Bruce Beckham's Blog - Posts Tagged "beckham"
Morse v Lewis
'Do you think she's lying, Lewis?'
'I'm not so sure now.'
'Come off it man, when you're as old as I am you'll recognise a liar a mile off!'
Lewis remained doubtful: he was by several years the older man anyway.
I'm revisiting 'Last Bus To Woodstock' right now - mainly to look at technique - but this little exchange came as quite a shock to me. Lewis the older man!
This was the first Morse novel (1975), and the tv series began in 1987.
So now it makes me want to re-read one of Colin Dexter's later books - to see if he readjusted to mirror the casting in the tv screenplays. Poetic licence and all that!
'I'm not so sure now.'
'Come off it man, when you're as old as I am you'll recognise a liar a mile off!'
Lewis remained doubtful: he was by several years the older man anyway.
I'm revisiting 'Last Bus To Woodstock' right now - mainly to look at technique - but this little exchange came as quite a shock to me. Lewis the older man!
This was the first Morse novel (1975), and the tv series began in 1987.
So now it makes me want to re-read one of Colin Dexter's later books - to see if he readjusted to mirror the casting in the tv screenplays. Poetic licence and all that!
No tense like the present
“I am only 16% into the book, and I am very, very irritated by the use of the present tense.”
Yes – it’s a review of my novel, Murder in School, taken from Amazon’s British website. (One star, naturally.)
I’m afraid I do write in the present tense, and ‘deservedly’ lose a percentage of readers!
But there is some method in this apparent madness.
It all began when I read John Updike’s Rabbit is Rich.
I became totally hooked by the long opening description in which car dealer Harry ‘Rabbit’ Angstrom watches contentedly from his showroom window as Middle America drives by, guzzling gas, soon to be queuing for his miserly Toyotas.
My reading experience could best be described as ‘filmic’ – I felt like I was in a movie, standing right beside Harry, watching, wondering what was going to happen next. I didn’t know, he didn’t know – but more intriguingly, neither it seemed did Updike.
Then the penny dropped. I thought, “Hey – this is the present tense!”
Like a blinding flash of light it struck me that here is the way to narrate a mystery. (Because, frankly, how can you honestly narrate a mystery in the past tense, when you know the outcome?)
I tried it – and made a second remarkable discovery. Not only as narrator can you convincingly pretend not to know the outcome – you don’t actually need to know it at all! You can wait until your characters provide the solution.
So, if you ever guess one of my whodunits in the first 25,000 words – congratulations! You beat me to it!
Yes – it’s a review of my novel, Murder in School, taken from Amazon’s British website. (One star, naturally.)
I’m afraid I do write in the present tense, and ‘deservedly’ lose a percentage of readers!
But there is some method in this apparent madness.
It all began when I read John Updike’s Rabbit is Rich.
I became totally hooked by the long opening description in which car dealer Harry ‘Rabbit’ Angstrom watches contentedly from his showroom window as Middle America drives by, guzzling gas, soon to be queuing for his miserly Toyotas.
My reading experience could best be described as ‘filmic’ – I felt like I was in a movie, standing right beside Harry, watching, wondering what was going to happen next. I didn’t know, he didn’t know – but more intriguingly, neither it seemed did Updike.
Then the penny dropped. I thought, “Hey – this is the present tense!”
Like a blinding flash of light it struck me that here is the way to narrate a mystery. (Because, frankly, how can you honestly narrate a mystery in the past tense, when you know the outcome?)
I tried it – and made a second remarkable discovery. Not only as narrator can you convincingly pretend not to know the outcome – you don’t actually need to know it at all! You can wait until your characters provide the solution.
So, if you ever guess one of my whodunits in the first 25,000 words – congratulations! You beat me to it!
Writer's Dog
They say you can’t write in a vacuum – but neither can you write when your other half is on the phone to her mother – or the kids are practising hockey in the hall – or with a dozen other distractions that drive you to seek solitude.
Dog to the rescue.
This most efficient machine for removing grated cheese from the kitchen floor is not only humankind’s best friend – but he (in my case, he) is also the writer’s best friend.
Yes, he’s my excuse to escape into the woods for a couple of hours – but there’s more – much more. There’s his exceptional ability to sniff out characters and events for my stories.
WITHOUT DOG. I notice I am ignored, or worse, treated with suspicion. I can tell what they’re thinking. Who’s the weirdo with the giant fishing umbrella? Is that a laptop in that rucksack – is he a cat burglar? A serial killer? (It’s a fair cop – at least, I might be thinking about one.)
WITH DOG. Suddenly everyone stops to talk. What is he, a Cockerpoo? – no, Australian Labradoodle – bit chunkier, you’ll notice – more ball-obsessed. Is he really called Noodles? – well, actually I call him Dude – would you shout Noodles? – and on it goes like this for a little while – perhaps that’s where it ends.
But next time – Hey, Noodles! How’s it going, man? You wouldn’t believe what happened to me last week. Murder, assault, car crash, pickpocketing, infidelity, divorce, fraud, shoplifting, inheritance... it all comes flooding out – and I hardly know the person!
When finally I can get a word in, I say – nice weather – dry – easy-clean day for the dog. They go: aye, so it is. See you later, Noodles.
Surreptitiously I reach for my notebook.
https://www.goodreads.com/photo/autho...
Dog to the rescue.
This most efficient machine for removing grated cheese from the kitchen floor is not only humankind’s best friend – but he (in my case, he) is also the writer’s best friend.
Yes, he’s my excuse to escape into the woods for a couple of hours – but there’s more – much more. There’s his exceptional ability to sniff out characters and events for my stories.
WITHOUT DOG. I notice I am ignored, or worse, treated with suspicion. I can tell what they’re thinking. Who’s the weirdo with the giant fishing umbrella? Is that a laptop in that rucksack – is he a cat burglar? A serial killer? (It’s a fair cop – at least, I might be thinking about one.)
WITH DOG. Suddenly everyone stops to talk. What is he, a Cockerpoo? – no, Australian Labradoodle – bit chunkier, you’ll notice – more ball-obsessed. Is he really called Noodles? – well, actually I call him Dude – would you shout Noodles? – and on it goes like this for a little while – perhaps that’s where it ends.
But next time – Hey, Noodles! How’s it going, man? You wouldn’t believe what happened to me last week. Murder, assault, car crash, pickpocketing, infidelity, divorce, fraud, shoplifting, inheritance... it all comes flooding out – and I hardly know the person!
When finally I can get a word in, I say – nice weather – dry – easy-clean day for the dog. They go: aye, so it is. See you later, Noodles.
Surreptitiously I reach for my notebook.
https://www.goodreads.com/photo/autho...
