5 Months Later

Christmas baubleThis post is probably entirely unnecessary, but it wouldn’t be the first time one of my posts could be described that way.

Five months ago I published on this blog the final instalment of Fare Game, the story that triggered the very existence of this blog. It was an experiment at a number of levels, and a good one, too.

This morning I marked as ‘Private’ the last 20 or so posts, roughly comprising the second half of the story. They no longer appear here. I did it because I’m a writer first and a blogger second and as I move further through the process of re-establishing myself – mcphoenix like – as a writer, it seemed like the right thing to do and the right time.

In the last 5 months I have:

  • Sent Fare Game to my agent and then, via her, out to publishing houses (no success)
  • Gone back to a previous manuscript – Christmas – and with the help of a work-shopping process expertly conducted by Antoni Jach, done a massive rewrite of the story
  • Sent Christmas to my agent and to the first prospective publisher
  • Begun the process of going back to Fare Game to embark on a rewrite

Those bullet points sound pretty damn uninspiring but that’s not the case. The work-shopping, both in its orchestration by Antoni Jach and its participation by the other writers, has been revelatory for me.

I hesitated before using that word: revelatory. I sat in front of the keyboard, fingers hovering, asking myself whether that was overstating the impact of the process. I decided it was the right word.

In fact, I’m now glad that Christmas (previously titled Four Kinds of Christmas / Christmas with Ruby / The Unpublished Manuscript* Gathering Dust in the Bottom Draw) didn’t get published 3-4 years ago because I got to go through the rewriting process with the assistance of Antoni and the work-shopping group, and I discovered and rediscovered a number of ways to improve my manuscript and, more generally, to improve my writing.

*I initially had Piece of Shit instead of Manuscript in that optional title, but I thought better of it.

The discovery led me to change the structure considerably, change the ending (now redemptive rather than ambiguous) and make more of the relationship between two of the main characters so that the changed ending could be delivered.

The rediscovery related to the ‘spareness’ of my writing, which had been lost and replaced by a paunch. I didn’t even notice the paunch, but others pointed it out. In many ways, this was amongst the most exciting of the benefits of the work-shopping. I knew my writing wasn’t quite delivering what I intended it should, but I didn’t realise it’d had grown a paunch or that the paunch was largely responsible for the disconnect between intention and delivery.

That I can now see it so clearly leaves me wondering how I could ever have missed it, but also pretty damn excited about the prospects it brings. A spare style was a hallmark of my first book (Burning Sunday, published way back in 1999) and now that I have rediscovered the voice, the eye, the discipline required to deliver it, I want to apply it not only to Christmas, but also to Fare Game.

I have other changes in mind for Fare Game, as well:

  • Change to first person intimate narrator. It will be Driver, although I may have Minnie also give first person accounts. This means the current narrator, the journalist, will become a side-character
  • Expand on the plot-line between Driver and Minnie and introduce Minnie’s importance earlier. The story opens with Driver picking up Punter and, from the first scene, it reads like a gritty piece of crime fiction – at least, that’s the feedback from publishers. But while the plot line following Punter’s revenge against Frank Postman is important, it isn’t the main story
  • Cut out the paunch. This isn’t just about removing unnecessary words. Their removal changes the aesthetic of the story and its characters, particularly in combination with the switch to first person point-of-view. So I expect the plot will also change in ways I don’t yet know. My characters will tell me how to change the story, as they re-emerge.

And then there are well-developed ideas to for two more new stories. Plenty of work to do. Looking forward to it.

Top 5 things I’ve learnt about blogging literary fiction OR What is clear now is just how little I knew

ignoranceSo here’s the thing; I’m only three posts from the end of Fare Game! That’s right folks, get out the party blowers and fill your lungs, chuck a few streamers in the air. Whoohoo!

Yup. Big deal, huh?

At the half-way point my main concern was that I wouldn’t be able to maintain the pace I’d set for myself. But I’ve just finished the last scene and it will be posted later next week.

In the three months it has taken me to get to this point I have learned enough to look back and squirm a little at my unconscious incompetence. Some of you will be familiar with the ‘four stages of learning’ model. It goes like this:

Stage 1: Unconscious incompetence – not only do you have no skills, you really don’t know what skills you need or how to acquire them

Stage 2: Conscious incompetence – you still don’t have too many skills, but you are developing an awareness that you suck and why you suck. You’re starting to see what you need to get better at

Stage 3: Conscious competence – this is a big step up from step 2 because through trial and error you’ve acquired a few skills. You’ve tried things and kept what works, discarded what doesn’t. You’re not necessarily good, you’re just not incompetent

Stage 4: Unconscious competence – you’ve practiced so much the skill has become second nature. You’re really good and you just do it without thinking about it

Now, this is a massive over-simplification, I realise that. In the blogging caper there are multiple skills you need to develop to be successful AND there are multiple definitions of success. In the beginning, not only was my definition of success wrong, but I had no idea of how to achieve it, whatever it was. If that’s not unconscious incompetence, I don’t know what is.

But at least I did know I was incompetent. I embraced my incompetence and was comfortable with it. If you’re really rubbish at something and you don’t even know you’re rubbish, you can’t start on the journey to competence.

So, of all the things I became conscious of in my journey from stage 1 to somewhere around the border between stages 2 and 3, here’s a top 5:

Success is not what I thought it was. I thought it was a big following, but it wasn’t. It was ‘Mick McCoy’s writing re-animated’. That’s what it says on my page banner. That’s why I chose to call the blog McPhoenix. I thought the measure of that would be a big following, but I was wrong about that. The measure of it was the writing schedule I set for myself and the process of bringing each post to readiness. It required an intensity of writing and a process of drafting / rewriting / editing that was of great benefit.

People who blog fiction generally don’t achieve large followings, particularly if they start from scratch. Commentary and opinion pieces are more instant, more connected to the blogosphere’s and the wider world’s stream of consciousness. That’s not a criticism at all. Bloggers who produce such work are often exceptionally talented, not to mention hard-working. They go after their audience, spending as much if not more time on finding and building community as on crafting their posts.

I didn’t do so much of that because I was so busy writing and because from one post to the next I was serialising the same story. My aims were to build character and plot, create a sense of time and place that people could recognise. That shrinks your audience. But that’s okay, I am enormously grateful to my audience for the feedback they’ve given me via comment, email and voice.

Blogging fiction can be a good idea. This is more about marketing and promotion, than writing. In that way, it’s an extension of my first point.

In my case I think blogging my fiction was a good idea. I have read plenty about why it could be a bad idea, but I have slowly teased out the detail around that and come to the conclusion that whether or not it is a good or bad idea depends on your context.

The two key points in defining my context are that I write literary fiction and, while I have had two novels published, that was 12 years ago. This is relevant because literary fiction has a smaller market than genre fiction and not only do very few people know or care who Mick McCoy, writer, is, those who do have some vague recollection that I once had a fledgling literary career might be a little dubious about my commitment, since I dropped out for 12 years.

Regarding the first point, there is a single big issue that makes people question whether blogging fiction is a good idea, That is, does the availability of a draft of my story in post-by-post serialised format mean that, if I get a publishing deal for the story, the prospects for the book would be diminished by its earlier availability in blogged format? For many reasons, in my context, I don’t think so. Here are three of the more fundamental reasons:

  1. Before it achieves publication it will undergo rewriting, so it will be different from the blogged version
  2. A published version will be compiled in one volume, a much more convenient way to consume it
  3. The reading experience is markedly different between serial 2,000-2,500 episodes and a single continuous story that the reader can consume at their own pace. This is one of the things that has become most clear from reader feedback

The second point of context specific to my situation is that it is important for me to overtly hang out my shingle. Mick McCoy, writer. I have to actively rise from unknown, step-by-step. Creating a blog and committing to posting on it are very important manifestations of that shingle hanging.

A writer must seek out and engage his audience. There are bloggers out there who are wise enough to combine or even precede their fiction posts with commentary and opinion posts. They do this to build audience, to garner confidence that an audience will appreciate their words, and sometimes to delay the commitment to writing and/or posting fiction.

The audience is readers of your kind of words. They may or may not be bloggers. They may be members of TheReadingRoom or Goodreads. They may subscribe to online journals, such as Kill Your Darlings. They may buy hard copy books (particularly readers of literary fiction, I suspect) from Readings and Dymocks and their local independent book shop, as well as ebooks from Amazon and The Book Depository. They may read the reviews and opinions of others in newspapers and online. They may like Facebook pages and follow tweets.

So it’s important to get out there and be seen. And it’s not a chore. I’ve really enjoyed the posts I’ve written for other outlets. It’s something I must do, because I want to be read.

I want to be read. I want to get back in the game. That’s what it says on my ‘About’ page and that is a stronger urge now than it was three months ago. I know I’ve got to earn the right to be read.

This is different from seeking out an audience. This is why you need to seek out an audience. I love the writing. I love invention, the crafting of words and sentences and paragraphs and chapters. But you can still do that and not have a single person read it. I write because I want people to read what I’ve written. It’s a compulsion, a very internal thing. And it demands an outlet.

The blog gives me that, but I want to be read via paperback and ebook.

Having ‘top 5’ in your post title draws readers. That’s why there’s a fifth point here! Nothing more to say on this other than I flatly reject the notion that compiling lists is a form of procrastination and avoidance of actually doing something valuable. Shameless, eh?

Anyway, it was all getting a bit too serious there. I needed to lighten the tone before finishing, in case some of you thought I really cared about what I was doing. As if …

So thanks for coming on the ride with me this far. I hope you’ve enjoyed it as much as I have and I look forward to hearing from you as I post the final three episodes.

After that, I’ve got to figure out where to next … but I do have a few ideas.

From Story to Song to Cinema: Re-interpreting Raymond Carver

What we talk about CarverAt the South by Southwest music and film conference in Austin, Texas, in March this year, writer Larry Ratso Sloman attempted to flatter Nick Cave by telling him that, for a drug addict, he was more productive than William S. Burroughs.

‘I dunno, really. I don’t know his stuff. Is it any good?’ Cave replied. ‘I’m more for Edgar Rice Burroughs,’ he added, helpfully explaining to the audience that the alternate Burroughs wrote Tarzan.

But I don’t see too much Tarzan in Nick Cave’s work. And I can’t imagine that someone with his interests wouldn’t have an intimate knowledge of William S. Burroughs. Surely he was taking the piss?

The inspiration drawn by writers, musicians and filmmakers from each other’s work is intriguing and instructive. When a musician or filmmaker uses the words of a writer in the creation of a song or a movie, the interest in both works is enhanced. Audiences want to hear all about the interpretation of one artists’ work by another, particularly when both are respected and successful. Continue reading

Top 5 Songs About Waitresses

Seth Sentry, The Waiter Minute EP

Seth Sentry, The Waiter Minute EP

Driver has a thing about waitresses. When I proposed that he’d do a top 5 waitresses list I did not anticipate the lobbying and flagrant offers of sexual favours from the waitresses of Melbourne that the mere mention of such a list would stimulate. Yes, stimulate.

To avoid a nasty scene I have no choice but to change the top 5 from a list of actual waitresses to one listing waitresses dedicated to song. Whether the songwriters experienced the same close treatment from their subjects I don’t know. What I do know is that if you believe a word of this introduction you are easily led astray. Just the kind of reader I fancy. Continue reading

Rosie goes to town / 3 Fare Game posts this week

I’m in uncharted territory here. If it was a desert it’d be getting hotter and drier, if it was the ocean it’d be getting deeper and more shark-infested. But that’s all a bit melodramatic, isn’t it? More like I’ve wandered down a lane way and while I’m a little bit lost, I know home is around here some place. HTFU.

This is all by way of saying that later this week I’ll be 3/4 of the way through posting Fare Game and I can smell the finish line. I can smell home some place nearby. And, quite frankly, I’m getting excited! Continue reading

Street Art

There was a story in one of the local newspapers a couple of weeks back about a visiting dancer and her impressions of Melbourne. One of the things she highlighted was the street art and, to illustrate her point, she had her picture taken against the backdrop of a piece of art by Taylor White in a Fitzroy street.taylor-white-46

That’s just a brilliant piece of work, I reckon. (And that’s not the dancer sitting in front of the doorway, it’s the artist, I think.) Continue reading

The screen door slams

Bruce Springsteen, Drammenshallen, Norway, 1981. Wikimedia Commons

Bruce Springsteen, Drammenshallen, Norway, 1981. Wikimedia Commons

The screen door slams
Mary’s dress sways
Like a vision she dances across the porch
As the radio plays
Roy Orbison singing for the lonely
Hey that’s me and I want you only
Don’t turn me home again
I just can’t face myself alone again

In two days I’m going to see Bruce play. I had something else I was going to write about today but then it hit me that I simply had to write about Springsteen. Because as much as any writer, artist, or performer he was the first spark in my interest in writing. His lyrics, the way he sings them and his genuineness as a performer and a person (from what I know) have been a signpost for me not only in that I write at all, but in what and who I choose to write about and the voice I aim to bring to my writing. Continue reading

Top 5 Passengers in Driver’s Taxi

Megan Gale @ Australia's Next Top Model. Wikimedia Commons

Megan Gale @ Australia’s Next Top Model. Wikimedia Commons

A month ago I wrote a post about Driver’s Top 5 Top 5s – his five favourite Top 5 lists. Driver’s favourite 5 passengers was not one of the top 5 lists I nominated. That’s because:

  1. It should have been and I forgot
  2. I’m stupid
  3. It is in the nature of Top 5 lists that the selections will change
  4. All of the above

The answer doesn’t really matter because it’s the Top 5 I’m starting with. And I think it’s a good one. It will tell you something more about Driver – of all the people he’s had in his taxi, which 5 left the most lasting and meaningful impression? They might not be the most important, they might not be the most famous, but they are the ones that Driver wants to put in the Top 5, so their selection says more about him as they do about the renown of the passengers themselves. Continue reading

Half way there?

half-way don't look back

This is for The Ride. Fare Game, episode 13, will be ready on Friday.

If this were a real ride – on a bike, with a group of mates – at about the half-way point I’d be thinking of where and when we were going to stop for a coffee and a muffin. The stop itself might not happen for a little while, but I’d be thinking about it. Mostly I’d be managing my expectations of the double espresso I’d order. Some places we stop, the coffee isn’t up to scratch, but everything else – the location, the people you’re with, the weather, the baristas and wait staff – can all balance the ledger and deliver a satisfying experience.

Yes, I am a bit too much like Driver when it comes to coffee and cycling. Continue reading

Why I’m Here – Overcoming Professional-Grade Procrastination

Pipedream #9

Mick’s pipedream #9 … but you gotta have ’em, right?

Fourteen years is more than enough time to turn procrastination into a profession. And from the outside maybe that’s what it looks like I’ve been doing, at least when it comes to writing fiction. My first novel, Burning Sunday, came out in 99. Just over a month ago I embarked on the challenging and some would say foolhardy, or even block-headed, exercise of serially blogging Fare Game – which will be my new novel, if things go well. And the 14 years in between? Well…

Back at the turn of the millennium I was too slow-witted and/or naïve to realise that I had any kind of literary career to throw away. Reviewers considered BS to be somewhat better than its more commonly used short-hand meaning suggested, and the book managed to sneak onto the short-list for The Age book of the year. Continue reading

Insignificance can be achieved quite simply and through myriad paths. (Or, the Google God moves in mysterious ways.)

News of the Google God @ Creative Commons

News of the Google God @ Creative Commons

This is for The Ride, an unreliable chronicle of my experiences in blogging. The next instalment of Fare Game will be ready tomorrow.

In the beginning, Google thought I was a typo.

I’m at the end of the first month of the block-headed project of blogging my hope-to-be novel Fare Game. There are so many things I’ve learnt, so many unexpected valuable experiences and lessons, so much I am yet to learn or even realise I am yet to learn, that to chronicle them would be tedious.

But here’s one observation I want to share … when I type ‘mickmccoy.com’ into Google’s search field it asks me, ‘Did you mean nickmccoy.com?’ If I entered ‘mick mccoy’ Google wouldn’t even be polite enough to ask the question, it would automatically tell me it was Showing results for Nick McCoy and then in micro font underneath tell me to ‘Click here for Mick McCoy’ Continue reading

Top 5 Top 5s

This one’s for The Ride. More Fare Game online tomorrow …
Isabella Rossellini

In an upcoming episode Driver is going to tell everyone about his top 5 taxi movies. I’ll let you in on a little secret … Taxi Driver is one of them! How could it not be? But no more about that until the post goes live. In my imaginings of Driver I have come up with other Top 5 lists that Driver might be inclined to compile. Driver quite likes a good list and they seem like a good way to give readers some insight into his personality.

And in case you’re wondering, I’M NOT DRIVER, OK? I have all his good qualities and none of his bad ones. I’ve never driven a taxi, although that’s not a bad quality, by any means. In fact, I have grown fond of my time in taxis talking to the various drivers I meet. I’ve never studied or practised law, I’m not Italian and have no Italian heritage, although I do have a soft spot for Alfa Romeos, Italian bicycles, double espresso and Isabella Rossellini, not in that order. I have only occasionally ridden Italian bicycles although I dream about and would very much like to own one and ride it a lot, at some point not too distant from now. I do own an Alfa so I ride in it a lot. I have never ridden Isabella Rossellini and am not prepared to reveal the extent to which I dream about it (see love-struck gibbon reference in next paragraph).

AND MY WIFE ISN’T MINNIE, EITHER while we’re on the topic. She is a physio, she does specialise in human plumbing, she did drive a burnt-orange Mazda shit-box … but we’re as faithful as love-struck gibbons (they’re really faithful, look it up!) although with much sexier hair.

Anyway, most of Driver’s other Top 5s won’t make it into the book. In fact, I don’t think any others will, but I thought I might post some of them here so you could get a stronger sense of the whole Driver-ness of the lad. So following is the Top 5 list of Driver’s Top 5s (other than taxi driver movies) that help describe Driver’s personality and bear not even the slightest morsel of a resemblance to Mick McCoy’s personality:

  1. Top 5 Italian cycling influences – could be riders, frames, components, clothing, footwear, races … anything that arouses Driver’s emotions. Yes, I know, not one for everyone, but the cyclists amongst the readership will argue endlessly, be astonished that I have a different list to theirs and call me (Driver) at least five kinds of moron. I hope;
  2. Top 5 Melbourne places to drink coffee – where the emphasis is not just on the quality of the coffee, but the total experience of consuming the coffee, including the hotness and/or attitude of the baristas and waitresses, the decor, the hotness and/or attitude of the baristas and waitresses, the setting, the hotness and/or attitude of the baristas and waitresses, the people who usually accompany Driver to that place to drink coffee or, come to think of it, the hotness and/or attitude of the baristas and waitresses;
  3. Top 5 Melbourne baristas and/or waitresses – Driver insists that this be its own category. He’s like that. He wants you to know that he’s not an old letch but rather someone who simply appreciates the importance of baristas and waitresses in the coffee experience. The baristas might even be male, but not the wait staff, they’re waitresses. Actually … doesn’t care if you think he’s an old letch. (Additional note: I think the plural is baristi when referring to men and bariste when referring to women, but I’m not sure, so I’m sticking with baristas. If you don’t agree, tell Driver, but just be prepared for the fact that he probably won’t care);
  4. Top 5 Italian restaurants – not just about coffee this time, but also food and setting and waitresses and patrons … the whole experience
  5. Top 5 Italian cultural influences (excluding things relating to cycling) – because Driver’s an Aussie. Now, there’s a chance that these might reflect my preferences rather than Driver’s, but even if that were true I wouldn’t admit to it. I’m too shy

A couple of other important things … the list of Top 5’s aren’t in order. Driver doesn’t necessarily rate cycling above coffee or general Italian cultural influences. And the five items in each Top 5 won’t be in order. If you want to think they are and argue with me about it, go right ahead. I would enjoy it, but Driver wouldn’t care.

So, there it is, Driver’s Top 5 Top 5’s. Coming soon!

Too busy killing darlings to ride

This one’s for The Ride. More Fare Game online tomorrow …

So here’s the thing… it’s kinda late, it has been a long day, I’m due to have posted something for The Ride and I’ve just been too plain busy doing the metaphorical riding – working on the transition of my days from full-time corporate functionary to thinking, feeling, creating writer – to get this blog piece done.

Well, yeah, I get the irony in that. And there’s even more ‘cos in between wrestling with the delicate balance of family and self and dollar-earning functionary and creative writer and glue-sniffing popcorn vendor – the recording of which is the exact point of The Ride posts – it’s a ride-like slice of writing that has tipped me over the precipice and left me here with so much to say that I can’t get any of it down.

Some of you will be aware of Kill Your Darlings, who describe themselves this way on Twitter: Kill Your Darlings is an independent, quarterly publication. We publish fresh, clever writing that combines intellect with intrigue.

On Friday, those very darlings agreed for me to contribute a piece to their blog about my bumpy ride. This very ride right here. As a result I have spent a good part of today doing my best to be clever, by combining intellect with intrigue, and shoe-horning the whole damn lot into a piece they will be sufficiently satisfied meets those lofty criteria and is consequently published. Bloody enjoyable it was, too.

By spending time killing darlings I am actually on The Ride. Two darling birds killed with one stone. Or one story. The keyboard is mightier than the stone, after all. You’ve probably heard that. Writing 1,000 words for them is very much a part of the ambition of this blog: do my topmost-notch job of writing Fare Game and use this blog and other relevant online avenues to raise awareness of that topmost-notch job.

Bums on seats, folks, that’s what I’m after. If some of those in the KYD audience want to mosey over and check-out some mcphoenixy Fare Game freshness, all the better. And while I’m strong on the re-animation theme here, preferably clad in a lovely rich purple, rather than the slaughter of  those I’m fond of, I’m sure we’ll learn to respect those differences.

But that’s it for now. I’m all clevered out. Clearly. Intrigue is off the agenda and I just spilt my intellect on the floor with the green tea bag. The cat – Harry – about whom it will be alleged soon in Fare Game is contentedly homosexual – has sniffed at my intellect as it seeps from the green tea bag and dribbles across my kitchen floor, turned up his nose at it all and sauntered off with his tail held high yet whiskers untwitched.

Antisocial Media

MEERKAT

MEERKAT (Photo credit: paddynapper)

 

This post is for The Ride: a record of my thoughts, fears, ambitions and experiences of blogging an unpublished novel.

 

For posts of the actual story – Fare Game – see the next post down, or click on the ‘Recent Posts’, ‘Archives’, or ‘Categories’ links to the right of the page and down a bit.

 

And please, if you’re not already, show your support for this blog by including your email address in the text box to the right and clicking ‘Follow’

 

Antisocial Media. That’s what I was calling Facebook for a few days this week. There was teeth-grinding, jaw clenching and eyebrow harvesting. Particularly eyebrow harvesting.  It’s what I do when I’m confronted with a problem I can’t fix. Or at least, it’s what I’m told I do, by my wife and two daughters. And If I look in the bathroom mirror, it is pretty clear my right eyebrow just stops about two-thirds the way along its proper course. Where the final third of eyebrow should be, there’s a kind of facial hair desert.

 

My girls didn’t lie to me about that. My girls wouldn’t lie to me, particularly if it relates to a further deterioration of my physical appearance that makes being seen in public with me even more painful for them. Their objective when out in public with me is that I seem invisible to people of their age. But a gross facial deformity such as the lack of the outside third of a right eyebrow renders you visible in the most embarrassing way. It’s something I’ve just got to deal with. Continue reading

1.3 Fare Game

Deutsch: Jack Nicholson bei der deutschen Film...

Film premiere The Bucket List, Berlin, 21 January 2008 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

This is the third instalment of Fare Game, the purpose of this blog. If you haven’t already, please
 Follow mcphoenix via email’ to the right to receive notifications of each new instalment.

Earlier instalments are available by clicking links in the Archives or Categories boxes to the right of the page. Here’s a synopsis of what happened last time:

Yep, that’s Stephanie alright – off to ride Punter’s political adversary – Driver pulls up short to prevent carnage – lifelessness outside the cemetery – the cost of Driver’s advice – a plan of revenge is hatched

And so to Fare Game, the third instalment …

Until that instant Driver had no idea what he was going to say. But he couldn’t bare the sight of Punter so full of self-pity.

‘Well you’re acting like you might as well be dead, so why don’t you just jump the fence?’ Driver said. ‘Why don’t you just jump the fence now and get it over with? Pick a stone, lift the lid and cosy up to some corpse or other.’

Punter looked at him, slack-faced. ‘You say it makes you feel sick. Big fucken deal. Go take an Aspirin, or something.’

‘I know it’s not about me, you idiot.’ Driver said.  ‘Look, I’ll make it nice and simple for you. Nice and clear. You remember The Postman Always Rings Twice?’ he asked. ‘The ’82 version with Jessica Lange and Jack Nicholson. You remember that?’

Driver knew he was drawing an exceedingly long bow. He knew the analogy would leave them both no better than stumbling towards some kind of clarity. But it was the only thing he could think of. It was the only way he could see forward. And it was forward. At least, it seemed that way to Driver.

‘Oh, no. You’ve got to be kidding me!’ Punter replied. ‘Please Driver, please, this is serious. Most of the time I can forgive your film-driven pop psychology. Even accept it at some level. But not now. Please.’ Continue reading

1.2 Fare Game

This is the second instalment of Fare Game, the purpose of this blog. If you haven’t already, please click ‘Follow mcphoenix via email’ to the right to receive notifications of each new instalment. 

The first instalment is available by clicking links in the Archives or Categories boxes to the right of the page. Or, there’s a two-line synopsis below.

Driver’s calling – An agitated Punter – Follow that car! – The politics of envy – Who’s in the Beemer? – The eyes have it – He’s headed to my place! – The woman in the passenger seat … is that Stephanie?

 And so to the new stuff: Fare Game, the second instalment …

But despite all the evidence on the table, Driver was acutely aware of the potentially messy consequences of drawing the wrong conclusion. Of in any way acting on a misunderstanding. Few men would be less than deeply offended if another assumed, correctly or not, that his wife was fooling around on him.

So Driver decided to continue feigning ignorance, just in case the conclusions he’d leapt to were wrong. ‘Do you want to tell me what this is all about?’

But it was as if Punter didn’t hear Driver at all. He was so lost in his own thoughts, in his own anxieties and black imaginings, that Driver’s voice apparently didn’t even register. So when his question went unanswered, Driver didn’t press it further.

‘Ha,’ Punter said, a sudden but artificial lifting of the gloom evident in his voice. ‘It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?’ He leaned even further forward and craned his neck to look directly up at the sky through the top of the wind screen. ‘I should buy ten grand worth of Italian pushbike and join you and those wanker mates of yours in their lycra, clogging up Beach Road and hogging all the tables at Café Racer.’

‘Should you?’ Driver asked him.

‘Well I can’t afford a car like his, so how else am I gunna compete? I gotta get back into shape.’

Continue reading

Reflections on the first instalment

This is the third post for The Ride: a record of my thoughts, fears, ambitions and experiences of blogging an unpublished novel. For the first post of the actual story, see the next post down

There, it’s done. Am I calm? No. Excited? Yes. But you can be ‘excited’ if an angry rhino is bearing down on you and there’s nowhere to hide. All I’m doing here is blogging a book, so what’s with the anxiety?

While I’m not risking death or dismemberment by taking this relatively unusual step of committing a new novel to a blog format and relentless schedule, I am exposing myself to the potential for a very public kind of failure.  I hope the blog is very public. I also hope it’s not a failure.

Continue reading

1.1 Fare Game

City Square, Melbourne, Australia, from Swanst...

City Square, Melbourne, Australia, from Swanston Street (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

This is the first instalment of Fare Game, the purpose of this blog. If you click ‘Follow mcphoenix via email’ to the right you will receive notifications of each new instalment.

As he crossed Swanston Street the tyres of Driver’s taxi beat out a ragged rhythm against the tram lines. He loved that sound. Always had.  While it served a bitter-sweet reminder of his father, more generally the industrially sprung percussion of rubber against steel rails also evoked more positive emotions. A feeling of progress, of movement and delivery, which was perhaps the main attraction of his job. And a feeling of a very particular kind of intimacy, the audience for the beat he conducted being witnessed by no one except the occupants of his cab. A feeling of connectedness to place, that sound not being replicated in quite the same way in any other town or city in the country, or in more than a handful of cities beyond. A sense that this vocation in this city was not merely a symptom of his indecision, as Minnie liked to think, or his failure to commit to what he had trained to do. Not a diversion – albeit of six years’ duration and counting – from his proper path, but rather the path. The true and proper path, regardless of what anyone else said. That sound was the self-affirming tattoo for his chosen professional life. At least, that’s what he liked to tell himself. And while all that was about to begin unravelling, for the better part of those last six years, Driver had convinced himself that was the only thing that mattered.

Coasting up the rise along Collins Street he spotted his waiting customer on the opposite footpath outside the Westin, impatience furrowing his brow and rendering him fidgety and agitated, unable to stand still. Six-three, or six-four of him shuffling from foot to foot as if the pavement was made of hot coals and embers, or as if he was busting for a piss. It brought a knowing smile momentarily to Driver’s face, one that he guessed he’d better extinguish before his passenger joined him.

Continue reading

A short pause before releasing the clutch

I’m ready to go, truly I am. The first post is written and could so easily have gone live today, only for my resolve to be weakened and ultimately defeated by the realisation that trying to wrestle the attention of my invited audience while they were preparing to get children to school the following day may be a crap idea.

So I didn’t even send the invitations. HTFU, you might say.

Continue reading

In the beginning …

On this page in late January 2013 will appear a post containing the first instalment of Fare Game, a story about a cabbie called Driver Ancelotti; part Don Juan, part Don Quixote. Those two Spanish Dons epitomise opposites in many ways; violent womaniser versus chivalrous gentleman, wealthy gambler versus virtuous knight, even if in somewhat tarnished armor.

Driver is an Italian manifestation of much that they stand for, blending their differences and similarities into one not so ordinary man. Resident of Carlton, movie buff, coffee snob, cyclist and one-time lawyer, Driver’s cab sometimes offers refuge, sometimes a magic carpet ride.

I don’t yet know how the story ends, although I have a few ideas. But I can at least tell you how it starts …

Continue reading