carrie on the phone last night and I said to her: “If only I could think straight I could get so much work done.” But I can’t. She supports me as much as she can but she has her own problems: chronic pain, malaise and the side-effects from a shelfful of medications. But without her I doubt I would have got anything into print. <br /><br />I appreciate your encouragement and support, Ken. We each do what we can to carry the burdens of others but every man has to shoulder his own load.<br /><br>Jim Murdochhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12786388638146471193noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-10790453018591796602012-05-13T11:53:47.109+01:002012-05-13T11:53:47.109+01:00You're right, of course, my comment wasn't...You're right, of course, my comment wasn't phrased terribly well and you *did* end your piece very well. But you've got my gist all right. I think the bother lies in how many blogs you visit and, if I may be so bold, in how many books you read that are not of your choosing.<br /><br />If all this weight on you resulted in you giving up blogging then I think that would be very sad. I honestly think the work you do here has great value and, if it were to be stopped because other, lesser, demands upon your time forced that... well, it would be sad.<br /><br />(You were kind to me when I went from three posts a week to one, perhaps sensing that I was on the edge of packing it in. I don't think I ever was but the one post a week, with scatterings of lyrics in between, has worked well for me and I enjoy it without it being a burden to me.<br /><br />Like you, I find the odd visitor comes to me via a Google search or some-such-thing and I love those. These are the people who have sought out what we do without any predisposition towards us. We never know when something written will find the exact home it was subliminally intended-for via the wonders of the Internet. It's a fun thing.<br /><br />I see you as having enormous stamina in your writing. The length and depth of your posts, your reviews, your endless tour of other blogs, your amazing reading output. You could do *anything* in writing with that level of stamina. You would just have to focus it in the appropriate direction for a while. <br /><br />I'm rambling, don't read too much into any of this. :)Ken Armstronghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07775956557261111127noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-20535972126104168732012-05-10T10:56:45.190+01:002012-05-10T10:56:45.190+01:00I would read your novelette, Gwilliam, if you ever...I would read your novelette, <b>Gwilliam</b>, if you ever get round to writing it unless it involves vampire unicorns; I have a strict no tolerance policy there. My last two book were both supposed to be novellas. I can’t really explain how I could have thought that when I’d only written a few hundred words but I really thought it would take less words than it did to say what I ended up saying. So I wouldn’t be too quick to assume that 17,500 words (or less) will be enough. I expected my third novel to be about 50,000 words long and it ended up at 90,000 which I know is not long by most people’s standards but I consider it epic.<br /><br />I actually have nothing against Jolie Angelina. I think she’s growing as an actress. Getting her to wear a t-shirt promoting my poetry collection was a bit tricky but it’s amazing what you can do with computers these days.<br /><br>Jim Murdochhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12786388638146471193noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-36464634850657577752012-05-09T23:40:19.620+01:002012-05-09T23:40:19.620+01:00I read your comment earlier in the day, Ken, and m...I read your comment earlier in the day, <b>Ken</b>, and my first thought was: <i>What the hell does he mean? I thought I ended the piece rather well.</i> So I’ve sat and thought about what you said and what I think you’re asking is: Now you’ve got all that off your chest what’re you going to do with the information? And, if indeed that is what you’re saying, that’s a very good question. In August I’ll have been blogging for five years. I’ve never celebrated anniversaries online, never mentioned when I got to one year or two or so many hundred posts but I think I might do one to mark five years of banging my head against a brick wall. Which means I need to start thinking about what I’m going to say now. <br /><br />A part of me wants to jack it all in as so many others have before me. Just after I started posting one guy closed up shop; he went by the moniker ‘Grumpy Old Bookman’. In his <a href="http://grumpyoldbookman.blogspot.co.uk/2007/11/sabbatical.html" rel="nofollow">last post</a>, on Sunday November 25th 2007 he explained why: “[T]he only sensible thing to do, I feel, if the quart will demonstrably not fit into the pint pot, is to stop blogging altogether.” He was seventy-two at the time. I don’t think I’m ready to quit yet but I am wondering about the effectiveness of how I manage my time. Like him I have effectively retired from fulltime employment. I have no intention of explaining how I can afford this without sponging on the state but I can. Obviously, at seventy-two, Michael Allen, had also retired and this was what he noted: “I retired from full-time employment. After which, of course, I had all the time in the world. Ha! If you only knew. First law of the universe: everything takes longer than you think.” I’m finding that too. And it is of some concern to me because, like all of us, I only have a finite time left and as every day passes it’s a day less I have to do what needs to be done. <br /><br />Carrie is in America this week and so I’ve been dipping into my stockpile of saved TV programmes. Tonight I watched yet another documentary about the far-from-camera-shy David Hockney (couldn’t remember his first name there and had to look him up) who’s seventy-four at the moment and, at the time the documentary was filmed, was preparing for an unprecedented <a href="http://www.royalacademy.org.uk/exhibitions/hockney/" rel="nofollow">one man exhibition at the Royal Academy of Arts</a>. The interviewer noted just how hard he was working now and unlike many other contemporary artists Hockney was quick to point out that the exhibition was all his own work, all painted or drawn with his own hands. Frankly I was jealous. He has the stamina of a man half his age whereas I feel I have the stamina one would expect him to have. So where next?<br /><br />A while back I was blogging twice a week. I enjoyed it otherwise I wouldn’t have done it. When it began to become a bit of a burden I cut back to posting every five days. Now, or if not now then soon, I think I might cut back to once a week. The large body of work I’ve uploaded is now a decent landing platform for new readers. Occasionally I pop onto the Google Analytics Real-Time page. Just now there’s someone from Ankara reading one of my articles on Larkin; they searched for “passion is essentially and mercilessly human”. Two other people arrived while I was typing that last sentence. Likely none of the three will become regular visitors but that’s okay.<br /><br />I think I also need to look at who I’m keeping company with. Keen to promote myself as widely as possible I’ve got in with a bad crowd, the ebook writers, and they’re a depressing bunch to be around. They're so up and jolly and going on about where they are in the Amazon charts and when the next cheque from Smashwords is due and I just don’t get them. I don’t get Stephen King either; the man’s a machine. Writing was never a job of work for me and I find that I don’t know how to turn it into one. Maybe I should work on non-fiction. I seem to be able to churn that stuff out.<br /><br />What next? Don’t know. Something.<br /><br>Jim Murdochhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12786388638146471193noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-575997366156066862012-05-09T20:47:38.411+01:002012-05-09T20:47:38.411+01:00Jim, I've been thinking of writing a novelette...Jim, I've been thinking of writing a novelette. The very idea is madness. Please talk me out it.<br /><br />ps- I've never met Jolie Angelina before. She knows how to dress.Gwil Whttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03305768121713053837noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-33588360840172592892012-05-09T13:32:11.470+01:002012-05-09T13:32:11.470+01:00I think this great post is only missing one thing ...I think this great post is only missing one thing - a conclusion at the end. I think you're probably getting to that conclusion in your own time, as you should.<br /><br />You've got to read what you want to read, I reckon. You don't owe anybody anything at all. Ignore a few days worth of the Feedreader and read Heaney instead. See how it feels.Ken Armstronghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07775956557261111127noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-88602159250283250152012-05-08T18:05:08.003+01:002012-05-08T18:05:08.003+01:00I don’t think I’m trying to outguess my audience, ...I don’t think I’m trying to outguess my audience, <b>Art</b>, so much as get to grips with the Internet. I’m never averse to putting in a bit of work and I’ve spent a long time reading what the ‘experts’ say one ought to do to promote your work and gain an audience that sticks with you most of which involves not being a pushy, self-centred bugger and being genuine in your dealings with others. That doesn’t mean you can’t tell people when you’ve got a new book or whatever, just don’t ram it down their throats. And I think I do all that. I try and not have ulterior motives in my dealings with others but that doesn’t mean one can’t hope that people will rally round you in your hour of need. And some do. All I’d need do is write a post talking about how depressed I am and how I’m thinking about chucking it all in and learning how to use my DSLR instead and there’d be plenty of comments encouraging me not to quit but how often can you pull a stunt like that? The problem all of us have is that we’re working with what we imagine the people hiding behind these user names and avatars are like. <br /><br />So, you’re right, I’m half-joking here but there’s also a serious point lurking in this article. We settle for so much less online that we’d ever do in the real world. We ‘friend’ people all the time and have completely devalued the notion of friendship so why should we be disappointed when these e-friends don’t behave like real-world-friends? Or when we don’t act like a true friend towards them? It cuts both ways. I try and spread myself too thinly and I don’t think it’s a good thing either. And I genuinely do feel guilty for not being more supportive of people but there’s only so much me to go round and, as there’s less than there used to be, I get used up a lot quicker than I’d like.<br /><br />I think what the Internet has done for me is to show me that there <i>are</i> people out there who will connect with what I write. It’s not many but there are a few and I find I cannot not think about them when I write nowadays which is probably why I’m writing so little fiction and poetry. Or, to be more accurate, turning my nose up at everything I do write.<br /><br>Jim Murdochhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12786388638146471193noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-48525470157865417332012-05-08T15:14:54.789+01:002012-05-08T15:14:54.789+01:00People have gone insane trying to outguess the aud...People have gone insane trying to outguess the audience. It's not worth it. As you know, barring requests and commissions, I continue to write what I write, ignoring any audience. I don't have one anyway, and I'm not really capable of thinking about who will read what I write, WHEN I am writing it. <br /><br />I take your essay here half-jokingly because I don't really think it's a problem for you either, really. Ignoring whoever we imagine is looking over our shoulder is just a necessity of practice.Art Durkeehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07463180236975988432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-53203633952379120692012-05-06T14:32:49.703+01:002012-05-06T14:32:49.703+01:00Yes, Nathaniel, it’s a funny ol’ world we’re livin...Yes, <b>Nathaniel</b>, it’s a funny ol’ world we’re living in. Of course yours is one of those sites that I do tend to read purely because of the brevity of the posts even if I rarely comment. I know I should comment more but it’s like those comic strips I subscribe to--<i>Garfield</i>, <i>Garfield Minus Garfield</i> and <i>Dilbert</i>—I read them, smile and pass on forgetting within seconds what I’ve just read. Now I’m not saying that everything you or I write is necessarily going to be the kind of thing we’d want people to remember for the rest of their lives (especially when I have one of my periodical rants) but I think we’d all like people to stop and think about what they’ve just read every now and then. Poetry, of course, is the worst thing. Who reads poems online the way poems are supposed to be read? With a few exceptions most poems I chance across online are lucky if I devote sixty seconds to them, enough time to decide if I want to spend any more, and that’s unfair on those who’ve gone to the trouble of posting their work but then again I’m assuming that they write poem like me and not dashed the thing off in five minutes so they have something for a daily prompt of whatever. We may not view the world through pink-tinted glasses but I think most of us suffer from varying degrees of intellectual myopia; we see the world the way we imagine the world is. I have no idea about you. Not really. If someone was to ask me what I thought about you the first thing I’d think of is that I like you but if someone was to press me to explain <i>why</i> I like you I’d be embarrassed by my inability to defend my claim. What exactly is that sense based on? And it’s the same with quite a few people whose lives I know nothing, or next to nothing, about; in my head I have a mental picture of them that I like and assume that in reality that’s what they’re like. And then I see a few photos in Facebook and think: <i>Oh, I never imagined he or she’d be like that</i>.<br /><br />I think on the whole, for me, the Internet is a bad thing. Again, I’m not talking about the Internet, I’m talking about how I see the Internet which is probably not how you, or anyone else come think of it, sees it. Five years ago I never gave my readers a second thought because, barring my wife and daughter, I had no readers; I hadn’t even sent away any poetry for years. I wrote what pleased me when it pleased me and that was about it. Now when I write it’s <i>to </i> someone, at least to the someones I can pretty much guarantee will read my blog. And that’s changed me. I struggled to finish my last book because, for the first time in my life, I felt the presence of an imagined future reader over my shoulder and that put me off. It’s what’s putting me off what I’m trying to work on just now. I know I shouldn’t complain. More people have read my writing now than ever before and some appear to be quite taken by it. That’s not to be sniffed at. <br /><br />I suspect that a lot of people out there are no real clue what’s going on with anyone else with whom they interact online. I know you’re married, have a new kid, but I have no idea what life is like for you and your new kid. I don’t understand why people don’t want to review my books or why they’re not asking me to review their books; there have been a few recently where I expected an e-mail and nothing. Okay, a part of me is glad because I’m always bordering on being overrun by books but those I do do get done well; traditionally-published or self-published, everyone gets treated the same on my blog. So why have I not been asked? Not only do I not know what people are like online it also looks as if I don’t know what they think I’m like. Maybe they think I’m too snobby to consider their book. You may have wondered why I’ve not done your book. The main reason there is that’s it’s an ebook and I tend to forget I even own them. Also I think it might be on my Kindle and since I bought the tablet I rarely look at the Kindle. I intend get to it. Just don’t give up the ghost before I do.<br /><br>Jim Murdochhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12786388638146471193noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6327348657265652781.post-8024246704577139342012-05-06T01:33:17.752+01:002012-05-06T01:33:17.752+01:00If it's any consolation, I'm already sick ...If it's any consolation, I'm already sick of hearing myself talk, too.Scattercathttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00302815654553659644noreply@blogger.com