If I should ever die, God forbid, I hope you will say, “Kurt is up in heaven now.” That’s my favorite joke.
Not only is Kurt up in heaven, but now @VonnegutTweets has gone up to join him.
I hereby announce that I’ll publish here all of the tombstone line drawings submitted for this project. Before I’m inundated with these drawings, here are some final words.
I’ve been so heartened by the community that has sprung up around these tweets. Although Vonnegut was, as @Tewattsucsb remarked, “Luddite to the last,” he was big into the sprouting of such like-minded societies. The best I can hope for is that this feed has been a sort of wampeter for the great Vonnegut karass.
You guys were with him throughout it all. When Kurt approached the Siegfried Line with his brothers in arms back in 1944, @IsraelBeauchamp noted that his outlook was “pretty gung-ho, Hemingwayesque.” This would come to change. With Dresden looming ahead of him, @IsraelBeauchamp said “… and so it begins.” Continue reading “So It Goes”
Right. So before I get into the details of the incident itself, I need to fill you in on some background.
I’ve known about Charlie Brooker probably since I received a copy of TVGoHome from my friend, Alex, when I must’ve been about 17. It was a collection of absurd imaginary TV shows, put together like a copy of Radio Times.
My most vivid memory of it is certainly his description of ‘Wanking for Coins’: “apocalyptic fun as Rowland Rivron tours the seedy backstreets of London’s West End persuading the homeless to commit acts of self-degradation in exchange for pennies.” I later realised how much this particular nugget meant to Charlie too – read for yourself.
There were plenty of reasons why I loved ‘Wanking for Coins’: because I didn’t realise you were allowed to publish something as bluntly juvenile as this, because there was a solid political message hiding behind the gag, and just because it was vaguely videogamey (Mario did many things for coins, but never this).
I wouldn’t have described myself as a massive Charlie Brooker fan at that point, though I later discovered he had his mitts in a lot of things I loved: The 11 O’Clock Show, Brass Eye, Nathan Barley…
But it was only during the first season of Black Mirror that I became obsessed. Continue reading “Why I’m in a Prison Cell Following the Attempted Murder of Charlie Brooker”
Chuffed to bits to say that a short play of mine, ‘Remote Access’, will be coming to the Science Fiction Theatre Festival at the Pleasance, London. It sounds like a great setup they have there: 17 new sci-fi plays put out over a week (27th May to 1st June). This play was (considerably) adapted from my short story of the same name (see post below *Spoiler Alert*). More details are on the Pleasance and Science Fiction Theatre sites.
Update: ‘Remote Access’ will have a slot on the Saturday 1st June 19:00 show.
Very happy to introduce a new short story, ‘Remote Access’. Some stats:
Length: 4000 words
Estimated reading time: 15 minutes
Estimated impact: [Unquantifiable]
Tech detail: Low
Sci-fi concepts: High (or at least that’s the idea)
Philip paced the narrow confines of his bedroom, breathing deeper and deeper. There was nobody else in the room, but he still felt ashamed. Why couldn’t he keep up? And when he couldn’t keep up, why did he always let it get to him like this? Continue reading “Remote Access”
Listen: On 11th November I’m going to start tweeting as Kurt Vonnegut, taking 1000 tweets to take him all the way from early childhood to death (which sounds pretty exhausting, for both him and me). It’s going to be a right old roller-coaster and I’d love for you to jump on board: @VonnegutTweets.
I’ve been a huge Vonnegut-nut for years and I’m loving putting together these tweets. If nothing else, they’re giving me a great excuse to re-read his short stories and novels. Yes, Vonnegut is already pretty big on Twitter, but most tweets only go as far as a choice inspirational quote of his, written in a quirky retro font, on a photo of something like a the Rocky mountains or a fancy beach. We can do better than that. (However, it must be noted that he probably would’ve endorsed such tweets: in his dusky years a favourite form of correspondence of his was sending postcards just with a few huge words like, “Life is no way to treat an animal.”)
Besides, if I don’t tweet as him, sooner or later Kilgore Trout probably will.
For more on this project, why I’m doing it, and arguments for and against whether Vonnegut would’ve hated it, please see here. I hope you enjoy the tweets.
I only started having problems with writer’s block when I hit my 30s. Most writers know the symptoms all too well. Do you have a fantastic idea for a story but just don’t know where to start? Do you find yourself staring at a blank screen for hours? Do you feel like a failure and doubt whether you will ever be able to write anything of worth again?
I had an epiphany when I realised the true source of the problem: that I didn’t need to write. I had a fine job that paid the bills. Writing was a bonus extra – fun, but in no way essential. I thought of writers who have inspired me. Young Philip K Dick (who I tweeted as) lived in squalor – a leaky house full of mice – and he hated the idea of a standard 9-5 job so much it pushed him to write to pay the bills. Kurt Vonnegut was similar: he desperately wanted to quit his PR job working for General Electric and knew his only escape was selling cynically targeted short stories to mass-market ‘slicks’.
This led me, a number of years ago now, to crystallise my first piece of advice for aspirational writers:
Find Your Need
Find your need, and once you’ve found it, put it in front of you. Literally put it in front of you. Staple your energy bills to the front of your writing journal. Blue-tack The Guardian’s ‘Top 100 novelists’ to your wall (you need to be in there). Take a photo of the rejection letter from that pompous editor you need to prove wrong and save it to your homepage.
But that’s not enough. Continue reading “Feed That Dog! – How I smashed writer’s block and you can too”
I have long wanted to write a story involving computer games, but only this year have I felt sufficiently inspired to actually do so. This is the story which serves to justify the many, many hours I’ve put into games over the last two decades: this was not wasted time, it was merely research.
As they reached the lift, Imogen got out her phone. She did a quick border check, finding no immediate threats. She scrolled through the messages, but she’d read them all before. Arushan still hadn’t made an official response to her trade offer. Expansion on her south-western border was progressing fine-
“Hey, I thought we said no playing on nights out?” Mark said, half-mock-whining and half-plain-whining. Continue reading “Empire”
I was honoured to have a 10-minute version of my ‘Two Together’ script chosen to feature at ‘Streatham Shorts’ yesterday, organised by Streatham Theatre Company. This was the first time it’s ever been staged and it’s a wonderful setup they have there: 6 10-minute mini-plays workshopped by actors who are all too happy to read the scripts cold (I hasten to add that I myself did not have the guts for this). I was very fortunate in the casting I got: Peter Kelly and Sarah Redmond, both of whom had their own great mini-plays, and Ben Davies playing the pivotal role of Ticket Inspector(s). All of the plays had something to offer and I recommend that anyone seeks out similar events run in their local communities…
We knew it was coming. Perhaps we had precogged it, perhaps we’d received the information in a hallucination beamed to us from a higher life form, or perhaps we’d just read about it on Wikipedia: we knew that Philip K Dick would die, and @DoAndroidsTweet would end. Here are some final words on the project and the man himself.
That we knew it would come didn’t make it any easier. Yesterday I was slumped over in my chair and I must have been looking pretty down as my wife asked me, “What’s up?”
“Philip K Dick’s dying,” I said, “I’ve just written his last tweets. He just wanted to get one more novel out.” It was very sad to write these tweets, knowing he had been struggling even at the end. Continue reading “Remembered for you wholesale”
Here’s a story I wrote which follows a man going for a routine eye test. Nothing out of the ordinary happens. Everything goes completely as planned. The protagonist ends up at least as satisfied as when he began.
If only stories were like that.
The Optometrist’s Door [–> Read PDF version]
Richard Palmer waddled to a stop on Streatham High Street and checked his scribbled to-do list. After some deliberation he decided to go for ’10:30 Optician’ instead of ‘Buy bread & corned beef’. He’d get to the optician early, but he couldn’t stand the thought of arriving late for his appointment, only to be told he’d have to wait 3 weeks for another. He set off with a determined stride. Continue reading “The Optometrist’s Door”