Perfectionism & the Royal Suspension Chain Pier in Brighton

As an aspiring author, I think my biggest weakness is perfectionism. I tend to think that whatever I create should be perfect, that it should appeal to everyone, and that it should be so good that it will last forever. My seeming inability to adopt a more realistic approach has meant that I've finished and submitted few stories and novels.  

As a result, after years of writing, I have nothing to show for my efforts.

At the Brighton Museum, I learned that the city's first pier was called the Royal Suspension Chain Pier.  It was built in 1823, with the intention of helping cross-channel passengers board their ships.

It soon became a place for the fashionable to congregate, to see and be seen.  Or, as the British would say, to promenade.  Landscape painters such as Joseph Turner (an inspiration for Holmfirth-based Ashley Jackson) and John Constable immortalized it in their work.

While I'm sure the builders constructed it as best they could, the Royal Suspension Chain Pier failed the test of time.  By 1896, the pier had already been closed, and was scheduled to be dismantled when a storm struck Brighton.

The remains of the limestone blocks into which the oak piles were rooted can apparently be seen at extremely low tides.  Sadly, that's all that remains of what was a highly useful and impressive structure.  Still, the unexpected appeal of the Royal Suspension Chain Pier led to the construction of the West Pier, which became a popular venue for concerts, shows, and all sorts of entertainment.  It helped make Brighton a better port city, heightened its utility and appeal, and helped it grow.  Even if it wasn't perfect, even if it didn't last forever, it benefitted people in many ways, and was immortalized by two painters who would eventually number among England's greatest artists.

No matter how hard I work, it's likely I can never make my fiction perfect.  It's equally likely that any stories I manage to publish may go out of print.  But if they can entertain readers for a time, and inspire future authors, then that should be enough for me.  Now, to keep that thought before me each day as I sit down to write, and finish, and sell.

Dragon Dave

Related Dragon Cache entries

Ashley Jackson: Staying True to Your Muse

Related Internet Links

The Brighton Museum

Please Don't Criticize Michael Palin

On November 9, 1981, Michael Palin records in his diary:

"The Missionary: Mark II" arrives from the typist's, and I fall on it and read it through eagerly.  It reads very well and I'm happy with the last-minute cuts and readjustments.  And I laughed more, much more, than at Mk 1.

Sent the script round by cabs to Neville [the producer] and Richard L [the slated director].  Watch some television.  Can't keep my mind on my writing.  I'm half hoping the phone will ring before I go to bed and bring some breathless enthusiasm from one or another of them for the new script.  This is what I need now.

Ironically, the phone rings a few hours later, and he learns from the distribution company that "Time Bandits," the film over which he and Terry Gilliam worked so hard (and agonized so much) has taken in more during its first three days in America than any film the company previously handled.  

I'd still rather have had a phone call about The Missionary, he records.


The following morning, Neville Thompson calls.  

"My heart sinks utterly as he tells me that he wants to see the original script, because he feels I've lost a lot in the rewrites.  I'm sure he doesn't realize what a dashing blow this is after two months' rewriting. Anything but wild enthusiasm is a dashing blow!"

At the 2006 World Fantasy Convention, a celebrated Fantasy author said during a panel discussion that he hated it when a reader told him what he disliked about one of his stories.  Even if the reader generally liked it, but had a few small criticisms, he didn't want to hear them.  The author simply preferred to hear, "I enjoyed reading it," and nothing else about the story.  I can certainly understand where that author was coming from.  An author tries, as best he (or she) can, to translate the vision or idea in his head into words.  This is not easy, and no matter how pleased he is with the end result, all art is subjective, and thus, not all of his readers will feel the same way about his efforts.  

At the same convention (one which, by the way, celebrated the centenary of Robert E. Howard's birth), I overheard another author telling someone how members of her publishing house had sat her down in their suite, and then raked her manuscript over the coals for two hours. It must have seemed as if nothing she had written was good enough. From what little I heard, it sounded like a pretty terrible experience. When the book was finally published, she thanked one member of the publishing house in her Acknowledgements for giving her the idea of rewriting the novel from the perspective of one particular character. Having read the novel, I can attest that I enjoyed it.  As I never read the earlier draft, I cannot compare the two versions.  However, I can imagine how difficult it must have been for her to rewrite the manuscript, and how long that process must have taken her.

One thing seems certain as I look (with hopeful eyes) toward eventual publication: people will criticize my work.  Some will criticize the story before it reaches its final form, and others (readers and reviewers) will criticize it once it goes on sale.  It will be up to me to not just accept the fact that someone is criticizing my efforts, but also to determine if I can use their ideas to improve my current or future stories.  I suppose that if people have taken the time to read my story, I should be willing to hear their reactions to it.  But, as the celebrated Fantasy author said in 2006, and as Michael Palin records in 1981, I'm sure there will be times when I will feel as if I really need to just get a verbal pat on the back, and nothing else.

Artists are fragile.  Handle with care.

And whatever you do, please don't criticize Michael Palin.  He's awesome!

Dragon Dave

Andras Albert, Hungarian Storyteller

In a first-season episode of “Castle,” Martha tells her son Richard, the bestselling mystery writer, “Research doesn’t pay the bills.”  She’s certainly correct, as publishers pay Fiction writers not for their research, but based upon sales figures.  Nor do readers care how much research a writer does.  Their sole concern is how entertaining they find his or her novels.  Yet writers need inspiration, and the stories they write need grounding.  So research, in one form or another, seems like an intrinsic part of the writing process, as necessary to the writer as it is for anyone who is paid based upon his knowledge as well as his skills. 

Nevertheless, I’ve often wondered if I have researched too much, and written too little.  Certainly it’s easy to lose oneself in research.  Occasionally research has only underlined all that I didn’t know about a given subject, and intimidated me into not writing. I’ve often wondered how much of the research I’ve conducted was absolutely necessary, and if it contributed to what I wrote in a meaningful way.  Or was research merely pandering to my insecurities?

In her notes on the story “Handsome Andras,” contained in her book Folktales of Hungary, Linda Degh describes the storyteller, Andras Albert, as “one of the most genuinely creative storytellers in Hungarian oral literature.”  She attributes this to the land in which he worked as a lumberjack, but she also mentions that his superior abilities arise from his unique mindset.  Unlike most of his contemporaries, he describes his life as a folktale, populated by supernatural beings, characters from his own tales, and the heroic journeys he undertook.  He described, in exacting detail, an airplane he built.  Unfortunately, it crashed in the forest, and he never found time to build another.  Still, he spent part of his life in a cabin by a lake, where a dragon lived along its shores.  

Life, they say, is full of compensations.

Linda Degh describes his story, “Handsome Andras,” as an example of “the gifted storyteller who can build a complete story around an incomplete episode.  The main topic turns on the hero’s wanderings.  Well-known tale elements are skillfully interwoven to thicken the plot before the final entanglement.  Thus a new story evolves.”  This story offers numerous episodes and fantastic elements, and utilizes motifs common to classic Hungarian folk literature.  “The long wandering of the hero is described with such dramatic sense that never for a moment does it become uninteresting.  The plot is cleverly intricate; a dazzlingly picturesque world unfolds itself before us, and in a fascinating manner the changing moods, the worries and anxieties of the hero are poignantly described.”

At first glance, Degh seems to suggest that research is unnecessary, that great stories arise solely from one’s ability to harness the imagination.  But a careful look at her notes underlines that Albert “remodels the old form in so ingenious a manner that instead of turning the tale into an individual literary composition, he abides by the accepted pattern of folk narrative.”  

Despite his extraordinary imagination, it appears that Andras Albert would not have met the expectations of his audience, had he not memorized the classic Hungarian folk tales, and understood why his listeners loved them so much.  So I guess I'll return to my research, even if the rewards of doing so are not immediately apparent.  At least I can occasionally glance out my window, and watch the dragon lounging in my backyard.

This weekend, maybe I'll get started on that airplane.

Dragon Dave

Sonny Caldinez & John Peel

This weekend, my wife and I watched “The Evil of the Daleks.”  While only Episode 2 of this seven-part serial remains, the Loose Cannon production team reconstructed the missing episodes by matching the existing audio tracks with photographs, computer generated animation, and even some of their own live-action video.  They also included some interviews with actor Sonny Caldinez, the sixth Doctor Colin Baker, and writer John Peel on the DVD.

Sonny Caldinez, a big actor with a warm smile and a deep laugh, related some of his favorite memories from his acting career.  For the British TV series “Sir Arthur Conan Doyle,” he played a mummy in the story “Lot 249.”  This episode was based on Doyle’s 1892 short story “Lot No. 249,” about an Oxford student who reanimates an Egyptian mummy.  According to Wikipedia, this is the first time in history a writer portrayed a reanimated mummy as a “sinister, predatory figure.” 

Sonny remembered riding along in a bus to a pub, where the rest of the crew went inside to eat their lunch.  He had been told he couldn’t eat, as the production team didn’t want to spend another three hours redoing his makeup.  But he got tired of sitting on the bus, so he decided to make “a grand entrance.”  He threw open the pub door, and as it slammed into the wall, he staggered inside.  To his delight, the diners seated closest to the door, who were not involved in the production, reacted to the mummy’s entrance with screams and cries of alarm.  Unfortunately, the prosthetics covering his lower jaw fell off.  So he ended up eating lunch, and spending another three hours in the makeup chair that afternoon.

Many writers yearned to write a Dalek novel for “Doctor Who,” but Terry Nation, who created the monsters for the TV show, always refused to grant them permission.  In his interview, John Peel related how he finally gained Nation’s trust, and started writing books about the Daleks, including novelizations of Doctor Who stories, such as “Evil of the Daleks.”  Eventually, Nation granted him permission to write some original Dalek adventures. 

I particularly like what Terry Nation told him in regard to the novelization of “The Dalek Masterplan.”  This first-Doctor story was twelve episodes long, so John Peel called him up and mentioned that he was wondering whether he should write it as two short novels or one long novel.  When Nation asked him his preference, Peel said, “Two novels.”  When Nation then asked him why, Peel said, “Because it means two advances instead of one.”  Terry Nation laughed. “Now,” he proclaimed, “you’re thinking like a writer!”

This morning I finished the hardcopy revisions for a chapter of my dragon novel I started working on last Friday.  This afternoon, I’ll put those into the computer.  For the most part, I’m concentrating on dialogue, grammar, and story logic during this pass.  I’m also writing down thoughts for the next pass, when I plan to concentrate mostly on the concepts and characters.  I feel as if I’m progressively refining and enriching my story, as if I’m building it up, layer by layer.  I know it’s not right yet, but I believe I can shape it into a form I’ll be proud of.  I just wish I could work faster, finish the novel more quickly.  Maybe, on the next novel, I can try a different methodology that’ll speed up the process.  Or maybe this is the fastest pace I’m capable of.  I just know that I won’t be content until I’m publishing at least one novel a year.

I may never write a story as influential as Arthur Conan Doyle’s “Lot No. 249.”  I may never create a character or race as beloved as Terry Nation’s Daleks.  Still, I’m doing my best to “think like a writer,” and finish my first dragon novel, so that I can sell it (and hopefully, get an offer for a couple more books).

Dragon Dave 

Inspired By C-3PO

The other day, I went out to a nearby restaurant for lunch.  I perused the dining area, looking for a table away from others, particularly any parties who might be noisy.  But I also needed good lighting, as I planned on revising a chapter of my novel while I ate.  I finally settled on a table with good overhead lighting, set down my food, and dug out my notebook. 

One table away sat a young man and his two daughters, enjoying their pasta and drinks.  They chatted easily, and for the most part, quietly.  When their voices threatened to rise, he would gently hush them, and then remind them that they were in a restaurant, and must keep their voices down.  At one point he looked over at me and said, “I’m sorry if we’re a little noisy today.”

Going out to a restaurant can break the routine, and get me working again when I might otherwise get distracted with other tasks, or decide that I simply need a break.  But this tactic will backfire if the restaurant is noisy, or if my mind decides to follow a nearby conversation instead of concentrating on my prose.  Most annoying of all is parents who let their children yell or scream, and expect others to tolerate such unnecessary outbursts.  Often, these parents seem so professional and refined.  They dress well, wear convention attire, and act in all other ways like respectable members of society.  Yet they think nothing of invading the airspace (and therefore the thoughts and concentration) of others.

With his shaved head, tattoos, and numerous earrings, this young man hardly projected an image of refinement.  But due to his efforts, his girls’ voices had not disturbed my concentration.  I told him not to worry, and observed that his girls seemed to be enjoying themselves.  We chatted for a few minutes, and he explained that this was one of their favorite places to eat.  Then I returned my attention to my work, and he to his girls.

When his girls had finished eating, he loaded them into his double stroller, and in quiet, lilting tones reminded them of the errands ahead.  As he left the dining area, it struck me how, while others might not judge him respectable, he had been respectful and considerate of others.  I, for one, was grateful to him for that.

While one’s eye is automatically drawn to the shiny, golden robot C-3PO in “Star Wars,” one quickly learns how bossy and dismissive he is of his friend R2-D2.  Worse, he seems to worry all the time, and foresees only the worst eventuality of any particular event.  It would be easy to dismiss his role in the film as comic relief, but C-3PO emerges as a loyal friend at the end of the film.  After R2-D2 suffers significant injury, C-3PO pleads with the droid technicians, “Sir, if any of my circuits or gears will help, I’ll gladly donate them!”  This, from one who had earlier abandoned his friend in the desert, and later, after they had reunited, told him, “No, I don’t like you either.”

People are always more than they appear.  Sometimes, if we give them a chance, they will surprise us.   In the aftermath of the recent election, many worry about those who will soon take office, and how they will be affected not only by new administrations, but also by the implementation of the propositions that won.  I decided to write this post because I want to remember this young man, whom many might have dismissed because of his appearance.  Instead of declaring my unwillingness to follow our new leaders, or deciding to frustrate their efforts and work to overturn any laws they enact, I also want to remember C-3PO’s example.  He may not be the wisest, or the most respectable person in the Star Wars universe, but his words, at least in that one moment, inspire me. 

“Sir, if any of my circuits or gears will help, I’ll gladly donate them.”

Dragon Dave

Treasures of Ojai: Part 2

A Treasure from a Bygone Age

I’m not sure where it came from, but one time my grandfather got an old organ from someone.  He moved it inside the dining room, plugged it into the electrical outlet, and my grandmother, who played the organ at church, sat down to play.  But it didn’t work right, so he had to open it up and tinker with it.  Now my grandfather was usually great at tinkering with things, but I don’t think he ever got that organ to work properly.  I recall that he had trouble finding replacement parts, such as fuses and vacuum tubes, for it.  

The above organ comes from a simpler time.  Unlike my grandfather’s organ, I’m guessing it wouldn’t be reliant on parts made for a specific manufacturer.  So it could probably be restored more easily than the one my grandfather acquired.  I love the wood grain, the organ's shape and design, and the scrollwork for the book/sheet music holder.  I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anyone play a pump organ like this.  Given its exterior beauty, I wonder how it would sound.

I can’t imagine keeping one's concentration on the music, and playing the keyboard, while working at these pedals.  But a great musician, like a great artist, often does a lot more work than the audience ever sees.  We only see—or, as in this case, hear—the result, and often the resultant performance or finished piece is so simplified and streamlined that we think it was the work of a moment.  I’ve played the piano, and know how many hours of practice it takes to properly prepare for a performance.  I need to keep that in mind, when I tire of all the behind-the-scenes work (the outlining, the revising, the multiple drafts, the submission process) involved in the process of writing fiction. 

Dragon Dave

Related Internet Links

More pictures of pump organs