THE STORY SO FAR: PART 279: FRIDAY

IN A WAY, A STORY IS LIKE A STRIPTEASE. IT’S IMPORTANT NOT TO REVEAL TOO MUCH TOO SOON

Currently I’m wrestling with how much to reveal as the story progresses. My guiding principles are:

• To keep on surprising the viewer (appreciate that I‘m currently working on a screenplay, not a book).
• Not to show the villain too early, but to rely on the viewer’s imagination.
• To avoid making the plot so complex that the viewer will never quite understand it.
• In the interests of keeping up the suspense, to divert the reader where possible—but not to cheat. A red herring should have a legitimate place in the story.
• To avoid lengthy explanations as far as possible. Explanations are best delivered as part of the progress of the story.

Mind you, I don’t sit there with a checklist of working principles beside the computer (not that such an arrangement would necessarily be a bad idea).

On the subject of stripteases, I have never been a great fan of them—precisely because of the word ‘tease.’ I have always much preferred the real thing.

I saw my first strip tease in the South of France. The club was near empty because Johnny Hallyday was performing next door. In fact, I interviewed him after his performance. Johnny’s popularity is akin to that of Elvis Preslie, but virtually no one has heard him outside France and French Canada. Nonetheless, that has scarcely cramped his achievements. Here is what Wiki says:

An icon in the French-speaking world since the beginning of his career, he was considered by some^[3] to have been the French Elvis Presley. He was married for 15 years to popular Bulgarian-French singer Sylvie Vartan and the two were considered a "golden couple" for 20 years. Hallyday has completed 181 tours, had 18 platinum albums, and has sold more than 110 million records.^[4

^{Johnny also has an advantage over Elvis. He is still alive. He is actually one year older than me—which makes him 70. The above photo was taken in 2003.}

^{But I digress. Back to stripteases. Despite the nearly empty bar, the stripper proceeded to do her thing—and since I was just about all her audience, she sited herself, on the raised dais, directly in front of me. I would like to be able to describe my growing teenage excitement as all was revealed—which it was—but my strongest memory is of her sweat being flicked, as she danced, into my beer.}

^{Ah, the education of a writer. And that is all I’m telling you of that epic evening.}

THE STORY SO FAR: PART 278: THURSDAY

THE HERO IS A GERMAN NAZI WHO HOLDS HITLER IN HIGH REGARD—AND YOU WILL END UP ROOTING FOR HIM

A DEEPLY DISTURBING, YET MOVING, STORY—WHICH JUST HAPPENS TO BE TRUE

I have bemoaned the lack of thoughtful, intelligent, well written and directed movies—targeted at the sentient adult—a number of times in this blog.

Hollywood studios seem to have forgotten how to make them—or just don’t care to—perhaps because thoughtful, intelligent adults get short shrift in that town. Beneath the glitz and the glamor, Hollywood culture is deeply unhealthy, and corrupting.

Of course there are exceptions—SCHINDLER’S LIST being a notable example—but there are not many these days. And those that are made are invariably independent movies financed only after truly herculean efforts.

It is yet another American tragedy, because film (and its digital equivalent) constitute far too powerful and important a medium to be given over near completely to what appeals to the lowest common denominator.

JOHN RABE (2009)—a German-Chinese-French production—is a true gem of a movie which tells the truly remarkable true story of a senior Siemens executive, and a German Nazi Party member at that, who set up an International Safety Zone in Nanking, and helped to save over 200, 000 Chinese from the invading Japanese.

The scenes of the Rape of Nanking (which took place in late 1937 and early 1938) by the Japanese under the command of Imperial Prince Asaka, are portrayed unsparingly, and are quite horrifying—yet, fundamentally, it is the story of an honorable man, of late middle-age, doing his best under near impossible circumstances.

Many Japanese are still in denial about the Rape of Nanking, but it actually happened—and about 300,000 Chinese were killed during it for no particular reason except to demonstrate the superiority and power of the Japanese Army. Most of these were not combat casualties. They were either unarmed prisoners of war or innocent civilians—and they were slaughtered like animals. Officers held competitions to see who could cut off most heads in a given period of time—and had themselves photographed in front of their trophies. This was human behavior at its most callous and depraved.

Yes, it is a similar story to Schindler’s List in some ways, but it is a very different movie.

Strange to have a Nazi as the hero—but, as we say in Ireland, Nazi or not, he really was a decent man.

THE STORY SO FAR: PART 277: WEDNESDAY

IRELAND AND AUSTERITY—YET ANOTHER AUSTERITY CREATED DISASTER

Irish author, James Joyce—whose statue in Dublin, Ireland, is pictured above—remarked in his semi-autobiographical novel, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (1916), “Ireland is the old sow who eats her farrow.”

This is about as accurate and cruel a statement about Ireland, and its self-destructive tendencies, as has ever been made. But, what else could you expect from Joyce—a writer of truly stunning originality—best known for Ulysses (1922)—which which was banned in Ireland for decades (in the fine tradition of repressed Irish sexuality).

Incidentally, Joyce’s other works are well worth reading, and rather more accessible.

In the spirit of his own assessment of his native land, Joyce emigrated permanently while still in his early twenties, and thereafter lived in continental Europe in such places as Trieste, Paris, and Zurich.

I was reminded of Joyce’s scathing comment when I recently read a headline: “One Irish person emigrates every six minutes.”

Good grief—and this was the Celtic Tiger!

I had to emigrate from Ireland to the UK to find employment, but eventually returned to Ireland, fired up by the dream of helping to build the country. To that end, I put everything I had on the line to try and fight the curse of unemployment—and achieved a pyric victory in that the economic activity I created produced the number of jobs I was after; but I lost almost everything in the process.

In other ways, it was a very real victory for me, because in 1986, I committed to become a full-time writer—and thus fulfilled my true calling. Beyond that, the satisfaction and sheer pleasure I have gained from writing have exceeded all my expectations. And the financial rewards haven’t been so bad either.

Do I regret my earlier idealism? Not really; in the context of the time, it was the right thing to do. 

THE STORY SO FAR: PART 276: TUESDAY

THE TROUBLE WITH SLEEP IS THAT IT DOESN’T MAKE BIG PHARMA ANY MONEY—HOSPITALS MAKE IT NEAR IMPOSSIBLE TO SLEEP FOR A REASON

I’m writing this in arrears, so I cannot recall exactly when my back injury happened. I know I took about five weeks to recover, and was in such serious pain for the first couple of weeks, that sitting and writing was complete agony.

Funnily enough, I could stand, and lie down, without much pain, but doing what I love to do—need to do—was virtually impossible. What is more, I didn’t seem to be getting better, which was worrying.

Someone suggested going to the hospital. Based on previous experience, I rejected that option. ERs are not too good at dealing with back pain—and the all purpose solution seems to be medication.

In the end, I slept most of the time for several days, and then napped regularly once or twice a day for quite some time. That turned the tide and slowly the pain started to recede.

It felt wonderful.

Enough of that boring subject. I am only mentioning the subject to try and justify my letting six weeks go by without blogging. And I had been doing so well. I expect it is my Catholic upbringing. Guilt is their thing—and they are very good at it.

 

THE STORY SO FAR: PART 275: MONDAY

PUT GREEDY FOOLS IN CHARGE—AND THE CONSEQUENCES ARE PREDICTABLE.

SHAME ON AMERICAN MANAGEMENT

It has long been my contention that the U.S. has a serious management problem which lies at the root of a great many of the economic difficulties we are experiencing today.

As best I can determine it, the rot started in the early Seventies when the Powell memorandum galvanized the rich—in the form of major corporate interests—to mount a counter-attack against the perceived decadence and liberalism of the Sixties, and the threat of what were judged to be anti-business attitudes.

Much simplified, in effect, managements declared war on their own workers (and the unions in particular) and adopted the notion that management’s only duty was to optimize shareholder value—primarily as expressed in the value Wall Street put on the shares.

Corporate loyalty towards workers, suppliers, customers, the local community,  and the nation went by the board.

Thus started the carnage which exported millions of jobs, destroyed much of our industrial base, virtually froze the earning power of workers for more than four decades, undermined the Middle Class, contributed to our losing ground in market sector after market sector, stunted innovation, eroded the tax base, corrupted Congress (even more than before)—and made CEOS, frequently executives of decidedly limited competence, extremely wealthy.

I was therefor not remotely surprised to read in THE BIG PICTURE, Barry Ritholtz’s outstanding blog, that nearly 40 percent of CEOs on the highest-paid lists from the past 20 years were either bailed out, booted, or busted.

People of true caliber and integrity don’t behave the way all too many of our CEOs have for decades. It’s morally wrong, financially irresponsible, short-sighted in the worse possible way, and very much against the National Interest.

We are now reaping what America’s top managers have sown—and what we are harvesting threatens the economic wellbeing of all but the rich.

The great recession was just a taste.

 

 

THE STORY SO FAR: PART 274: SUNDAY

TEN COMMANDMENTS FOR HELICOPTER PILOTS

The time I spent researching the U.S. Army for my books was both fascinating and—literally—life-changing. The highlight was my period with the 101st Airborne (Air Assault). The following was sent to me by a close friend I made there. And yes, I am absolutely fascinated by helicopters. Fly in an Apache AH64 attack helicopter, like I was privileged to do—both by day and at night—and I’ll be surprised if you are not thrilled.

Attach helicopter pilots have their own particular ways of making light of the dangers they face every mission.

1.  Keep always thine RPMs, for without them the gates of heaven shall be closed to thee, and thou shalt pass directly to Brick City.
2.  Guard thy tail rotor as thy loins; it is a sacred thing and its loss maketh the earth spin, and rise up and smite thee.
3.  Pickest thou up and sittest thou down with great care, lest thy machine roll in the mud like the swine and makest thou an impoverished pedestrian.
4.  Loadeth not thy machine unevenly or excessively, lest thou wander and stumble like the braying ass.
5.  Run not thy fuel or oil dry, for surely it is easier for the camel to pass through the eye of the needle than for a fool to autorotate in the wilderness.
6.  Linger not in the curve of the deadman, for it tempteth fate, and shall bringeth thee back pain.
7.  Swoop not low, for many are the snares of Edison and Bell; their wires yieldeth not, and makest thou a yo-yo.
8.  Loseth not sight of the earth, if thou are not a master of the black art of IFR, else thy machine shall seek the earth without thy council, and thy friends shall mourn the passing of a fool.
9.  Loseth not thy G's for the sake of pushover or other folly, lest thy blades smite thee, and journey on without thee.
10.  Descendeth not without airspeed, for the air directly beneath thee is wrathful, and wouldst swallow thee up.

THE STORY SO FAR: PART 273: SATURDAY

A MYSTERIOUS GAP—WHICH I INTEND TO CLOSE

For some mysterious reason, I temporarily stopped blogging around this time and didn’t restart until mid July 2013.

We are talking a six week gap. Ye gods!

The odd thing is that I didn’t consciously decide to stop. I just did other things first—and the days passed without my getting around to blogging. I was quite shaken when I found out. I was determined to write 365 blogs without missing a day—even if I had to go back and fill in some gaps which I expected to have to do occasionally. I just didn’t expect a gap of this length.

As best as I can determine, there were two reasons:

• I decided to do a further draft of the screenplay I was working on—and need all my energy to work on that,
• I injured my back quite badly—and though I could stand or lie down without excessive pain—sitting down to write was agony.

I am now going to try and write 40 plus blogs in arrears to fill in the gap.

It feels like Mission Impossible at this stage, but one never knows. I might surprise myself.

Wish me luck.