This morning, sorting through some photos I took in Cuba I came across this. I’m just writing a section of ‘Jaguar’ in which the hero, ‘Sacha’, dressed in a borrowed school uniform (they are standardized across Cuba) is escaping across Cuba. ‘Sacha’ is a blond boy, 12 years old, of Russian and Siberian descent who’s lived most of his life in a secret school in Cuba.
And lookee, here he is…
The publisher and I have agreed a deadline for Joshua bk 1 v3.0. I’m deep in the process of writing Jaguar though, and can’t let the momentum go. So I try to work on Jaguar in the morning at my desk, take a two-hour break to refresh and then it’s on with the editing, which seems to require a different skillset as far as I can tell.
Thank goodness for editors. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Mine is probably going to save me from being a laughing stock, if nothing else – hopefully a lot else but you can’t predict these things.
I like to take my manuscript out for little walks. I can’t be bothered going all the way to the Bod this time around – I’m only spending 2 hours a day on it, what with the Jaguar writing taking up all my morning brain activity. So I’ve been going to Summertown.
The above photo is taken of my set-up at the Summertown Wine Cafe, a bijoux little joint on South Parade which makes the best coffee in Summertown (there are many Italian coffee machines in Summertown, but few baristas who have a clue how to use them). Sadly however, they charge a small fortune for savoury food – best to stick to cake, I’m trying to avoid blimpdom so that’s out.
Blah, blah, blah. Nothin of consequence in this entry sadly. I’m just writing something to have to test in a new way to do an RSS feed. If you read this, you’ve just participated in an experiment.
Do you feel used?
I kind of miss doing experiments. Somewhere in the back of my mind is the niggling feeling that a PROPER day’s work is what I used to pull off at the height of my keenness as a graduate student…a long day in the lab which ends with a successfully identified new DNA subclone to use in a lovely biological experiment.
‘Subcloning’ is a way of starting with a widgey little bit of DNA that is no use to anyone and two days later having bucketloads (as much as a milligram!) of the stuff that you can use to do biological experiments in tissue culture cells or even in unsuspecting fluffy creatures. (Some journals are so fussy that you can’t get published unless your results are in a live organism.)
You insert a piece of experimental DNA into a ‘vector’ of usually bacterial or yeast DNA which has the ability massively to replicate it. Then you can grow the ‘bugs’ in a 500ml culture overnight and in the morning extract enough DNA to ‘transfect’ cells which allow you to test the properties of your experimental DNA. The tricky bit is that when you try to stick your experimental DNA to the vector DNA, only a small fraction will combine to give you the subclone. The rest will just be vector DNA that sticks back to itself.
When I were a lass we used to pick at least 24 bacterial colonies in the hope that 2 or 3 would have the subclone. It could take up to a whole day, a day spent ‘doing minipreps’, as we used to call it. Sometimes you had to use radioactivity and horrible, ooky, gloopy, neurotoxic polyacrylamide gel to help identify the subclone.
(Any molecular biologists reading this, bright young things with your PCR, your DNA synthesisers and sequencing machines…it’s all very easy now, I’ll bet.)
But! Throughout most of career as a molecular biologist I noticed that although I was a good little scientist and picked my 24-48 colonies everytime I wanted to find a correctly subclone, more often than not, colony 1 (the first I picked with a sterile toothpick) actually had the subclone. i.e. I didn’t need colonies 2-24 and all the effort in ‘working them up’ was not actually essential.
Other people in my lab noticed this too. It turns out that in maths the number 1 is disproportionately represented (there’s some rule and it’s used as a way to detect fraud), well, in molecular biology this seems true too.
Don’t think we let that observation go to waste, either. Towards the end of my time in the lab, I would often just pick a colony right off, inoculate my 500ml flask and grow up the bugs without testing whether they had the subcloned DNA in them. It saved a whole day! Of course I tested a sample before I used it to transfect my tissue culture cells. Well, duh.
If you didn’t understand a thing I wrote in the last few paras, tell me. R1X did, so I have tried to rewrite it so that it makes sense.
Ariel Rios Robert (left) as the Orisha Eleggua, with an impromptu dance studentSuch a fabulous weekend of partying in Southwark Park at the Carnival de Cuba with mi gente caliente de Londres (those hot-blooded Londoners), followed by a night at Salsa Republic’s Afterparty at Club Colosseum where everyone turned out in style. Including (bless their colourful socks) the 8 best dancers from Ballet Rakatan who treated the clubbers to a blistering guaguanco and rueda show at 1.30am, after doing two performances that day.
Flaked out between 12.30am and 1am…thinking…this is it…I can’t take any more.
But a quick snooze put me right. Well, not really. Young children and nightclubs don’t mix well – they conspire to rob you of sleep. Didn’t drink a single drop of alcohol last night but this morning felt like I had a horrible hangover.
I’ll be Youtubing some clips of all those Londoners grooving away in the park. (Yes, including me.)
Miladis Diaz shows paintings by Cuban artist Fuster at The North Wall of South Parade, Summertown, Oxford
A stroll into Summertown today resulted in a surprise Indian lunch at the Spice Lounge (a bargain at £4.95!), a coffee in Costa’s watching Oxford Uni students spilling out of their Prelims in sub-fusc (and pink carnations…we always wore red or white…since when is it pink?) and then a drop-in to an art exhibition on South Parade where one of Cuba’s premier artists, Fuster, is showing his work.
(see The Colours of Life, in Oxford until 24th June)
Miladis and I had a nice chat about Havana and Cuban art. I told her I was writing a book set in Cuba and this morning had written a scene set in a ‘country school’, where high-school students are used as unpaid labour to harvest coffee for the state-owned industry. I admired her name, as exotic as are many Cuban names.
“The truth is, lots of them are made-up,” she said, blushing.
“And they’re the better for it,” I said.
“I’m not so sure. You get all these silly ones, starting with Y… it’s a generational thing,” she said. “People in their twenties and younger. Ynieski, Yulieski, Yolexis, Yoanni, Yumiel, Yadel, Yonelki, Yunior…”
It was my turn to blush. “I used the name Yoannis for one of my characters,” I admitted, “And I know a Yunior…”
Miladis gave me the phone number of her friend in Havana for next time we’re there. Her friend is a biologist who writes children’s books, as coincidence would have it!
Reaching the Midpoint of a story is always deeply satisfying (for me). You’re beyond the part where you feel you’ve broken the back of the manuscript, in terms of wordcount you’re halfway there if not more, the end starts to loom into view.
More than this though, if you’ve constructed the plot properly, this is where things should seeeriously take off. If you have, the Midpoint should include a spine-tingling reveal, (simply delicious to write)and then the pace should ratchet up a notch, stakes increase, excitement factor nudged up a level…all of which makes the story easier to write.
In past manuscripts, when I’ve reached the Midpoint, typically I find that I can painlessly add another 500 words to my daily target.
Well, today I need to write the Midpoint of Project Jaguar. I’m not sure I’m worthy of it. Looking at what the plot calls for, I’m feeling way too fuzzy to write it well. Battling some virus or other…right eye infected, bloodshot and sore…committee meeting to chair later this afternoon.
A Midpoint is to be relished. I think the writer has to enjoy it, before anyone else. If you don’t have fun telling it the story, how can anyone have fun hearing it?
So…gosh. I’ll have to take a break. Get some inspiration. Maybe go to a juice bar in town and buy Haruki Murakami’s new book?