Inspiration

Inspiration. Now there’s a word to conjure with.

It was the Oscars this week, and as usual there are a million different opinions out there, this should have won, that should have won. Etc... so forth, so on...

It’s no secret that the movies have informed a great deal of my writing, and sometimes, even the things I get up to on a daily basis.

Five Graves To Cairo put an idea into my head that is yet to be realised, but who knows where life is headed.

My mind is totally random, and always has been. So, I can see a film or watch a tv show and certain little incidents within the movie or the tv show have just totally spoken to me.

All of this led me to consider what I think might be the elements of a great movie.

The starting point of any great movie, regardless of length, has to be a great story. Do you have a real story to tell? Of course, then you need a great script. Having a story is all very well, if you can’t articulate that story in a way that captures the audience’s sympathy and imagination, you won’t coax anyone into going on the journey with you.

So a great script has to be part inspiration, and part seduction, with just enough intrigue to keep the audience guessing.

When I got the chance to see Henry Barrial’s new film, Pig, I knew I was in for something that would be very different from the standard join-the-dots, cookie-cutter stuff that the mainstream has been offering of late.

Pig is simply inspired. And inspiring. I have been utterly unable to get some of the images out of my head.

In part that is the writing. Henry Barrial can really write. The script is everything I hoped it would be. Intelligent, compelling, different. A puzzle. I love puzzles.

Of course, a compelling script then needs two further elements to bring the writing to the screen undiminished. A savvy director who can interpret the meaning, and actors who can get into the skin of the characters.

Probably the person best placed to direct a film is the person who wrote it in the first place. So it is with Pig. Henry creates an absolute gem of a film. (http://thepigpicture.com/Pig.html)

The main character is a man with no memory of his past, played with utter conviction by actor Rudolf Martin. I tend to have a more analytical approach to movies than most, and rarely find myself so engaged as to feel emotionally moved by a character’s situation. Between them, Barrial and Martin conjure up something that just speaks to me in ways I really hadn’t considered before. And that moved me.

I also started to think about character in a different way. You have character, and then you have the nature of the character inside. Then a friend mentioned something that her attorney had mentioned about her former husband... and my mind exploded in another direction entirely. Suddenly, a character who had been dull as ditchwater (and unsufferable besides) in one of my latest scratchings, turned into something completely different.

That’s the nature of inspiration.

Putting things together in your head until they fit. And they can be informed from anywhere.

I always have a notebook, usually a Moleskine, somewhere about my person. You do not know where your next inspiration may come from. In my case, most of it is humbly informed from the great writing of others.

It doesn’t need to be feature length either. Doug Rao’s short, War Hero, totally blew me away. (http://www.makeshortfilms.com/). Thankfully, Doug has decided to make this incredible piece of cinema available for download. Regardless of politics, this film speaks to the humanity in all of us.

You don’t have to look far outside of the mainstream to find film-makers who are making incredible cinema with very little in the way of budget. Using imagination and vision. They can’t cover holes in their plots and cardboard characters with tons of expensive CGI and explosions. They don’t need to. They’re already delivering inspiring, thought-provoking films to you.

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Things about Modern Life that drive me clean around the bend.

Today I was a reluctant witness to the death of the English Language. It
came in the shape of a phone call, and it so thoroughly unnerved me I
nearly moved to another carriage in the train.

Now there are university professors who proclaim that spelling, grammar
and language really don't matter that much. Honestly? Well I beg to
differ.

The unwitting murderer of English was a young woman. Late teens, or
possibly early twenties. Admittedly this slaughter was a social call, so
this young woman was clearly far from being alone in her inability to
articulate a complete sentence which made any kind of sense.

First of all, I will take us back in time. For all of you out there who
remember the days of vinyl... ever put a 7 inch 45 on at the wrong
speed? Say 78? This young woman spoke rather like a 45 played at 78.
Words tumbled out of her mouth like a barrel going over Niagra Falls.

Like was used a lot, like every other sentence. Incomplete sentences,
like every other statement. She said "I don't know" rather a lot too. I
was trying to decide whether this was intended as a form of apology for
her incredibly limited like vocabulary.

I started to count the "likes" there were 97 of them between Wimbledon
and Clapham Junction... at one point they were coming along at a rate of
one every three seconds.

Apparently, the modern teenager now leaves school with a vocabulary
which barely contains a thousand words.

I'm sorry, but that is incredibly poor. It would appear that our
children are being deprived of the ability to express themselves with
anything approaching coherence. Presumably as our youngsters regress,
the English will return to dwelling in caves.

I left the train feeling confused. Sad (yes), annoyed (most certainly),
and very depressed.

I decided between appointments to have a drink and a sandwich.

Can someone tell me why, if I order a nice cold bottle of mineral water,
that the accompanying glass must always arrive with a slice of lemon? If
I want lemonade, I will order lemonade. I didn't... I wanted water. A
slice of lemon always makes your nice glass of cold water taste of
toothpaste. And no. I have no idea why. So no extraneous floating fruit
or vegetables, please.

Why, oh why, must the more upmarket restaurants do chef-y things with
classic dishes? These chef-y things don't always work. And they always
double the price of the dish.

Since most of the rest of the day went brilliantly, I suppose I really
shouldn't complain, but there you have it. Modern life... not
necessarily an improvement.

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Interview with an Author: Kim Menozzi

As many people know, I am a partner in the publishing company,
diiarts.com. As we head towards our first anniversary, I thought now
would be the moment to talk to one of my author's in the run up to
publishing her new book. Ask Me If I'm Happy is launched next month, and
here we are, talking to the author, Kimberly Menozzi, about her new
book, and what makes her 'tick' as a writer.

Q: Thank you for this interview, Kim. Can you tell us what your latest
book, Ask Me If I’m Happy, is all about?

A: Oh, I should thank you for this opportunity instead. Ask Me if I'm
Happy is a modern-day love story set in Bologna, Italy, wherein two
people meet by pure chance but have much deeper and more troubling
connections than they could ever imagine. When these discoveries come to
light for both of them, they have to deal with the emotional fallout of
having hidden the truth and of dealing with lies of omission.

At the heart of this story is their need to be open and honest with each
other in ways which prove quite difficult, due to the painful prior
experiences with previous partners. Ultimately, it's a story about how
people need to be honest and up front with one another and be able to
trust their loved ones on every level, as well as how we unknowingly
sabotage ourselves in love. Being honest and truthful isn't exactly
painless, but the struggle is worth it, in the end.

Q: Can you tell us a little about your main and supporting characters?

A: Okay. The main characters are Emily Miller and Davide Magnani
(Dah'-vih-day is the pronunciation of his first name, by the way). Emily
is an American in her mid-thirties, who is coming out of a bad
relationship and determined to leave Italy behind her. Davide is a
professor of literature and ancient mythology at the University of
Bologna. Both of them have been substantially wounded by past partners,
and they're both struggling with a number of trust issues as a result.

The supporting characters include both of the exes: Jacopo Spadon and
Letizia Costa. Jacopo is the sort of man accustomed to getting what he
wants when he wants it, and comes from a rather privileged background,
besides. Letizia is the sort of woman we see countless versions of here
in Italy, nowadays; she truly defines herself by the brand names she can
buy, wear and drive, etc., etc. You get the idea, I'm sure.

Other supporting characters, all of whom influence the story, include
Emily's best friend since their teen years, Jenn; Davide's best friend
(and fellow professor) with a tendency to be politically incorrect,
Michele; and Emily's rather comically overbearing mother. Q: Do you tend to base your characters on real people or are they
totally from your imagination?

A: I have to say there are elements of both in my characters. Often they
start off inspired by someone in particular, usually by how that someone
looks or speaks or behaves, but by the time the story is truly taking
shape in my mind, they've become very much themselves. Once I've written
the first draft, it's sometimes hard to pin down who it was I had in
mind in the first place – they grow that much, in my mind and hopefully
on the page as well. Their voices become distinct and clear, and from
that point onward, I just have to trust them to show me the way.

Q: Are you consciously aware of the plot before you begin a novel, or do
you discover it as you write?

A: I'm seldom aware at the start. I had a general idea with Ask Me if
I'm Happy, but up until I wrote the final pages, I wasn't completely
sure how it was going to end. There are several incidents within the
story which I didn't know would be there until I'd typed them out. When
that happens, all I can do is sit there and think "Well, huh. I didn't
see that coming." Generally speaking, I just listen to what the
characters tell me is supposed to happen and then I go from there. On
the rare occasions where I've tried to make them to do something I'd
dreamed up at the start, it just didn't work. I'd write pages – force
them out, more or less – and then, in the end, I'd end up scrapping them
because they didn't work at all. Now, I just listen to the pretty
voices. (laughs)

Q: Your book is set in Bologna, Italy. Can you tell us why you chose
this city in particular?

A: There are many, many reasons why I chose Bologna, but I'll try to
pick just a few. For one, it was the natural choice for the start of the
story, because it's the major train travel hub for northern Italy.
Another reason is that it's simply a place I love – there's fantastic
food; a youthful, creative atmosphere (thanks in part to the
university); it is, as my husband might say, characteristic of the
region where I live – what you see in Bologna, you'll see elsewhere in
Emilia Romagna; and finally, it's just a beautiful and historic city.
Most of all, I feel it's one of the unsung locations in this country.
Nearly everyone knows about Tuscany, Rome, Naples and Venice, but very
few folks, it seems, are even aware of Bologna. I wanted my area of
northern Italy to be represented, for better and for worse, and I think
I've done that in Ask Me if I'm Happy.

Q: Does the setting play a major part in the development of your story?

A: Yes, it does. As I said before, Bologna is a major travel hub –
Bologna Centrale is the principal railway junction in all of Italy. So
it's entirely plausible that Emily and Davide would cross paths here, or
that she would be stuck there in the event of a transportation strike.
Plus, as the majority of the story takes place in winter, the foggy,
grey atmosphere of Bologna during that season really affects the mood of
the story – and perhaps, to a degree, even the actions of the characters
themselves. The fact that it's Davide's home – not hers – is also
significant, if only on a subconscious level.

Q: Open the book to page 69. What is happening?

A: Davide is alone, purchasing the train tickets to Milano. There are
some subtle, comic aspects to the transaction (I hope).

Q: Can you give us one of your best excerpts?

A: This small excerpt is a favorite of mine, because of the way Emily is
drawn repeatedly to watch this stranger on the train who has done
nothing more than smile in her direction.:
-------
The broken window fell open with a soft thump and the banging and
rattling of the train’s progress drowned out the soft hum of
conversation around her. A steady, chilling wind blew inside the
carriage. Several passengers grumbled their disapproval and tugged their
scarves and coats more tightly around themselves, but none made an
effort to close the window.

After a moment or two, the man stood and pushed his glasses up the
bridge of his nose with an air of determination. Emily observed even
more openly this time as he returned to the broken window, shoved it
upward and stuffed the wedge of paper between the Plexiglas and the
frame once more.

When he turned, he saw her watching and his smile lit up his face again.
His eyes met hers fully and she looked away, her cheeks tingling as she
turned to the window and the countryside emerging in the growing
daylight beyond it.
In spite of herself, her eyes shifted to follow him yet again when he
stepped away from the row with the broken window. His hair had been tousled by the wind, and upon settling back in his
seat he ran one hand cautiously over it, taming any wild, out-of-place
waves. His dark eyes behind the oval frames of his glasses flicked in
her direction before he turned toward his own window. She thought it was
clear that he was trying not to be obvious about watching her.

Q: Thank you so much for this interview, Kim. We wish you much success!
A: Thank you for your time and for your interest. I hope everyone will
enjoy the story when they get a chance to read it.

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15 Authors I can remember offhand

Okay... here goes, perhaps not as literary as some, but my measure of a
book is a darn good yarn. One that has me daydreaming about it for days
afterwards. In no particular order.
1) Jack London - I can spontaneously shiver even now. White Fang and
Call Of The Wild had a profound effect on me as a child.
2) A A Milne - nuff said!
3) M M Bennetts - If you don't know why by now... wait for her next
book!
4) Alexander Kent - Perhaps not as good as CS Forrester or Patrick
O'Brian, but I loved his Bolitho novels, and they really opened up the
period for me.
5) Len Deighton - for all sorts of reasons, Harry Palmer, Game, Set and
Match, Hook, Line and Sinker... and a brilliant non-fiction work
"Bomber".
6) Michael Crichton - because the despite the lame kiddie movies that
Spielberg turned Jurassic Park and The Lost World into, the books
themselves are actually thoughtful criticisms of how science sometimes
goes places it really shouldn't, just because it can. And he writes a
stonkingly good thriller.
7) Anne Rice - for The Mummy... and for bringing the Vampire genre into
disrepute.
8) Douglas Adams - for the Hitchhiker, The Long Dark Teatime of the Soul
and Last Chance to See - proving that he wasn't just a great comedy
writer but a concerned and interesting environmentalist too.
9) Lincoln Preston - These two guys, Lincoln Child and Douglas Preston,
wrote the book which became the film The Relic. In fact there are a
whole series of books featuring their FBI Agent, Special Agent Aloysius
Pendergast. Thoughtful and very creepy thrillers. Still Life With Crows
is one of the most genuinely frightening novels I have ever read.
10) Agatha Christie - She may have put murder in the parlour and bodies
in the library, but she wrote a great thriller, created two characters
which in their own way have entered into the legend of literature and
has kept us entertained through books, plays, radio and the medium of
television for over eighty years.
11) Dan Brown - for basically writing the same book over and over and
over again, but nevertheless getting published and being made into
movies - how the devil does he do it?
12) Janet Evanovich - for Stephanie Plum.
13) John Galsworthy - I read my way through the Forsyte Saga when I was
fifteen, something of a forgotten gem.
14) William Makepeace Thackeray - Vanity Fair, I loved this book I've
read it cover to cover many times.
15) Bram Stoker - for being the original master of gothic suspense.
Jewel Of Seven Stars beats Dracula any day of the week.
I can hear it now... why would I include an author that I really don't
like. To be frank, Dan Brown has a lot to do with why I am where I am
today. Had it not been for Dan Brown, Authonomy, Year Zero and the
realisation that there had to be something better than the mainstream
and the status quo, I would be in a very different place.

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Say what I mean... and mean what I say...

So it's goodbye to The Bill... After twenty-seven years.

You can officially colour me gutted.

I've been watching since Woodentop first aired in 1984.

Whilst TB has been one of my favourite programmes over the years, it has
been so much more in this household. In one of those "not a lot of
people know that" type stories, let me try to put into perspective what
TB meant to my family, and explain why its loss for some of the behind
the scenes, blink and you'll miss 'em crowd extras and walk on bit parts
is something of a disaster.

When my father passed away in 1976, I was still a schoolgirl. My mother
therefore fell back upon the only thing she was trained for. Acting. I
didn't think of school fees and all that jazz in those days, hey I was a
confused (and somewhat angry) child. "I, Claudius" was the first, but
you can trace my growing up through the television and filming work my
mother did, she kept me at that school, paying the extortionate fees...
until I was 18 and had staggered somewhat unsuccessfully through my A
Levels.

Acting is a precarious profession at best. Work cannot be relied upon.
Fortunately for my mother and me, my mother believed in consummate
professionalism, it would have never occurred to her not to turn up on
time to do the work she was hired to do, even though sometimes it was
deathly dull. The nature of the acting world meant that my school fees
and general living expenses came about in the most fantastical ways.
Michael Cimino's "Heaven's Gate" paid my year's school fees and sorted
out the flat roof over the study in 1981... I could bang on at length
about the various films and televisual highlights which kept the wolf
from the door until I started full time work in 1985.

Then along came The Bill. Suddenly, something of a sea change took
place. Suddenly my mother's agents were asking her if she had done The
Bill lately, suddenly there was almost a guarantee of work. Something
almost unheard of in the industry. Through the late 80s, 90s and up to
2004 when my mother really retired from work, The Bill kept her in a
reasonable living. Where money was tight, she would get a walk-on or
crowd work and somehow bills would be paid and the wolf wouldn't be
licking paint from the door again.

The list of stars who got their breaks in TB either in the regular cast,
or as guests, is endless.

Now all that has gone. Almost three decades of virtual job security,
chucked away... and for what? Darned if I know... I only know this. It
is a very sad day for British Television.

Thank you, "The Bill"... for all the times I've laughed, all the times
I've cried... and for the amazing friends I've made along the way
because of you... and thanks to all those friends for putting me back
together when I somewhat lost the plot after my marriage collapsed. The
second time in my life I've been somewhat... angry.

TB maybe gone... but not likely to be forgotten...

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Agent or No Agent...

Everyone is suddenly talking about them. So I thought I would chuck my
ten cents worth in there. Okay, I have to admit that a lifetime's
experience of agents has not been the best proving ground to trust their
abilities. My mother's theatrical agents were, broadly speaking, quite
good. But that was because she ditched the ones who made grandiose
promises and did zilch. By the time I was going to secretarial agencies
I was a committed cynic who heard blah, blah, blah when they started
speaking. First thing to remember, it is in their interests to keep you
on side. You are the cash cow. There in lies the first real problem. A farmer never has just one cow.
He has a whole herd of them. This is true of agents. They don't have
just one author, they have a whole herd of them. So they are not overly
worried about touting your work about. "I have got an agent." is just
the starting point. Once you have got one, you need to keep after them.
Not in a crazy stalker-ish way, but in a "I am not going to be fobbed
off and go quietly into the night" way. Some agents will only work hard
if their backs are to the wall and they are cornered like rats in a
trap. This is a simple fact that has served me well over the years.

Frankly, some of them are not up to the job. Being an agent requires the
persistence of a door to door brush salesman and the patience of Job;
but it also requires a deep understanding of markets, reading habits and
literature itself.

It pays to keep your ear to the ground. If you just leave everything to
your agent, it may be years before you hear anything at all. My view is,
that you will only get out what you are prepared to put in, an agent is
as potentially hard work as doing it all yourself.

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The Arts?

Royal Society for the encouragement of Arts, Manufactures and Commerce
(RSA)
I had high hopes when I was proposed for Fellowship of the RSA. A
meeting of minds perhaps; a place where my interest in the arts, in the
process of creation, in the celebration of things that make life grand,
might be shared and appreciated.

Over the weeks and months, not very much has happened with my
fellowship. True, some of this is my fault, I haven’t particularly
engaged with any of my fellow Fellows, or gone to any meetings.

Therein lies the problem.

I am confused. Very confused.

The Royal Society for the encouragement of the Arts holds meetings
with titles such as: “The Big Society Approach to Anti-Social Behaviour”
and has projects for Drug Addiction and Citizen Power, and the
Environment.

Okay. These are all very worthy subjects, but seem to have remarkably
little to do with the arts (in any form), or manufacturing, or commerce.
I am not entirely sure what I did expect from the RSA but did not expect
to see a agenda focusing entirely on social issues.

There are any number of quangos, interest groups and government
departments whose sole purpose is the discussion and policy making in
relation to Society, or Drugs, Citizen Power, the Environment. I am
curious as to why the Royal Society which is supposedly for the
ENCOURAGEMENT of Arts, Manufactures and Commerce appears to be only
interested or engaged in the duplication of the work of all these other
quangos, interest groups and government departments.

There is a big problem with the Arts in this country. One that goes
largely unrecognised; and I need hardly add that Manufacturing and
Commerce amongst this once great nation of “shopkeepers” is floundering
too. Surely the Royal Society should be engaged in activity which does
something to right these problems. Yes, some social engagement is
necessary, in fact vital, but for it to be the bound and centre of
everything that the RSA does seems wrong and inappropriate.

Which leads me neatly to my next bugbear. The Big Society. Let me say it
now, and get it out of the way quickly so that the shouting and whining
can be over and done with.

95% of the people who are likely to read this will not have the
slightest nodding acquaintance with what the government and people with
posh job titles and high salaries are talking about. Politicians won’t
either. The media paints a view for the clucking classes to shake their
heads over and feel secretly grateful that they don’t have to live like
that. Very, very few of these people have ever lived the lives that
they talk about in such grandiose terms. They don’t understand it, and,
I am certain they wouldn’t survive it if they were suddenly plucked from
their nice hermetically-sealed, money-cushioned lives and dumped down in
this world.

I have. I moved up to Leeds, and for eight months I lived the life. And,
let me tell you that on my own, I would not have survived it. It is a
different world. Some of the societal ills people like to pontificate
about are inflicted upon the people living them. It is simply stunning
the number of times these shortcomings are brought to the attention of
the powers that be, and still nothing is done. This is not about the
last thirteen years, this malaise has been growing for at least the last
thirty years. You can probably trace the origins back to the post war
period.

The cycle of dependency that has been created will not easily be broken.
The feelings of injustice and hopelessness will not be easily put aside
by some sort of social programme dreamed up by politicians and quangos.

The Big Society is another political initiative, put together by people
entirely divorced from the true reality of the lives they are talking
about. It will not succeed in the way that politicians think it will,
because they have failed to grasp the nettle of the things that have to
happen before it can have a hope of success.

Oddly it is in the Arts, and Manufacturing and Commerce where the
answers to some of these riddles would ultimately lie. Not in the social
agenda but in areas that the RSA apparently feels no need to commit to.

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