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Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Melancholy ne'er seemly

So then, here we are, the release of the first excerpt from my novel - Nosebleed Cinema: Book 1, Catharsis

Chapter 12 (more officially titled 'Melancholy ne'er seemly') has been randomly chosen as the selected excerpt and it should probably be accompanied by warnings of language and content and all of the other obligatory ethical considerations surrounding such loosely a regulated environment as the internet ...

But that's enough natter - have at it!

Note: The file is hosted at Mediafire, so clicking the link will take you there.



Sunday, March 27, 2011

The Emporer's New Pose

Since embarking upon the laborious editing process of 'Nosebleed Cinema, Book 1: Catharsis', I've become increasingly aware of (and agitated by) the unavoidable chasm that's created between the author's actual work and the finished piece that's eventually readied for consumption. This might very well be a natural and altogether necessary by-product of the entire process of course, as to the reader this idea of consuming might be all that's expected of the transaction. As writers, however, it's not necessarily all that we have to offer ...

I've discussed my desire to procure artistic/insider details in previous posts, which neatly circumvents the need for a painful re-evaluation of these (see 'Contextus; braided ambience' or the more jumbled 'Art (as) is contemplation'), although I'm hoping to take this ethereal grasping at essence to an altogether more perverse level with the 'Nosebleed Installation Project'.

This project will be released prior to the novel itself for a variety of reasons, most notably impatience and the constant blog-prodding of Seth Godin's The Domino Project.

Essentially, the basis for this work will be the original editing pages for 'Catharsis' itself; an attempt to display some of the actual process behind its writing. Below is an example chosen at random:

Another reason behind my opening myself up for autopsy like this was the realisation that most written pieces granted light of day are impeccably edited, grammar-checked to death, bleached of initial ideas, and so end up works of seeming omniscience, whereas artists in other fields seemed to be held far more accountable to their misdeeds - a musician's clang of an open-E, a dancer's stumble, a thespian's cough, even a painter's incoherent delve is retained deep within the subsequent layers of covering oil on the canvas ...

And so, as painful as disemboweling oneself before an audience might be, upon the slab I duly place my faith in the true observer.