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Tag: artsy fartsy

Seventy three feet below the surface,

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And i’m beginning to feel a lot like Hans Moleman. Short, shrivelled, thick coke bottle glasses and desperately in need of a kick to the balls to remain relevant in today’s media environment. Or was it a football to the testes that garnered him the win during the short film contest? It’s been so long that I forget. A lone “Ha-ha!” Booms out from the distance, as Nelson Mandela Muntz skitters back into obscurity behind a dumpster somewhere.

Yeah, so…. busy week I guess. A long feeling short week coming off the holiday Monday. Looks like Ukraine has a shit tonne of bad to look towards for the foreseeable future. That’s just going to be a horrific mess no matter what. You know what, I don’t really know enough to make any real qualitative statements, so I’ll just leave it alone, from a policy, or action view point. Just to say, I feel for Ukraine and its people. I hope they prevail, and that most of their people make it out the otherside alive and well. But, God-Damn!, what a mess.

Looking like white out conditions here. The starting temperature was minus twelve, plus whatever the wind chill factor is because she’s a tad blowy out there fellas. It’s fucken WIMDY, as the memes would say. Sad wind blown fox on a field of white .jpeg – as it were. It usually doesn’t snow once the degrees drop that low, but again, not a meteorologist. Studied weather, climate and ecology a little in university, just enough to be a useful idiot I suppose. I had a broad but shallow base to my post secondary education, excluding the Print & Web Graphic Design stuff. That was laser focused and very intensive. But that was from two separate Art Schools and not the University I attended as well, so – Nyah!

The last couple weeks have been busy with work, so my brain hasn’t occupied the creative writing space in a number of days. Next week won’t be any better in that front as I have the first of three big spring reports coming, and those will soak up some serious brain power, focus and wrist strength. Although, you know I’ll say that, and then will desperately need a break from it all and will write something. So who knows any more. I don’t think this second book will reach sixty thousand words, but if I hit forty thousand then cumulatively I’ll have done 100,000 which is like a short-ish full sized novel. Which is cool.

Strike that from the bucket list. Check! Just need to write and record at least one song, produce a comic book of 32-64 pages in length, and I will have a good chunk of my childhood dream projects completed. I’m a working artist, I own my own business, I sculpt reasonably well, I have made tables and wood working projects. Went to art school, but also did Soc & Business in university, traveled across Europe, got married, have kids, had a lovely old fat dopey mutt (until he passed away at 12 yrs old) and have worked on major campaigns for multiple big breweries, and have helped launch smaller micro breweries too. Do I wish we were rich beyond measure, sure, but we’re also not doing too badly either. Working for myself affords me the time to be with my kids, instead of leaving the house at 6:00am and getting home after 8:00pm, and being a grumpy shit. I do school drop offs and pick ups, I’m here for sick days and appointments. I fix lunches and breakfasts. I brush teeth and hair. I can do bath times and bed time stories. It’s rather lovely when you compare it to my days before kids.

Day 48, and it’s going to be a busy one.

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Lots to do, lots to do today. Also have to get my eye sight checked today. Fingers are crossed that I still don’t need real prescription glasses. Trying to hold off, as once I give in my eyes will deteriorate more rapidly in my middle age. Paid work is still rolling in, which is fantastic, so good there for now. Big – big job I’m working through now. If I can get a good chunk out of it today, like I did on Saturday and Sunday then I will be able to sleep better knowing I am making progress on it. Still have thirty odd pages to go of the raw data to assemble. My wrists will sing come Friday!

Might need to be a little less present in writing my connected short story series this week. But who knows. I have to take breaks to eat and move, so maybe I’ll get a sense of some story beats I just have to get down on paper.

All the best on this, the last day of January. Just think, you’ll never have to do this day again!

What does forty three (43) days mean to you.

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I’ll tell you what it means to me. A flat plateau, and a bit of a slog. Feeling as though I’m treading water and gaining no new ground. However, on the upside, if there is one and I can call it that. There is a certain satisfaction in following along with the process and maintaining discipline. It’s not much, but it’s honest work. There was never any guarantee that a spark would ignite everyday. Just the knowledge that making the time, sitting down and doing the thing, eventually, something would come of it. Could be that I’m passed the creative hump, and I just need to wrap it up in another six chapters or so. Could be I’ll find myself thirty five hundred words into a chapter and think, oh this needs more context, this needs to be explored. Or I’ll wrap it all up an a bow, spring will arrive and I can work outdoors again. It could be that I have a fantastic supply of paid work and I am devoting more brain power to my business than I did at the tail end of December, and I’m not at peak, rested, creative writing performance. Could be I’ll hear a funny comment and that’ll take me off on a tangent. Maybe I just wanted to bitch and whine, then carry on as before. I can be fickle, so that’s why pushing along with the process is so important. Without it, I can flounder and then spend hours following YouTube rabbit holes. Life is weird that way.

On a typical day, I need to get my kids sorted for school: breakfast, lunches made, hair & teeth. Set out clothes for the youngest. Get their outdoor gear ready by the door. Drop them off and run errands. Then once I’m home I can check emails for priority clients, work, or sit down to my own breakfast and have a think. That would be when I bust out the trusty phone and clickety clack my way through a blog post, thought, joke or retelling of something that’s happened, or ruminate on what’s to come for my short story series. Then I’ll take some time for laundry, cleaning up, dishes and vacuuming, or scrubbing bathrooms and sinks. Then check emails again, if I’ve missed any notifications, and carry on.

I’m not writing an epic fantasy novel, so setting aside ten to fifteen minutes to publish something isn’t that big a deal. I try not to judge my work against others, but that’s really fucking hard to do. But I write for me, even if I do chase those view statistics some days.

Do any of you have a process you’d feel comfortable sharing? I should also note – as I have said previously; I write on my phone because sitting at my office chair is where I do my paid day job, and I want to be able to walk around, talk aloud, act things out as I go (if need be) rather than be perched at my desk longer than I have to be. Trying very hard not to get an RSI on my right wrist ever again. It sounded like twisting a leather glove when my tendons got inflamed. Oh that hurts, just thinking about it. Couldn’t rotate my right wrist & radius it hurt so bad. But I digress.

How attached to your written characters are you?

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As far as I am concerned 99% of my characters are expendable, in as brutal or mundane a fashion as possible. I like to build something up only to fizzle in an unexpected manner, or for the pay off for the characters actions to be as empty as they tend to be in real life. We know the feeling. Same some bridezilla’s get after a year or two of planning a wedding, or a kid building up Christmas morning, only for it to come as this fleeting whisper of what you’d built up in your head, and then it’s done, and you are right back where you were, only now, your every waking moment isn’t spent pouring over details of this supposed magical day, and you feel a little empty or lost without the goal you’ve focused on so hard.

Then there are the 1% of characters who practically write themselves. They lead the story into unexpected territory, and can really turn one of my surface level short stories into something more compelling and create interesting problems to solve.

For those select few of you whom have read a couple of my interconnected shorts will know I don’t write my characters very deeply, they talk and do stuff, but their appearance is left fairly unremarked upon unless I feel there is a trait that sets them apart that will come up, or makes a point in the story. I’m not a “she breasted boobily” down the stairs kind of a writer, if that makes sense. Sure some characters have intercourse, but that’s not the point. Many are straight, lesbian, gay or androgynous or other, and I want them to be people, not their personal orientation.

To me they are just “folks”, they live, breathe, eat, defecate and work. They get irritated by one another and get snarky or playful as they see fit. If someone is going to affect a lisp or mumble it’ll be because they have a broken jaw, or were punched in the face. Not that I don’t operate with cliches or generalities, these are micro shorts so I need an explanatory short hand to fill in the blanks.

But, yeah… I like to kill them off. Or at least render their best laid plans moot wherever possible. I think that’s funny. Even my best laid plans fall apart at the hands of some one elses illogical choices, feelings and actions, so why wouldn’t that fate befall my characters too. These aren’t military disciplined combat troops, most are working class trades people silo’d into their own small social circles, or are corporate stooges looking to increase their bank accounts or prestige levels with little regard for those around them. Why would they do anything more than surface level planning for the pawns in their own games. Exit strategy? Not likely. Poisoned drink, or a bullet in the chest more like it.

Are you lot precious with your characters? Do you put them through hell or do you hold back on some? Are they fit for the meat grinder, or a mild annoyance?

Here’s a blue sky for you.

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Have some thinking to do on the story front today, and possibly tomorrow. I managed to tie three threads together loosely, and now I need to get into some action set pieces and corporate intrigue. Both of which require a fair amount of prior planning on my part. For fight sequences I usually break out some action figures to try to keep track of where characters are in relation to one another. If I had the time and resources I’d build a miniature set and act it out in cardboard and plastic and talk it aloud into a tape recorder to transcribe/edit later. But as it stands I just smash toys together or put objects on a table top to help myself out a bit. The cup has lune of sight on the fork, while the spoon spins downward in a tight spiral. Blah, blah blah.

As I was saying, lots to think about so here is a lovely blue sky image. Take good care of yourselves – or not. Up to you where applicable.

Planning with mind games.

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A good chunk of my process for writing creative short stories is day dreaming as much of the story before hand prior to writing it all down. The more time I spend lurking around in a coherent story the better the written work tends to be, or at least I tend to veer off on strange tangents a lot less. However finding the time to ruminate in my own head uninterrupted is increasingly difficult. More over once I carve out the time to do so I am more often than not drawing a blank on how to progress the story line. I know the broad strokes of where I want to go, and roughly how to get there, but I am unable to imagine it, to walk around in it, to inhabit it. Most likely two years of stress and anxiety about Covid is tamping down the creative side of me. My kids are now older and require a different amount, and different kinds of attention than they did in 2020.

One thing I can do to help calm myself or juice up my creativity is find photos that have an interesting play of light in them. I like striking contrast and orange late evening or morning light. It’s short and fleeting but makes a statement. Something like this:

After all this time

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I didn’t do any work on my illustrated children’s book this year at all. Last year in Year One of the Covid-19 pandemic I took my rough notes and wrote the story out in full, and then also rewrote it two more times, along with a few character sketches, but then I’ve just left it sitting untouched. Mind you, I did then go and write a full book of short stories in its stead. Now however I feel like I should resurrect the project for 2022. Alas, in the few golden months I had since both of my kids were attending in person school I tackled home diy projects to improve or finish off rooms in the house, rather than devote myself to an illustrated childrens book. I haven’t drawn by hand in a very long time, and I haven’t painted in watercolours or acrylics in nearly the same amount of time. I think I’m nervous about the artwork being terrible, more so than the story not being entertaining. But wave #5 and the end of Year Two of the pandemic are nearly upon us all. Part of me is still chasing the high from actually writing a full book of interconnected short stories set mostly out in space, along with some non-fiction autobiographical stuff mixed in. Funny how a lot has happened while nothing has happened. A very strange feeling. I think what I’m missing is, I used to come and work/write every day from 12-2pm while my kids napped, and then the youngest gave up naps, and I had to resort to working at night and then I dropped off my writing habits because I was focused on the paid work for my day job, and my brain was a tad fried from several weeks where I wrote 5 or 6 thousand words over some very productive days, week after week. Not always that many, but I know my cognitive skills dipped on any day that I wrote more than 3,500 words at once. A fugue state, brain fog, brain fart, mom brain, synapse fatigue or what have you. Odd feeling, that. Oh yeah, and I devoted more time to wood working, and I scaled back my sculpting too this year. Perhaps a more rounded dabbling in all of my hobbies will make for a better choice next year. Glad I am alive and well enough to consciously make that decision.

In regards to my previous post about 3d rendering.

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I might be behind the eight ball here in terms of knowing about how to turn illustrations of uniquely shaped bottles into fully fledged 3d objects using Photoshop, but learning that work flow and then being able to chuck that stuff into Dimension and creating realistic looking mock ups is astounding. So glad I came across this stuff. No longer do I need to slave away drawing every bend of light or using finicky meshes. No no no, now you can draw up your custom bottle in illustrator, render the 3d shape in photoshop, with separate outer glass, inner liquid fill, cap and cork, plus add your various labels and tie that shit up with a fucking bow in Dimension with lighting effects, camera perspective matching to your background. Dear lord, it’s a game changer! I for one am pumped about what this could do for my beverage, and packaged goods clientele. Mind blown. I am tickled pink. Pleased as punch. Until next time.

Also – side note. I wrote a book of short stories available on Kindle, and kindle unlimited for $.99 USD. The Company – A series of interconnected space short stories by Mark Holyome. Available in 11 markets worldwide.

Having some fun messing around with 3d rendering.

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So over the last few years I have doodled some faux beer brands for shits & giggles to keep busy and sane. Well now I am able to render them most realistically and in about 1/10th of the time my old method took me. Which makes me both happy and excited for the future of my graphic design business. Mock ups won’t eat up endless hours of my day anymore. Wah whooh!

Some samples with and without lighting effects and/or surface effects:

“I think it’s kind of messed up that they came all this way…

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Exposed themselves to us but then said nothing. They just hung there, two miles up and motionless. Like some kind of blockade. Not against us, but to keep a third party away from making landfall or making contact. It was very strange. One day the sky is clear, then the next an armada of massive ships turn up, of all sorts of different designs and such. Just hanging out, they disrupt our satellites and telecommunications, the internet and casually gun down a countless number of other ships trying to come down here to us. Now we have know idea if either party had hostile intentions, or were being benevolent toward us. We intercepted enormous quantities of encrypted chatter and messages, but those will take decades to break. The languages were like nothing we’ve ever dreamed of. They stuck around, up there for fifty one months and then fled as quickly as they came. All we now know is that we are not alone in the universe, but that we are essentially powerless against them. In their wake they left the atmosphere cleaner, and the area around the earth free of debris and all that space junk. Several million new stars had become visible to us, just with the naked eye. But beyond those astounding revelations, we have yet learned nothing new. Life goes on.”