Go! Get Your POV On

Have you seen the movie Go (1999)? It's on Netflix (as is Swingers which has a directorial connection with Go), so if you haven't and you have access to it, I highly recommend that you check it out.

You see, I've been asked a few times about my influences. I usually tell people that life is my influence. This sounds a bit wanky and artsy (those aren't always the same thing) but to my mind it's true. Also, it's really hard to choose a writer who influences your writing when there is so much talent out there, especially since I cast my reading net quite widely. So if I didn't say, "Oh, I'm influenced by everyday life, really," my answer would be more like the question, "Have you read this guy, this girl or these people?" The response to that would be a blank stare. I'd ask you, "Have you seen this bunch of movies, then?" and list off a load of flicks that were based on books I've read and enjoyed. More blank stares. Then I'd move on to original screenplays, TV series, cartoons that my kids force me to watch... yadda, yadda, yadda.

Everyday life it is, then.

Except I re-watched Go for the first time in years. Possibly a decade. Apart from the fact that the movie has aged incredibly well, it's also a hell of a lot of fun. And behind that fun is a shitload of technical prowess in terms of writing (I'm a writer blogging about this from the perspective of a writer BTW so I'll not go into the great job the cast and crew did as well), from which a writer in any form could learn a trick or two.

For instance; I watched it over three days as a lunchtime treat to get away from the current manuscript once in a while. The structure of the movie lends itself to this style of viewing beautifully. The same timeline is basically retold three times from three different perspectives with the last ten minutes of the flick devoted to tying the movie up. Shot from Ronna, Simon and Adam & Zack's POVs respectively, it's basically a tale about having a little too much craic and the trouble that can bring.

As I watched, laughed and shook my head at some of the characters' exploits, I got to thinking that this was the style I'd been going for in the Point series of novellas (of which only two have been released so far -- there will be more, count on that) and the hapless characters that inhabit that universe. They're not particularly bad people (the protagonists, I mean, not the scumbags they get mixed up with), but they are pretty loser-ish.

In a few interviews and conversations I've asked about the direct influences on Breaking Point, the most recent Point novella. I answered with reference to the movie Pineapple Express. I would have preferred a prose example, but I couldn't think of one. And if I'm honest, I wasn't altogether comfortable with that comparison anyway. Pineapple Express is far funnier than anything I've written. The darkness is there, as it is in most of my work, but I can't compete with those chuckles a line delivered by Danny McBride or Seth Rogen can get. Go, though... it has a lot of laughs in it, as well as the hectic storyline and somewhat more realistic idea of consequence. Go is the movie that I should really compare most of my writing to. And if I did that more often, I think I'd write better books.*

Trailer:

*Disclaimer: By no means am I damning my work as substandard, by the way. I'll leave that to the critics who, for the most part, have been very kind to me. And I'll keep the artistic anguish, if and when it occurs, to myself.

Breaking Point - Chapters 1 and 2

Can’t Get No Sleep

Brian Morgan stood by the side of the bed and looked down at his girlfriend. It wasn’t even midnight and she was dead to the world. Still breathing, but dead to the world.

He gripped the edges of his pillow tight.

Rachel O’Hare didn’t snore. Her breathing never seemed to catch a steady enough rhythm for it. At random intervals she made a noise, somewhere between a sigh and a moan. Brian wondered if that meant she was dreaming. And if so, did she suffer the same nightmares he did.

“I love you, Rachel,” Brian whispered, half-enamoured by the idea that she might be able to hear him. “But sometimes I don’t know whether to kiss you or kill you.”

And he meant every word of that shitty cliché.

Even if he didn’t have the guts to do the deed.

Brian gave his aching hands a rest and hugged the pillow to his chest. He studied Rachel in the faint strip of light cast by the bare bulb in the ensuite bathroom.

She still managed to look pretty, even with sleep-lines, a slack jaw and a string of drool running from the corner of her mouth to the pillowcase. Her face would convince the most cynical that she was one of the innocent ones. Brian knew different. So did his dead brother.

He rounded the bed and gently laid his pillow down on his side of the queen-size. On his way to the ensuite, the loose floorboard creaked. Rachel gasped and the mattress springs clicked and boinged.

“Brian?”

“Aye.”

“Coming to bed?”

“Going to the toilet.”

“Come to bed after.”

“Aye.”

He had no intention of trying to sleep. It didn’t matter. Rachel would have no recollection of asking him by the morning. They’d been through this more than once before.

Brian checked the mirror above the sink and ran his hand over the stubble on his head. He still wasn’t used to the look or the feel of his new haircut. The clownish curls were gone for good. He appeared older, harder and more serious than he felt. Maybe a little thinner too. He forced a smile and saw the ghost of his old self in the reflection. Then he let the well-worn frown take over again.

“More muscles to smile than frown? My hole.”

He threw some toilet roll into the bowl to soften the sound of his pissing. When he was done, he shook off and tucked in, but didn’t flush. He washed his hands, ignored the toothbrush and left the ensuite without pulling the cord to turn off the light. Rachel preferred to sleep with it on. It would suit him better if she didn’t feel the need to get up and turn it back on again.

Brian made it down the stairs with the balance and poise of an alley cat on a razor wire-topped wall. He knew by now which ones made the most noise and how much weight the handrail could take before the loosened spindles groaned.

In the kitchen, he closed the door gently, took a bottle of beer from the fridge and his tobacco tin from the medicine cupboard. He popped the beer open with his teeth and thumbed the lid off his tobacco tin. There was plenty of Golden Virginia, and a couple of packets of rolling papers. He didn’t realise he was so low on weed, though.

Stony Tony

Tony Barnes clicked pause on the instructional video. He backed away from his laptop to give himself enough space to perform the move. The Praying Mantis techniques seemed a little easier to pick up than the Crane styles he’d been studying the day before. The wide stance better suited his lower centre of gravity and there were fewer high kicks. He really needed to work on his flexibility. The ability to perform an impressive roundhouse kick was a must if he wanted to attract prospective students.

He held his hands up in a classic boxing guard then hooked his wrists so that his fully extended fingers pointed to the ground. Already he felt like the noble praying mantis. The technique looked dead flash without being too difficult. He’d download a few more of this particular kung fu master’s videos to emulate.

Tony unleashed a flurry of strikes. He wasn’t entirely sure, but he had a suspicion that he might break his own fingers if he hit somebody with his hands angled this way. That wouldn’t be good. He went back to the desk and took his spliff out of the ashtray. It needed to be relit. He sparked it, drew deep and thought about Praying Mantis kung fu. It looked the part, but he wasn’t totally sold that it would work for him. Still, it’d be a nice wee demo technique.Maybe try some Tiger style next.

Tony rattled the phrase into his search engine and clicked on the first result. It amused him that so many of these supposed kung fu masters were American. Where were all the little old wise Chinese men?

He bookmarked a video that featured a man with an impressive biker’s beard and a solid round gut that was just a little bigger than his own. The joint had burned down to the roach. He took a last pull that almost roasted his lips and held it in his lungs for half a minute. His vision darkened at the edges and he exhaled.

Time to roll a fresh one.

Tony pulled open the desk drawer to grab his bag of weed and his papers. He tutted when he saw that there was barely enough in there to fill a single-skinner. His stash was tapped out. He’d have to skim a little off the stock.

Don’t get high on your own supply? Bullshit. Spread the skim over enough baggies and he’d be sweet. A true stoner customer wouldn’t sweat it even if they did figure out their deal was a little light.

But he’d have to call Malachy about topping up his personal stock.

His mobile rang. He drew the knackered Nokia out of the pocket of his silk Chinese suit, checked the caller ID and smiled.

“Malachy. I was just thinking about you.”

“And did money feature in those thoughts?”

“Yeah, sort of. I need more stock.”

“You still owe me for the last three orders.”

Three? He hadn’t realised he’d gotten that deep into debt. He forced a confident and cheery tone.

“Yeah, yeah. No worries there at all, man. I’ll sort you out. Expecting the cash to flow in when I start this new thing I’ve gotten into. Soon as I get paid the money’s going straight to you.”

“You’re telling me to wait, then? Hold off a few days? Is that it?”

“I’d never tell you to do anything, Malachy.”

“Great. I’ll be there soon.”

Malachy cut the call and Tony slipped his mobile back into his pocket. He looked about his living room. The only thing of real value was his laptop. And it was a year old. Depreciating by the second. He needed it, too. It was his gateway to the world of kung fu. Without it, he couldn’t keep abreast of the techniques he would teach when he opened his club.

Tony hit play on the Tiger style video. He hoped to God it was effective and easy to pick up.

Want more? Visit the Blasted Heath website for ebook links.
But you might want to read The Point first.

From the Blasted Heath Newsletter

Hello heathens Good news! Breaking Point by Gerard Brennan is:   OUT TODAY...   FREE UNTIL FRIDAY (so be quick)   Get it on Amazon here. If you'd rather have an EPUB or PDF version, you can download that here Brian Morgan's relationship with his weed dealer has moved on to the next level. Stony Tony is a kung fu enthusiast with ambitions to become a master in his own style. But first he needs to establish a loyal following of students. Brian could use some time away from Rachel O'Hare to figure out whether he loves her or is afraid to leave her, although it's hard to focus on anything after a few tokes of Tony's Blueberry Cheesecake. Rachel is as indecisive about their relationship as Brian, but she knows that no good can come of a strange little pot-head getting involved in their lives. Meanwhile, a goon with a bad ear a big grudge also has eyes for Brian... Breaking Point (book two in The Point series) is a 23,000-word novella by the author of Wee Rockets, Wee Danny andFireproof Enjoy!

FREEDOM!

THE POINT is currently free on Kindle. That's kind of all you need to know, isn't it? Go download it, okay? Not convinced? Right, cover, copy and blurbs, then:

Paul Morgan is a bad influence on his brother, Brian. When Paul crosses one thug too many, the cider-fuelled duo flee Belfast for Warrenpoint, the sleepy seaside resort of their childhood memories. For Brian a new life in The Point means going straight and falling in love with Rachel while Paul graduates from carjacking by unusual means to low-level racketeering. Brian can't help being dragged into his brother's bungling schemes, but Rachel can be violently persuasive herself . . . and she isn't the only one who wants to see an end to Paul's criminal career.

THE POINT is a 27,000-word novella by the author of WEE ROCKETS and FIREPROOF.

*** coming very soon -- BREAKING POINT (THE POINT: 2) ***

What They're Saying About THE POINT

"The Point is the real deal — the writing is razor sharp, the characters engaging, the ending a blast. From start to finish it's true Northern Noir, crafted with style and wit." – Brian McGilloway 

"The Point is top stuff. Engaging from the start, the characters are loveable, the story is strong and the pace never lets up." – Adrian McKinty 

…a Coen Brothers dream, via Belfast… Gerard Brennan grabs the mantle of the new mystery prince of Northern Ireland…" – Ken Bruen

"It needs to be said that Gerard Brennan's The Point is terrific. Scorchingly funny, black humour at its finest and the most inventive car theft ever!" – Arlene Hunt

"Noir from Norn Iron! A lean slice of grindhouse from Belfast's new crime hack." – Wayne Simmons

Links:

UK (and Norn Iron)
US (and ROI)
Canada

Breaking Point Cover

I probably could have come up with a better title for this post, but I opted for a no nonsense approach. Also, my brain is drained. Possibly broken.

But here, check out this cover, right? The sequel to THE POINT will be published as an ebook/novella by Blasted Heath in the very near future. When exactly? I'll let you know, promise.

Meanwhile, the Blasted Heath version of THE POINT is only 69p on Amazon UK and I imagine it's similarly cheap on Amazon US. Looks like it might be $1.12, but I'm not sure the prices display correctly on our side of the pond.

If you've read THE POINT in it's original incarnation as a Pulp Press Paperback, you should know that while I had another tinker with the writing before re-releasing it, the story remains the same. No plot changes, just a spit-shine. Also, you should know that I appreciate you picking up the book (or any other title I've had published) in any shape or form. Thank you.

Here's what Ken Bruen thought of THE POINT.

“...a Coen Brothers dream, via Belfast... Gerard Brennan grabs the mantle of the new mystery prince of Northern Ireland..." - Ken Bruen

Gentleman.