Sunday, October 31, 2010

Uluru/Ayers Rock

As I eluded to with a picture in a previous post, I visited Uluru not long ago. My parents had actually arranged the trip for me without me knowing. I am quite an independent person and sometimes find it difficult accepting gifts from others, but I was quite happy to receive this one. I boarded a bus at 5.45am packed full of French tourists and set off.  The centre of Australia lays flat on either side of the road for nearly the whole 500 kilometres there.

As you approach, it sits alone in the landscape.

Ayers Rock is the world´s largest. Like an iceberg, only a fraction its entirety is above the surface. Geological activity millions of years ago thrusted Ayers Rock out of the ground and it twisted on its way up.

It´s very important to the local Aboriginal community whose camp is not far from the rock. Visitors are not allowed to visit their camp which is a shame because, for the most part, no Aboriginal people were to be seen.

It has been raining over the last couple of weeks and the water slowly runs off the drop down these cuts in the side.  The colours make it look silver, as if it is mercury.

A pretty cool erosion pattern.

Are they are set of lips? I am not sure..

Everyone was trying hard to avoid the tree. It was the only thing around of any decent height. I thought I would add it for good measure as this shot was taken kilometres away from the rock.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

A thousand little bridges.

Writing continues as my time here in the desert is coming to a close. It has been the wettest year for the last twenty years here. 75 mm of rain was all the land could capture last year. This year it is well over 600mm.

Rivers continues to flow down into our giant lake system. The lakes which are normally dry are covered in a thick layer of salt. Water makes its way quickly through the soft desert dirt into the system. These desolate salt pans explode into life with birds, flowers and even frogs.  I feel very lucky to have seen the desert at its best.

The work in progress is running its own course, albeit riddled with switchbacks and falling boulders. I have core sections of the story written. They stand like volcanic islands in the Pacific, shooting out of the ocean. From the top of one, you can see the others sitting in a chain. What I need now is a thousand little bridges to connect them all together. Also,  I see my subplot sit underneath them like a continental shelf. If only I could jolt it up.

My story is written from a third person/ omnipotent perspective.   I chose this style because I wanted to move between characters, particularly the lead, the love interest and the antagonist. What I have discovered, however, is that my work is dialogue driven.  Characters come into a space, they converse and then they move on and reflect.  This gives me the impression that the story is progressing really slowly. The dialogue acts more as a tightrope across the islands rather than a bridge. Also, the story is set in a small rural town and there seems to be a lot of getting into and out of cars and the drinking in bar. Characters can only drive around and drink so much before that in itself becomes a story!

What I need right now is a real model. Sadly, most of the books I’ve really enjoyed reading are first person narratives.  I didn´t think I could confidently pull this story off in that style.
I would value any recommendations of books written in the third person/omnipotent perspective. I also wouldn’t mind a couple of Golden Gates to connect my islands if you could spare them.

Sunday, October 3, 2010

Pictures of Orange, Blue and Red.

 In an effort to quash the overthink I went into the desert.  
The sky went for a billion miles over my head and orange rock erupted from the earth.

I took a moment of solice down by a waterhole.
In the shade with my eyes closed, I imagined I was in another place.
 Drops trickled down cracks and over ridges even though it hadn't rained for weeks.
Time means nothing to this place.
To sit on a rock that shot up from the ground millions of years ago,
 where people have scooped their hands into pool to drink for thousands of years,
made me feel so small and insignificant.

As the sun tracked across the sky, I got talking to a group of French travellers.
We joked and laughed.
They invited me to stay with them next time I go to  Paris.
We drank champagne and looked out at a setting sun.
I couldn't help thinking that time will be sooner rather than later.