Ok, so it's not quite over yet but to give me the chance to start fresh in 2011 (and to ensure I don't forget) I thought I'd get this one over with now...
When I look back on the past twelve months I could quite easily be disappointed with myself. I feel like I've made very little progress this year as a writer. I haven't sent out many pieces for publication. I'm still yet to complete a first draft of a novel (I say 'a' as opposed to 'my' because I now have three on the go - which could be part of the problem really), and I've failed (though not for want of trying) to have my short story collection Reflections reviewed...anywhere... There you go - failure with a big fat F!
However, when I looked to see what I've actually had published in 2010 (including blogs other than this one) I was surprised. For a year full of writerly-slacking-off I acheived more than I thought - 10 pieces published including 3 poems, 2 pieces in Victorian Writer, a guest review and a handful of interviews. Oh!! And oops, I forgot - a poem in the next Moving Galleries Exhibition...that's a big one, don't know how I forgot that! Not bad, considering the dismal effort I put in to getting anything published this year.
And of course there was NaNoWriMo - churning out just over 50,000 words in 24 days (6 days before deadline) was also a pretty mighty effort. Sure, many of those words wont deserve to ever see the light of day, but there's some good dialogue in there at least and enough 'story/plot/character' to build at the very least a longish short story...
And as usual I read & read & read - around 60 books in total but I won't be boring and list them. Thirteen of them were by Kate Forsyth. If you love fantasy and you haven't read anything by Kate - shame on you - she is an Aussie treasure. A few of my favourites for the year include Bereft by Chris Womersley, The Ghost's Child by Sonya Hartnett, Cormac McCarthy's The Road and Fall Girl by Toni Jordan.
As for 2011, as I said in the previous post I have a series of interviews lined up, so I hope you'll stay tuned for those. I hope to keep them coming all year. As for other 'writerly' goals for 2011, I'll save them for another post as this is already becoming a bit of a book...
Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays etc...
Showing posts with label Cormac McCarthy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cormac McCarthy. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Friday, June 4, 2010
On reading The Road
As you may already suspect, I am a voracious reader. I devour books with the fervour of a fat masterchef. What I don't do often enough is let them settle when I'm done. Digest. I scoff them down one after the other without thought for indigestion.
After having Cormac McCarthy's The Road staring at me from the bookcase (pantry) for over a year I finally took it from the shelf and read it. I'd heard all the talk about how horrifyingly bleak it was, but had (& have) not seen the film, so I came to it with a fresh palette so to speak.
I read The Road in 3 days, beginning it on the train to the Emerging Writers Festival (which I'll blog about later). The writing style is plain and honest. The structure leads you into the story one paragraph at a time and keeps you reading. There are no chapters. The writer's use of "the man" and "the boy" is clever. By not assigning names and therefore fixed identities to these characters he has made them "every man" and "every boy"; representative of humankind.
The boy's constant need to be reasured that they are the "good guys" is understandable given his child's perspective. To survive in the face of such widespread devastation; the total breakdown of society, is a difficult, seemingly impossible, thing to do. In order to do it, lines must be crossed. There is no room for regret, for weighing the right and the wrong of a thing; action (& sometimes inaction) is primal; instinctive.
What sustains "the man" is not the food they manage to find along the road, nor is it the gun he carries. What sustains him, what motivates him to keep going, is his love for "the boy". Though he is forced to face the very vilest parts of mankind, both within himself and in other people, it is humanity - the goodness of it - that makes survival possible. The human spirit needs a reason to fight; needs something worth fighting for. Without it, why would we bother, when it's much easier to give up.
When I'd finished reading The Road I chose another book from the shelf, but I found I didn't want to start it just yet. If we don't ever allow ourselves to feel hungry, how can we ever fully appreciate what we eat.
I have found that The Road is a meal best digested slowly; thoughtfully.
After having Cormac McCarthy's The Road staring at me from the bookcase (pantry) for over a year I finally took it from the shelf and read it. I'd heard all the talk about how horrifyingly bleak it was, but had (& have) not seen the film, so I came to it with a fresh palette so to speak.
I read The Road in 3 days, beginning it on the train to the Emerging Writers Festival (which I'll blog about later). The writing style is plain and honest. The structure leads you into the story one paragraph at a time and keeps you reading. There are no chapters. The writer's use of "the man" and "the boy" is clever. By not assigning names and therefore fixed identities to these characters he has made them "every man" and "every boy"; representative of humankind.
The boy's constant need to be reasured that they are the "good guys" is understandable given his child's perspective. To survive in the face of such widespread devastation; the total breakdown of society, is a difficult, seemingly impossible, thing to do. In order to do it, lines must be crossed. There is no room for regret, for weighing the right and the wrong of a thing; action (& sometimes inaction) is primal; instinctive.
What sustains "the man" is not the food they manage to find along the road, nor is it the gun he carries. What sustains him, what motivates him to keep going, is his love for "the boy". Though he is forced to face the very vilest parts of mankind, both within himself and in other people, it is humanity - the goodness of it - that makes survival possible. The human spirit needs a reason to fight; needs something worth fighting for. Without it, why would we bother, when it's much easier to give up.
When I'd finished reading The Road I chose another book from the shelf, but I found I didn't want to start it just yet. If we don't ever allow ourselves to feel hungry, how can we ever fully appreciate what we eat.
I have found that The Road is a meal best digested slowly; thoughtfully.
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