Extract from my first novel 'The One Hundred and One Arabian Nights'

  The tale of Sinbad the Porter

But when the ninth night had come;

After dispensing justice and listening to petitions King Shahzaman retired to his chamber to do that which he every night with Dunyazad. After satisfying his desires he turned to Dunyazad and said, ‘Now tell me the tale of Sinbad the Porter.’ Dunyazad consented and began telling the tale of Sinbad the porter.

She began:

After spending many years by Sinbad the Sailor’s side, and having served the old sailor as his major-domo faithfully and dutifully, the time soon came when the old sailor’s soul gave up his body and entered unto the peace of Allah, glory be to his name!

After the mourning period had ended, and alms were given to the widows and orphans, Sinbad the Porter decided it was time to fulfil a long desired wish in his heart which was to travel and trade as his namesake had done, to become rich in his own right and to see such sights as his master and friend had seen. Thus using the generous beneficiaries left to him by Sinbad the Sailor, Sinbad the Porter immediately began purchasing such goods as would make him a most handsome profit in far off lands. Having done this he set out for Basrah, that great port city at the mouth of those two mighty rivers in the land of Al-Irak, and found himself an excellent captain named Muhammad al-Jameel whose ship was headed for the famous isles of Ceylon and who gladly welcomed Sinbad onboard for a small fee.

Over the next few days at sea Sinbad often dined with the Captain and the other merchants onboard, all of whom found Sinbad to be a most charming and eloquent individual and praised him often as such. It was in this mood of friendship and the growing excitement of profitable trading ahead that the Captain decided to anchor his ship so that the crew and the merchants could enjoy the coolness of the ocean to combat the intense heat of the midday sun. All of the crew and the merchants, with the exception of the Captain and Sinbad both of whom preferred the cleansing waters of the hammam to the salty waters of the sea, began swimming in the ocean enjoying the coolness beneath the waves to the heat of the surface. Whilst this was going on the Captain had moved to the stern of the ship and was squinting in the distance when suddenly he proclaimed, ‘There is a ship in the distance Sinbad, but I cannot see any flag upon its mast.’ Coming to where the Captain was standing Sinbad too peered out to the horizon and watched as the ship gradually made its way to them.

‘By the mercy of Allah!’ the Captain suddenly cried.

‘What is it?’ asked Sinbad fearfully, ‘Pirates?’

‘This is a sight I thought I never would see though I have heard tales, my dear Sinbad I believe we are lost for the ship sailing towards us seems to be none other than the ship of Apes!’

‘A ship commanded by Apes? Ya’ Allah! I have heard that tale too,’ replied Sinbad who now gave up any hope and reproached himself for wasting the generous beneficiary that Sinbad the Sailor had given him on this doomed, foolish voyage when he could have used the money to live in luxury until the end of his days.

Before long the ape ship drew alongside the merchant ship. The crew and the other merchants had by now finished their swim and were all standing on deck looking onward, aghast at the hideous sight that now presented itself before their eyes.

They were the ugliest things that Sinbad had ever seen in his life, uglier than the most ugliest, hideous Ifrīt . With yellow eyes dotted with brown blemishes, black matted hair that covered every aspect of their body and with razor sharp teeth that now ground against one another in a mockery of a civilised tongue.

The apes quickly clambered aboard the merchant vessel whilst the merchants and the crew stayed still, afraid even to move an inch. As the great number of apes made their way around the ship some of them began to look at the crews belongings with interest, and others the merchants’ goods that were stowed in the bows of the ship, whilst others began examining the crew with equally great interest observing the similarities and differences between the two species, shrieking and making such a loud noise that was terrible to behold when they noticed certain things that had been bestowed more generously upon the apes than the men. When one of them came upon the first mate who, although a strong man and the best sailor on the ship bar the captain, had been unfortunate enough to have been blessed with these skills in place of a large zabb, the ape mocked him so ruthlessly that soon the man’s temper gave way and he punched the ape. As soon as this happened a great roar went up amongst them and soon the man was swamped by a horde of apes who proceeded to tear his limbs out from their sockets and squash his eyes back into his skull with their large thumbs so that soon the deck ran red with blood. Whilst the apes were momentarily distracted in this slaughter Sinbad quickly seized his chance and jumped into the sea with the other merchants and crew close behind. They soon swam away until the ships were out of sight and then, exhausted, gave themselves up to the sea.

However at that moment a great storm blew up with waves as tall as the minarets on mosques crashing down on the survivors. Some drowned whilst the rest were carried by the waves over a great distance before finally being hurtled down upon an island. Exhausted by their trials, and the horrors that they had seen, the survivors of the storm, including Sinbad among them, fell into a deep sleep.

When they awoke on the island the men beat their heads with their hands in despair at their misfortune and for their lost merchandise and ship. This continued for a while until Sinbad finally took control and said, ‘Are we to weep here all day? Come there must be food and shelter to be found here.’

‘Sinbad is right,’ replied the Captain, ‘we can find wild fruits, and perhaps even wild animals to hunt in the interior, as well as wood to build shelters from.’

The island in which they found themselves on was an extremely small island with a low and narrow cave that had a river running through it as the only source of fresh water. The interior was heavy with jungle and did indeed contain a small number of fruit trees as well as a number of wild boars, much to Sinbad and his companions delight. They soon managed to craft spears from the wood of the jungle trees with their own knives and swords that had survived the storm and used them to hunt.

This kept them largely satisfied for the next few days as they feasted every night on cooked boar, supplemented with the fruits of the trees and washed down with cold fresh water from the stream in the cave. Things continued like this until one day-

But at this Dunyazad, seeing the first rays of dawn coming through the window, fell silent.

But when the tenth night had come.....

Copyright N.R.Trussler (2011)

Time to start re-writing

After three years on a Creative Writing course my productivity in writing has plummeted and my motivation has been sapped, why is this? In the first year I was all fired up - I went to a writing group albeit for only a few weeks before it got too cliquey - I wrote my first novel (The One Hundred and One Arabian Nights - 130,000 words) as well as a few short stories and co-wrote a film script which, despite certain people's comments, I thought was a great and original idea. However then came the second and third years and real life seemed to have taken over; the need for money and a proper job, the fact that I had to think of a new idea for a story for each module drained my imagination and enthusiasm. It had its plus sides though, I definitely have developed as a writer though I feel more conscious when starting a new story, my grammar definitely improved, I realised what areas I was strong in etc. but the passion I first had was drained out of me. Was I getting too old? Had I found other interests? Did my confidence in my writing plummet after some bad feedback and the rejection of my novel? I can't really pinpoint one thing but I used to get such a thrill when writing especially if it was something that I would read out in class or someone else would - to think someone would read my words as I had read the works of my favourite writers was something that really excited me. But after three years has that novelty worn off? I have to confess that it has, to see my name in print would still excite me I'm sure but perhaps I've become more realistic that I won't suddenly become the next J.K.Rowling overnight. In the past I've snubbed writing magazines, competitions even blogs and websites thinking that I didn’t want to waste my time on small fry when I could write a novel, get an agent and then a huge advance from a publisher that would allow me time to wallow in luxury. Alas dreams are harder to make into reality than they are to imagine them. But after a lot of thinking and some interesting and insightful talks by lecturers I’ve realised you’ve got to build your profile up in this modern day internet age. The publishing world is changing, like musicians used to come to fame and recognition through underground movements and word of mouth now they come to fame through the use of the internet sites like MySpace and YouTube excel trends that would normally take many years to occur. The same with writing. Publishers and agents look online for 'the next big thing' if you can get your name out there and recognised it means that by the time you do come to hitting the big league you can have something behind you to give your submission more weight and credence.
So after this long winded explanation of my current writing situation I have now been inspired to take up the struggle anew! Projects long put off should be put into motion once again, I want to rediscover the joy I had for writing as a form of escapism, of developing a skill and craft to a professional level and producing a piece of work I am proud of. It’s true that whenever I write - and I mean a good 2,000 words here not just the odd random sentence - I feel good. It's hard to compare but I feel like I have achieved something important in that time it’s like when you do exercise except it’s an exercise of the mind.
So let’s make a plan projects to undertake and start -

Do more work on this blog and post more regularly

Set up a facebook page and maybe even a "professional" writing account
Research more into online magazines and competitions
Get into the habit of writing - short stories and plays at first

Continue my second novel and finish it in a rough draft Summer/Early Autumn

Re-draft again and again my Arabian Nights novel

Submit my stories to different magazines

Improve my skills by remembering what I have been taught and improving upon it



Wish me luck!!

What influences and inspires me as a writer?

Well it has to be John Cheever and Emily Dickinson of course J. Well, not really, but what inspires me as a writer is such a vast area, with many conscious and subconscious influences that fluctuate in their degree of influence and inspiration, depending upon what I’m writing at the moment in time or what I’m reading, that it’s hard to list them all. I will however focus on the writers that have inspired me, in one way or another. Well, where to start? It has to be J K Rowling, her rags to riches story has inspired a generation of not just readers but writers too. The way she has crafted her world and her characters, as to make it so believable that you could almost imagination that an owl would come pecking at your window with a letter from Hogwarts, is truly inspirational.

Recently I’ve been reading a lot of short stories by Guy de Maupassant, a 19^th century French writer. I hadn’t really enjoyed short stories much but since reading him I’ve been inspired to write them, I must confess, in his style. His stories reflect the life and times he lived in with affairs, discarded lovers and an invading Prussian army. His stories are sometimes funny, sometimes surprising in their outcome but always entertaining. He is definitely the master of the short story and after reading them I now understand what a short story should do, and what Maupassant does so well, is to offer a snapshot of life, to record an amusing character or exciting incident in just a few short pages.

Evelyn Waugh influences and inspires me as the quintessential English writer (with a pipe no less) and a very British way of writing, capturing the real essence of British society in the 20’s and 30’s. A sense then of the heritage in English literature, and of British society, is something that I would like to carry on in my own writing.

However, though these writers have influenced me in one way or another, I do think it’s unhealthy for your own writing if you directly copy a writer, whether their style or their personal lives. Think of all the Stephenie Meyer rip offs, the Dan Brown rip offs and even, God forbid, the Ian McEwan rip offs (believe me they’re out there somewhere). Though as writers we will, and should, be inspired and influenced by that which has gone before us we must never the less find out own voice, our own unique perception of the world.   

  

Is there a difference between the private author and the published writer?

It does not matter whether a writer writes about any recognisable social or political subject as long as the quality of writing exceeds any such expectations.

Honestly have to agree with this statement, if we look at John Cheever’s writing we can see that it is the quality of the writing, and the depth of his characters, that make his stories readable as opposed to any sublimely social or political commentary, though these do exist too of course. However it is fundamentally the principle of a writer to help us escape existence and/or endure it by seeing the world in a new light, and by viewing things previously unknown or where one has held an opposite view, in a different way.  A political or social subject should always be secondary to the quality of the writing, and in the absence of any political or social subject the quality of the writing, if good, will still make a book enjoyable just on its own merit. I think there has been too much emphasis of late on deeper meanings behind books, trying to cram as many references as possible or cover as many social and political issues as possible, whilst neglecting to primarily entertain a reader through beauty of language, deep characters that a reader can get really attached to etc.

Why are John Cheever’s stories uniquely American and what would make a story uniquely British?

What makes John Cheever’s stories so uniquely American, aside from the obvious geographic setting of east coast America in the majority of his stories, is the way in which he writes, the so called New Yorker style narrative. This style is based around extraordinary stories about ordinary people which is also the crux of the American dream; that any person can, with hard work and determination, improve their position and quality of life. The land of a million opportunities for those with enough true grit to see their ambitions realised. In Cheever’s stories then we see the American dream projected onto the page as well as the American spirit of family values, capitalism and a classless society.

If we were to look at what makes a story uniquely British however, we could throw out the old clichés of cricket on a Sunday afternoon followed by warm ale and fish and chips down the pub. Or we could throw in the new clichés of multiculturalism, of the Tate modern and chicken tikka massala. However neither picture represents an authentically British experience, they are both opposite extremes of one another. For a novel to be truly authentically British I think instead of focusing on the physical attributes of our society it would be best to focus on the British spirit; of the central theme of humour and banter, talking about the weather and endless cups of tea, which though may be labelled clichés, are largely true to everyone I know. As Cecil Rhodes once said, “To be born British is to win the lottery of life,” and by Jove I agree with him! There are so many things that would make a story uniquely British, and what is considered uniquely British varies from person to person depending on family background, geographic location etc but fundamentally I would have to say tea, weather, banter, some kind of outdoor sport and a distrust of foreigners (particularly the French) are what would make a novel, or indeed a character, uniquely British.

Does gender play a role in contemporary writing?

Maybe the days of Emily Dickinson writing innuendo poetry, whilst fulfilling the dutiful role of a spinster stay at home daughter, are over. But one must ask oneself does gender still play a role in contemporary writing? If we look at the chick lit genre one would have to say, “yes ... to a certain extent,” because it would be hard to imagine a man writing a Helen Fielding type of novel, how many copies would Dave Jones diary have sold? Not quite the same impact. Men and women are different. This is a biological and psychological fact. We think on a different level; women tend to focus more on feelings and emotions, men on what is said, what can be seen etc. Of course this can be a generalisation, after all do male writers not also get in touch with their feelings and emotions to write fully rounded characters of all ages and both sexes? The sign of a good writer I think is to disguise their sex. I do think it is possible for a man to write from a woman’s point of view, and be successful at it without being too cliché. Women too can write successfully from a male’s point of view, if we look at Harry Potter for example you would find it hard to say that it was written by a woman. Rowling captures the boy and adolescent Harry’s voice perfectly; from the way he talks to the way he thinks, to the little jealousies and rivalries that boys have which are based on a whole different emotional level to that of girls. One famous scene that sticks in mind is when Hermione explains the complexities of the female psyche to Harry and Ron only for the two guys to be shocked that, “One person could feel so many emotions at one time and not explode,” to which Hermione replies aghast, “We don’t all have the emotional range of a teaspoon!” And that I think sums up this blog post, gender does play a role in contemporary writing however it is up to the skill of the author to either disguise, or show their gender blatantly, to their advantage based on their desired audience.