Can't talk.
Writing.
xxxx L
Writing
Yeeeeeep!
Posted by lorin, November 27th, 2007 in
Stick to history
Posted by lorin, November 18th, 2007 in
The thing about writing (as I do) in contemporary settings dealing with contemporary themes and issues is that sometimes elections happen or society changes and suddenly you're not as clever as you thought you were.
Last year, after writing a play in which Paris Hilton was recast as an intellectual, I had a major panic one night at about four in the morning that something terrible might befall Paris Hilton in the week leading up to our comedy festival show. Making light of Paris Hilton's intellectual choices might suddenly be uncool, cruel, depressing and pointless. Likewise, a play about an Australian girl seeking asylum in another country on account of the undemocratic actions of her government might seem ludicrous were it not justifiable in reference to the reality that has befallen us in recent years. Not a great deal of this is apparently set to change any time soon, but writing is a very specific form of expression and unless you work completely in metaphor or set your play in the sixteenth century, you do find yourself having to do the occasional rewrite.
Hence I object to the placement of a major political event in between the conception of our comedy festival show and the comedy festival itself. I don't really want to drag the federal election campaign out any more than it already has been, but could we just pop it all on hold until July do you think?
No? Well I do hope you like the show I am writing called LIFE ON ANOTHER PLANET IN A TIME OTHER THAN THIS ONE. Should be easy enough - I'm just not entirely sure it's going to be a thigh slapping or particularly relevant piece of theatre. Election in July. Come on, you know you want to.
The thing about writing (as I do) in contemporary settings dealing with contemporary themes and issues is that sometimes elections happen or society changes and suddenly you're not as clever as you thought you were.
Last year, after writing a play in which Paris Hilton was recast as an intellectual, I had a major panic one night at about four in the morning that something terrible might befall Paris Hilton in the week leading up to our comedy festival show. Making light of Paris Hilton's intellectual choices might suddenly be uncool, cruel, depressing and pointless. Likewise, a play about an Australian girl seeking asylum in another country on account of the undemocratic actions of her government might seem ludicrous were it not justifiable in reference to the reality that has befallen us in recent years. Not a great deal of this is apparently set to change any time soon, but writing is a very specific form of expression and unless you work completely in metaphor or set your play in the sixteenth century, you do find yourself having to do the occasional rewrite.
Hence I object to the placement of a major political event in between the conception of our comedy festival show and the comedy festival itself. I don't really want to drag the federal election campaign out any more than it already has been, but could we just pop it all on hold until July do you think?
No? Well I do hope you like the show I am writing called LIFE ON ANOTHER PLANET IN A TIME OTHER THAN THIS ONE. Should be easy enough - I'm just not entirely sure it's going to be a thigh slapping or particularly relevant piece of theatre. Election in July. Come on, you know you want to.
Progrestination
Posted by lorin, November 13th, 2007 in
I went to lunch with a friend of mine on Monday and he taught me a new word. Progrestination. It's when you procrastinate (for example) from writing your script by paying a bill, posting a vital legal document, or doing something else that actually helps you progress further in your life generally.
Of course, the problem with the concept of progrestination is that we can justify almost anything we do as "progress in life generally" such that reading about Lindsay Lohan in the free commuter newspaper is "research", watching animals dancing to Justin Timberlake on YouTube is "multimedia work", and having drinks with a friend is "useful" rather than just enjoyable.
For some of us, the internet provides the perfect opportunity for progrestination. All those emails you haven't replied to, all those outstanding errands - they all need to be done, and GUESS WHAT? Most of them can be done without leaving your desk! Huzzah! All I can say is that I'm very glad I haven't been lured yet by eBay. And shuttup, please don't tell me how easy it is. My combined hatred of shopping and fashion and love of wasting time on the internet and having crap I don't need delivered to my house makes me a prime target. I really don't need to know.
I say all this because I was contacted on these pages and notified of this site, the use of which can definitely be classified as progrestination, and which claims to be a whole new way of using the internet.
The possibility of discovering a "whole new way of using the internet" is so exciting and consequently potentially destructive to me as a writer (apparently Dave Eggers doesn't have internet in his house) that I haven't spent the hours there that I intend to. Check it out, though, it is an interesting project with the potential for great things.
Speaking of internet connections... Our Artist in Residency at Bundanon documents arrived in the mail this week, just after I hungrily read through an article on Arthur Boyd's new biography in the weekend paper. For those of you not keeping up with the news (SHAME), Standing There Productions are headed to NSW next August to participate in an Artist Residency in the Boyd's Bundanon property near Shoalhaven.
The residency looks totally gorgeous, inspiring, and I must learn to play the piano so we can make use of the baby grand in our loungeroom. On a more sober note, the documents warn of the following potential problems:
- mosquito bites
- sting rays
- snakes
- sun
- getting lost on bushwalks
- rain
- flood
- fire
- intermittent broadband connection
- no television reception
Of course, for us, these last two potential disasters loom large over the other insignificant problems mentioned. An excellent but terrifying result (and in fact our primary desire) is that we will have nothing to do other than our actual work - surrounded, as it turns out, by a beautiful atmosphere, deadly animals and a world teetering on the brink of natural disaster.
Personally, I can't wait. My screen saver is already a sublime photograph of Bundanon, and any time I think I might be too much of an information age junkie, I figure that for a month next year I'm going to be enjoying simpler pleasures. And I'm definitely taking bushwalking shoes and sunscreen.
By the way, the friend I went to lunch with also had one of these so I'm probably mixing in the wrong circles if I want to avoid technology. Bring on Bundanon!
I went to lunch with a friend of mine on Monday and he taught me a new word. Progrestination. It's when you procrastinate (for example) from writing your script by paying a bill, posting a vital legal document, or doing something else that actually helps you progress further in your life generally.
Of course, the problem with the concept of progrestination is that we can justify almost anything we do as "progress in life generally" such that reading about Lindsay Lohan in the free commuter newspaper is "research", watching animals dancing to Justin Timberlake on YouTube is "multimedia work", and having drinks with a friend is "useful" rather than just enjoyable.
For some of us, the internet provides the perfect opportunity for progrestination. All those emails you haven't replied to, all those outstanding errands - they all need to be done, and GUESS WHAT? Most of them can be done without leaving your desk! Huzzah! All I can say is that I'm very glad I haven't been lured yet by eBay. And shuttup, please don't tell me how easy it is. My combined hatred of shopping and fashion and love of wasting time on the internet and having crap I don't need delivered to my house makes me a prime target. I really don't need to know.
I say all this because I was contacted on these pages and notified of this site, the use of which can definitely be classified as progrestination, and which claims to be a whole new way of using the internet.
The possibility of discovering a "whole new way of using the internet" is so exciting and consequently potentially destructive to me as a writer (apparently Dave Eggers doesn't have internet in his house) that I haven't spent the hours there that I intend to. Check it out, though, it is an interesting project with the potential for great things.
Speaking of internet connections... Our Artist in Residency at Bundanon documents arrived in the mail this week, just after I hungrily read through an article on Arthur Boyd's new biography in the weekend paper. For those of you not keeping up with the news (SHAME), Standing There Productions are headed to NSW next August to participate in an Artist Residency in the Boyd's Bundanon property near Shoalhaven.
The residency looks totally gorgeous, inspiring, and I must learn to play the piano so we can make use of the baby grand in our loungeroom. On a more sober note, the documents warn of the following potential problems:
- mosquito bites
- sting rays
- snakes
- sun
- getting lost on bushwalks
- rain
- flood
- fire
- intermittent broadband connection
- no television reception
Of course, for us, these last two potential disasters loom large over the other insignificant problems mentioned. An excellent but terrifying result (and in fact our primary desire) is that we will have nothing to do other than our actual work - surrounded, as it turns out, by a beautiful atmosphere, deadly animals and a world teetering on the brink of natural disaster.
Personally, I can't wait. My screen saver is already a sublime photograph of Bundanon, and any time I think I might be too much of an information age junkie, I figure that for a month next year I'm going to be enjoying simpler pleasures. And I'm definitely taking bushwalking shoes and sunscreen.
By the way, the friend I went to lunch with also had one of these so I'm probably mixing in the wrong circles if I want to avoid technology. Bring on Bundanon!
Brunel
Posted by lorin, November 4th, 2007 in
Being a bookish nerd means that the library is a wonderful place to work, because you're surrounded by people learning things, reading things, TALKING LOUDLY (I hate the year twelve exams, PLEASE MAKE THEM STOP) and falling asleep in cubicles surrounded by thousands of dollars of technological equipment.
But it can be a tiny bit distracting. You have to keep focussed. For example, on the way to the top level of the library, standing out prominently among the other books is a book entitled BRUNEL. An old friend of mine used to live in a street of the same name, and this BRUNEL book always strikes me as addressing a topic about which I know nothing and could learn more. The temptation to grab the fat book by its spine and read about Brunel is almost overwhelming, but so far I haven't given in to my nerdier (and more procrastinatorial) instincts and I remain ignorant. I have deduced, by the size of the book and its font, as well as the fact that there is a street named after him, that Brunel was some kind of British General in one of the wars.
There is an entire section of the library dedicated to cooking, which is often frequented (I am not making this up) by people in white hats with black aprons covered in flour. This makes me wonder about the eating establishments in Melbourne. Do they not have cook books? Are they double-checking whether the dish they're cooking has oregano in it? Are they, like the main character in Ratatouille, actually fraudulent chefs with no qualifications, getting by on instinct and the recipes they come across in the library?
Anyway, you can see what I am battling with here. The ability to be THIS distracted by the word Brunel on the spine of a book.
Perhaps our TV series will be about Brunel. And chefs. And the idiots sitting next to me who are looking up rude words in the dictionary instead of studying for their exam, about which they speak with genuine fear in between reading the definition of the word "buttock". Which is, and I remember this myself, the funniest thing ever.
I am officially a grumpy old nerd.
Being a bookish nerd means that the library is a wonderful place to work, because you're surrounded by people learning things, reading things, TALKING LOUDLY (I hate the year twelve exams, PLEASE MAKE THEM STOP) and falling asleep in cubicles surrounded by thousands of dollars of technological equipment.
But it can be a tiny bit distracting. You have to keep focussed. For example, on the way to the top level of the library, standing out prominently among the other books is a book entitled BRUNEL. An old friend of mine used to live in a street of the same name, and this BRUNEL book always strikes me as addressing a topic about which I know nothing and could learn more. The temptation to grab the fat book by its spine and read about Brunel is almost overwhelming, but so far I haven't given in to my nerdier (and more procrastinatorial) instincts and I remain ignorant. I have deduced, by the size of the book and its font, as well as the fact that there is a street named after him, that Brunel was some kind of British General in one of the wars.
There is an entire section of the library dedicated to cooking, which is often frequented (I am not making this up) by people in white hats with black aprons covered in flour. This makes me wonder about the eating establishments in Melbourne. Do they not have cook books? Are they double-checking whether the dish they're cooking has oregano in it? Are they, like the main character in Ratatouille, actually fraudulent chefs with no qualifications, getting by on instinct and the recipes they come across in the library?
Anyway, you can see what I am battling with here. The ability to be THIS distracted by the word Brunel on the spine of a book.
Perhaps our TV series will be about Brunel. And chefs. And the idiots sitting next to me who are looking up rude words in the dictionary instead of studying for their exam, about which they speak with genuine fear in between reading the definition of the word "buttock". Which is, and I remember this myself, the funniest thing ever.
I am officially a grumpy old nerd.
Progress?
Posted by lorin, November 1st, 2007 in
I have noticed a pattern over the past month. It goes like this:
1. Become extremely excited about development funding from Australian Children's Television Foundation.
2. Vow that this is the start of a new era.
3. Vow that era will be characterised by early rising (Operation Getting Out of Bed Like a Normal Person) and organisation.
4. Recruit frightening producer (Rita Walsh) to call me at eight in the mornings on Mondays with bit list of things to do.
5. Enlist others to meet me for morning coffees by way of introducing personal obligations into already onerous routine.
6. Rise early every day until it feels quite normal.
7. Become over-zealous and introduce morning runs and home made lunches to routine.
8. Contract bizarre virus called Croup, usually only contracted by babies.
9. Collapse and return to slacker life of haphazard work practices.
10. Become well again, repeat steps 1-7.
11. Contract bizarre virus without a name, the symptom of which is collapsing like a marionette in a Punch N Judy show.
12. Collapse and return to slacker life of haphazard work practices.
THEREFORE it is with some trepidation that I await Rita's 8am phone call on Monday, which will mark the beginning, once again, of step 1.
What's next on the "obscure virus" agenda? Scurvy? Consumption?
Possibly I should take Dee's advice from a previous post and just go with my usual rhythms. Problem is, that would involve me working in the wee hours of the morning and sleeping through the day, which is useful to nobody except me, and in fact it's not even useful to me.
Scurvy it is. Brace yourselves.
I have noticed a pattern over the past month. It goes like this:
1. Become extremely excited about development funding from Australian Children's Television Foundation.
2. Vow that this is the start of a new era.
3. Vow that era will be characterised by early rising (Operation Getting Out of Bed Like a Normal Person) and organisation.
4. Recruit frightening producer (Rita Walsh) to call me at eight in the mornings on Mondays with bit list of things to do.
5. Enlist others to meet me for morning coffees by way of introducing personal obligations into already onerous routine.
6. Rise early every day until it feels quite normal.
7. Become over-zealous and introduce morning runs and home made lunches to routine.
8. Contract bizarre virus called Croup, usually only contracted by babies.
9. Collapse and return to slacker life of haphazard work practices.
10. Become well again, repeat steps 1-7.
11. Contract bizarre virus without a name, the symptom of which is collapsing like a marionette in a Punch N Judy show.
12. Collapse and return to slacker life of haphazard work practices.
THEREFORE it is with some trepidation that I await Rita's 8am phone call on Monday, which will mark the beginning, once again, of step 1.
What's next on the "obscure virus" agenda? Scurvy? Consumption?
Possibly I should take Dee's advice from a previous post and just go with my usual rhythms. Problem is, that would involve me working in the wee hours of the morning and sleeping through the day, which is useful to nobody except me, and in fact it's not even useful to me.
Scurvy it is. Brace yourselves.
Back to Work
Posted by lorin, October 31st, 2007 in
Today, having returned my heart monitor to the crippled hospital system from whence it came, I am like a new woman. Less bionic, for starters.
Being sick, even if only melodramatically and without reason, makes you think about being healthy and climbing mountains on the weekend and drinking carrot juice and doing yoga that makes you barely break a sweat into your crisp white yoga outfit while eating yoghurt and almonds and wearing moisturising cream that makes your skin glow and sharing a joke with someone just off camera who has just said something amusing yet flattering. You know, like on the low fat margarine posters on bus stops.
You watch, it's all going to be different now. Either that, or I'm going to succumb to The Guilt and become a slave again to the written word (and the internet) (and Twinings).
Did you watch The Librarians on the ABC last night? Did you press pause over my name in the credits?
No? Just me then?
Carry on.
Today, having returned my heart monitor to the crippled hospital system from whence it came, I am like a new woman. Less bionic, for starters.
Being sick, even if only melodramatically and without reason, makes you think about being healthy and climbing mountains on the weekend and drinking carrot juice and doing yoga that makes you barely break a sweat into your crisp white yoga outfit while eating yoghurt and almonds and wearing moisturising cream that makes your skin glow and sharing a joke with someone just off camera who has just said something amusing yet flattering. You know, like on the low fat margarine posters on bus stops.
You watch, it's all going to be different now. Either that, or I'm going to succumb to The Guilt and become a slave again to the written word (and the internet) (and Twinings).
Did you watch The Librarians on the ABC last night? Did you press pause over my name in the credits?
No? Just me then?
Carry on.
Dramatiques
Posted by lorin, October 30th, 2007 in
You may have noticed (all two of you) that I have been missing for a while from these pages, after the rather dramatic declaration that I was collapsing for no reason and had spent the night in hospital.
Well, look, I'm a dramatist. It's what I do.
It is true that I've spent the past week or so falling over, stumbling sideways into walls, breaking glasses, dropping things almost constantly, and swooning like a drunk, legally blind, seasick toddler. But that's just how I roll. The doctors think I have a "mystery virus", which should come as no surprise to anybody who knows me, since if I get sick, I really do make the most of it (see "dramatist", above). It is also apparently what doctors say when they don't know what the hell's wrong with you. When lawyers don't know what to do, they delay the case. Which is why...
In case I do not have a virus, the doctors have recommended that I wear a heart monitor for the day. As a result, I currently look like a rather relaxed individual with a bomb strapped to my chest. The heart monitor traces my heartbeats, so I have been instructed to do all the ordinary things I would do in a day. I am therefore wondering whether the heartbeats increase when I watch "cockatoo dancing to Justin Timberlake" on youtube, or when I receive alarming emails from Rita about how much work I have to do by Friday. I have to keep a journal of any unusual activities which might raise my heart beat, so I'm wondering if "going for a walk" is more important than "swearing at commercial radio". It strikes me, from listening to radio for an hour this arvo while I was walking around trying to make myself faint so that the heart monitor could record my heart beats as I did so, that commercial radio is (as my grandfather would say) chewing gum for the mind. Every now and then (amongst the commercials) there is a news break, which starts off with a featured commercial land then launches into thunderous music followed by a chirpy pre-pubescent lady on crack singing, "News Britney might be getting access to her kids and a soldier returns to Australia a hero. A little heavy on the ring-road, Monash chokas city-bound and it's eighteen degrees in Cheltenham".
Why have news breaks?
Honestly.
Anyway, as you can see, I've had a bit of time to think about these things and it seems to me that one should wear a heart monitor all the time, in order to know what to avoid. There are several people I am very glad I didn't run across in the street, for instance. And I'm really quite glad I didn't go and see Saw III.
Hoping this finds you well, and thanks for your concern. For those of you who didn't express concern, get yourselves a heart monitor and SEE IF YOURS IS WORKING AT ALL etc.
PS I just got "trick or treated". In Australia. By Australian children dressed in Disney costumes no doubt made in China.
I'm officially old and grumpy. That's probably what the heart monitor print-out will say. "You're old and grumpy. Get over it".
You may have noticed (all two of you) that I have been missing for a while from these pages, after the rather dramatic declaration that I was collapsing for no reason and had spent the night in hospital.
Well, look, I'm a dramatist. It's what I do.
It is true that I've spent the past week or so falling over, stumbling sideways into walls, breaking glasses, dropping things almost constantly, and swooning like a drunk, legally blind, seasick toddler. But that's just how I roll. The doctors think I have a "mystery virus", which should come as no surprise to anybody who knows me, since if I get sick, I really do make the most of it (see "dramatist", above). It is also apparently what doctors say when they don't know what the hell's wrong with you. When lawyers don't know what to do, they delay the case. Which is why...
In case I do not have a virus, the doctors have recommended that I wear a heart monitor for the day. As a result, I currently look like a rather relaxed individual with a bomb strapped to my chest. The heart monitor traces my heartbeats, so I have been instructed to do all the ordinary things I would do in a day. I am therefore wondering whether the heartbeats increase when I watch "cockatoo dancing to Justin Timberlake" on youtube, or when I receive alarming emails from Rita about how much work I have to do by Friday. I have to keep a journal of any unusual activities which might raise my heart beat, so I'm wondering if "going for a walk" is more important than "swearing at commercial radio". It strikes me, from listening to radio for an hour this arvo while I was walking around trying to make myself faint so that the heart monitor could record my heart beats as I did so, that commercial radio is (as my grandfather would say) chewing gum for the mind. Every now and then (amongst the commercials) there is a news break, which starts off with a featured commercial land then launches into thunderous music followed by a chirpy pre-pubescent lady on crack singing, "News Britney might be getting access to her kids and a soldier returns to Australia a hero. A little heavy on the ring-road, Monash chokas city-bound and it's eighteen degrees in Cheltenham".
Why have news breaks?
Honestly.
Anyway, as you can see, I've had a bit of time to think about these things and it seems to me that one should wear a heart monitor all the time, in order to know what to avoid. There are several people I am very glad I didn't run across in the street, for instance. And I'm really quite glad I didn't go and see Saw III.
Hoping this finds you well, and thanks for your concern. For those of you who didn't express concern, get yourselves a heart monitor and SEE IF YOURS IS WORKING AT ALL etc.
PS I just got "trick or treated". In Australia. By Australian children dressed in Disney costumes no doubt made in China.
I'm officially old and grumpy. That's probably what the heart monitor print-out will say. "You're old and grumpy. Get over it".