And the Winner is…

Well, it’s been a long time coming, but we finally have a winner of our very first Summer of Writing. Eleven writers submitted eighteen pieces of prose and poetry, fiction and non-fiction, light and heavy material, all in the good spirit of writing for the sake of writing, because we’re entirely without funds to give a prize, however much we wanted to. What we can give, though, is an experience, some encouragement, some competition and an interview.

I won’t claim to have loved everything that was written. Heck, I can’t remember them all too clearly. But I know when I loved pieces, and I know nothing was bad. It was just, when faced with the other pieces, they didn’t meet the judge’s mark. I was the judge. It was my mark. Personal opinion, and all that jazz. I hope that the writers will consider the publication of their work in the Literary Den magazine, which will go ahead if I can muster up the troops to helping organise it into something wonderful. Regardless, I want to thank the writers for all their hard work and the wonderful pieces they submitted.

This is the part where the title takes on some significance. So… as they say in the award shows, ‘And the winner is…’

Jay Star!

Jay topped the board twice (sharing first in one situation) and came second on another occasion, and even in silence for the other two challenges came out on top. In the very close position of second was Trevor Seery, whose volunteer work at festivals kept him from the Internet. In third was Conor Pender, who might have stood a chance at first place if he’d come back after the third challenge.

All the work I read from these writers and the others was so diverse that sometimes it felt cruel to award one writer more points than another. However, the decision has been made. When you see me next, or possibly the time after that, I’ll be interviewing Jay Star on writing and life and getting feedback on Summer of Writing.

Now, as I am all worn out I’ll leave it at that. Thank you, again, to all the writers who made this contest something to remember.

Mise le meas,
Paul.

Bloggy Blog

I don’t really have much to say. I’ve had a strange couple of weeks. I helped a friend study for his English exams, which means I had to read James Joyce. I went to Westmeath, from which the same friend said I might not come back (thankfully, I did.) I went on a road trip with the same friend the Friday after that. I did some reading. I did a bit of writing. I’ve been thinking, a lot.

The thinking is dangerous. Sometimes when I think too much, my mind wanders to dark places. So I did what I always do when there’s something on my mind: I did some research. To stop myself looking for Bad Things, I looked up college fees for mature students – the same friend who did the exams and said I might not come back from Westmeath and who I was on a road trip with (with Miley Cyrus, too!) is a mature student. So I looked up that. It was better than doing nothing, or worse – doing something stupid.

I started writing a super hero novel. It’s sort of a parody, but with some twists. The characters are very serious. They have wonderful weird names that I won’t be revealing here, but they’re not typical heroes or villains. For a start, the protagonist’s hair is on fire.

I read James Joyce, and some Terry Pratchett, a book on writing and a poetry book. It was, on the whole, very enjoyable.

Then, on Wednesday 25th August, Esther Earl – a nerdfighter – passed on. She was sixteen years old. She had cancer. I didn’t know her. I didn’t watch her videos or follow her on Twitter. I’d seen her once in a John Green video. He’d mentioned her another time. Then she was gone, and I was shocked and upset and it made me feel incredibly stupid for thinking my life was bad.

I worked. The bookshop is mundane. Sometimes it’s easy to let your mind wander. It’s not pleasant if it goes to dark places. There’s nowhere to hide and get over a brief moment of despair.

I went to the cinema. I saw The Expendables. As regards plot and characters and dialogue, it’s rubbish. I went for the explosions (and it was a friend’s birthday.) The fight scenes were also very impressive. We laughed at the broken bones and the ridiculous styles of violence. Laughing is easy when you’re in the dark. It sort of just happens. For the time you’re in the cinema, you can laugh, even if you’re upset. It’s an escape from the other types of darkness in your life.

I had a fight with the road trip friend, the studying friend, the mature student friend. We got through it, largely by him saying things about himself that I disagreed with. He might have known that I would. Or he was just being entirely honest. It doesn’t matter, we’re over it, now. Though it does also raise the issue of sorting him out. Miley says he needs a PA. I think I’m the closest thing to one he’ll get. But I’m not his PA, I’m his friend. He helps me through dark times, so I’m going to see about fixing all the stupid little things in his life that I can’t discuss and that he won’t.

I’ve got some time next week to do some reading… specifically I have to read the rest of the entries for Summer of Writing 2010. It’s been a fun summer, in that regard. In a couple of weeks, I’ll announce the winner here. Two weeks after that, there will be an interview with him/her.

Right, that’s it. I’m done. I’m tired and I have a few more reviews to write for my own blog.

Best wishes,
Paul.

“A Rose by Any Other Name…”

Recently, two people have influenced a certain area of my life that also reflects into writing: these people are John Green and Daniel Handler, both authors. Green mentioned in a video the line from Romeo and Juliet: “That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet”, while Handler wrote a book that I only read recently called Adverbs. More on that later.

Green goes on to explain something about this line: Juliet suggests that what we call something isn’t important, only what the thing really is. “There is ample evidence that the words we use to describe the things we feel matter,” Green says. In short, Juliet and Shakespeare were wrong. What we call things is important. As people and as writers (that’s specifically as writers, not instead of being people) we all ought to take a long hard look at that; John’s example is that he has to say “I love you” to his brother Hank. If he were to say “I really like you a lot,” it doesn’t mean the same thing. For one, you can love someone without liking them. They’re called your siblings.

So I guess the point I’m making is that we need to be careful about the words we use, because they do hold a certain degree of significance. What we say matters. And trust me on this one – I know from personal experience from the past week or so that it really, really does matter what words you use.

So, on to Adverbs. To cut a long story short, this is a book about love, specifically the way in which it is shown and expressed and felt. My point is that Adverbs shows us that it’s not just what we say or do that matters, but also how we say and do these things. We’ll stick to the same lines as John Green and the book’s topic – love. Earlier videos from John and Hank’s channel tell us that for a year they couldn’t communicate textually with one another. This sort of kept up, a lot, though they make videos less regularly (every couple of days instead of every day) so the need to write emails and cards and letters and other such things kind of increased. However, it means more to Hank (I’m assuming) and more to the viewers of the channel if John says “I love you” on camera rather than in written form.

I know, that’s not an adverb. Let’s rephrase this, then. John looks at the camera. “I love you,” he says quickly. There: quickly. Adverb. He says it quickly because he’s already shown his discomfort when it comes to displaying emotion. Especially love, and especially towards Hank. He’d much rather have over 10,000 trees planted for him for his birthday than tell him he loves him (FYI, that actually happened: over 10,000 plants on 6 continents).

So I argue that we need to think about how we tell someone something. I think it’s fair to suggest that everyone reading this has Internet access of some sort, unless it’s been printed off and handed to them (in which case, I thank whoever printed it off in this hypothetical world). A lot of people with the Internet have an account on a forum or a social networking site. Not everyone, but a lot of people. Most of the time, people with accounts on a social networking site use it to talk to people they know in real life.

Is anyone seeing where I’m going with this?

Without assuming too much, I think all of these people with accounts on, for example, Facebook have mobile phones. Or at least a land-line if not that. I won’t suggest that we see all the people we talk to on Facebook all the time in real life. I don’t. I’ve seen one friend twice over the whole summer since early on May 27th, at about half two in the morning when he nearly threw me under a car. Most of the time I’ve spent talking to him has been on Facebook.

Here’s where the “How you say something” part comes in. We talk a lot. We talk on chat or in messages, whatever. Sometimes, but not always, we make phone calls. Here’s where the problem is: most of the important stuff isn’t said on the phone, where at least the line of communication is drawn a little more clearly than it is online. At least then we’re conversing properly, usually without any other distractions (like all of the Internet). And I’ve come to realise that too many people do what we do, only a lot of the time without the phone calls.

We’re a society forgetting how to talk.

Now, I will point out that I do also say things in the wrong way on the phone, not just online where it can be misinterpreted easier. It’s too easy to sound upset if you actually are upset. That worries people. A lot. Facebook is even worse. If you tell someone you’re really, really upset on Facebook and they’re not online, by the time they read it you could be gone and they’d worry. Trust me on that – I made the mistake before. Bad Paul.

I guess what I’m saying is, when Joey in Friends says “It’s not what you said, it’s how you said it,” he was only half-right. It is what you say that matters and how you say it, in both the words the use and the way you express them, be it vehemently, sarcastically, quickly, objectively, whatever. It’s all important.

Now, this has been a fairly touch-and-go blog post. I apologise. I’m technically still on Internet Holiday for another day, at least, so no complaining. Just keep in mind what I’ve said, because I know it’s good advice (I can say this, because if I’d taken this advice I would have avoided a lot of unnecessary trouble).

Take care,
Paul.