Oh woe, it’s the end of the world again

It’s that time again. The end of civilisation as we know it, the death of intellectual pursuits…

A recent article remarks upon the shortening of our concentration span and ability to read. An essay in Atlantic Monthly tells the tale of the writer who can no longer immerse himself in long books or stories. He says the internet has reduced his ability for deep, long reading and understanding.

Really?

This is, apparently, a Sign of the Times, or rather of the perpetual Decline of Society, which has probably been fortold by curmudgeons since we started walking upright on the savannah and our tree-residing ancestors saw it as a symbol of the declining standards of education. Everybody knows if you can walk upright you stand no chance against a hungry lion, out there on the savannah.

But is it really true? Are Wikipedia, Google and Twitter making us stupid, incapable of digesting large pieces of information, constructing long-form narrative or sitting back and reading a book?

I think not. And I think not in the month of November, which is Nanowrimo. Everybody is currently constructing stories. They will be 50,000 words long, which is about the length of a short doctoral thesis. That doesn’t sound like the death of story-telling to me.

And neither does the rise of Twitter. I spend a lot of time on Twitter, but that hasn’t stopped me being more than capable of digesting in the last two weeks alone, a book by Joachim C. Fest, the memoirs of Traudl Junge and a nine hundred page tome on the history of the Third Reich.

Besides which, there is a potential for a great deal of beauty, wit and talent to be conveyed in very short stories. Twitter requires a degree of skill, because the majority of users still stick to full English rather than text-speak, so you need to be able to say what you want to say in a space of 140 characters, make it appealing, inventive and expressive of yourself all at once.

Let us also not forget the bet Hemingway once made to tell what is a poignant and lucid story in only six words: “For sale: baby shoes. Never worn.”

No longer piece could convey with such clarity an entire story, read between the lines, but only requiring six words. Anything more might be mawkishly melodramatic. Do we need to know any more? Isn’t there enough sadness and loss presented in the sale of a pair of baby shoes, bought but never required?

It points, I think, not to the death of reading, of long stories, or people’s ability to read books (I’m sure all my readers will be happy to comment that they can still read a book quite happily), but to the general tendency of people to hook themselves on the Terrible Decline of Society. Go back far enough and priests and elites struggled with the idea that the general populace should be capable of reading and writing at all, because it might start them off on the dangerous business of thinking for themselves.

In past times, people decried the advent of printed books over the handwritten variety, lamented the right of people of all types in society to vote, and a whole host of other events which marked changes or turning points in society. We always tend to see change as the end of the world. I can happily tweet away whilst writing 1000 word articles, 180,000 word books and read as much as I want. There is nothing more delicious than the pleasure of reading, of an entire Sunday spent doing nothing but that, fueled by a constant supply of hot tea.

If people struggle to read it’s probably less about having a limited attention span but attempting to fit everything into a 24 hour day. Since we live now in a 24 hour world, it’s not uncommon for me to find agents demanding to know why I wasn’t answering my phone at 9pm to their “urgent” call. We try to do too much, perhaps, and certain activities, like reading, tend to be cast as laziness. If we’re not doing six billion things at once whilst running on the treadmill and arranging meetings with accountants and tweeting the whole thing ad infinitum, we’re just not productive enough!

I’ve taken to withdrawing each weekend with a book. Not to ensure that I can still read, but to cement the idea that there are times when I’m not online, when I’m not available, when I won’t answer the phone even. When it comes down to it, maintaining what we want to be able to do in society depends on withstanding the flow and the pressure from outside. If you find yourself bleating that you have to have your phone with you all night because somebody important might call about something crucial, remember that you’re not a sheep, and if you aren’t actually the president of a large country, nothing with the exception of a death in the family could possibly be so urgent.

Reports of the death of civilisation thanks to the digital squirrel* that is Google, or Twitter, are probably very much exaggerated. And if you’re still capable of writing very long articles about your inability to read very long articles, you’re missing something vital, and obvious.

Various assorted C-words

I have been transformed into an episode of Sesame Street. Today’s post will be brought to you by the letter C.

Catharsis.

According to the various definitions provided by Google (font of all knowledge, or at least, font of all knowledge on the internet – and let’s face it, if it isn’t on the internet, does it really exist?), catharsis is the release of tensions, the purification of the emotions.

It’s also a Russian power metal band, incidentally.

I could possibly supply some useful material for the Russian power metal band, with a deluge of catharsis over the last month or so. My emotions shift so fast, and so vastly, that my internal landscape appears to be less predictable than the British weather.

I’ve been writing about the catharsis, and its cause, on Zen in Heels, which is reserved for anything Holosync-focused. This has actually rather confused me (there, another C-word), because very often my personal life and writing are affected by my Holosync usage. The boundaries between these blogs are blurred.

However, writing about the experience of using binaural beats to change my brain (or at least make it a little less volatile), leads me to the next C word.

Centerpointe.

They make the product I’ve been using for two and a bit years, the one that is producing a great deal of catharsis in the process of calming me down and making me saner.

The story goes something like this. A little while ago, I found an original Centerpointe community of Holosync users on the web. The heyday of the community was several years ago, and as the users have moved on with their lives (and presumably their Holosync use), their appearance on the forum is rare. However, I stuck up a post with my testimonial and gave out the link to the blog.

One of those people who has actually finished the program (it takes anywhere from about eight to twelve years to do this, so it’s no mean feat to stick at it to the end), left me a lovely comment on the blog, with some suggestions for coping with overwhelm. I was delighted enough, but it appears somebody also thought to let Centerpointe know what I was doing.

I had considered the idea of telling them that I was blogging the Holosync experience. Somehow, though, I never really got round to it. Perhaps I thought it wasn’t actually that important. When one of their support team left me a comment, however, I decided to get in touch. I await developments.

This leads us smoothly to the next C-word: Correspondence.

One of my ‘fans’ has written to me, letting me know I don’t need to blog if I don’t feel like it. I blog the experience only partly for me; there is a constant stream of hits to my site from people who are curious about Holosync. While Bill Harris himself blogs, he doesn’t write about what all of these people want to know.

Holosync, for those who don’t know, takes a long time to do, and is a pretty hefty commitment of time and money. It’s typical of me to want to take up such a challenge. Deciding you want to try something like that is tough. What’s even tougher is sticking with it when the catharsis shows up in some unpleasant way. People hunger for somebody who can detail personal experiences and how they manage to survive. This is more helpful than a simple testimonial, and better than a review done by somebody who’s listened maybe for as much as a month and nothing more.

So I set myself the challenge of blogging my time spent with Holosync. I’m the kind of person who, when she decides to do something, would not let anything get in her way – from ice ages to the actual apocalypse, I’d still be listening for an hour every day even if I had to make God wait.

As my correspondence indicates (and from the time I’ve spent on the phone or emailing back and forth with other users), it appears I am turning into the Voice of the User, or at least providing as much practical information on handling overwhelm, emotions and daily listening.

I like doing this. I’m one of those people who likes being of service. I like to know what I’m doing helps people. It gives me a sense of worth, if nothing else.

This leads me on to another piece of correspondence. A little while ago (before Centerpointe found the blog), I received a strange email. It suggested I was one of “the very best writers” at describing my internal emotional landscape. Why, therefore, did I write science fiction?

I didn’t know how to reply to this. My first thought is that I don’t write science fiction, I write fantasy. I’d have added a comment to the effect that I didn’t see much use in my endlessly writing about my emotional upheavals. Except that, it appears from what’s happened in the last few days, my doing exactly that is very useful indeed.

So I shall keep going. Zen in Heels stands a good chance of rapidly overtaking its motherblog here. What exactly Centerpointe and His Billness make of what I’m doing, I don’t yet know. But it’s all very interesting, no?

The secret pleasure of the notebook

Is diary keeping out of fashion now?

I have to admit to having a secret pleasure. I’ve kept an online diary for several years (2001 to 2007, to be precise) and this blog for over two years. But nothing compares to keeping a hand-written journal.

It occurs to me that this might be an incredibly dated thing to do.

I was advised, when I was very young, that the best way to learn to write well was to keep a diary of your life. Diaries aren’t easy when you’re young and days last for aeons. It took time to learn the discipline of maintaining the diary habit. Much of what I wrote during the depression of my adolescent was dross.

However, I have kept one diary from ten years ago, written from the time I started university to the summer of 1999. The book came from a shop that sold Chinese clothing on the Barbican in Plymouth. It was an odd little place just off the fishmarket, the atmosphere hazy with the smell of incense, and a jolt after walking in from the fish-stink outside.

The journal was bound in green embroidered silk and it has stayed with me all this time. When I looked back at it recently, I was stunned to find not the tired, embarrassing ramblings of a teenager with depression and anorexia and no short-term memory, but a quirky, witty intelligent young woman who, for some reason, could see no value in her own existence. It was poignant and painful both.

Two years ago, my hypnotherapist recommended keeping a hand-written journal. In these days where everybody keeps their lives on display in blogs and online diaries, it seems antiquated. But it’s a glorious habit.

I took a trip to Paperchase. They sell the perfect notebook for journaling. Not a Moleskine. I’d rip through one of those in a few days. The notebook I chose was a simple spiral-bound with plastic cover. Paperchase make them in a variety of styles. They last about three months each, given that I write in them copiously about everything.

This has now become a dedicated operation; the purchase of “the next journal” is a special occasion. Do I feel like I want soft and fluffy, or pink plastic cats, or aliens? What will my mood be? What does this notebook say about me? The choosing is careful, and I have made an effort always to pick a different design.

Then there is the integration of the journal with the others. Which volume is this (I’m now at volume 7)? I carefully fill out all the relevant dates (start and finish left open to be filled in as appropriate, when the time comes), and all the information.

I started, ostensibly, because I was going to keep a log of my Holosync reactions. But this has become so much more. I fill out one page with a hand-written calendar, crossing off the days as they pass with details of gym visits and special events. There is something so special about this act of careful reproduction.

It’s a shame that we’re losing touch with the art of handwriting, with handwritten letters and journals. I do wonder if I’ll look back at myself at 30 and cringe that I was so immature, that I was so fixated on trivialities. But the trivialities are what make up life. I have recorded, especially over the last few months, such a radical personal transformation that even I can see the difference between how I wrote in, say, January, and my writing now.

I don’t write for other people, but sometimes I wonder – having been a historian of personal lives in the past – whether anybody will look back at my scrawlings after my death and find them… useful? Entertaining? Who knows?

Characters: You have to spend time with them

Firstly, a plug. Amnar: The Inheritance with sparkling new prologue is now available on Podiobooks.com.

I promised a couple of days ago that I would spend time going over one chapter here to give readers an insight into the development of Io, the character at this series’ heart. As she is, she pulls everything down, and I don’t give her an opportunity to shine until The Inheritance.

I decided that I would need to go over and redo sections of Amnar: The Awakening to beef her up a bit. I know that most of the other characters are well done, and I don’t worry about them. For some time, I’ve been trying to work out how to improve on Io, and it occurred to me that I really need to start taking my own advice.

The way I work with characters is to spend time with them. The background characters in Amnar are so finely developed because I happily imagine them all the time – when out running, walking, at the gym. I’ve dedicated a lot of time to seeing them in contexts outside those of the story.

I haven’t done this with Io.

This is probably because I’ve developed her around me, I feel closest to her, so she’s also oddly the most distant. I haven’t ever seen her out of context, or just worked with her for the fun of it. And that’s why it’s caused such a problem.

I’ve resolved to spend time with Io outside of the central story. Anybody who follows The Inheritance over the next few weeks will see that she has improved – she certainly stands up to the Servants pretty well – but after taking time over the earliest chapters of The Awakening, I’ve begun to get a clearer idea of how Io really is when she has a chance to shine.

Instead of a brow-beaten, emotionally retarded Io, she should open The Awakening as thoughtful and quiet. She’s been through the Junior Youth Movement, and she has an understanding of the Tiomke regime but she isn’t that invested in it. She can’t get away from the fact that she works with two young boys from the Taija, who have borne witness to the harm that the State is doing first hand.

Her first interaction with the guards (when she follows Arandes into the High City), doesn’t involve her feeling wounded and broken and only worried about her own pain. Instead, she’s frustrated. Her position at this point is that the Tiomke aren’t brilliant, but everything she knows about the Amnari suggests they are worse.

The guards’ violence towards her is unnerving; that doubtful voice gets louder. But she’s still trapped because she doesn’t know the Amnari are any better. Her interactions with Arandes, toward the second act break and after the arrest of her elder sister, suggest that she is taking everything on evidence and not prepared to listen to anybody’s arguments until she has made up her own mind. She very firmly insists that her sister is her top priority – she’ll worry about giving Arandes the chance to prove himself worthy when she’s handled that situation.

Besides simply spending time with Io and allowing her the chance to shine as intelligent and strong rather than emotional and childish, there are edits to be made. These are easier than I expected. It’s mostly a matter of changing how she says things, what she does when and what she’s thinking. In fact, I’ve removed a lot of the introspection. We now see the world without the fog of her emotional response in the way.

Unfortunately, in the middle of planning all of this additional work on Io, the rest of my life has rather taken over. If you read my Zen In Heels blog, you’ll be aware that after six or so months of depression, I finally caved in and saw a doctor. Ironically, I had to get better to take the time to go and see one. Right now, I’m adjusting to medication after a five year break, so it’s holding up my writing and any other work I’m doing.

Nevertheless, as much as I can I’m carrying on as normal (or as close to normal as is possible). I really appreciate all the kind comments I’ve had at Zen in Heels and privately. I am hoping to do a podcast tomorrow but it will depend on how well I adjust to the medication over the course of tonight.

Amnar: The Inheritance on Podiobooks (with new prologue)

Just a brief one today. Amnar: The Inheritance, with new prologue, has just launched on Podiobooks.com.

You can check it out here.

Enjoy!

A plan, a possibly cunning one

I have no idea how well this is going to work.

I’ve been feeling awkward about the fact that I’m making major edits to Amnar: The Awakening after its release on Podiobooks. However, I have struck on a way to make this useful.

It’s an opportunity to get an insight into the growth of a protagonist across a book that has been through several drafts.

What I’m going to do is post up the different drafts of one chapter, so you can see how changes were made. I’ll try to put in some notes that explain why those changes were made and what they mean for the story. I’ll start tomorrow with as close to the original version of this chapter as I can find.

So, just to be really cheesy, I hope you’ll join me for that process.

The irksome feeling, knowing I could do much better

In little fits and starts, between other things, I’ve been nipping and tucking, changing this and that from The Awakening. Increasingly, I’m left with the feeling that I let myself down with it, and could do much better.

The more I spend time thinking about it, and considering Io and what I could do with the story, I realise perhaps doing more than just mild editing might benefit the book.

I have been holding back, and limiting myself very hard in terms of writing. When it came to the re-write last summer, I took out the things I thought of as ‘baggy’, but along with it, I think I lost some of the things that make Amnar good. Much of the grandness was lost, along with the interweaving of hidden characters.

I wonder to myself if I haven’t let myself down rather.

This may well sound like the musings of a perfectionist to those who tend to email me every time I am critical of my own work telling me that I have some major issue with the idea that it’s “good enough”.

Io has grown up in my latest work on it, and with the sense that my own personal development is starting to affect my writing, I’ve been considering larger edits and re-writing than I had previously. I always want to improve, but I’ve never really pushed myself to do my best writing with Amnar.

I haven’t made up my mind yet. I know which parts of The Awakening work well for me, but I think I may take the improvements beyond just a word or two here or there to shift Io’s mood. She has become a very different person, and through her eyes the whole world of Amnar, and of Duum, shifts.

It won’t be the total re-write that was required last year, but I’d like to put back into Amnar some of what was lost in the work from last year.

All of this had me wondering what effect that would have, considering I released the whole thing via podcast. It’s not as final as putting out a book, I suppose. I have the luxury of editing – but essentially, this is editing in public. That feels rather weird.

TGIAD 2.0: Icaan is annoying, but Anarya beats all the others

Click on the picture to listen to the podcast

This is TGIAD 2.0, covering the release of the AMNAR podcast on my own website.

This week, it is meet the Capillites time, with Icaan and Anarya taking centre stage. They’re two very different people, and present Io with a challenge and an opportunity. She can make use of Anarya’s support, while Icaan represents the dominant view of the Capillites.

I do have to apologise that the sound recording on this episode is poor. I didn’t get to do the edit until today and found this grungey noise under half the track. I don’t have time to go back and re-record yet, although I will for the Podiobooks release.

Once again, I’m missing regular segments thanks to still dealing with the effects of depression.

This is very frustrating, as I’m currently working on a few different things at once, and can only do anything on days when I’m capable of getting up properly. I’ve never really been in the position where I have to do things through such a fog. It’s annoying.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this week’s episode, despite the noise!

In which I am interviewed by Podioracket

It was the interview that almost never happened.

Rhonda and I ran into incredible technical issues when trying to do this Podioracket interview about Amnar: The Awakening on Podiobooks.

Skype has a lot to answer for, that’s all I can say.

In the meantime, I’ve spent all this morning getting the files ready for Amnar: The Inheritance to be launched over there, and preparing a covering letter to go and work at a publishing company.

So, er, go me, as they say. After yesterday’s bout of severe depression, I’ve been strangely active today.

Adventures with a protagonist and dark thoughts

Apparently, you can help depression by meditating upon raisins.

I was feeling deeply depressed – thanks to Holosync – and hunting the web for some sort of relief. Then I found a site that offered a set of tips on meditating for depression.

With a raisin.

“Consider the raisin. What does it look like? What does it sound like?”

Raisins make sounds?

This is enough to bring all but those struggling with the blackest, bleakest despair up short.

I understand that the way out is through the pain. This is tough. There’s a tendency to think that with depression you have to bear the thoughts, that they can’t be transformed. Going through them, and usually accepting them rather than fighting them, works.

I have this issue with success, and that was today’s theme. As much as I would love for Amnar to succeed, I seemed determined to ensure failure. It’s a dichotomy I’ve been trapped in, and that has damaged the quality of my writing, for years. It’s a hard thing to describe, or to explain. Today I spent most of the morning working through some of the deepest, ugliest of stuff that I’ve ever explored.

And then, suddenly, something clicked. I had been sitting meditating (sans raisin) for an hour when I felt all right again. Just like that. I accepted how I felt and it just… went. I expect there is more to come, however. I’m steeling myself for it.

Meanwhile, the last two days have been thoroughly preoccupied with Io.

Io the girl who was a squeaky, whiny and very naive fool in all preceding versions. Io who has now morphed into a young woman who actually takes on Tiomke State guards and is currently doing a very good job of standing up to Arandes Nashima.

This is a woman who is going to walk into the Empire of Amnar prepared to wipe the floor with Capillite faces.

I spent the walk to and from the business centre (which is about half an hour from my house on foot), musing over Io. Imagining her as strong, confident, intelligent. Prepared to take on people because she’s witnessed her sister’s horrific death and the brutality of the regime that raised her.

She is much more fun this way. She’s curious, insightful, and determined.

I wish I had space to do her transformation more justice, or indeed Amnar the world more justice, but I can’t really write 200,000 word novels. I realised yesterday though that actually, The Awakening doesn’t have to be brilliant. I’d never intended it to be. Both the first two books are preparations for the third, which was always so much better.

I’m excited by that.