Hello again. I haven't been here in ages. Obviously I lack motivation. There is a cure for this though. I will come to it.
I
haven't really been writing for Laurence and Gus either which is bad,
there's going to be a read-through on Monday... It's just every time
I've sat down to write since receiving the commission I've always seemed
to end up returning - like Grendel - to a tired squall of my own making
on Chris Goode's blog "Thompson's Bank Of Communicable Desire" (all
hinted at in my last post - blimey - two weeks back!... It's been going
on that long. Well it's over now, and actually it has a happy ending. If
you're interested to know more, cut and paste this little honey:
I come in about half-way down and then never shut up. Actually I might try a summing up in my next post. No, come back.) Anyway, yes, so as I was saying to the producer over a risotto, I am obviously phenomenally unmotivated. What
does Derren Brown suggest? Well now I know because I've finally got
round to reading his book (not to motivate myself, no, that was not the
idea, no... nor to find out if he uses stooges. He states unequivocally
in the book that he doesn't though. I'm a little disappointed by that. I
think it's fine if he does. I didn't want to know.) Anyway he suggests
"Playing with Pictures". Visualizing the writing of this blog, according
to Derren Brown, means that I should picture it from a FIRST-PERSON
perspective (ie not looking on at myself writing this, my first clear
mistake) and big like IMAX (like the one in Hertfordshire where Miss
Meikle and I saw Beowulf - "MONSTAH!" - after driving through the first
snow I've seen this winter. Actually, yeah, good thing I didn't stay in
London that evening and get some writing done, I'd have missed the snow)
I should "make the colours rich and intense", turn up the brightness,
bring it in closer, in my face. And finally I should "add sizzle". Thus: 
And it works! Later
on, Derren writes about the "Monty Hall Problem", and it's the following
episode played out today at lunch (and slightly reminiscent of my
conduct in the Thompson's squall) that I am actually here to record:
Me - Jess, do you know about "the Monty Hall Problem"?
Jess (with whom I work, and who is American) - I know about Monty Hall. No.
Me
- There's three closed doors, and behind one is car and behind the
other two there are goats, and you have to choose a door. Then I open a
door behind which I know to be a goat. Okay? Now I ask you if you want
to stick with your choice, or change and pick the remaining closed door.
What do you do?
Jess - I stick.
Me - WRONG!
Jess - No it's not.
Me
- YES! YES! Okay, say there were a HUNDRED doors instead, and you
picked one, and then I opened up NINETY-EIGHT doors and they all had
goats and there was just now the two doors left again. Yours and mine.
Think of the probability. Would you still stick with your first choice?
Jess - Yes.
Me - But that's wrong.
Jess - No it's not.
Me - Wh... why not?
Jess - Because you never asked me how I feel about goats.
Excelsior, Jess! I'll write about Shunt next time. Catch up then.
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