Wednesday, 23 November 2016

An Ode to the Dodo


So, I set out writing this post on the process of expanding a novella up to a full length novel, to talk about the perils of getting the plot sound and the pleasure of fleshing out the characters and devolving their back stories and story arcs. All very interesting stuff but…

I GOT DISTRACTED.

In my defence: distraction is somewhat of an occupational hazard to any creative individual.

The distraction was in the form of a news article about the auction of a complete (well 95% complete) reconstructed Dodo skeleton. The skeleton is not made up from one specimen as no actual complete specimen from one individual bird survives; even the famous Oxford Dodo has little left due to a botched taxidermy attempt. Instead, much like the Jonny Cash song ‘One Piece at a Time’ about a car that’s made up from bits of lots of other cars, the Dodo has been constructed from bones from many specimens obtained over the last thirty years, and assembled to a true likeness of the extinct creature.

Why would this distract me, you may well ask?


Well it just so happened that I had just finished reading the book, ‘A Dodo in Oxford; The unreliable account of a student and his pet Dodo.’ It is a fascinating book which was published in 2010 by Oxgarth Press and penned by Philip Atkins and Michael Johnson, who write that they found an old tired book in a second-hand bookshop in Oxford dating from the 1600’s, which claims to be a diary of a student about his pet Dodo. The diary if genuine gives a rare insight into the habits and behaviours of the instinct bird, which may actually have been the last dodo to ever have lived.

The book reproduces every page of the diary along with notes about the authors’ endeavours to investigate and prove that the diary to be genuine, along with facts about the people and places mentioned; the printing process and further information to aid the understanding of seventeenth century Oxford life. All in all it is fascinating and fabulous read, whether it is real or a centuries old student hoax.

The thing that appealed to me most about the diary within A Dodo in Oxford was the descriptions and observations of the Dodo’s character, mannerisms and behaviour. To me it seems far too accurate to be pure imagination, or the butt of a joke.


How, you may ask, would I know what a Dodo may have behaved? And in fact, why, you may ask would I be interested?


Well to answer the first question, I was brought up surrounded by birds; finches, fowls of all varieties, parrots and pigeons. My father was obsessed by birds and kept many aviaries and during the 90’s bread and hand-reared parrots. So I’ve been weaned on the knowledge of keeping and training of birds and am well versed in bird husbandry, including pigeons. As we know dodos were just very large flightless, and docile (open to discussion) pigeons. 

Me and an array of birds and animals that belonged to the family


The pigeons my family kept were not plump, and flightless but were the majestic Tumbling variety, who suddenly fall from the sky mid-slight as if dead, only to pull up yards before crashing fatally into the ground. The sight itself is awe inspiring and bird, who come in a variety of speckled whites and browns or whites and black are actually rather pretty – for a pigeon anyway. There was one pigeon in particular that me and my sister had a close bond with, Dusty, who for reasons long since forgotten, we incubated and hand-reared. Dusty lived in the house either sleeping on one of the parrot cages or in the dog basket nestled up with our two Jack Russell’s Lucky and Lucy. 

Dusty and Lucy


Dusty was NOT an intelligent bird like a parrot (who IQ’s are equivalent to a three year old human child) but he made up for it in character and clumsy wit, compounded by the fact he did not know he was a pigeon. In many ways he seems similar to the Dodo in the diary of A Dodo in Oxford, who adored the company of people, and the landlords fowl and normal domesticated pigeons.

Also having had the experience of teaching parrots of many different types, from African Greys to the endangered Lesser Vasa, and Macaws to Cockatoos, tricks and of course the odd annoying rhyme or inappropriate word, I find the Student’s observations and the results from tests he conducted on the Dodo to be strangely similar to the behaviour of parrots. So, coming back to the question: in short, I believe my background and bird keeping experiences qualifies me enough to make an assessment of the believability of the dodo behaviour in the book. 

Dusty being hand-reared


Second Question; why would I care? Well party as described above, but mostly as I’m fascinated by now extinct animals and the way they have becomes steeped in mythology, fuelled by the lack of knowledge or study of living specimens. And I’m always interested to see how these type of creatures are handled when written about in fiction. 


When thinking about Dodo’s in fiction one’s mind my curiously fixate on the Dodo from Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, but personally my favourite fictional dodo is Pickwick from Jasper Fforde’s Thursday Next novels. Pickwick is the pet of Literary Detective Thursday who cloned the bird herself from a home cloning kit. Pickwick is fantastic, and shares many of the characteristics with the Dodo from A Dodo in Oxford, like being able to grasp simple task of standing on one leg (or tapping in sequence in A dodo in Oxford). 

So to answer question two, I’m interested in how a long extinct creature still inspires writer today whether in novels, or on screen (think Aardman Animations Pirates!)

All in all, I think dodo’s are great, they are comical in appearance and have a kind of naive charm. They are one of my favourite birds to doodle, and one day hopefully I’ll get to include one in a story. But for now I’ll end with this; that I hope we see many more dodos in stories in the future, and that they live on in fiction to inspire young minds and hopefully get the next generation thinking about humanities attitudes and responsibility to endangered creatures. 





Friday, 11 November 2016

Life v’s Creativity





It has been a long time since I last managed to blog and the reasons are plentiful but can be summed up in one word LIFE.

The past year has seen lots of ‘life’ stuff consuming my time; from ensuring that my eldest child’s transition from primary to secondary was a smooth one (it was), to helping my youngest prepare and get through the dreaded 11+ (he did), to a greatly increased school run time of over an hour (x 2 daily), in addition to starting a business and going back to more regular work. All this life stuff and a sprinkling of health issues resulted in a decreased time for writing with the effect of me spiralling into a chasm of despondence. The despondence in turn fuelled my dyslexia meaning anything I did manage to pen was in an unreadable form of Sally-Dyslexia-English, which even my husband (who always ever patient and translates all my work into a readable standard form of English) found hard to decipher.



All in all, it became a hotpot of chaos that cramped by creativity. The mother load of ‘life’; the lack of inspiration, the dyslexia associated difficulties all coming in quick succession after me losing my agent and first publishing contract last autumn. It all knocked my confidence. But I am ever the optimist, believing that all would be fine, I carried on believing that I was going to continue the level of progress and output I did before the life changes, and even do more with less time. Like my self-imposed deadline to expand my finished YA novella from twenty thousand words up to eighty thousand in six weeks, on the approach to Christmas. Yes I can hear all writers and parents laughing from here; getting anything done on the approach to Xmas, with extra carol services, fayres, and trips to see family is unlikely. Add to that deconstructing a manuscript, rewriting, expanding by fifty thousand words, adding subplots and character arcs and of course translating it into a readable form of English, anyone who think they can achieve that must be a lunatic. But in my defence my state of mind at the time could be summed up in two words: oblivious and deluded, (which may indeed add up to lunatic).

I had set myself up for failure.


When I realised this, in what I would like to say was a grand earth shattering epiphany, but was more accurately a slightly strained conversation with my better half, I realised that the solution was a simple one, it was me.

By re-evaluating my life and re-prioritising, I found myself reinvigorated (sorry for all the re’s!) My imagination was unleashed and I climbed out of the chasm. I began writing gain with renewed gusto (sorry another re) and enlisted the help (something I find really hard), getting family to help out with school runs, going to the inspiring Book Bound Retreat and working with The Golden Egg Academy to plan the reworking of my manuscript from novella to full length novel.

So now that I’m working again, and have taken control of life, I’m finding my creative self is spreading its wings and I’m back to blogging, drawing and even incubating new story concepts. My extended manuscript is currently being reviewed by the lovely Mother Goose, Imogen over at Golden Egg, and I feel good


So this is what I have to say…

Life sometimes gets in the way of writing.

And sometimes you get in the way of life (like I did.)

But it’s your life and you need to take it by the horns, and be in charge.

So, I’m back. I’m writing, And fingers crossed maybe I’ll have some good news soon.




Monday, 21 December 2015

A Writers Family – An Ever Giving Gift of Inspiration…

As Christmas is looming, The Family Poyton is reading Matt Haig’s ‘A Boy Called Christmas’ and we are loving the story and the amazing illustrations by Chris Mould. As a family we have also been listening to Matt being interviewed about the inspiration behind the book, and that it came when his son asked the question; ‘Was Father Christmas ever a Boy?’



This got me thinking about inspiration, and where idea’s for books come from. Like many creative people, my inspiration comes from anywhere at any time. However, one thing has inspired me more than anything else is my family.



In fact if it wasn’t for my daughter, I wouldn’t be writing. So many years ago, when she was coming up three, and my son his first birthday, my husband went away to Australia for six weeks on business. My daughter, a rather pretentious and funny toddler, asked him to bring her back a Kangaroo, and for the whole duration of the trip she persisted in asking me how Daddy would catch the kangaroo. Initially I’d answer simply, but as time went on the answers got more and more extreme, started to rhyme and evolved into my first ever bit of writing a Picture book called, How to Catch a Kangaroo. From tat moment I was hooked, and I haven't stopped writing since.

 

Spread One

My Daddy has one to Australia.

There is just one thing I asked him to do,

“Daddy, please bring me back a Kangaroo!”


Spread Two

I wonder how he will catch it.

How do you catch a Kangaroo?

Could you catch one with a rod and line?

What would you use for bait?

Peanut butter sandwiches, or jelly on a plate?





It’s not just kids that inspire, my two furry, lazy Springbats, (half Springer Spaniel half Basset Hound) also bring a healthy dose of inspiration to, and after a particularly entertaining walk involving some fox excrement, and I began to pen a Picture book from the point of view of a hound. Although I’m pretty sure it’s not like to ever get a publisher, I believe it’ll strike a chord with anyone who has ever owned a dog…



If Dogs Wrote Picture Books

Because I love you, I’ve dug up your roses. I know that their horrid smell itches human’s noses.

Because I love you, I’ve made myself smell nice. I found some fox poo and rolled in it twice.

Because I love you, I’ve warmed up your bed, and now it smells like what I’ve just been fed.

Because you love me, you left me stake out on the side for a snack. Because I’m so grateful I gulped it down as soon as you turned you back.

Because I love you, I’ve brought you a present. It’s a rather tasty (and energetic) half dead pheasant.

Because I love you, I slept on your best hat. I think I’ve improved it; It’s covered in hair and is now rather flat.

Because I love you, I bark all the time you’re out. That way you will know I love you and you’ll never be in doubt.

Because you love me, you warm up my chair, I love it when you leave the room so I can snuggle up there.

Because I love you, to let everyone know your mine. I pee in your shoes (It makes them smell better) and gives them a yellowy shine.




Entertaining the children in queues or on long journeys has also provided inspiration for a book about a magic flying toilet, and a mission to save one families ailing sweet making business by stealing the family recipe book back from the Pirate and Captain of ‘The Sweet Revenge’ who rules the seven seas by supplying all seadogs with the delicious sweets. 



My most recent inspiration has been provided by my son, (who’s now approaching his 10th Birthday) and his constant attempts to steal my bobble hat and his disappointment that I will not give it to him. He handles this by talking about himself in the third person and calling himself ‘No-bobble’. This has presented lot of entertaining ideas for a new Picture Book text which I’m currently working on.



So… this is a little celebration of my eccentric family, and a thank you to the most important people in my life who inspire me every day. Hopefully one day I’ll be able to thank them properly with an acknowledgement in an actual book. One day…