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Of Dastardly Dictation November 12, 2008

Posted by Jen in : A363 Open University , 23 comments

Ahem. Studying, as I am, play-writing (the writing of plays, for those unfamiliar with such wizardly technical terms) the lesson has turned to speech. Dialect and accents. Now, I’m finding this a bit tricky. Any characters I write with an accent sound like halfwits. And to add to the wordy woe, apparently – when speaking colloquially - we’re all tripping our tongues tightly over iambic pentameter*. Erm… I’m not. I’ve checked: I’m mostly spouting crap.  Oh dear. So far, so bad. And, spending all day as I do typing words that my boss has said with his mouth, I’m quite sure he isn’t talking iambically pentameter-ish either. I wonder whether I should point this out to him? I’m sure he’d want to know about such dictatorial shortcomings.  No, maybe not then.

I have, of course, tried listening to lovely bf but he is from the North and therefore unable to speak properly anyway. Hmmmmmm. The course book suggests eavesdropping adventures. But, with all the studying and obsessing about play-writing, I am looking rather scruffier than usual which, combined with my lack of stealth-like stealth, means I am quite likely to be arrested for looking suspiciously sinister. But in prison, at least, I will learn some good lingo. And I will fit in well, the lack of time also producing what lovely bf lovingly refers to as ‘prison legs’. This play-writing lark is becoming more hazardous than I could have imagined. I bet Big Willy Shakespeare never had this trouble.

But (and don’t tell anyone) I am utterly bloody hooked on the idea of dramatization. It’s never occurred to me before that it’s something I could do. And at my A363 tutorial on Saturday, as I sat huddled up with 2 strangers and the motley collection of characters we’d just invented in our Brians, we wrote a play. And laughed and laughed and laughed… I am addicted. Obsessed with teasing tiny nuances out of simple sentences.  Even when I sleep, my characters are cartwheeling and clattering about in my mind.

I think this lark will make me slightly mental. (Iambic pentameter, that. Hope you noticed.) Gawd. Pass the posh characters. I feel a touch of the luvvies coming on.

* Lovely bf is insisting upon referring endlessly to pant-ometers, i.e. the measuring of knickers.  I, on the ther hand, am mindful of panto-meter which could be useful in working out whether there’s room for that fully dressed horse after all.


Of Existential Excitement (and the lack thereof) November 6, 2008

Posted by Jen in : A363 Open University, Journal , 28 comments

Yoo hoo, my little pumpkin pies, here I am. Not that I’ve actually been anywhere. I had a week off work, didn’t go to Gozo or anywhere else, but spent it tippy-tapping away at my OU assignment. My writing meltdown now seems slightly less overwhelming (thanks to B for feedbacking and to everyone who left jollifying comments. Aw, you guys…) and I’m waiting to see what that crisis will be replaced with.

Actually, I don’t think I am having a writing crisis – it’s more of a life crisis. Mid-life, perhaps. Or too-much life. I don’t know. There’s always time for the things one’s passionate about but what happens when you’re passionate about everything? Of course, there are things I’m not so in love with… housework, being slightly lardy and spending 8 hours a day typing stuff about bits of grass. But sadly, it seems to be the non-hurrah bits that take up all the time. Hmmmmm.

The idea of toiling through an OU degree has been, for the past 10 years or so, to train as a primary school teacher. But I’m beginning to think that not liking children very much might make this a slightly dodgy career choice. And, yes, while I dream of earning my pennies as a writer, chances are I’m gonna have to do something lucrative too.  But what could I be when I grow up?  Any suggestions?

In the meantime, I’m studying dramatization. Play-writing. I will not let my stomach churn at the thought of trying to write words meant for real people to say with their mouths. And, if a real person would like to be in my unwritten play, please do let me know. There are only two criteria: you must have a beard and be proficient at cartwheels. Or knitting. Form an orderly queue, if you please…

Of Sneaky Subconsciousness October 24, 2008

Posted by Jen in : A363 Open University, Journal , 37 comments

Deary me. And *sigh*. You get the drift. Somewhere along the way recently, I’ve fallen into a big, black hole. I didn’t see it coming at all and must assume that someone had covered it over with a leaf or something to trick me good ‘n’ proper.

It hasn’t been much fun inside the hole – in fact, the (w)hole thing has been rather crapsome. Crapulous. To the power of 67 with poo on top. *Sigh*

My writing and course oomph has not broken down so much as been machine gunned against a wall until slumped hopelessly, beyond resuscitation. I just don’t know if I’m up to the job. The forum where we post up bits of writing/assignments is full of top-notch stuff. Needless to say, there are no dripping wounds of mine up there. People’s TMAs are sitting proudly, being polished and buffed before submission next week.

Me? I still have my limping Rentaghost wotsit rumbling away. Yesterday, I could see some glimmers of light sneaking into the hole. I bailed out of yet another rehearsal with The Orchestra of the Undead, stuck my head in my books and tried to have some thoughts. I would study, be vino-free and go to bed with Alan Ayckbourn and wake up to an epiphany of the highest order.

And, I swear, despite almost being of the age now where I have to defend my old-fogey music as timeless classics that this is not something that should be in my Brian for any reason.

The hole is taunting me; the 2am epiphany that woke me with my heart thumping was this. *Sigh*

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The Will to Witter (Witlessly) October 9, 2008

Posted by Jen in : A363 Open University, Journal , 32 comments

On this cloudless, motionless morning in East Sussex, I ask of you this, dear reader:  do you perchance have a torch about your person?

I seem to have lost my words.  Usually, I have too many words.  They’re bursting out of me all the time, a fevered frenzy of communicative clamour.  Real life seems a little unreal right now and this is feeding through to the writing I am doing for A363.  I have wondered whether this slight madness has anything to do with my NHS-approved* self-medication of VodkaLemsip cocktails.  When not slurping these up through a straw and alarming the neighbours with my impressive phlegm-expulsion techniques, I am writing crazy-fool stuff about Northern stand-up comedians who accidentally become vicars in tiny Spanish towns.  And I have been thinking about Jesus a lot.  Our Saviour.  Riding up and down Heathfield High Street on a bicycle whilst wearing an orange beret.  And what his mother would say about the whole thing.  And I’m going to write about it and post it on the workshop forum and then regret it and have a little cry.

So.  If you have seen my sensible words anywhere, do let me know as soon as possible.  If not sooner.  Ta very much.

* not quite true, actually

Of (Open) University Challenges September 30, 2008

Posted by Jen in : A363 Open University, Journal , 27 comments

Nearly October?  Really?  Oh my giddy aunt.  My aunt’s giddiness is because Nearly October marks the start of my next OU course.

‘Just think,’ said lovely bf cheerfully on Sunday, ‘this time next week we’ll be behind with our coursework.’

Now this is most unlike me so don’t tell anyone, will you?  But I, um, decided to get ahead.  I might get a hat too soon.  A special writing hat.  Yes indeed.  Anyway, I lugged out the whopping course book and read the introduction.  Then I started on the first chapter.  Tonight, Matthew, I shall be Playing with Genre.  Ha! Playing with Genre? my inner wibble screeched.  Who do you think you are, talking about that sort of thing?  You nitwit.  Go and watch Emmerdale or something and stop being so silly.

I put the book away again.  Ooh, flippin ‘eck.  It all sounds a bit complimicated.   The tutor group discussion forum wotsit has opened and we are, as instructed, doing our ‘getting to know you’ exercises.

‘80 words and the first thing you’ve posted and still you manage to mention donkeys and porn stars!’ exclaimed lovely bf, while perfecting his much-used eye-rolling routine.

Oh dear.  In between finding new ways to procrastinate, I must try to be more sensible.

Now where did I put that pantomime horse?