Friday, November 28, 2008

Lost the blog again. Blame it on Microrsoft..Or my soft head. Now you get snippets.




Damn.

I did it again.

Wrote a blog, made a copy. But there was an error. Hit the wrong button. Nobody was saved.

Lost the whole shooting match.

I think it's my browser. Certainly the jar of "cookies:" is long gone.

Buck up, f*ck-up!

Lana will scold! :)

So now all you get is snippets of a novel in progress. To wit,

Stalking is a no- no.
But this was a special case.
A Nick Carter, Master Detective case.

In the first place, The Blue Angel had made a total fool out of the professor, having sex with not only tried-and-true husband, but also the mysterious stranger.
Nobody reading this blog would remember anything from 1936, but in the famous German movie with Marlene Dietrich, Professor Jalbert is cuckolded and bidden to act like Chicken Man in a walk-on scene, in the Blue Angel's cabaret routine, The professor crows like a rooster, while dressed in a clown outfit. He is having a nervous breakdown over his wife's carrying on with the stage director. But he crows all the same.
Cuckaruckakoo.

One is not sure whether to cry or laugh over this scene.

In the the classic gothic novel, the heroine usually lives in a castle and is purued by a villain, usually Italian. The professor, in his Sherlock Holmes (Holden Caulfield?) hat. He has to find the mysterious Italian. Close with him. Pop him one.

It's really a matter of ego.
Some Sicilian has done the professor a dirty. The professor, probably half-mad with Celia's mind games, has decided he is not going to lose at love again.

There is also the posssibility that the Italian is indeed a vampire, but of a different sort. He might be a high-level drug dealer and very likely a master pimp.

The professor had been observing and reading, viz:

Lief the Unlucky, Celia's husband, worked for a large overground
drug company with ties all the way up to External Affairs Canada which at the same time
had strange anthropological ties to Astralopitchecus Paisan.
Overground drug company becomes underground Mafia River is jungle and jungle is river.

How badly we Canadians are served by a weasly media.
Only Montreal police and Montreal journalists seem really up to their jobs.

Enough that our professor has decided to give chase....


Kinda exciting, no?

Well, I never did finish the longer form of this novel..

I am now working on another novel, but I am told you have to structure, structure, structure.

And I am especially prone to stream-of-consciousness.

So I take an excellent Joyce Carol Oates novel and use it for structure, viz:

Comprising five sections, each subdivided into short chapters, Unholy Loves moves through an academic year in the lives of the members of the English department at Woodslee University in upstate New York. Each section is introduced by a date on which a social event occurs: September 1, November 5, December 31, March 8, and May 10. At the center of each event is the presence or absence of Albert St. Dennis, famous English poet-in-residence, whom more prestigious universities have failed to attract to their campuses. The action of the novel takes place in upstate New York and Montreal.

Well, crap.
You're not stealing from the excellent Joyce Carol Oates. You're just stealing her envelope

So you set off to write your own novel, which will have, heh, five sections, each subdivided into short chapters. You move through your own academic year in the lives of your English department at Seneca College, King City, Canada.

But it is only an envelope. The story seems to have a life of its own, and it's trying to escape the prison of form.

But I must remember to structure, structure, structure. One editor from the past had said I write too much and not structure enough.

Structure!

I re-read Ms. Oates perfect little masterlpiece, Unholy Loves.

It's got structue. Lots of structure.

But in her novel too, sometrhing is trying to get out.

I read the book again, and Carramba!

The structured was probably superimposed on the book after she had written it.

It is stream-of-consciousness!

Well, I have one thing in common with the great lady.

I hate structure.

I write stream-of-consciousness.

Like maybe:

Bang!

" Miss Scarlett, the war is over!"

:"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."




Rhett Butler is a loser!

I am a loser.

Almost lost this blog too.

Latin for dodo is Didus Ineptus.

Well, flap my wings!

15 comments:

Charles Gramlich said...

Sorry to hear about your lost post. As for "structure, structure, structure," it's overrated man. Structure is in the eye of the reader.

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

You might be right, Charles.

I guess I am still smaring, over a rejecion, long ago, where I was told I had written too much and not structued enough.
I was also told that my hero was sexually immmature.
Well, what did my Caspar Milquetoast editor know? What was his experience besides his roommate?

....If I catch him he gets a piece of this. :)

Ah. Victor Immature!

Lana Gramlich said...

I won't scold. Ultimately that's the trade off of technology, I suppose. It has such potential to be great, but has just as much potential to be a total pain in the ass. My sympathies, hon!

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

Thanks, Lana.

We gotta open a Window...or get a Mac.

ea monroe said...

I always thought of structure as after the fact. Gotta get it all out first (or let it all hang out). Then structure in the editing.

Just write like you're playing the blues, or jazz. Sometimes I write rock 'n roll. ~Liz

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

Yeah, Liz.

I'm a panster too.

I don't think I'd have finished any of my novels if I deliberately wrote to a plot.

But when you're young you can do that. Like he late Norman Mailer with his Deer Park.

But I noticed when he got older,got banged around by critics, sometines even rejected--Norman Mailer rejected?-- he became increasingly structured.
Like in the Executioner's Song.

Good, competent work. But the fire seemed gone. No Fire on the Moon. No more wildness.
And the magic seemed gone.
I have heard it said that age will do that to a writer. Make him sort of constipated,cagey, old-codger ways. Structured.
My mentor Dr. Eric Wright, said 30 years ago, said "Pick a plot and write to it."
I was then still high on people who said they liked my flow.
Women professors. Heh.
Of course, Jack Kerouac, for example, broke all the rules. They would never have taken him at Harpers, or the Atlantic, the high quality magazines and publishers.
But he and others broke through, broke all the rules with, I think, Grove Press.
So what do you think I named my pulblishing company? Island Grove Press.
But I guess even that was sort of thinking structurally.
As you get older you seem to sort go toward the tried and true. I know all the genre writers do this.
Creative writing somehow becomes imitative writing. Vernean plots.
Hardening of the arteries, I guess.

Anonymous said...

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ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

Ah.
The Royal Canadian Air Force.

Sometimes I wish I'd stayed in.

Anonymous said...

Anonnymous from King City, ON.


When I was in Las Vegas last week I wanted to make sure that the evils of
> the sin city were kept away from me...
>
> So I booked into a hotel and said to the receptionist, "I hope the porn
> channel in my room is disabled."
>
> "No", she said, "it's regular porn, you sick bastard!"

Donnetta Lee said...

Just hate to hear about the lost post. Tis work. I feel that I'm not structured enough. But I do so like to write and just let it all flow out. Maybe a good balance is what is called for. D

http://www.creativewriting.ca said...

Yep, Donnetta.

Like Ari the Greek says, the golden mean. Nothing in excess.
Just beginning, middle and end.

But those old Greeks could be so extravagant! No wonder some looked for balance. I read somewhere that even old Plato could be a crazy bastard. Catatonic shizophrenic. Who knew?

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

Whoops!

I lied. It was Socrates that would stand for hours in a catatonic trance, not Plato.
What the hell do I know? I almost failed Western Thought by misspelling Nietzsche about four times in a paper.

Midnight said...

Hmmm... As a 'late-comer', perhaps I missed all of the cool 'lily white (almost) kitty' on the 'puter keys, comments...

Or maybe writers are like the Q Continuum episode of ST Voyager...'We've done it all, seen it all... have even been the dog... and even been the cat on the keyboard...'

'Feed me snippets of your mind, and try to fuck me if you can', said the kitten...

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

Well, we're in the archives now, so I can fob off this old quote:

Johnny Carson having a beautiful starlet come on his show with a cat on her lap, has said,"Would you like to play with my pussy?

Carson shoots back: "Would you mind moving your cat?"

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