Life-long learning: food and forensic psychology

This time next week, I’ll be in a classroom.

I’m having a lot of free time this summer and want to use it well. As well as setting deadlines and tasks for myself, I’ve signed up for a course in forensic psychology at University of Edinburgh, and an online course on science and cooking with Harvard. They’re very different types of courses, and I’m doing them for very different reasons.

When I’m not writing instructions or fiction, I write for Edinburgh Foody. I love food and am interested in its production as well as its consumption. Science & Cooking combines my professional and blogging interests rather neatly in what is essentially an introduction to chemistry and physics, as applied to food. I’ve read both subjects before but it was a while ago and I have forgotten most of it – including basic calculus – so this is a great way to re-acquaint myself with subjects, concepts and skills I have neglected. So far, so good. I’m learning a lot, both about chemistry and how online training works. I’m enjoying the experience. (I’ve never eaten so many eggs in my life.)

Education is never just for fun so there’s a purpose behind taking An Introduction to Forensic Psychology too. I’m hoping to learn things I can use when writing crime stories (and getting a great reading list with resources that I can turn to). No doubt, some of my colleagues will have similar ideas. The course should also, finger’s crossed, re-ignite my interest in the project in my drawer, the one I abandoned in favour of the project I just finished transcribing. Last week was the big read-through, you see. I had 100K words of drawer-project that I hadn’t looked at for over a year. Reading through it was interesting, and somewhat depressing. A new topic to learn about and give me ideas is just the thing to distract my brain enough that I don’t shred the thing.

Don’t let me shred the thing. Please.

This is my summer of learning. At the back of my mind, I’m playing with food and chemistry-based storylines. Next week, I’m hoping to add psychology to the mix and then we’ll see what starts brewing. A glorious mess?

Reading about writing (isn’t writing)

Every now and again I read a book about writing. It always inspires me and reminds me to think about what I’m doing. This week, I’m reading Chuck Wendig’s The Kickass Writer. When flicking through it, I saw the following advice:

Talking about writing isn’t writing.

Enough said. Almost. It made me think about reading about writing as a distraction from the action of writing. It is easy when you’re busy, or tired, or disheartened, to feel that reading about writing almost counts as writing. It is, after all, just like reading in the genre your write in, and reading outside it too, part of the job of writing. But it isn’t writing. It isn’t productive: it might put fire in your belly and ideas in your head but that doesn’t necessarily translate to words on a page.

Words on a page is what it’s all about. That’s writing. I just clocked 150.

Writing about writing, although writing, is a distraction. I’m going to do some editing now.

Getting ready for the Edinburgh International Book Festival

Last year, I spent more time in the book shop than I did at the actual book festival. I can’t remember what happened to keep me away, but this year, I to play it differently. I didn’t hang on the phone and book hundreds of pounds of tickets but am taking a more leisurely approach. The first tickets I booked were not just for me but also a gift to my father-in-law.

My father-in-law and I have bonded over books. We don’t read all the same writers, but we both read quite a lot. After he told me about Benedict Jacka and lent me a book by him he’d enjoyed, I set out to introduce him to more urban fantasy/crime. My first step was to buy him three of Ben Aaronovitch’s Peter Grant books.

I’m a fan of Peter Grant. I took to him, and the people around him, immediately and enjoy spending time in his universe. I’m delighted to say that my father-in-law does too. He’s re-read the books at least once and is looking forward to the next one with some impatience.

He also reads Jim Butcher and we’ve had interesting conversations about the differences between the American way of telling a story and the British way. What makes one set of characters human and endearing and the other occasionally irritating? (We have other series to use for the comparison too: we’re getting erudite on this genre, Jim and I.)

So the tickets I got for the book festival? Ben Aaronovitch talking about writing a series. We’re looking forward to it and I expect we’ll have a grand evening.

Sunday’s the deadline

Deadlines are very helpful. They motivate me to get things done. That is, if they’re external. Deadlines I set for myself – ones that I can miss without anyone noticing – I find it difficult to hit. When the only one looking over my shoulder is me, I don’t honour the agreement. This is a problem when you’re trying to finish a novel no one has asked for.

Last year,  I set a September deadline for finishing my current project. I missed it, that’s how well that went. I had very good reasons for missing it, of course: stuff happened, and then there was that thing. But stuff always happens. Every year is a landslide of stuff, this year is no different.

So, I decided to set myself another deadline and stick to it, come hell or high water.

It’s a tight deadline. Challenging. I set it on Monday, and this is what I’ve agreed with myself: By the end of this week, I will have finished the toilet-paper draft of the current project.

It’s not going to be easy, but I’ve got all I need to succeed: a fresh new note book, pens, a list of scenes I’ve forgotten to write, a map of where I’m going. I have time. It’s not that far to go. By Sunday, it’ll be done.

My hand hurts from writing. It’s a nice feeling.

The keyboard and the pen – writing by hand

A while back, I wrote about why I write using a keyboard instead of a pen. Since I wrote that, things have changed. I still write a lot fingertip to keyboard – this blog post, for example – but I’ve started writing fiction by hand.

Why? I think it was because I needed to do something to change my habits of non-writing to try to get back to writing. Last year wasn’t very productive and I had a novel (Just the one? Why, now that you ask, no.) that I wanted to finish. To finish a novel one has to write it. It’s an absolute causal relationship.

Writing by hand is supposed to give you a better first draft. It’s something about the direct connection between brain and hand. Disclaimer: I’m not sure I believe in that without research to support it and I’m not going looking for the research. I am still hoping to get a slightly better draft by writing by hand for several reasons.

Cafés are convenient spaces when there are no libraries nearby.
Cafés are convenient spaces when there are no libraries nearby.

Firstly, I write slower by hand which means that I have more time to think. My hope is that slowing down allows me to construct better sentences and to figure out what comes next so that I can write for longer without having to stop. I can type fairly quickly and if I charge ahead on the keyboard, I sometimes type myself into a wall because I write down what’s in my head and don’t have time to think about the plot.

The second important reason I write by hand is that it stops me from eternal editing. There’s only so many changes you can do on a page of paper before the text becomes completely illegible. Which is why I write in ink*, not pencil.

The third reason for hand writing is that the transcription process allows me a first edit. It doesn’t count as a draft at all until al the text is on file, you see. Transcription is, basically, a soft re-write.

There’s a fourth reason for writing by hand that I’ve found after starting this process. Pen and paper is easier to carry around than a laptop. It’s faster to boot up. When I was working in an office, I went to a local café at lunchtime to write for half an hour. I might not have written much, but I wrote a little every day and something’s much better than nothing. The barrier to writing is lower when all you need is pen and paper.

Transcription. Now that’s dull.

When I’ve finished the first draft, I will let it rest for a month or so before doing a first read-through. That’s when I’ll find out whether writing slowly has made my first draft better than I believe it would have been otherwise.

Science doesn’t have a look-in. The important thing here is to continue writing. Anything that keeps me doing that is OK with me**.

 

* Recently, I’ve been writing with glitter gel pens. The first one was just a test, but I was charmed by the ridiculous sparkles, the cheerful colours and the smooth ink flow. Especially the smooth ink flow.

** Glitter gel pens.

Lost in translation – reading values between the lines

I went to see a Swedish film recently. I enjoy watching films in my mother tongue, not just because I learn (or remember) things about Swedish culture, but also because I have fun reading the subtitles.

Subtitling is a difficult job. The translator has to fit everything that’s said, ideally with nuances and not just the literal words, into one or two lines of text. It’s like tweeting film dialogue: A lot is lost. When the translator is good, you don’t mind,this is how it works. When the translator’s not so good, well, it can be annoying. I have tales. But I’m not telling one of them today. This film was well translated. It did, however, tell me something about British culture*.

Two women are talking together. One of them doesn’t understand the other one’s relationship choices. She says something along the lines of: ‘You meet someone, build a relationship, have kids and get married‘, neatly spelling out a Swedish relationship narrative. The translation laid out the British version: ‘You meet someone, build a relationship, get married and have kids.’

As my fellow lady scientist Jessica Johannesson Gaitán said when I attended a poetry translation workshop she ran, ‘translation is about choices‘. I imagine that when you translate a film, the aim is to help the viewer understand the dialogue, to ensure that there’s as little as possible between them and their enjoyment of the film.

I can’t stop wondering why the translator decided that the idea of having children before marriage would shock the viewer out of their engagement with the film. Were they they concerned that the original order would mean the film wouldn’t work in English-speaking countries with strong religious leanings? Where they themselves taken aback and wanted to save the viewer the same shock? Or was it a not a decision at all: Did they miss-hear, or assume, the order?

It’s not the choice I would have made, but the reasons for it will continue to intrigue me.

* Assuming that the translator was British.

(If you get a chance to watch Force Majeure – do. It is frustrating and sad and full of family drama, but it is also very funny and sweet.)

 

Lady scientists step out in Dundee

We had a ball on Friday. The lady scientists got back together and this time it was for a road trip to Dundee where we shared our stories as part of the Women in Science Festival. The D’Arcey Thompson lecture hall has great acoustics so we needed to help to raise our voices. The organisers of the festival had got the word out of our visit to all the right places so we had a great audience. It wouldn’t have been as fun without them, helping us along by laughing in the right places and generous with praise in the interval.

Before the show, we had a photo call. Dundee Courier ran an article about us on Saturday and the photo below, by CD Thompson, is from that article.

The lady scientists stitch, bitch and walk in Dundee.
The lady scientists stitch, bitch and walk in Dundee: Melissa Hugel, Kaite Welsh, Rebecca Douglas, Jessica Johannesson-Gaitán, Emily Dodd, Rachel McCrumb, yours truly.

 

Lady Scientists’ Stitch and Bitch comes to the Dundee Women in Science Festival 2015

The Lady Scientists have been invited to perform at the Dundee Women in Science Festival. We will tell our tales on March 27th, in the D’Arcy Thompson Lecture Theatre at Dundee University at 19:00. The lecture hall can take 290 people and we really hope we’ll fill it! More details will follow, including information on how to get tickets. In the meanwhile, here’s a sample of what you’ll hear.

This 1 minute 36 second snippet from the second part of Marie Curie’s story is from our first performance, at the Edinburgh International Science Festival in April last year. I make a gaff towards the end, but you’ll probably only notice is you’re an avid knitter. Enjoy!

 

Reading your own work: cringing and grinning

I read one of my own stories the other day. I was editing the Read Me page and saw a link to a Christmas story I didn’t remember writing. So I read it.

At first, there was cringing. I know it was a fast, unedited write, but there were problems that made me want to smack myself. At the end, however, I giggled. Not because of awfulness, but because I liked the twist.

It feels self-obsessed to enjoy your own writing, but that giggle gave me more pleasure than I can say. The reason I write is that I love reading: I want to create stories for others like the ones that transport and fascinate me. For a split second, I transported (or at least entertained) myself. That’s very reassuring. If I can’t stand my output, why would anyone else? Next year, I hope the writer in me write more messages to the reader in me, reminding her of what it’s all about.

Merry Christmas! I hope there are lots of books beneath your tree.