The Observer Effect

It is a law of physics that the mere act of observation changes/affects that which is being observed.

There has been many experiments in the field of quantum mechanics - the science of the very small, where it has been proven that the electrons that surround the nucleus of an atom, which are non-local in nature (not in one precise point but rather in a cloud of potentiality) only condense to become local if they are being observed. So in essence they move from potentially being anywhere and everywhere in the orbit of a nucleus to a precise point only if someone is there to watch it.

I hope I haven't made an absolute mess of trying to break down ridiculously complex physics into basic language but I really wanted to post something which is scientific law and relevant to our everyday experience.

There are many examples where this law could be used to illustrate its veracity. I'll use creative license and talk about two such examples.

1. A metaphoric example: Since this blog is partly about living one's dreams, I thought I would attempt to make a link between this immutable law and the act of achieving one's goals. As we continually make lists of things we like to see, do, have, accomplish, experience, etc, we create a field of potentiality; one that we continue to hone, refine, improve upon and so on as time goes by and our life experience builds. It just so happens that the actual achievement of said goal/s only comes when you have kept your attention on it (taking time, effort, opportunity, luck and the other nebulous bits) to bring the dream out of the ether into solid reality. What you think about you bring about we're constantly told...
2.  A literal example: Since this blog is also about the creative endeavor - specifically writing, here is an example where I have personal experience... With writing I have repeatedly come across the advice that you should be careful about showing anyone your writing - whilst it is in its draft stages (the question of 'when is a book truly finished?' will be tackled in a future post). The reason being is that your reader/observer through your invitation will affect your writing through sharing opinion, asking a question, making a comment, omitting a comment, making a facial expression (real or imagined), and on it goes. Sometimes this can be to the benefit of the story and other times to its detriment - but either way, it will change the beast and affect you, the writer. It cannot be any other way. 

Food for thought, no? So keep it in the back of your mind that merely observing something or someone does have a powerful effect. The ramifications are awesome.

Fan Mail #1

A rather random posting on someone I am an unabashed fan of... (I might actually add further postings to this theme from time to time, just for a bit of fun).

Dawn French: the rather marvelous actress, writer, comedian, all-round fabulous woman, who I am a flag-waving fan of. On my only (to this point) trip to London back in 2003, I went to the West End and saw a one-woman play staring Ms. French called 'My Brilliant Divorce.' It was hilarious and heartfelt and remains a wonderful memory.

The reason for my post is that I've just watched a marathon of Dawn's "Vicar of Dibley" episodes - all 20 of them, over the weekend. If you haven't caught this show, please do yourself a favor, go out and buy it! It's English comedy at its best. The creator, Richard Curtis is the talented chap behind Four Weddings and Funeral, Notting Hill, and Love Actually - so if you like those films, I think you'd love this show's take of a female vicar that lands in a quaint, countryside town with the oddest, yet loveliest bunch of characters. I've seen all the episodes countless times and despite knowing what happens - even down to miming the dialogue, it genuinely makes me laugh in a way that few shows (especially on repeat viewing) can.

If I can turn but one person in the direction of this show - and this exceptionally talented woman, I would have done my good deed for the gods of entertainment.
 

The Carousel of Guilt

After posting my last blog - regarding my 'day job' as an Aviation Instructor and the rigors of training, I had hoped to reengage with both my writing and my posting. Perhaps it was naive of me to expect to go full tilt, but I did expect to do more than  I subsequently have = not a thing.

So, my sometime companion, guilt, popped by to torture me softly over what I should be doing, of what should have been done, and what I must now do.

Perhaps it's wisdom in age - another birthday just passed last week, but I thought to myself that this time, this time, I would not let my unwanted mental house-guest to outstay its welcome. And it is welcome, only because it spurs me to activate my situational awareness of my current state - which is healthy, but then it continues on and starts sabotaging my feelings of self-worth and self-esteem, culminating in "I'll never get published at this rate" and the like.

How many fellow writers out there go through the same dance?

The excuses are invariably there - new job is intense, I'm keeping long hours, I'm studying at home to the point of dreaming of airplanes, trying to keep up with my home obligations, squeezing in a life and some sorely needed sleep to name but a few. I could then either hold these reasons up as armor and feel vindicated, or feel forlorn that I've hid behind them and failed to achieve what I set out to do. Both options I have visited.

But not this time.

Simply put, it is what it is, and now I will revisit my time management schedule (I've started keeping one this year, and before the changes at work threw it all asunder, I was kicking goals rather well), and I will take things ONE STEP AT A TIME. Do one thing, followed by the next, and so on.

That is how anything worthwhile gets done (and hopefully done well, with skill and care). I will keep my dreams on an achievable, bite-sized scale, AND I will allow myself to be a multifaceted and flawed human who lives and loves in the real world - with all of its unpredictability.

I call that progress.

I hope by sharing I might help others out there get off the nauseating Carousel of Guilt.

Happy writing!

Evacuate!

Where did March go?

I sit here, completely run down with a head cold and utterly exhausted after a relentless month (my doctor informed me yesterday that my left eardrum is bleeding a little, to top it all off).

I had to put away everything - personal life, family, writing, exercising...all in an effort to run the gauntlet of Emergency Procedures training that all pilots and cabin crew must pass in order to fly above the clouds.

There was a twist in my story though.

I was part of an initial flight attendant course - and I had to sit all the exams and the practical drills, but I was there as a 'trainee trainer'. For those of you out there who think flight attendant school consists of learning how to serve food and beverages in the sky - think again! The first four weeks of the course is all about dealing with emergencies at 40,000ft.

Crash landings, ditchings (landing on water), inflight fires, depressurisations, dealing with door and exit malfunctions, pilots who are incapacitated, post-crash survival, and I can keep going...is what occurs every nine hour work day during the course. The pass mark for written exams is 80%, and in other assessments, only 100% will be deemed a pass. (In my case, as a new Aviation Safety Instructor, it was expected that I ace them all - no pressure...it was a cinch...really...(gulp). Some don't make it, and tears are shed, tempers sometimes fray, but the pressure-cooker environment is purposely crafted to see what crew are made of in the event of an emergency.

Sitting at my desk now, at the tail end of it, I have to say it was an awesome month. The pressure was immense and the scenarios were grim, but working with the new recruits (who you can't help but bond with over the course of the journey), and working with my fellow instructors - who range from former soldiers, fire fighters, flight attendants, pilots, school teachers, air marshals and other fascinating backgrounds, made March a crazy, intense, cortisol-increasing month, but one that was well worth the journey.

Coming from instructing crew in aviation first aid and security (anti-terrorism), to now being on the journey to becoming an emergency procedures instructor, it makes the non-writing part of my life feel incredibly worthwhile.

Having said that, I am looking forward to getting stuck back into my novel right after the Easter break. As broken as I feel now, I have been reinvigorated creatively and I'm excited about the next few months - I am also at the tentative beginnings of creating an 'author website'.

But, in the meantime, whether you celebrate Easter or not, eats loads of chocolate and get out amongst it all with your loved ones - that's what I'll be doing.

And the Academy Award goes to...

I have just finished watching the Oscars - Not the entire broadcast mind you, I pretty much fast-forwarded to the Top 8 Categories... Best Original Screenplay; Best Adapted Screenplay; Best Director; Best Actor in a Supporting Role; Best Actress in a Supporting Role; Best Actor in a Leading Role; Best Actress in a Leading Role and; Best Picture.

(No disrespect to the FOUR hour extravaganza, it's just that it aired here in Sydney smack bang in the middle of the day and I had to work...cough...)

For an unabashed lover of the cinema, I must say I thoroughly enjoyed all the films that scored the acting awards - The Help; The Iron Lady; Beginners; The Artist. (Special mention to A Week With Marilyn, too).

For all storytellers, originality or the closest thing to it, is something that we revel in and strive for. How to stay true to your voice and write with passion - to not follow the path that others have laid, but to forge your own (all the while being sane enough to take note, respect the craft and the trusted storytelling archetypal framework), is the ultimate goal for many. That is why I found this year's disparate Oscar-nominated films a wonderful example of exactly that - unbridled creativity. 

None so more than the winner of Best Picture - The Artist.

A silent film? Who would finance this? Who would believe in the creator of this wild concept enough to take a chance? And who would see it ('how many people would pay to see it' is probably the more important question for the commercially-minded)?

Most writers look at their own work in the same hopeful way. 'Who will take a chance on me - on this?'

Watching 'The Artist' win today - and seeing 'The Help' succeed so wonderfully (the author, Kathryn Stockett was soundly rejected by over 60 literary agents), is wonderful food for the creative soul.

May this inspire further creators out there to spin tales - and to never stop believing.

Murder!

As I am polishing, revising, and cutting my YA novel for the umpteenth time in an effort to adhere to the "less is more" idiom, I did something that I'm still in shock over...

I killed a character.

Not in a dramatic one-two punch that's designed for readers to first fall in love, and then, lose a character (and hopefully by that stage, a friend). No, I've decided to annihilate every last trace of the character so that she never even existed.

This troubles me. I didn't see it coming. It certainly wasn't premeditated. And she's a major player in the unfolding of events - sometimes, she actually is the only one who knows what is happening, and therefore informs the reader through her presence. But despite her importance, it became clear a few days ago that she had to go. She was so weak. She didn't belong. She wasn't real...

And so the axe fell.

The messy aftermath is there for me to clean up. There's no need for luminol and black-light to see the hidden traces of blood spatter - it's all there in the succeeding chapters after her introduction (and now demise). I find I am having to erase all notions of reference and find other creative ways to use 'heralds' throughout the stories to propel the narrative in her stead.

The carnage is brutal, but it is containable. And when I am done with the clean-up, the story will be a tighter, more cohesive entity that will serve the manuscript well.

When I devoured Stephen King's excellent book, 'On Writing,' years ago, I didn't realize I'd take his "kill your darlings..." quote beyond editing prose and into dispatching a character. But I have.

And now I feel guilty. And my hands feel a little dirty...

The Ultimate Athlete?

As an avid tennis fan (it's the only sport I am remotely decent at), I was glued to the television during the men's singles final of the Australian Open between Djokovic and Nadal. After nearly six gruelling hours of punishing tennis, the World No.1 triumphed and lifted his fifth grand slam trophy (he in fact has won 4 out of the last 5).

Perhaps it's a little bit of a stretch to insert the analogy of being a writer into the realm of a being a tennis player, but indulge me a little. I promise not to use too much latitude...

Before the beginning of 2011, Djokovic had a single major under his belt (way back in 2008). Nadal and Federer were firmly entrenched as the dominating duopoly of the game. So what it is that made Djokovic suddenly go on a tear that has crowned him a clear Number 1?

At that level they all play amazing tennis, and their athletic prowess is otherworldly. So what indeed makes up the difference between these gifted athletes in a sport where there must only be one winner? If physically, you are a solid specimen, and you've put in all the required hours on the practice court, in the gym, with nutrition, etc, then all that's left behind is that hard-to-quantify and cliche ridden, grey matter: mental strength.

When he was asked multiple times last year how he had managed to suddenly usurp his competition, Djokovic kept replying that it was his belief - his new mentality that was the difference. That he as a player did not suddenly play a radically different game. The men's final on the 29th January was indeed a microcosm of his burgeoning belief. He did not give up. He believed in his ability. He stood toe-to-toe with an athlete who is arguably the fittest player on the tour and he refused to break...

So, why am I blogging about this? Sure, as a tennis fan, this story is both entertaining and intriguing - but as a writer, I found some interesting parallels. There are indeed so many wonderfully talented writers already in print, and others waiting to be discovered. You compete among thousands to be represented by a literary agent, who then competes with countless others to place your work with a publisher who only has finite slots to fill, who then attempts to sell the finished product to the saturated market in order to make substantial capital. The question for the aspiring author is, why should your manuscript be the one to compete - and win - against such tall odds and plentiful competition?

When you have put in (and continue to put in) all the hard yards; when you keep reaching out, learning all you can from those who have gone before; when you hone those unique set of storytelling skills, and you continue to write - what is the nebulous extra bit that will get you over the line?

Belief.