Writer's Block

Writer’s    Block ©

By Michael Casey

I couldn’t think what to write about off the top of my head, normally an idea presents itself and then away I go, so I’ve decided to write about Writer’s Block. I have to go to bed now, I normally write something before bedtime, and sometimes some other times, anyway this writer has to go to bed. So forgive the break and in the morning I’ll continue this theme. I did once work with a guy called Duncan who could not sleep during the day so he fell asleep on the night shift. He’d be typing away at the keyboard in the computer room then woosh, his head would fall forward and he’d hit his head on the screen and then he’d be fast asleep.

So to avoid that, I’m going to bed right now, nite nite. Good morning, well I’ve had my sleep so that’s good, no Duncan head butting the computer, he must be over 40 now, but in memory he’s 20. Memory does play a big part in writing. You harvest memories. I seem to remember childhood like a video recorder, but where did I just put my shades or my mug, that’s so much harder. WE all have a few Black Holes too, bad romance if I misquote Lady Gaga, can be one of them.

Now to get started on Writer’s Block what has happened this morning before I pick up the pen again to talk to you? Well its afternoon now, nearly 2pm. My girls have deserted me for a day trip to London, they’ll be eating expensive cake now in Covent Garden. Shanghai mum’s and their daughters just love cake. I’ve also done a quick bit of painting in the bathroom while they are away, so the paint has a chance to dry while they are eating cake.

Now is this deliberate time wasting by a writer, any writer so that they don’t have to face the page? It could be, I even popped out to the corner shop, but I did have to, it wasn’t an excuse. I’ve had a couple of mugs of hot stuff. First Ovaltine, as I’ve given up coffee for a year now I have to drink something. Then I had my one daily cup of disgusting Green Tea, and it is disgusting, my friend just looked at me like I was an idiot and said “add milk or sugar” when I complained how bad it tasted. My Shanghai wife just scolded me and said I was diluting the goodness in it.

I’m also listening the 3 Mike and The Mechanic albums I have, my record collection kind of stopped 20 years ago, so its like the 90s revisited if you live next door to me. So now I’ve explained everything I can finally talk about Writer’s Block. Though I may stop for a moment for some pain killing cream. Hip Hip Hurray, it was an easy pun so forgive me.

Now what have I proved as I go through the 500 word and pain barrier. I think I’ve proved that writers will do anything so as not to face the page, if they have writer’s block. It’s like avoiding Confession if you are a Catholic. Which reminds me I read a piece by “Holysmoke” in the Daily Telegraph this morning. It was about a drug that keeps you alert, Americans swear by it. I did tweet “Holysmoke” to say Imagination is the best drug and any substances destroy it. I don’t think he’ll reply, but the smoke from the Thurifer  was very intoxicating when I was an altar boy and reader all those years ago.

Writers Block is also like a man on death row wanting to carry on with his conversation with his own shadow so as to keep the hangman at bay. Did I tell you I once read a book about Pierpont the last executioner? It was very good.

Get to the point you bastard I can hear any Telegraph readers say as they read this. But I think I have made my point already. I never get Writer’s Block, it may be because of the p

aint fumes seeping into the front room from where I am talking to you.

Sock Test

Sock Test ©

By Michael Casey

Now I’ve decided to start recording al my shorts, all 500 of them. I write 2 or 3 a week so the total increases all the time.  I have recorded about 20 or so already, but some of those were spoken only and not down on paper, if you like spontaneous. I did get asked by a Radio station to provide audio and even a bit of video, the quality was not perfect, but I did sent PDFs of my material too. So I was hoping that they would open the door for me. I’m beginning to think that one has escaped me.

So I’ve decided to make better recordings and to record the lot, 500 or so. I have put some recordings on Tumblr, so check out michaelgcasey there. I had thought that my microphone was too hissy, so I’ve been looking at mikes on the internet. There is a great site in Germany where you can actually hear the sound quality  of the mike before you buy it, you get a snatch of somebody singing using the different mikes. So this is great.

I’ve also looked at different sites here in the UK and on Amazon of course. I was recommended a good mike by the German site and they give 3 years guarantee. I decided to do a bit more research, the recommended mike had great reviews on Amazon. However I decided to follow my brother’s advice, always look for the negative when buying a house, so ditto when buying a mike. So I looked at the worst reviews.

When you read reviews you are trusting a stranger, and bad reviewers could have an axe to grind. The bad reviewer just said google “hiss on the XYZ” and there I found more “evidence”. I could have bought the wrong mike. However what you have to remember is that audiophiles have a much much much higher standard. They will use specially speaker wire and have amps and preamps galore, and remember the kind of mike I hope to use is what professional musicians use. Obviously the cheaper version, but musicians do have a better ear.

So in a way it left me uncertain what to do, as money is scarce, IF and when Radio people DO use my stuff all my opportunities will arrive together, like dominoes all falling down. Or as my Irish cousins said when my dad survived a “fatal” heart attack and then I met my wife at the old people’s home, I had all my luck in one go. I’m hoping that a film producer picks up a script of mine too, but I just have to keep on waiting, I read somewhere that preproduction can take months.

I also googled “best usb microphone” and got a list of the top ten. So I looked on Amazon again and by accident I was on USA Amazon, and there I stumbled over the 6 minute filmed review of the best usb micro. It was one of the cheapest ones. But I watched and listened, and after 6 minutes I thought I should get that one. Its 40dollars on Amazon USA.  Sound quality really good.

The next thing I thought about was how could I improve my mike. Which leads me to the title of tonight’s short, Sock Test.  All profession mikes have a cover, or a piece of fluffy stuff on the end of the mike to prevent wind noise and hiss, sounds like noises from toilets. So I thought what if I put the cover from my unused mobile phone over the end of my stick mike. Once I did that I recorded a few sample words and listened back to the result.

It did improve the sound of my voice, or rather took away some of the hiss. Actually I don’t like the way I sound , I sound like a teenager, or like a drunk to my own ears. So I then thought how can I make it better. So I found some old work fluffy socks, and used one of them wrapped around my mike, with the mobile sock holding it in place. Sound quality improved and the mike looking more ridiculous. I then had to go out shopping.

I had a brainwave on my way home, what if I used some mini rollers for painting as a microphone sock. I had to tear away the core of the roller just so I could get the foam off. Once done I tested my sound again. The mike looked silly, see photo below, it was like a corn dog on a stick or something. But more importantly the sound quality was getting so much better, I then tweaked it by pulling the foam up about ½ an inch, hey presto I was a BBC sound man. I’d get an Oscar next.

I’ll do a few more tests in the morning, once the screams from the horror film in the living room subside, ½ the wife and ½ the film. I’m pleased with my endeavours, if you go to Tumblr  you can listen to me reading this short out, using my corn dog microphone. Just tell your local radio to put my 500 shorts on their play list, and on their websites. Or tell me to put a sock on it.

Vanity

Vanity ©

By Michael Casey

I was walking down the road I’d just seen my pharmacist, no not a guy in a car handing out stuff from his window in exchange for 20quid. I was at the Pharmacy getting ear drops, and no living with 3 girls hasn’t made me deaf. It will be the death of me, but not make me deaf, yet, they are all much younger than me after all. I hope that explains the context, as writers are told to explain things.

No what I saw was an example of Vanity.  There was a small van with two blokes in it, one was on the phone, which was good for he was NOT driving, I’ve had enough of drivers trying to kill me while they are on the phone while driving. The driver, was leaning out the window so he could see himself in the wing mirror, then he was doing his hair. It made me smile, at least they were stopped in traffic for the moment. But hanging out the window to preen himself.

No of course I’m not vain at all, judging by the way I look as I go up the road to the shops. Well, I do comb my hair before I leave the house, and check my zipper too, but other than that I’m not vain at all. My mum used to shout after my brother “comb your hair, tuck your shirt in, you’ll shame me the neighbours will think I have a Tinker for a son!” Which gave me the idea for Mrs Murphy in my 1^st book The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker.

Are you vain? Well do you look at your own reflection as you walk up the road to the shops, pretending to be John Travolta, but looking more like the fat Secret Service guy, the one they call the body guy. Do you adjust your shades and triple check that zipper as you go past the butcher’s shop?

In Snow White it was “Mirror mirror on the Wall” and for all her scheming the wicked stepmother was NOT the fairest in the land, no the Donkey from Shrek was far prettier. Why does mutton dress up as lamb, and I’m not talking about the butcher’s wife either. Why do women try to look far younger when they should grow old gracefully. Though  to be balanced men are just as bad nowadays.

Footballers will ditch their WAGs because they can, because they earn in one week what most of us will earn in 10 years or even 20 years. And yes  if MU are still looking I am available, though I’m older than the manager and weight twice as much, but just let me play for one week, then I can retire happy.

In days of old a glimpse of stocking was shocking, now anything goes. With skirts up to their ar ars , archipelago, WAGs and even the girls down the chip shop preen themselves to catch the boy with the perfect black hair. Just for men, includes hair dye, so boys can and will dye their hair, preening and vanity hand in hand. Yes she may smell of chips, but she’s like Every Ready batteries, lasts longer and she is ever ready.

Beauty products keep us all looking perfect, and if they don’t there is surgery, plastic  plastic plastic   what-evers, to keep your footballer on side, and away from the penalty zone. In the old days the bathroom shelf had one bottle of Vosene, that was  green in colour if memory serves.

Now, now you need seven shelves, lotions and potions, for him, for her, and for the kids. You used to have one brand and one family shampoo that everybody used. Now there is pre shampoo, shampoo, after shampoo, and conditioner and that’s just for the men. Since being married and having two daughters my bathroom is under siege, it’s like invasion of the plastic bottles, I’m sure they are aliens in disguise. And the plastic bottles are reproducing too, I’m sure of it.

All of this is for our Vanity, didn’t there used to be bags called vanity bags that girls took away with them when they went away somewhere. Now we have manbags for men’s vanity too. It’s all so confusing or am I just getting old and greyer/whiter. A spit on the hand and a dab on the head was all you needed to keep your hair down, now its styling gel. Looks more like pigeon dumped on your head, and 8 year olds use it already.

I’m all in favour of beauty, I mean I pull my nasal hair out when it’s too long, I’m  sophisticated like that, a real new man. And why do you sneeze when you pull nasal hair out? I’m not vain either I keep my bushy eyebrows, despite my girls asking when the caterpillars will turn into butterflies and fly away.

So why are we all so vain? Does it date back to cavemen days? You can share my catch and sleep on my hide if only  you comb your hair with that fish bone, and splash a little buffalo blood behind your ears. And then you can spend the night platting the hair on my back.

Over and Over Again

Over and Over Again ©

By Michael Casey

Some things we like to do over and over again, it gives us pleasure, bowling perhaps if you are Obama. Or we like them though we are rubbish but we enjoy doing it, pick your own thing. Now the obvious question is why do we like doing things over and over again?

We may suck our thumb when nobody is watching, it gives us reassurance it makes us feel safe, it reminds us of our mother’s nipple, or lover’s. It’s the comfort and repetition that sooths us, just like Status Quo music, down down dederum down, if I can remember it right. I can actually remember 1973 and hearing Caroline for the first time.

I listen to a lot of music, it was my companion when my brother left home and I was alone in the homework room, 1974. I’m listening to Peter Gabriel right  now, Steam. The beat repeats and the audience claps along to it. I suppose the drums that Native man started with continue with drums and beat in modern music. Though cannibals probably started by bashing a skull with an arm bone after dinner, which was  the slowest and oldest man in the tribe.

We whistle in the dark to comfort ourselves, we are not alone if we can keep a tune going, and why can’t girls whistle. Is it because girls never feel alone, creation is inside them, so they are never alone in a way.

Cricket players rub the ball, they have their routine as they run up to the crease. The batter has his routine too, the touching of this and the touching of that. Golf players have their pretend swing before they do the real thing. Why do they need to have to do things twice or with a certain order?

When my dad came home from the pub on a weekend one of the men always used to say bye three times before he went up the road to his own house. Nobody ever says bye and goes away without ever looking back. Why exactly is that?

Could it be because our heart beat is a rhythm, boom  boom, boom boom, so a rhythm is in us, is part of us. Nature is a cycle, the sun sets and rises in a rhythm, the moon sets and appears again in a rhythm too. The tide by force of the moon rises and falls, falls and rises. So we all have got this music in us. So anything that replicates the forces of nature is soothing to us.

We sing when we are happy, we sing to our new born  as he is at the breast, we are one, mother and babe, in harmony. We sing stirring songs as we march to war, we are trying to create the rhythm of war. We are trying to up the tempo in our hearts, we are trying to make warriors of ourselves, so we can kill each other.

And when we are dead the beat ends, slow songs sad songs are sung as we are carried to our graves. And after death, does the beat go on, I hope so, but each of us will find out that for ourselves.

Checking out the Checkout (c) by Michael Casey

Checking out the Checkout ©

By Michael Casey

Maybe I’m old fashioned, or maybe it’s a form of sport for me, but I enjoy the checkout process, it’s fun. I believe in having a chat as you buy your stuff. Self- service tills are evil, they lead to unemployment, I speak as somebody who had family work in shops. I also speak as the writer of Shoplife a comic play of mine, it nearly made me famous over twenty years ago. I also did 3 years front of house at the 4star CPNEC.

So why do I think the checkout is fun? Well as I watch the staff two or three of them if I’m in a supermarket, or just one if I’m elsewhere I observe them and see who is good who is bad and who is sad. Occasionally I say I’m the mystery shopper, just for fun. Just to see their reaction. They probably think I a boring old fart, but perhaps he IS the mystery shopper.

They are all taught to make eye contact, which is hard as I wear shades most of the time, not as a pose, I really need them, 20plus years in dark computer rooms means that I squint in tiny amounts of sun. So they look up and see their own reflection in my shades. But they are nice as a rule. Some will have dead eyes, too much time spent on the pop the night before. Some are clockwatching, they want to go home. Some need to go home, they have the school run to do.

While in the queue I think which joke shall I rehearse with the checkout girl/boy. You can test your material while you have your 40 seconds at the till. Perhaps stand ups should be forced to test their material at the checkout before boring us at the club, he should have tested it at Lidl first would be the whisper.

There is banter too from checkout to checkout, so you can watch and enjoy the free show. Sometimes the checkout crew can hand you a line on a plate, and you just forehand smash it. Laughter reins. I remember Andy on the switchboard from my hotel days. When things were quiet I’d say something and he would ace it with his reply. Sometimes deliberately I fed the line, other times he was just quick. But the ambience was great. Andy would wrinkle up his face and purse his lips before SMASH, we were laughing. CPNEC was known as a very friendly  hotel, the recruitment process chose smiling faces. Andy would go to his lunch and I’d cover on his switchboard while he relaxed for 30mins. I really admire Andy, his disability meant he had to use two sticks, but he’d hold them up like two fingers, nothing would get him down.  

Little old ladies and the lonely get comfort as well as shopping when they go shopping. That’s why I admire checkout folk, they really do make a difference. That little bit of human contact can and does make the difference. I like to have fun with the manager too. There is some hand held computer thingy which they use to count stock. So I always ask the manager has she Tazered any staff or shoplifters today. Or you can ask the checkout girl how fast can they run, then you add you won’t bother doing any shoplifting that day.

So that’s my view on checkouts, and I can hear you all asking how often does the Checkout Closed  suddenly appear when I approach the till?

Tidy Up

Tidy Up ©

By Michael Casey

Today was tidy up day in our house, when its best to hide and keep out of the way, lest you be tidied up and find yourself in the recycle bin. Or in my case left in the entry for the scrap metal guys to take away.

The wife started while I was trying to get milk from the fridge, she was in her combat gear, her bright red Korea pinny and her rubber gloves, looking very menacing indeed. As I took things out of the fridge she ducked and dived and removed shelves, and contents. The shelves needed cleaning and she was on a mission. I just wanted the marg for my toast, I had to duck and dive in our galley kitchen.

Then I went into the garden to eat my toast so that I would not be run over by our Shanghai kamikaze, as she dived and spun back and forth from the fridge to the sink. If you think cleaning women, or your old mum was a Force of Nature then you would not believe or possibly imagine what a Shanghai girl is like when in cleaning mode.

I then went and hid in the front room and checked my email to see if anybody had bitten the idea of broadcasting my shorts. Not yet was the answer. I had to hide again as the vacuum cleaner came out, I’m not good enough to be allowed to clean. I do have a very dodgy back and hip at the moment, but I’m not trusted enough to be allowed to clean. I did once remind her that I did take care of the house very well before her shadow darkened my door, no she’s not a vampire, vampire’s don’t caste shadows. If they did she would vacuum it up in double quick time.

So the day progressed and she talked to the world on her toy, while I tried to think of ways of getting the world to read my words. No it wasn’t me hacking the world’s computers today and making everybody go to my author page on Amazon. If only, if only.

The girls decided to get in on the act, they would tidy up their bedroom, which happens to be above my head. So the sound of laughter and small feet running backward and forward was like a metronome as I sat here typing/writing. Then the sound of plastic bags full of rubbish bouncing down the stairs.

Then I was invited upstairs to view their restyling of the bedroom. Wasn’t that a frame full of photos, wasn’t it at the top of the stairs before? Now the place of honour had one of their painting hanging  proudly there. As for the frame of photos, the photos had fallen off like autumn leaves. To reveal a notice board which they hung on the wall with glue tack, as no more nails are allowed in their room.

They came down for refreshment, then upstairs I could hear a noise like somebody breaking in. When I went upstairs to investigate all I could see was a dolls house shattered as if after an avalanche, the notice board had fallen off. However apart from that their room was all neat and tidy and looking bigger, a Tardis effect.

As for me, I was wondering what to write in the hope that a new story might swing it for me, and that some radio station somewhere will like to hear my shorts. My Tidy Up short.

the wife and fearsome cleaner

Casey Film School by Michael Casey

Casey Film School ©

By Michael Casey

Now in our house we watch loads of films, 5 a week and more maybe, and with Sky+ box you can record many more. I watched loads as a child too, in black and white in them days. I think I was 25 before I bought a colour  tv for the family. Children nowadays won’t watch anything not in colour.

I saw a documentary on tv with Keanu Reeves, the programme was all about Film, as in the physical piece of material that goes through the camera. It was comparing film to digital. There always is a “look” to a film, I used to say you can tell if a film is rubbish just by the credits.

The old fashioned Technicolor as in Robin Hood, had colours so rich it was as if a child had used wax crayons. Then there are washed out colours for effect, to give a feel and a meaning to a film. Some films are so dark you can hardly see a thing. Alien the first one seemed so especially dark.

Most films I’ve seen on tv, we do have a good tv, I spoilt myself 20 years ago and got a good tv, I was earning good money then and I had interest free credit for a year. Toshiba is all I will say, just go to John Lewis, get free 5 year guarantee and get a Toshiba. Our current Toshiba replaced the old one a few years ago.

Now does the average person notice all the nuances of the cinematography? I’ll say no, though I’m still on a learning curve myself. I’ve watched a ton of films and as my girls grow up we  talk about Film in the advert breaks, 3 mins on satellite, but if we have recorded the film we zap through the ads.

Do  you like the way the actor does this or does that, could you see where the scary bit was going to happen. Could you see how something was telegraphed? Telegraphed things are probably the most we’ve talked about. I hope I don’t spoil the joy of the thing with all this “Casey film school” material.

When you have seen Maltila, or Willy Winka or The Mummy, all versions, then you too will become a little film buff. We really hate it when ITV4 cuts the bit from the Mummy where they haggle for O’Connor’s life, just before he joins them.

Getting back to the documentary, can modern digital technology be trusted to give a good look? Technology gets better and better and will be good enough for everybody in 10 to 15 years time. This is what I’m guessing after listening to the experts. You also have to save some of the machinery so that in the future you can actually read the film in whatever technological format it has been shot.

Modern cameras, digital cameras are so light that you can go anywhere with them, Danny Boyle was talking about one of his films and he had 10 cameras for one section of one of his films. I didn’t know that normally film cameras only have enough film in them for 10mins of acting normally. Then they have to cut.

So imagine the actor has to get himself all worked up and in the zone then the film camera has to be reloaded. How can the actor get back to where he was emotionally after being stopped in mid flow.  It’s like having a streaker in the middle of an event, it would certainly put the vicar off his matins. So how can an actor be expected to get back to where he was.

Now with digital the actor, male or female or both, can keep on performing without fear, it’s not as if mom is knocking at the bedroom door demanding entrance, while sonny is with Cher doing the same. So digital allows uninterrupted performance.

The look and feel of the film is almost the same as Film, because digital is improving so much. As an audience we may hate the look however filmed because the film may look too trashy, or too slick, and so on. The director and the cinematographer must have loads of discussions on how to get it right, but when it IS right it really IS right.

But this now brings me on to the most important thing of all, THE WRITING, speaking as a writer, awaiting news on my 1^st screenplay for a film, I think it’s the writing which is the most important thing. If the story is weak or badly told then no amount of pretty looks will save it.

It will look like a commercial, a bad commercial. Film scripts as such are very bare, mine isn’t it gives plenty of direction. I’m hoping its idiot proof and that the director and cinematographer can just tell the actors “say the words” and if they follow their nose WE will have a success.

Perhaps I’m a little naïve, a virgin on the bed of cinema. However a writer is taking a chance that the film of his book &/or script matches what was in his head and was put on paper. In a way the writer writes the score and the director then has it in his head. And just like a conductor the director is getting actors and cinematographers and everybody else to play their instruments, their bodies if you like, so that the result is Mozart.

When it works it really works, just as Amadeus really worked, the look, the style, the music, the words, the everything. A director has to be like a general, a prostitute or a pimp, just to squeeze out the right performance.

It all starts with words on a page, then with pictures and together you have FILM.