“Hold It Sister!”

RIP Leslie Nielsen.  He made me cry with laughter with his legendary characters Detective Lieutenant Frank Drebin and the “Don’t call me Shirley” doctor from Airplane.

Over the last couple of days Facebook has been full of “Don’t call me Shirley” or “Nice beaver” status updates in tribute, which show how this man was loved.

I used to love these ads he did, in character as his Police Squad and Naked Gun detective, for a certain cider in the 1990s:

Hey you over there, in the shadows!!


Nearly there…

I am determined to finally finish The Four Matthews this week.  I can’t believe I am coming to the end of it.  It feels as though this has been a long time coming, but now the novel is nearing its conclusion I feel a bit sad.  I will actually miss my characters.  They are like real people to me.  At the same time I would like to get it out of the way and crack on with my next project.

I feel nervous that I won’t take to my characters in my next novel Majella Bracebridge the way I have to the Four Matthews ones.  I have to bond with them in order to give them any semblance of believability.  Yes, I know that sounds terribly precious.  Maybe it goes with the territory.

I have lately found it really freeing actually handwriting rather than typing it straight up on to the computer.  Obviously computers make writing so much easier and quicker, but sometimes they can render the process a bit soulless.  Getting back to basics, as it were, scribbling away with a good old-fashioned pen and paper, lets language run free.  It energises me.

A kick up the bum

This evening I had a reread through my course notes from the Open University fiction writing course I did two years ago, in an attempt to boost my flagging motivation.

Sometimes I really wish I didn’t love writing so much.  I wish I didn’t have this compulsion to produce literature.  I love and hate it in equal measure.  It can be such a torturous process.  I sound like a real pretentious tortured artiste, but it’s true.

I have started to get ideas for my next novel, Majella Bracebridge, which is going to be set in Birmingham throughout my favourite decade, the 80s, beginning in the New Romantic era.  Potential characters and storylines keep flying at me, but I have to keep reminding myself I need to complete The Four Matthews before I can concentrate on a new story.  That in itself ought to be an incentive to crack on and finish TFM, but I just want to go to bed.  I need a kick up the arse to finish it.