Pinch and punch, first of the month!
Okay, so I'm early. But tomorrow is the first day of November. For some it is the sign of Bonfire parties hoving into view, for others it is the last month to wait through before the one which contains Christmas. For me, it is the start of NaNoWriMo, the event which asks its participants to attempt to write a whole novel in a single month.
The novel need only be 50,000 - the same length as classics such as 1984 and The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - and so all that is required is 1667 words a day. Every day. For a month.
All?
It's quite a tall order, but as I look at it from the day before, it seems doable. What makes it even easier is that I already know what I'm writing and have had a number of long car journeys to mull over character biographies and the like.
In a previous post, I offered a selection of ideas that I might be trying. I asked for your votes. From the lack of response, I could tell that, far from being apathetic, you were quietly willing me to pick idea number 2, but were too polite to foist your wishes on me. But, who am I to ignore your silent demands. Number 2 it is.
(I'm not going to go back over the idea, check back and see what it was, then come back. I'll wait...
...
...
Okay? Up to speed? Good. I'll carry on.)
I'm glad you all picked this one. It is going to be a sea-change from my last idea, as this one is all action and adventure without the stress and suicides. The first idea, which looked like the front-runner for a while till you all wordlessly spoke, is much in the same vein. And because of this it looks like I might just be allowed to have fun! If I'm going to spend the dark November nights locking horns with this beast of a project, I think a little fun should be allowed, don't you?
I shall endeavour to blog about the experience as I go through it, though I might occasionally have to sacrifice the analysis for the actual writing. But stay tuned, and feel free to chivvy me if you think I'm falling behind. Even if you do it silently, I'll know.
And if you don't, and I fail to complete the project, it'll all be your fault, won't it?
Sunday, 31 October 2010
Sunday, 17 October 2010
Structural Analysis for Cylons
Once upon a time, in a galaxy far, far away, there was a boy, later a man, who could watch TV and read books simply to enjoy the story. Part of him is still inside me and he likes a good tale, whether it's told by Charles Dickens, Terry Pratchett or Joss Wheedon. But, as a writer, and as an academic who, let's face it, spends a lot of his time deconstructing texts, there is now always a part of me casting a critical eye over whatever I read or watch, whether it is Northanger Abbey, The Wasp Factory or Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
My current favourite waste of time is the third season of the new version of Battlestar Galactica. Much has been written about how this series is a critique of the events of 9/11 and the war in Iran and Afghanistan, and all of that has passed through my mind as I've watched it. But, above and beyond all that, it is a well-told story which works. The realisation of that is the point at which my inner critic starts to pick that story apart to try and find out why it works.
Some of the things it does - and I'm talking about the third season here - are particular to serial drama. At the end of the second series everything has changed and all the things we think we know are overturned. As a result, the season starts by showing us the intractable problems of all this change and then slowly, piece by piece, it returns us to the status quo. This is typical of this kind of drama. Normality - even if this is the whole of humanity on the run in a small number of spaceships from an overwhelming and evil force of Cylons - needs to be maintained for the story to continue. Back in the 80s, the story-writing guidelines for Star Trek: The Next Generation were publicly available and they made this clear. No-one could be killed, ships could not be destroyed, things that were known to be could not be otherwise unless, that is, they were returned somehow at the end of the story. There must be continuity.
But, within this larger arc of continuation, there are the ups and downs which make this highly acclaimed series so engaging and addictive and each episode features the things we would expect from any great show, box-office success, or award-winning novel.
First, there is conflict. Any writing teacher will tell you that drama and plot emerge from conflict. Those who are together will split. Those who are apart will find a way back together. Friends will become enemies, traitors will be revealed as trusted allies, the weak will find a way to be strong.
In the course of any single episode there will be a set-up in which questions are posed. Some of these are based in the past; in previous conflicts. Some propose possibilities for the future. As the story carries on, these questions will be unpicked as the missing details are revealed. At about the 2/3 point there will be a major conflict which seems, in some way, to be the premature end of the story, but instead merely leads to the confrontation which forms the real end of the story. These are often, but not always, the result of two seperate sub-plots which in some way mirror each other - either directly or in opposition.
And so, as the episode closes, the story has moved on to a new place, with new questions to be unravelled in a future episode and old questions settled. The status quo is maintained, all the main characters are alive, the things that are needed to move the whole story forward are still there, but allegiances have shifted and the plot, as a whole, has moved on.
I'm not saying that we should all write books, or dramas, based on spaceships fleeing the destruction of the human race, and in search of the mythical 'Earth'. I'm also not saying that this structure is one which underpins all good drama or literature, and nor should it be. But I am saying that there is something in these TV series which can be analysed and understood on the basic levels of good-story-telling and may give us insights into the dynamics that in the end make a story engaging for the viewer or reader.
My current favourite waste of time is the third season of the new version of Battlestar Galactica. Much has been written about how this series is a critique of the events of 9/11 and the war in Iran and Afghanistan, and all of that has passed through my mind as I've watched it. But, above and beyond all that, it is a well-told story which works. The realisation of that is the point at which my inner critic starts to pick that story apart to try and find out why it works.
Some of the things it does - and I'm talking about the third season here - are particular to serial drama. At the end of the second series everything has changed and all the things we think we know are overturned. As a result, the season starts by showing us the intractable problems of all this change and then slowly, piece by piece, it returns us to the status quo. This is typical of this kind of drama. Normality - even if this is the whole of humanity on the run in a small number of spaceships from an overwhelming and evil force of Cylons - needs to be maintained for the story to continue. Back in the 80s, the story-writing guidelines for Star Trek: The Next Generation were publicly available and they made this clear. No-one could be killed, ships could not be destroyed, things that were known to be could not be otherwise unless, that is, they were returned somehow at the end of the story. There must be continuity.
But, within this larger arc of continuation, there are the ups and downs which make this highly acclaimed series so engaging and addictive and each episode features the things we would expect from any great show, box-office success, or award-winning novel.
First, there is conflict. Any writing teacher will tell you that drama and plot emerge from conflict. Those who are together will split. Those who are apart will find a way back together. Friends will become enemies, traitors will be revealed as trusted allies, the weak will find a way to be strong.
In the course of any single episode there will be a set-up in which questions are posed. Some of these are based in the past; in previous conflicts. Some propose possibilities for the future. As the story carries on, these questions will be unpicked as the missing details are revealed. At about the 2/3 point there will be a major conflict which seems, in some way, to be the premature end of the story, but instead merely leads to the confrontation which forms the real end of the story. These are often, but not always, the result of two seperate sub-plots which in some way mirror each other - either directly or in opposition.
And so, as the episode closes, the story has moved on to a new place, with new questions to be unravelled in a future episode and old questions settled. The status quo is maintained, all the main characters are alive, the things that are needed to move the whole story forward are still there, but allegiances have shifted and the plot, as a whole, has moved on.
I'm not saying that we should all write books, or dramas, based on spaceships fleeing the destruction of the human race, and in search of the mythical 'Earth'. I'm also not saying that this structure is one which underpins all good drama or literature, and nor should it be. But I am saying that there is something in these TV series which can be analysed and understood on the basic levels of good-story-telling and may give us insights into the dynamics that in the end make a story engaging for the viewer or reader.
Monday, 11 October 2010
Novels, Novels, everywhere...
The combination of low summer sun, recasting the smears on my windscreen as opaque tigerstripes, and Radio 4's Book Programme whispering in my ears seems to be my recipe for inspiration. So, another long journey yesterday: another novel idea.
My mind is working on novels at the moment as National Novel Writing Month approaches. NaNoWriMo, as it's known, asks you to write a brand new 50,000 word novel, from scratch, in the 30 days of November. Only one week of actually planning is allowed, but that doesn't preclude thinking about it and casting about for ideas.
The idea behind this was originally to get non-writers to take part and see what they could do, so why am I, I hear you ask, taking part in this? Well, as you might already have worked out, I need a deadline. And, being a budding novellist, the only deadline you have is a self-imposed one. We all know how stretchy they can be. So, by taking the challenge of NaNoWriMo - and by telling everyone that I'm taking the challenge! - I hope to force myself into producing at least a workable first draft of a new work before the 1st December.
So, as the month approaches, and I start to think about what I'm taking on, my mind, as I say, has been throwing novel ideas out at an alarming rate. I now have three completely different ideas to chose from and I find myself in a quandary. So, I shall turn myself over to you, and let you make the decision.
What follows are short indications of the three ideas I've had. Let me know, by commenting, by email, by text, by call, by pigeon, or by letter held in a cleft stick by a small boy, which one you want me to write, and I will:
1. A novel about the lives of a depressed man and a troubled teenage girl.
2. An action-type story in which the protagonist is caught in the backwash of a much larger story.
3. The walls of reality and imagination break down and only a man with no imagination can help.
So... that's it. Let me know what you think, and then keep watching as I slowly disintegrate over the month .
For more on NaNoWriMo go to http://www.nanowrimo.org/.
My mind is working on novels at the moment as National Novel Writing Month approaches. NaNoWriMo, as it's known, asks you to write a brand new 50,000 word novel, from scratch, in the 30 days of November. Only one week of actually planning is allowed, but that doesn't preclude thinking about it and casting about for ideas.
The idea behind this was originally to get non-writers to take part and see what they could do, so why am I, I hear you ask, taking part in this? Well, as you might already have worked out, I need a deadline. And, being a budding novellist, the only deadline you have is a self-imposed one. We all know how stretchy they can be. So, by taking the challenge of NaNoWriMo - and by telling everyone that I'm taking the challenge! - I hope to force myself into producing at least a workable first draft of a new work before the 1st December.
So, as the month approaches, and I start to think about what I'm taking on, my mind, as I say, has been throwing novel ideas out at an alarming rate. I now have three completely different ideas to chose from and I find myself in a quandary. So, I shall turn myself over to you, and let you make the decision.
What follows are short indications of the three ideas I've had. Let me know, by commenting, by email, by text, by call, by pigeon, or by letter held in a cleft stick by a small boy, which one you want me to write, and I will:
1. A novel about the lives of a depressed man and a troubled teenage girl.
2. An action-type story in which the protagonist is caught in the backwash of a much larger story.
3. The walls of reality and imagination break down and only a man with no imagination can help.
So... that's it. Let me know what you think, and then keep watching as I slowly disintegrate over the month .
For more on NaNoWriMo go to http://www.nanowrimo.org/.
Wednesday, 6 October 2010
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain
I'm poorly.
One week back to teaching and the mingled bugs of a thousand students have wormed their ways past my defences to give me a good old-fashioned cold. The red eyes, the streaming nose, the tissues and cough-sweet wrappers scattering from my pockets. It's not pretty.
But elsewhere, something has happened. On their way to attack mucous membranes and alveoli, the bugs seem to have unlocked doors in my head.
Two night ago, tired of sneezing and coughing, I turned the light out and lay down, in search of an early night. But instead of passing into a lemsip-induced coma as I wished, I found myself plotting parts of a new novel. This is the book that I intend to write for NaNoWriMo in November (more on this at a later date) and already I found small ideas and scenes coming together in my head. Unlike other late-night mental writings, I found these were still present in my mind the following morning, and I'm starting to look forward even more to my novelling month so I can get them down on paper.
And then, last night, with the cold at it's peak, and feeling as rough as I can remember in a while, once again my mind delved into my 'pending' file and started work on an idea that I've been toying with for a few years.
A couple of years ago, my friend Mike and I started to write a collaborative project set around the idea of multiple characters in a hotel. The result would be published on the web as a hypertext which allowed for navigation between characters and also a progression through time. It was a nice idea, and we wrote a few room's-worth of stories before it ground to a halt. Partly this was due to other things getting in the way, partly it was due to my not being able to work out how to structure the thing to make it work. Well, last night I found my brain pondering the problem again, and this morning I was able to sit down and write out the structure of the hotel and a series of rules for how it would work.
My next plan is to set the thing up and then invite other writers to come and take rooms in the hotel, to create a vast, online, collaborative story, using the power of hypertext to create a web of narrative. Not bad for a fever dream, eh?
So, today I'm feeling a little better, and part of me is slightly disappointed. Tonight I may well have a good night's sleep. What a loss that will be.
One week back to teaching and the mingled bugs of a thousand students have wormed their ways past my defences to give me a good old-fashioned cold. The red eyes, the streaming nose, the tissues and cough-sweet wrappers scattering from my pockets. It's not pretty.
But elsewhere, something has happened. On their way to attack mucous membranes and alveoli, the bugs seem to have unlocked doors in my head.
Two night ago, tired of sneezing and coughing, I turned the light out and lay down, in search of an early night. But instead of passing into a lemsip-induced coma as I wished, I found myself plotting parts of a new novel. This is the book that I intend to write for NaNoWriMo in November (more on this at a later date) and already I found small ideas and scenes coming together in my head. Unlike other late-night mental writings, I found these were still present in my mind the following morning, and I'm starting to look forward even more to my novelling month so I can get them down on paper.
And then, last night, with the cold at it's peak, and feeling as rough as I can remember in a while, once again my mind delved into my 'pending' file and started work on an idea that I've been toying with for a few years.
A couple of years ago, my friend Mike and I started to write a collaborative project set around the idea of multiple characters in a hotel. The result would be published on the web as a hypertext which allowed for navigation between characters and also a progression through time. It was a nice idea, and we wrote a few room's-worth of stories before it ground to a halt. Partly this was due to other things getting in the way, partly it was due to my not being able to work out how to structure the thing to make it work. Well, last night I found my brain pondering the problem again, and this morning I was able to sit down and write out the structure of the hotel and a series of rules for how it would work.
My next plan is to set the thing up and then invite other writers to come and take rooms in the hotel, to create a vast, online, collaborative story, using the power of hypertext to create a web of narrative. Not bad for a fever dream, eh?
So, today I'm feeling a little better, and part of me is slightly disappointed. Tonight I may well have a good night's sleep. What a loss that will be.
Wednesday, 29 September 2010
Grinding my nose
And so the academic year has started up again. I'm teaching 6 different classes - more than many full-time lecturers - but, hey, it pays the bills. For the practise of writing the start of the new year has two effects.
The first is the one you would expect. I am now busy with all kinds of teaching related activities. Preparing seminars and lectures, planning ahead for the term, reading the texts I shall be teaching, reminding myself of the theories I need to cover and, oh yes, teaching the classes themselves. As a result, the time I have to dedicate to writing has been vastly truncated. Where, in the summer, I had the luxury of time, now, if I want to write, I have to squeeze it in around my work. You would think the result would be less writing.
But that is where the other effect comes in to play. Over the summer, the vast endless tracts of time sucked up motivation and urgency. There seemed to be so much time that nothing had to be done right away. I did get a lot done, but not as much as I wanted, and probably not as much as I could. Now, with time short, the urgency is back and so the motivation is there to work on writing when I get the chance.
The other effect of teaching starting is like having my brain jump-started. A summer of reading and occasional writing and, let's face it, growing lethargy, didn't help at all. But now that I have to get up, have to get my classes ready, and have to go out and teach, my energy levels are up, my brain is firing again, and my motivation is returning.
I have had to devote the last couple of weeks to preparation for the new term. New courses meant new books to read and new concepts to get my head around. But now that it has all started, I can see how to fit in all the things I want to do with all the things I have to do.
So, more stories have already been finished off and submitted, and my head is once more bowing over my novel. Penguin are accepting unsolicited manuscripts up to the end of October, and I plan to get my book to them within that time. And November is time for Nanowrimo's 'write a novel in a month', and I'm already planning for that.
So, despite the new teaching load, I will carry on with the writing, and let the stimulation of teaching feed into it. And you'll be hearing lots more from me about all of this and more. So, all together... 'Hi ho, hi ho...'
The first is the one you would expect. I am now busy with all kinds of teaching related activities. Preparing seminars and lectures, planning ahead for the term, reading the texts I shall be teaching, reminding myself of the theories I need to cover and, oh yes, teaching the classes themselves. As a result, the time I have to dedicate to writing has been vastly truncated. Where, in the summer, I had the luxury of time, now, if I want to write, I have to squeeze it in around my work. You would think the result would be less writing.
But that is where the other effect comes in to play. Over the summer, the vast endless tracts of time sucked up motivation and urgency. There seemed to be so much time that nothing had to be done right away. I did get a lot done, but not as much as I wanted, and probably not as much as I could. Now, with time short, the urgency is back and so the motivation is there to work on writing when I get the chance.
The other effect of teaching starting is like having my brain jump-started. A summer of reading and occasional writing and, let's face it, growing lethargy, didn't help at all. But now that I have to get up, have to get my classes ready, and have to go out and teach, my energy levels are up, my brain is firing again, and my motivation is returning.
I have had to devote the last couple of weeks to preparation for the new term. New courses meant new books to read and new concepts to get my head around. But now that it has all started, I can see how to fit in all the things I want to do with all the things I have to do.
So, more stories have already been finished off and submitted, and my head is once more bowing over my novel. Penguin are accepting unsolicited manuscripts up to the end of October, and I plan to get my book to them within that time. And November is time for Nanowrimo's 'write a novel in a month', and I'm already planning for that.
So, despite the new teaching load, I will carry on with the writing, and let the stimulation of teaching feed into it. And you'll be hearing lots more from me about all of this and more. So, all together... 'Hi ho, hi ho...'
Thursday, 23 September 2010
Words, Words, Words.
You will hopefully be pleased to know that at the weekend I learned that another of my stories, "2o Words" has been accepted for the Bad Language anthology, to be published later in the autumn. Beyond the obvious pleasure at having a story accepted, I am pleased that this story in particular has been picked up as it is one of my personal favourites.
It has this position for two reasons. First, it was the story which broke my creative logjam and led to a productive summer of writing. From Jan to Nov 2009 I wrote nothing creative at all. After that, although I started writing again, the pieces I created came from prompts rather than internal inspiration. Ideas were not swimming around in my head, but the desire to write was still there, so I would sit down and jump-start my brain with a trigger-word, phrase or image. I've written about this process earlier when talking about Flash fiction, so check back if you want to know more about that.
Anyway, "20 words" simply came to me one day in late spring, when I wasn't thinking of anything much. I was in the shower, actually, and suddenly the opening line was in my head. I then got the chance to do the thing which had eluded me so long, that thing which makes writing so exciting, which was to hurry up what I was doing so I could get to the computer (still dripping!) and start to write because the story was coming, like a premature baby, forcing its way out ready or not.
The other reason I like the story is that it aims to the core of what I feel writing is about. It shows rather than tells, it asks the reader to make their own decisions and to provide their own input, and it concerns the importance of words in our lives. The story tells, in only around 300 words, the story of a life through the important words uttered by a man over the course of that life. What is key for me is that these are not large, long, important words, but the simple building blocks of everyday transaction and communication which, in context, can change everything.
As such, this story, the first product of my recharged battery, shows how important words and language are in describing and changing our lives. As you can tell, I like it
If you're intrigued and want to read the story, the Bad Language anthology will be out later in the year. I will put a note up here when it's out, or you can keep a track at their website: http://badlanguagemcr.co.uk/.
It has this position for two reasons. First, it was the story which broke my creative logjam and led to a productive summer of writing. From Jan to Nov 2009 I wrote nothing creative at all. After that, although I started writing again, the pieces I created came from prompts rather than internal inspiration. Ideas were not swimming around in my head, but the desire to write was still there, so I would sit down and jump-start my brain with a trigger-word, phrase or image. I've written about this process earlier when talking about Flash fiction, so check back if you want to know more about that.
Anyway, "20 words" simply came to me one day in late spring, when I wasn't thinking of anything much. I was in the shower, actually, and suddenly the opening line was in my head. I then got the chance to do the thing which had eluded me so long, that thing which makes writing so exciting, which was to hurry up what I was doing so I could get to the computer (still dripping!) and start to write because the story was coming, like a premature baby, forcing its way out ready or not.
The other reason I like the story is that it aims to the core of what I feel writing is about. It shows rather than tells, it asks the reader to make their own decisions and to provide their own input, and it concerns the importance of words in our lives. The story tells, in only around 300 words, the story of a life through the important words uttered by a man over the course of that life. What is key for me is that these are not large, long, important words, but the simple building blocks of everyday transaction and communication which, in context, can change everything.
As such, this story, the first product of my recharged battery, shows how important words and language are in describing and changing our lives. As you can tell, I like it
If you're intrigued and want to read the story, the Bad Language anthology will be out later in the year. I will put a note up here when it's out, or you can keep a track at their website: http://badlanguagemcr.co.uk/.
Monday, 6 September 2010
Beautiful Baby Competition
Please tell me it's pretty, please don't tell me it's ugly. Look, the ears are symetrical and the eyes are such a pale blue. The hair is so fine and blonde and the skin so soft and pink. The sentences are balanced, the words well chosen and the plot finely honed. Please tell me you like it.
For years I have been telling my students that sending out short stories for publication is like showing your baby to the world and asking for kindness. Your writing is so personal, and so close to your heart, that sending them out is like leaving your baby at the creche for the first day and hoping the other children will play with them.
Okay, maybe I'm going a little over the top, but it is nerve wracking!
In the last couple of weeks I have had a story I am particularly fond of rejected. Entitled 'Palimpsest' it was written as a flash fiction, but then honed to make sure all the layers could be read, one through the other. I sent it out in Februrary and it has only just come back, so - with so long to dwell on it - I had innured myself to the possibility of disappontment. It still stings, as all rejections do.
However, at almost the same time the lovely people at Bugged - the eavesdropping project I have waffled on about in previous posts - have accepted a different story, also written as flash fiction and entitled 'The Four' for publication in their anothology which comes out in mid-October. And that eases the sting and warms the heart. They liked my child enough to put his photo in the gallery!
Surrounding these two events I have been researching and reading and editing and rewriting and sending out stories to a variety of places. Over a dozen have gone out in the last week. I know most of them will come back to me to be sent out once again for adoption. But some of them - I hope! - will find good homes where they can grow and prosper. I will, of course, keep you posted.
In amongst all this story work, I have also been working on my novel. I have re-read it, and given it to my girlfriend to read and comment on too (Thanks, Kath!). If you think it's bad having someone read a story, ask them to read a novel. This is far more personal than asking for compliments for your baby. This is asking for your soul to be evaluated. Thankfully, it seems to pass muster (the book, that is, I can't comment on my soul), and now I am onto the work of rewriting and reworking into the second draft. After that, and maybe some more tinkering, it will be time to send that out into the world too. You'll know when that happens as I will be online every five minutes, sharing my worries.
Sometimes I ask why I put myself through this torment, but it's the age old thing. If I write a story and show it to no-one then it might as well not have been written. Only when a story is shared and read does it really exist. And so, it's not so much sending the child out into the world, having a manuscript accepted is the very act of birth itself, giving life to something new.
So, I shall go back to my gestation and let you know as and when the brood increases. I shall push and I shall do my best to remember my breathing. If you'll just hold my hand, mop my brow, and ignore the screams, I think we can get through this.
For years I have been telling my students that sending out short stories for publication is like showing your baby to the world and asking for kindness. Your writing is so personal, and so close to your heart, that sending them out is like leaving your baby at the creche for the first day and hoping the other children will play with them.
Okay, maybe I'm going a little over the top, but it is nerve wracking!
In the last couple of weeks I have had a story I am particularly fond of rejected. Entitled 'Palimpsest' it was written as a flash fiction, but then honed to make sure all the layers could be read, one through the other. I sent it out in Februrary and it has only just come back, so - with so long to dwell on it - I had innured myself to the possibility of disappontment. It still stings, as all rejections do.
However, at almost the same time the lovely people at Bugged - the eavesdropping project I have waffled on about in previous posts - have accepted a different story, also written as flash fiction and entitled 'The Four' for publication in their anothology which comes out in mid-October. And that eases the sting and warms the heart. They liked my child enough to put his photo in the gallery!
Surrounding these two events I have been researching and reading and editing and rewriting and sending out stories to a variety of places. Over a dozen have gone out in the last week. I know most of them will come back to me to be sent out once again for adoption. But some of them - I hope! - will find good homes where they can grow and prosper. I will, of course, keep you posted.
In amongst all this story work, I have also been working on my novel. I have re-read it, and given it to my girlfriend to read and comment on too (Thanks, Kath!). If you think it's bad having someone read a story, ask them to read a novel. This is far more personal than asking for compliments for your baby. This is asking for your soul to be evaluated. Thankfully, it seems to pass muster (the book, that is, I can't comment on my soul), and now I am onto the work of rewriting and reworking into the second draft. After that, and maybe some more tinkering, it will be time to send that out into the world too. You'll know when that happens as I will be online every five minutes, sharing my worries.
Sometimes I ask why I put myself through this torment, but it's the age old thing. If I write a story and show it to no-one then it might as well not have been written. Only when a story is shared and read does it really exist. And so, it's not so much sending the child out into the world, having a manuscript accepted is the very act of birth itself, giving life to something new.
So, I shall go back to my gestation and let you know as and when the brood increases. I shall push and I shall do my best to remember my breathing. If you'll just hold my hand, mop my brow, and ignore the screams, I think we can get through this.
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