christmas reading wrap up, and a dash of inspiration

Hope you all had a lovely Christmas! I went to Lanzarote, in the Canary Islands, with Duffy. We had a dreadful start to our holiday, with our flight being delayed due to the bad weather in London -- we eventually landed in Lanzarote NINETEEN hours after we should have! That was one big planeload of weary holidaymakers. Anyway, we suitably recovered and got some brilliant days. I didn't expect the weather to be so hot and glorious. However, aside from the weather, the Canary Islands as a destination isn't anything to write home about - a volcano that has vomited in the ocean, and 17 million tourist resorts plonked down on top, chocka block with fat sunburned Brits and Germans.

Now back in London. It's 23 degrees Celsius colder here.

No writing over Christmas (Holidays? Is that a worthy excuse?) but lots of reading and lots of thinking about the story.

So I read:

The Brightest Star in the Sky - Marian Keyes' latest book. I really love Marian's stories, they're so readable and she has a lovely voice. Truthfully, I don't like her early books that much but her writing has improved amazingly. I like the way her stories are crafted to unwind as you read them, and they're not predictable either. To date, my favourite one is Anybody Out There. It's heartbreaking & I recommend it.

The Rapture by Liz Jensen. Fairly absorbing, has a relevant story about climate change. Kind of post-apocalyptic drama set in the near future. I'm finding it hard to figure out why this story didn't grip me and I think it might be because I didn't care for the main character that much - I suppose for some reason, I didn't feel empathy for her, when I know I should have.

Old Man's War by John Scalzi. A fabulous space opera! I just looved the snippets of humour in this too. Some of the dialogue - so snappy, a delight to read. (You can read Scalzi's blog for more of the humour). And the science was awesome too. I looved the green soldiers. Looking forward to finding the sequel and reading that.

P.S. I Love You by Cecelia Ahern. I saw the movie for this and I enjoyed it. Not your average rom-com, you know the kind which methodically ticks off all typical scenes such as kooky best friend advice, getting drunk & falling over, the Big Misunderstanding, the mad run through city/boat/town to proclaim undying love, blah blah scene, etc. But the book? Meh. Average writing, really average. And I don't understand why it became so popular and won awards and got turned into a movie. But the funny thing about that, is it inspires me.

I can write a story like that. I can write a better story. If Cecelia can do it, so can I.

Lying on the sunloungers, I thought a lot about In Finding (previously known as Molly) and figured out a few little things that need tweaking and scenes that need adding earlier in to balance the story better.

Tomorrow is Wednesday - writing day! - and I will start working on those amendments.

Lastly, here's a random piece of inspiration: Have you seen the new Chanel No.5 tv ad with Audrey Tatou? It's so lush and luminous and golden. I love Audrey Tatou. Ah! Here's an exciting I thing I just discovered when Googling it - the ad was directed by my favourite director, Jean Pierre Jeunet! (Now I know that, I see it too...) So, here it is:

one night a week, it's all i ask for

I have a plan for writing, and I want to feel hopeful and determined about it. I want it to make a difference. I'm not sure if it will, and that lack of confidence sucks. Why do we go through these cycles? These frenzied delightful periods when it's all about writing, so sure of it, followed by a time of inactivity, doused in guilt. A big hairy fuck off guilt monkey, sitting on our shoulders.

Will this up and down ever end? Will there ever be a time when I will just write, and continue to write?



Here my Latest Plan™: to write every Wednesday night. Wednesday is when I make words. Home from work, inhale food, whirl through shower, and sit down with whirring clunky laptop and just do it.

Schedule it in, like an appointment. Like my 'girls night' every Tuesday with Cara & Lou, like my gym every Monday and Thursday (only, well, more regular than the gym even).

It seems simple, right? It's just one short period of time every week which will be for writing. And of course, I can write any other day as well. Let's see how it goes.

So, I sat down last night to work on Molly / In Finding, and it went well. I haven't added very many new words lately but I have restructured it and I'm pleased with how it flows now. There are a lot of placeholder "write this here" sentences, but that's for the next phase of plugging the gaps!

I need to do some research on Dunkirk, and wartime & post-wartime Britain, to fill in Tom's story.

Hovering around 31.5k words at the moment.

oh hai!

Oh, oops, I have not updated here in a while. Erm, see previous post. Plus I had a wickedly busy while at work through Sept-Oct-Nov. It's calmed down now.

Wickedly busyness had an affect on the writing, of course (I did no writing, no blogging, no gymming, no friendling) but I'm back on board now.

First of all, I think I came up with an actual title™ for my Molly story: In Finding

'In finding' the title, I also located lots of themes of the story. So I need to do some edits. Now I know there are those who say, "no edits until you're done!", but I think in this case I will ignore them, and go back to the beginning.

What I'd like to do is rewrite quite a few chunks, making sure the themes are there from the start, that the story arc is supported by them.

Hopefully it won't take me too long and then I'll be back into brand fresh new words - plus with the added benefit of I know the themes when I'm writering them.

I've also been pondering about writing time. It's quite clear that my writing is affected by routine, and if I'm not consistent in a weekly routine then I don't get much writing done. I think I'm going to try setting aside a particular time every week which is dedicated writing time; such as every Wednesday evening. I think even just 1 timeslot like that will make a difference... The issue of course will be sticking to it.

STICKING TO IT.

Kind of the whole issue with writing, in fact.

words spread thinly

Haven't posted here lately. Badbad! I find it hard to spread myself across all these places for my words - the stories, my LiveJournal, this blog, the IWDTFM blog, not to mention our work blog, plus work, personal and IWDTFM tweeting. Phew. A lot of places to write in, and not enough time.

The IWDTFM blog is going well. Five months of archives now, and 77 posts. We've now beginning to build our network, which is a key way to increase readership - basically, make friends with other bloggers. Because we have such an undefined purpose, no set topic, it makes it difficult to connect with other similar blogs!

I'm still meandering along with Molly. I was going to put 'trudging' then, but it's not a chore, it's more like fleeting and bitsy. Meandering. I hit 28,000 words on the story yesterday, which was a nice marker. Plus I discovered a meaty plot point for the upcoming (and dreaded) middleofthebook. It was kind of an obvious place to take the story but I only realised it yesterday.

I also abandoned Writer's Cafe in favour of my dear old Excel, and plotted the story out on a spreadsheet:



I was using a trial version of Writer's Cafe, so I could only have 30 scene cards, and I am too skint to buy the full version. Excel does the job, luverly. Each row is a character (colour coded), and each column is a day.

I really want to get to 30k words. Maybe I'll try some today. I'm at home today, Monday, because I'm sick. Still doing some work as have logged into work webmail, but honestly, my brain is all over the place. Makes me think I probably can't write either. Flitting thoughts and difficulty concentrating.

I'm a big old gushbucket, sneezing + coughing everywhere. Extremely contagious! Watch out...

a writing competition to enter

~ ~ ~

The Royal Society of New Zealand Manhire Prize for Creative Science Writing

EDGE OF THE UNIVERSE

"I live at the edge of the universe, like everybody else."
--Bill Manhire

This year we are celebrating the International Year of Astronomy. Ever since Galileo first aimed his telescope at Jupiter's moons, technology has been enlarging our knowledge of the universe.

We now know our own insignificance and isolation and yet we have immense power to communicate as never before. The race of humans is isolated in space and time and yet where, as individuals, do we go to be alone?

You are invited to write about the place - past or present or future - of human beings in the universe.

~ ~ ~

Now, the fun part. What shall I write?

coffeecoffeecoffee and an excerpt

Yum! I just made an iced coffee in the blender. Delish. It's tropical in London today. Thick and humid and damp. Yesterday we had thunder storms. It's supposed to hit 30 degrees this week.

I'm so glad I don't catch the tube to work.

Here is the conversation I've been writing recently. It's been really hard. But I'm mostly happy with it at the moment. Enough to move on to the next bit (which is what? hmmm)

@ the surfery boy party:

She kicked off her shoes, and clambered up the ladder one-handed and awkward. Jake was at the top, reaching to lift her up the last part. The iron of the roof was rough and rusty and warm under her feet. It creaked as she followed Jake along the the rivets to the peak. There they nestled, where the ocean wind blew full of the scent of salt and ozone and seaweed.

"Why the roof?" she asked, hugging her knees.

Jake cracked a beer open, snick and hiss, and sipped the froth. "The view."

"But downstairs..."

"There's a party, sure. But sometimes, you want to get away for a little bit."

"Okay." She rested her chin on her knees and looked out. The grey beach, the black sea with its slick of moonlight. The sprinkling of lights around the coast, occasional cottages and cars and streetlights. The dense black edge of the cliffs, heavy arms that encircled the scene. She imagined what the two of them looked like. Human huddles, perched like seagulls.

"It is lovely," she said.

"You get a feel for a place when you're on the roof."

"I didn't know those brownies you made were special brownies," Molly confessed, ducking her head to peer at him, one-eyed. Cheek on knee.

Jake laughed. "Shit."

"Yeah. I was supposed to pick up my friend, Geordie. And I couldn't drive."

"You were giggling too much to drive," he said.

"Something like that."

"I'm sorry, Molly. Hope I didn't get you in trouble."

"Not too much trouble."

He sipped his beer. He looked sideways at her. "Why are you here?"

"Sometimes, you want to get away for a little bit."

"You're not drinking your beer."

"No... I guess I don't feel like it anymore."

A shriek from below, that was clearly Geordie having the time of her life. Molly shivered, as the wind cut through her clothing. Why am I here. What am I doing?

"You seem like an innocent person," he said.

"What?"

"I don't mean that in a bad way."

"The brownies."

"More than that."

"Then what?"

Jake shrugged. "Couldn't say. Not exactly."

She considered. Watched the beach. The shapes of people walking along the sand. Some of the boys were down there, yelling at each other about driftwood and building the bonfire.

It wasn't the word she would have thought. And if that was what he thought, then who was Jake?

"Why are you here?" she asked.

"Just living."

"You live here?"

"For the summer. Teach surfing to all the tourists, round the point."

"And then what?"

He smiled at her. "Back to the snow, Molly."

A man of the seasons, she thought. "A nomad."

"Something like that. You live anywhere in particular?"

"Londontown."

"City girl," he said.

"Something like that." She shifted on the iron, trying to find a more comfortable spot. "You snowboard."

"Good guess."

"And how's that for you?"

"I'm trying to make it. This year. This year's my year."

"How do you mean?"

"I'm trying to go pro. I'm going to make pro."

"Wow. You must be good."

Jake grinned again. "I'm excellent."

She grabbed the other beer and opened it. Guess she did feel like it after all. "So how do you make pro, then?"

"You get yourself known. Make a name for yourself. Get sponsored."

"I assume a level of skill is involved."

"There is a measure of skill involved, yes," he said.

"How long have you been doing it for?"

Jake shrugged. "Since I was little. Started skiing when I was kid, then switched to boarding. Do you board?"

Molly shook her head. "I've been skiing a few times, but haven't tried snowboarding. It looks a little... fast."

He laughed. "That's only a problem if you're not in control."

"Exactly."

"But you have to lose control to get good at it, you know."

"Really?"

"You let go."

"Maybe I find it hard to do that," she said. She sipped the beer. Fizzy, malty, and cold enough to make her shiver. Rested her lips on the edge of the can. Let go.

"I'll show you."

"What?"

"I'll take you boarding, in winter. I'll show you how." He smiled sideways at her. She couldn't quite tell how much he was joking.

"The best way to learn is to follow someone who knows how," he added.

Molly grinned. A vision of herself shrieking in terror, hurtling down the mountainside, and poor Jake below suddenly realising what he'd got himself into.

an update and a new blog

Not a lot of writing -- on Molly -- recently. I am still working on the scene with Molly & Jake on the roof. In fact, I may even post an excerpt here...

But I have been doing other writing, on the new blog! This is the blog I have set up with my workmates. It is a total blast and we're having so much fun playing with it. Our general theme is 'money'. Yeah, that basically means we can write about anything, because everything has some kind of tenous link to money, finance, being paid, cost, etc...

Here it is: iwilldothatformoney.com -- go visit and marvel.

Our top keyphrase right now is "dumbasses with money". I had a giggle this morning when I saw on the stats that someone found our blog by Googling "what a crackhead will do for money".

I have started a series of posts about Kayleigh-Anne Boyd, a fictional Big Brother contestant now on the path of fame. She's a total riot. Hilarious to write about. We found a free photo stock library which had these awful, just awful, photos of this woman with frosted pink lipstick posing in over-the-top-sexy mode. She has become Kayleigh-Anne.

Next up will be something like, "The Wannabe WAG Pregnancy Trap, a guide by Kayleigh-Anne Boyd, aged 22 and one half". I am also starting some posts around UK NHS dentistry, and "litigious lifestyle choices"...

We would love to have other people contribute to the blog, so if you have something you want to write about (usually in a bitter or scathing kind of way) please give us a bell...!

it's something like a poem, jim

I wrote something. It's something like a poem. It's a scene from Molly, one I haven't got to yet, cut down and made in to... something like a poem.

~
Sick urban stone

Melting water halos in the neon
Dusting in her eyelashes, running her mascara
And she tastes in the back of her throat
The scent of a wet city at night
Coiling trickles along her collar bone
And down
And drips off her fingertips
The eternal man stands crying beside her
He told her his secret
It's too big for her to hold right now
~

I haven't moved forward with Molly yet -- she's still at this surfery boy party at the beach cottage, waiting for me to send her up to the roof and talk to Jake. I'm dragging my heels because I want it to be this note perfect scene and I'm not sure what they are going to talk about yet. I'm thinking -- brownies, and music, and some kind of confessional? I want it to be all about the things that aren't said.

Have you watched Sex & The City? There's an episode in season 4 where Carrie meets Aidan again, after they broke up because she was cheating on him. It's at the launch of his new bar. There's this scene -- really short. They're outside, and they talk. It's sad and jagged and underwritten. Everything is in the spaces. Everything that's being said is not in the dialogue.

I wanted to find a clip, or at least a script of the dialogue, but I can't (curse you, internets). It's season 4, episode 5, "Ghost Town", if you want to check it out.

I want that kind of dialogue.

Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles

I just recently finished watching the second season of Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles. And I'm in love. This is some show. And I'm heartbroken, because it hasn't been renewed for a third season.

I like so much about this show, and I wish I could give a better and more critical review than the one I'm about to do. I wish I could be a more critical reader and watcher in general.

This is a very spoilery post, so please avoid it if you haven't watched the series. Seriously.

edit: I thought that James Cameron and Gale Anne Hurd were involved with this show as they were credited as writers, but further digging revealed they were credited with the (characters) so I am unsure whether they actually had any input!

The first series took a little to get going. It looked like it might be all about running and running and chasing and so on. I thought there were dropped storyline threads, especially around the school. But it picked up. And the second season is great.

It's clear that the writers are not making this shit up as they go along. They have story arcs and character arcs planned. This means I found the show satisfying. I want shows to be satisfying. Like, Battlestar Galactica or Lost never were – those shows ultimately disappointed me.

I felt like Chronicles wasn't trying to reinvent the mythology of the franchise, but build on it. For instance, there's an episode where John finds the polaroid photo of his mother, the one of her and the blue heeler in the desert, the one he will give to Kyle Reese in the future. It's just a moment, but it's there.

The characters are layered, developed. I even found the secondary characters more interesting sometimes. Perhaps this is because they are able to have more scope simply by being new to our screens compared to Sarah and John, with their familiar struggles and needs. Derek Reese is just awesome. The scene where he watches Cameron dance, in the first series, could be one of my favourite moments on screen, ever. He brings scarred, he brings internal struggle.

Cameron the 'good' cyborg has these wonderful touches of humour, and then can be so unsettlingly inhuman. The final episode has her echoing Arnie's rampage through the mental hospital in the second movie, as she breaks out Sarah Connor from prison, and she is a much finer and more competent and threatening cyborg than Kristanna Loken ever was. Then there is Riley's final scene, when she confronts Jesse about the truth of her mission, and I could really feel it as a desperate struggle of life and death.

Although - I felt Jesse was miscast, and I'm not that interested in Mr Ellison. During his scenes, I was always waiting for the rest to come back. And there were some episodes that I didn't care for - especially the dream sequence vs dream sequence one about Sarah.

But the second half of the second season got particularly interesting, with the development of John Henry, and Mrs Weaver starts saying more than, "Ah, Mr Ellison." It became clear than Savannah is very important. We already knew she must be important because Mrs Weaver – a cold-blooded liquid metal monster – had kept her alive when she'd killed her parents, and was concerned for Savannah's wellbeing and mental health. What is her motivation? I'm still super intrigued but I guess we'll never really know. Mrs Weaver – she of the moray eel – and the eel that worms its way out of the doomed submarine – I think are one and the same. They ask and reply to the same question, in the present, and in the future. She isn't Skynet after all, as she is actually against Skynet, but what she is creating with John Henry is actually not on the same side as John & Sarah either.

The end of this season – gosh. The loss of Derek, so brutal and sudden and then pushed aside because John & Sarah don't have time to grieve – nor do we, not yet. My heart broke a little bit.

And the final episode is brilliant. It ends on this note, this perfect and sad note, as John Connor looks at Derek and Derek does not know him, as he sees his father Kyle for the very first time, and as he sees Cameron - and then realises that she is not Cameron. That change of expression on his face is done so, so well.

There's references to the Wizard of Oz several times – the last names they take on as part of their false identities (Baum, Gale), the reading of the book by a child in one episode. I noticed the references and I'm still thinking about why - the tinman, maybe, who wanted a heart. The search to go (find) home? The wizard behind the curtain – perhaps this was John Henry. It has been a while since I read that book, feel like I need to do so again.

What else? I keep thinking, churning it over. I'm sure more will come up in my brain.

And there it goes. I fell in love with another amazing and cancelled sci-fi show. I can't believe that hohumblahmeh Dollhouse got renewed, and Chronicles didn't.

three little words

The other day, some of my colleagues and I held a brainstorm as part of an internal project. Following a few fun exercises to warm up our brains, we went on to think more specifically about the project.

Later on, I looked down at the page where I had been jotting down words, as part of the warm up exercises, and saw:

Sick

Urban

Stone

And I think they are such a nice clump of words, they need to be made into something. Use them as a writing exercise prompt, perhaps, or even to build a poem.

Anyone keen to join in? Take those 3 words and make them into something...

writer's cafe

I hope you all had a lovely Easter! I did, even though typically the weather was shite. I had the flat to myself, which I thoroughly enjoyed. I went to the gym, surfed around the net, watched bad television, ate delicious food, drank delicious red wine - and did some writing!

I got up to 15,000 words on Molly, writing some fun scenes. Again, more dialogue. I am really loving the dialogue between Molly and her best friend Geordie. I can hear them in my head, bantering and teasing.

Not so much written on Tom yet, although I've been doing lots of research for him. I found a great archive of WW2 memories, on the BBC website, which helps me get to know what people thought, how they felt, in wartime Britain.

I'm getting closer to the point where the story begins to get... "unwieldly" is the word that comes to mind - at least, in my experience. Where it has grown enough that there are so many strands to hold in your hand, to keep weaving with, trying not to leave any sticking out and forgotten about.

Maybe this time it will be easier to hold all those strands, as I have just started using a piece of software called Writer's Cafe. Geoff told me about this, so I downloaded a trial version to play with.

The best way to describe it - at least the way I'm using it - is a digital version of using post-it notes to build your storyline. You can write a scene on each note, assign it to a thread, and see how these threads align with each other as you proceed through the story.


I've set up two storylines for Molly. In the first, each column is a day, so I can keep track of how time is passing, and what events happened for each character on each day. I don't want to start writing that autumn has arrived, when it should still be summer. The first day is Saturday night, when Molly gets her heart crushed by Lucas. This storyline works as my continuity editor.

The second storyline is more like the 'heartbeats' of the story - the scenes and chapters - who has screentime, what did they do, what information was shared in that chapter, etc. I think this will be the most valuable display, but it's also the hardest to set up in a way which makes sense for me - I'm still working on it. But this will give me visual snapshot of my story and all its threads and, hopefully, I will be able to quickly see where one is beginning to unravel.

There's a lot more to the software (see the features here) but as I only have the trial version I haven't explored any further than these basic storylines.

books books!

Last weekend I went bookshopping (yay!) and bought a couple of books from my wishlist. I also tried to find Frankie magazine - artsy cute indie magazine from Melbourne - their website msg board says you can buy it over here in Borders, but I was not successful. Boo. Perhaps I just need to try a different Borders?

I have read this book already because it was so very fascinating:

The Unthinkable: who survives when disaster strikes - and why - by Amanda Ripley

I can't remember how I found out about this book, I actually think someone on my LiveJournal flist mentioned it.

It's a look into disasters and how we react in them - the common reaction of individuals and crowds. Denial, deliberation, decisive moments. How we more often than not just totally freeze up and very few will act quickly enough. How some people are 'heroes'. The author uses real disasters and survivors for reference - from 9/11, to the July 07 London attacks, Hurrican Katrina, plane crashes, fires & tsunamis.

There's something... voyueristic about reading this book as well, getting these glimpses into the absolute horror that some people have experienced.

It makes you think - how would you react?

I know that I'll definitely be reading the safety card in planes from now on...

I'm now reading:

Collapse: how societies choose to fail or succeed - by Jared Diamond

I've read part of this book before, as my Dad had it, but I never got to finish it.

I don't always agree with Jared Diamond, especially on some of his approaches to human sexuality (he's got a very, very masculine-centric view), but I did enjoy this book when I first started reading it a couple of years ago.

It's environmentally focused, but includes other elements, looking at how societies have failed or succeeded in the past - for instance, he looks at Easter Islanders and Mayans as those who did not manage to succeed, and Tikopia in the Solomon Islands as an example of a society which is in harmony with its resources and environment.

I'm also reading:

Half of a yellow sun - by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

- which I got for Christmas 07 and have only just cracked open! This is fiction, set in 1960s Nigeria, and so far is fine, although I did put it down to read The Unthinkable instead....

just write

A little bit of something for today. It's a Saturday morning and I'm about to start some writing... thought I would warm up with a blogpost. Or does this count as procrastination?

I'm going to sit down with my gargantuan cup of coffee and work on my current WIP, Molly - we know how brilliant I am at coming up with titles. A few weeks ago, it was just a wee scrap titled Chick lit with promise. When on holiday in NZ, I found it in my folder of writing, and really enjoyed re-reading it. So I've picked it back up and am now running around all over the show with it. The main character, Molly, is kind of irrestible and I'm having all sorts of fun with dialogue.

It's become a paranormal romance, because it is impossible for me not to inject some kind of speculative element into my stories. The 'element' is Tom, who is challenging to think about, because I've upturned the tragic box on his life. In 1940, as a 23 year old, he was called up for WW2. He had a spell cast on him to protect him, so that he would survive the war and come home to marry his sweetheart. Only he came home to find his sweetheart had killed herself... and that the spell was twisted and meant he would never grow old or die. Be careful what you wish for.

So at the point in the story when Molly and Tom meet, she is heartbroken after her boyfriend has broken up with her, and Tom is the kind of lonely I find it hard to describe. The word 'lonely' doesn't even touch the sides. Imagine a lifetime where everyone you ever loved or loved you in return is dead. You look 23 years old but you were born in 1917. You are nearing the end of a normal human lifespan without having lived or enjoyed everything we take for granted – growing older, finding a partner, getting married, having children, having grandchildren.

I'm not sure where the story is going, but I'm really loving thinking about it and writing it, and that's essentially my goal this year – just enjoy the writing. Don't worry about audience or sellability or wordcount or publishing. Just write.

So I better.

The advances of plastic surgery in WWI

Nothing to do with writing, but this has been distracting me recently -

While I was in NZ, I read a fascinating article in the Listener about Sir Harold Gillies, a New Zealand-born surgeon who is credited as the 'father of plastic surgery'. Gillies worked during WWI at Queen Mary's Hospital in Sidcup, south-east London. His patients were servicemen with horrific injuries to their faces and hands - burns, gunshot and grenade wounds - from across the Allied forces including NZers. The Gillies Archive website includes an online portfolio of watercolour paintings of patients. The paintings, along with other records, were located in NZ and donated to the Gillies Archive in 1989.

Queen Mary's Hospital, Gillies seated at right.

His surgery techniques were revolutionary at the time, although crude by today's standards. They gave his patients a quality of life that otherwise they may not have had, but the reconstructions took place over months - even years - and during that time, it surely must have been hard to bear not only the injuries, but the in-between surgeries which caused even more destruction to foster the reconstruction.

He was one of the first surgeons in the world to discover and use the 'pedicle tube' - a method of skin-grafting where the new skin would be taken from, say, the chest, stitched into a tube and then the end applied to the area requiring the skin, to ensure blood flow in the grafted skin - this was a time before antibiotics and microsurgery and the ability to attach blood vessels together. Gillies used pedicle tubes, over months and months of surgery and treatment, sometimes 'walking' them up a soldier's body from stomach to wrist to face.

Following WW2, Gillies and his colleagues were also involved in pioneering gender-reassignment surgery, both female-to-male and male-to-female.

Artist/researcher Paddy Hartley has created Project Facade in response to Gillies work. He has looked at case studies of some of Gillies' patients and then created these amazing works of art, using army uniforms, to reflect each man, his history and treatment. The Project Facade site is really fascinating - not just for the artwork that Paddy has created, but also to read the individual stories about the men who were involved with all this groundbreaking surgery. It can be quite heartbreaking.

One of Hartley's case studies was William M Spreckley - you can see here the progression from admittance to the hospital through to a photo taken later in his life.

From the BBC: Spreckley was hugely grateful to Gillies and even named his son Michael Gillies in his honour.

Nevertheless, he was psychologically scarred, and his grand-daughter Alexandra Kingman says,

"He must have felt like a freak when it happened. All his life he still thought he looked hideous."

all about books

I've decided to keep track of the books I read this year:

a) so I can look back at the end of 2009, and remember and review, and pick favourites

b) to make sure I keep reading

In 2008, my bestest book was The Road by Cormac McCarthy. It made my insides cave in, filled my head up with ash and despair. I read that so fast, consumed by it, I don't even know how much I actually read. I have since learned from an Empire magazine that it has been made in to a movie, with Viggo Mortensen as the lead. I'm not sure about this. The book is intense, especially with what isn't spoken, and so grey. Ashen. I will be interested to see how that translates to film. (if you go to IMDB.com and look it up, the character names give away so much of the most awful parts of the story, the parts as a reader that are sprung on you. Especially the role played by "Mark Tierno". If you haven't read the book, don't visit IMDB and read about the movie until you have).

Books so far in 2008:

Does This Make Sense to You by Renee
- I love how Renee writes humour into sad or tragic situations. She has a gift. I was rooting for the main character the whole way. A Kiwi author, one of our tutors at Whitireia, an inspiration.

Stiff by Mary Roach
- I've started this before but didn't finish. This time I got to the end. A good non-fic read about the 'lives' of cadavers.

Behind the Scenes at the Museum by Kate Atkinson
- Love her writing, one of my newer discoveries. I think the first one of hers I read is still my fave though, Case Histories.

Tales from the Town of Widows by James Canon
- Reminds me a lot of Gabriel Garcia Marquez, which seems inevitable. Everyone will make that comparison. This, though, I found more accessible. I devoured it at the bach in Tata, got sand in the spine.

The Secret History by Donna Tartt
- Picked this out of the bookshelf at the bach at Tata. It wasn't what I expected, yet now after finishing it, I'm not sure what I did expect from this book (something more like Zadie Smith?). This book made me feel... unsmart, and I know there was more to it than I was getting.

The Stone Diaries by Carol Shields
- Cheat entry, as did not complete. Got bored. Tried very hard and some parts were great, but then it would skip to a character who was uninteresting. Had a feeling she killed off the best character in the first few pages. Won the Pulitzer Prize in 95. I really wanted to like this one.

Mr Pip by Lloyd Jones
- I'm cheating a little bit with this one too, because I read this on the plane to NZ (e.g., 2008), but as it kicked off my holiday reading, I'm still counting it. I haven't read Great Expectations. I feel I should! Kiwi author, nominated for the 07 Booker.

Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri
- A fantastic collection of short stories. I like the one, god I can't even remember the title now, of the kid being babysat by the Indian woman learning to drive, and the one with the woman having an affair.

Moral Disorder by Margaret Atwood
- Mum gave this book to me for Christmas. I love Atwood. The stories in this book feel kind of autobiographical and I'm curious how much of it mirrors her life.

And currently.... The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd.