Posted on 14.05.10
Personally, I think the world has gone insane. Never mind volcanoes and General Elections and the world going broke - I've done another trip to Africa, finished the first draft of a screenplay and am editing and finishing off two stand-alone novels.
On top of all this I have created a new author's website - davidgilman.com - which took months to put together. It allows me to put up a Facebook page, and have quite a bit more information available.
I hope you'll have a look and let me know what you think. There's also some interactive elements which means you can get involved.
Meanwhile I'm researching another book and it's like being back at school - something I hated. This, though, is what I call hard-work-fun. And it's fairly blood thirsty stuff.
Remember that by posting a comment you are agreeing to the website Terms of Use. If you consider any content on this site to be inappropriate, please report it to Penguin Books by emailing jon@lineindustries.com
Posted on 04.03.10
World Cup football fever is going to start in the not-too-distant future, but before that happens, and if you are a rugby fan – then go and see Invictus, Clint Eastwood’s new film about the 1995 Rugby World Cup. Though, obviously, it’s a lot more than a film about rugby.
I was in Cape Town last year when they were filming Invictus. I remember that the film crew (as film crews always do) had closed off part of a road I needed to use. I sweet-talked the security guard and managed to slip through the closed area. If time had permitted I would have auditioned for a part in the crowd scenes – however, Matt Damon had to play his rugby without my feverish cheering.
And feverish it would have been because I was living in Cape Town in 1995 when South Africa played the All Blacks. I would have had no problem letting loose the emotions that I, and millions of other South Africans, experienced that amazing day. It was not simply a day of rugby victory, it was a moment in history. When that final whistle blew, when Nelson Mandela wearing the honorary Number 6 green and gold team captain’s shirt raised his hand in salute – the whole nation went delirious. We ran into the streets like demented kids high on sugar at our very own birthday party.
A few nights ago I finally got to see Invictus and it stirred up those old emotions. In the year previously when the first democratic elections were held I stood in a very long queue outside the Sea Point library to cast my vote. It was cold and it was raining and I stood there for about four hours with hundreds of others who, like me, had never been allowed to vote in South African elections. Foreign news crews cruised the streets, cameras at the ready, waiting for the violence that many said would accompany the polling day. They were wrong. I remember clearly the elderly lady living in a flat opposite the library. She had a National Party banner draped from her balcony – and that meant she would be voting for the party that had upheld apartheid. She came down onto the street with a bin bag full of supermarket plastic packets and walked down the line handing them to whoever wanted one. There we were, black, white, Asian, coloured – standing patiently in the rain, waving to the frustrated news crews, with plastic supermarket bags tugged onto our heads against the rain.
And if you see the film Invictus – and you should, because Mr Eastwood and his screenwriter Anthony Peckham, use the film’s exposition to show not only the match in exacting detail, but also Nelson Mandela’s story and humanity in bringing a nation together.
So, who was this poet who inspired probably the world’s greatest leader?
William Ernest Henley was born in Gloucester, England in 1849 he was the son of a local bookseller. His courage was tested when he was 12 years old when diagnosed with a tubercular disease which resulted in the amputation of one foot. He was kept as a patient in an Edinburgh infirmary for twenty months, where, in 1875, he wrote Invictus – Latin for invincible. He went on to become a critic and editor, responsible for encouraging and promoting many of our most famous writers.
London’s National Portrait Gallery has a bust of him by Augustus Rodin.
And this is his poem that inspired and sustained Nelson Mandela during those long years of imprisonment.
Invictus
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
William Ernest Henley: 1849 – 1903.
Remember that by posting a comment you are agreeing to the website Terms of Use. If you consider any content on this site to be inappropriate, please report it to Penguin Books by emailing jon@lineindustries.com
Posted on 26.02.10
When I left for my African trip in January it was -16C, about 3Fahrenheit, and the only way I could get to Heathrow was in my ageing Land Rover. Thankfully we got there with time to spare despite the ice and snow. I left very clear instructions for the driver (who was going to pick up the car and park it for me while I was away) that you have to wait until the pre-ignition light goes out on the instrument panel before starting the vehicle. I got him into the driver’s seat, showed him what to do, he thanked me, and then promptly ignored everything. As he drove away I had my doubts whether the old bus was going to be seen again.
When we arrived in Africa next morning it was 43C a rather pleasant 109Fahrenheit, but in the mountains, where I was heading, it would soon be 48C, which is getting on for 120 Fahrenheit. Now, it’s no good moaning about these kind of conditions when you’re there of your own volition. I reminded myself, as I staggered up and down, across and every which way along, these mountains, that there were young men and women fighting a war in Afghanistan, wearing full battle kit in temperatures higher than that.
The mountains look rather foreboding, and there’s no denying that I felt the heat, especially when a couple of wind-whipped fires started on nearby mountains. The thought did cross my mind that it could be very easy to die up there, especially if the wind shifted. (A couple of days after I left a small, prosperous tourist town was nearly destroyed by a mountain fire. The wind had shifted from north to south and the valiant firefighters stopped it just short of the town’s main road.)
I remember when I was a firefighter how exhausting it is to fight bush and forest fires in those temperatures. I certainly couldn’t do it now – and there’s no way you can outrun a bush fire. It’s important to keep the brain in gear and read the weather signs.
The mountains are home to beautiful flora – fynbos – (Afrikaans meaning ‘fine bush’) as well as wild flowers. Although I was only concentrating on a small range of mountains, the area itself is about the size of England, or for my American friends similar in size to the state of Louisiana. There are certainly more plant species in this area than the whole of the UK.
I saw no sign of Cape mountain leopard that hunt in these mountains, and there were only a few sightings of antelope – the dust-red coloured grysbok, mostly – though there were the usual dassies (rock hyrax – or rock rabbits, as I call them) and we were shadowed for some time by a troop of Chacma baboons. There was the occasional, uncomfortable sense of being outnumbered, and I wondered how I would react if they fancied the food I was carrying in my backpack. It’s not uncommon on the roads to see people stop their cars and feed baboons. I wish they would think twice. These are wild animals. A baboon recently mauled a tourist in another area to where I was hiking – and game rangers ended up shooting the innocent creature.
The lazy Puff Adder can be a problem because they don’t get out the way unlike most snakes, and although they look sluggish (they’re about 90cm long and fairly fat looking) they can strike quickly. Cobras are also common in this area and when you turn a corner and walk straight into one – as I have done – and they rear and hiss, believe me it’s nothing like an Indiana Jones movie. Standing quite still it can be quite mesmerizing as you look into their black eyes. Walk back quietly, with the necessary, occasional glance over your shoulder. That’s not the time to take a tumble.
My time in this area passed at a gentle pace. The rhythm of nature, the light and shadows, the movement of the breeze across the fynbos and flowers, all slowed down the hectic internal clock we inherit from urban living.
You don’t have to go to other continents to experience this – our own country has magnificent countryside – but if you get the chance, get out there.
It’s a different kind of connection when you plug into nature.
Remember that by posting a comment you are agreeing to the website Terms of Use. If you consider any content on this site to be inappropriate, please report it to Penguin Books by emailing jon@lineindustries.com
Posted on 04.01.10
First of all, a very Happy New Year to everyone.
2010 is going to be as hectic as usual, and that’s why the time passes by so quickly. I’m off to Africa again in a couple of days, and then back to check out Lausanne and Geneva for the screenplay. Then, quite possibly off to America. And the travel weary computer will be coming with me while I carry on writing another book – five chapters already completed.
There are also school visits being scheduled, so I look forward to meeting some of you during the year.
Although I say it’s hectic it is at times rather like standing still and watching the earth whiz by at its 17 000 odd miles per hour in space. So reflective thought and moments of quiet are essential – to me, at least.
Day dreaming and star gazing are enormously helpful activities for writers. No one can accuse you of not working. I can get a whole book or film inside my head if I spend enough time gazing upwards. And if it looks as though I’m sleeping, you’re mistaken - it’s deep thought.
To that end I was looking forward to seeing the Blue Moon that completed the decade. We had clear, bright skies and I gazed expectantly waiting for its hue to change. And it didn’t. It was not that kind of Blue Moon – it’s just the name given to the second full moon of the same calendar month.
Over the centuries the moon in each month was given its own name – Hunter’s Moon, Harvest Moon and so on – and because this extra moon appeared someone called it a Blue Moon.
I didn’t know that.
The next thing they’ll be telling me it’s not made of cheese. Tell that to Wallace and Gromit.
I hope you all have a great 2010 and that you achieve everything you set out to do.
Good luck!
Remember that by posting a comment you are agreeing to the website Terms of Use. If you consider any content on this site to be inappropriate, please report it to Penguin Books by emailing jon@lineindustries.com
Posted on 24.12.09
So I just scraped under the wire for my Christmas blog. I lose track of time when I’m writing and when my wife mentioned that it is actually Christmas Day tomorrow and where were all her pressies, I casually mentioned that everything was under complete control. As if. I’ve been up since the crack trying to find bits of wrapping paper she’s abandoned so I can wrap her gifts. Then, because I’ve been sneakily buying bits and pieces over the year and squirreling them away, trying to remember in which cupboard/drawer they were hidden.
One of the reasons I’m running late is the fairly hectic schedule this year, a new book being edited, another that I’m a third of the way through writing and a rather heavy-duty film script. It’s based on a true story of a massacre in France during the war, and uncovers the reason why so many were slaughtered in cold blood. It involves gold and corrupt, greedy bankers – who’d have guessed? I finished writing it yesterday and now I have to let it chill a while (no pun intended) and get a more objective perspective. It’s been a long haul this one because I had to invent most of the story while still keeping the core truth of the events. But, I’ve already completed half a dozen edits and rewrites to reach the point where I am happy to hand it over to the producer which I shall do in January.
Other news is that for the past few months I have been working with web designers to create my own website. It’s almost finished and will be up and running in the New Year. I’ll give you all the details as soon as I’m happy that it’s running smoothly. We’ll have links to social networking sites and of course – Twitter, about which I’m rather nervous. There’s so much trivia scuttling about and eat the same breakfast just about every day – except Sunday when I have a fry up. There, you see? Trivia.
I hope you all have a safe Christmas, and find some joy beyond opening presents. Spare a thought for those who can’t. No matter how modest, a donation to any of the charities will always benefit someone you don’t even know or an animal in distress.
“I will honour Christmas in my head and try to keep it in my heart all the year.” Charles Dickens.
See you all in 2010.
Remember that by posting a comment you are agreeing to the website Terms of Use. If you consider any content on this site to be inappropriate, please report it to Penguin Books by emailing jon@lineindustries.com
Posted on 17.11.09
In Blood Sun soldiers were hunting Max Gordon on Dartmoor in freezing cold weather so I’ve posted a couple of photographs to show the kind of terrain.
Click on the photowall to see them.
It was a freezing cold the day I was up there scouting the locations for the book. The sloping rock is a cist, an ancient burial chamber. I’m sitting on the ruins at Grimspound, a prehistoric (Bronze Age) settlement – what some believe to be a huge circled encampment that might have been a fortification. Archaeologists discovered 24 houses, built in the round and the walls were double-skinned with a metre between each wall. Perhaps they knew about insulation against the biting Dartmoor winds even back then.
Grimspound is at an altitude of 450 metres and further hundred or so metres up the hillside is a cairn and trigonometrical point that Max used to guide himself home. The trig points are a common feature on Dartmoor. The concrete pillars are located on several high spots to serve as navigational aids and created because of the lack of prominent features like church spires. They can be identified on any Ordnance Survey map by a dot in a triangle and a number indicating its height above sea level. With Dartmoor being such a dangerous place – the weather can deteriorate rapidly – those of you who want to walk and explore the moor (or any wild place!) should always get your brain in gear and wear the appropriate clothing, make sure have a map and compass – and know how to use them.
I’ve also posted a couple of photos taken in a warmer part of the world – Belize in Central America – where Max fought for his life. There’s a whole blog of my time spent in the jungle and reefs on the Archive button (click on my photo and you’ll see it) – but here are a couple more. These are Mayan ruins and a couple of examples of the exotic creatures found in this part of the world, which is great deal warmer than Dartmoor. One thing’s for sure there are some creepies you do not want sharing your bivvy at night.
Remember that by posting a comment you are agreeing to the website Terms of Use. If you consider any content on this site to be inappropriate, please report it to Penguin Books by emailing jon@lineindustries.com
Next Page