The Truth - Part II

To recap: I am Danny Hawaii. Danny Hawaii is not me. Both of these are true.

After I came up with the name (I won't type it again just yet), I spent about a year and a half doing music under it. You can listen to some of the better tracks here: mp3.com.au.

While this was in progress, Tropfest 2004 came along. For those that don't know, Tropfest is a yearly short film festival held in Sydney once a year on an annual basis. I came up with an idea for a short film, but I didn't have any characters. I thought, why bother inventing something new? After months of negotiations, this brought Danny Hawaii to the silver screen. Here's a sample:

Suffice it to say the movie was nothing special, but the soundtrack and the editing were pretty good.

What made the movie mediocre? The story. Being a private investigator (in a fictional sense), it made sense for me to find out why the story was so crap. The book I read to find out why, or at least the first book I read to find out why, was Story by Robert McKee.

One book led to another, and six books on writing later, I had been bitten badly by the spidery mistress that is writing.

I'm lazy, just like anyone else, so why bother reinventing another character? I mean, I had a great name that had already been road-tested.

Thus the novel began.

The Truth - Part I

I am Danny Hawaii. Danny Hawaii is not me. Both of these are true.

Danny Hawaii was a name that came to me when I was looking for it. I was writing music under the name 'Braincancel' and decided that it didn't suit the direction I was heading in. And it was a crap name. Really crap.

If you know anything about coming up with names, you'll know that there's no sure-fire system. I tried random name generators, words I saw on bus stops, eavesdropping on conversations, you name it (couldn't help that one). Nothing clicked.

My real name is Daniel Hatadi. I've always hated being called Danny. So I thought it would be a lark if I made Danny the first name of my musical persona. A few days later I was thinking along the lines of a Danny-ised version of Johnny Hero or Johnny Plastic or Johnny Doohicky. You know, the good old generic American military superhero.

And somehow, my last name fell and bumped itself on my tongue as it flew out of my mouth.

Danny Hawaii was born.

There's more to the story. Why did I make a short film? Why did I write a novel?

I'm going to make you wait for that. Tee hee.

The Great Revision Begins

No, I haven't finished the first draft yet. A couple of months away I'd say. So it's not a hack and slash revision that I'm talking about, more a prune and trim.

Every now and then, when I can't bring about enough enthusiasm to plod through the next scene, I go back and revise. This time I went back about a hundred pages. There's still twenty to go before I return to the end, but I've actually enjoyed it.

Yes. Revision. Enjoyed.

This is because all I've done is taken a coarse brush and removed all the dead bits from the text. Words like 'just', 'a bit', and maybe even 'and' and 'the', depending on the context. I rewrite particularly unwieldy sentences and in a few places I'll chop them out altogether. The added bonus is that I get to know the characters and situations 'just a bit' better.

But the novel's structure, even though it is lacking in maturity, stands. I want to get the novel down. It's the only way.

Then I'll go back with the heavy machinery and see what limbs need to get chopped before I think about putting clothes on it.

The Crime Show Syndrome

Danny Hawaii's feeling a tad miffed today, and that is a very mild way of expressing it.

You see, his bike got stolen. My bike.

Instead of going into the details and getting all worked up about it, the plan is to vent elsewhere.

I've chosen as my target what I affectionately like to think of as The Goran Show.

I used to love this show. I used to love the way Goran would roll his head and insert interesting pauses into his speech, like a modern day Captain Kirk. I used to love the writing, the way they would paint a character with a single telling detail, so you would know this guy or gal. I used to love the dry humour of the redheaded coroner.

But now it all looks like a formula. Or a recipe.

* 3 minute teaser - get to know the few new characters, and find out who dies
* 20 minutes of red herrings - Goran and Eames track down a few possible suspects, who turn out to be dead ends, and we usually meet the villain at this point
* 15 minute investigation - now we know the right direction to head in, we narrow in on the perpetrator and prepare the setup - the moment he/she breaks
* 5 minute breakdown - as the soundtrack intensifies, Goran wiggles his head and gesticulates at the criminal until they break down and confess
* 5 second summary - one of the Detectives spits out a moralistic one liner, such as, "Well, I guess he won't be wearing that t-shirt again"

Add commercials to taste, and stir.

The Goran Show is still one of my favourite shows on television, and it certainly craps all over the many other Law & Order/CSI spinoffs, at least for me.

It's just a shame that the most fun I get out of it nowadays is making up my own 'end sentences'.

Danny Hawaii OUT

Danny Hawaii Dead?

Danny Hawaii Dead?
Originally uploaded by dannyhawaii.

Is this really Danny Hawaii?

Was he shot dead on that fateful morning?

Does this mean the novel has ended?

Or is this all just an act, played out by some rabid fan?

Probably.

Bicentennial Achievements

Frank hasn't had a mention here before, so perhaps the time has come to show his face to the world.

Some of you out there may not know that Danny Hawaii, before his life of fighting crime, had a much less glamorous job.

Morgue.

Attendant.

Not having the necessary medical experience, he was unable to perform autopsies, but there's always work at a morgue for anyone with a strong stomach.

And that's where he met Frank Wilder.

With a blood-stained black lab coat built for 6 feet of hulking man, long balding hair held in check by a black mesh wrap, and weighing in at 120 kgs, Frank isn't exactly a lady killer. Which is a shame, because his wit and enthusiasm for all things dead are some of the most tragically under-appreciated attributes in the modern day non-metrosexual male.

Frank has been there for Danny the whole way, through tragedy and success. And today he is getting a mention because he has helped bring about an enumerated achievement of epic proportions.

The novel has hit page 200.

Danny Hawaii OUT

The Magic of Pumpernickel

He's at it again, and this time, HE'S HUNGRY. Danny's recent investigations into the land of digestive catalysts have caused his taste buds to go wild.

The culprit?

Pumpernickel.

How is it possible that thin rectangles of compressed rye bread, with a bit of sweetening, can taste so damn good?

Pumpernickel comes in small, heavy loaves, with about two dozen thin slices. They are dark, and on closer inspection you can see the nodules that make up this most heavenly of dark and savoury treats.

Put all kinds of spreads on the bread if you prefer: cream cheese, cottage cheese, plastic cheese, or Nutella Cheese (TM) (for extra hazelnutty goodness). Just remember that there's nothing like having it plain.

Preferred accompanying drinks?

Water.

Pumpernickel Rye

INGREDIENTS: Destarched Wheat Flour, Soy Protein Isolate, Soy Filter, Rye Flavour, Wheat Protein Isolate, Salt, Lecithin, Sugar, Caramel Col, Enzymes, Ascorbic Acid, Raisin Flavour, Pumpernickel Flavour (that's just to see if you're still reading)

This one goes out to all the WW Girls. Peace.

Danny Hawaii OUT

Word Count Update

There's a very human need to watch things like progress meters. Sure, we could leave the computer alone while it's downloading, but as far as many of us are concerned, those meters must be watched.

56,214.

Progress. Yes. At least this kind of progress is meaningful. Nothing like the cycles of mobile phone sizes, where we fluctuate betwen thumbnails and bricks. From Zoolander to The Secret of My Success and now back again. These days we have the privilege of looking at low quality videos of each other on portable lunchboxes.

Progress.

Blogging About Blogging

This one's gonna be short and sweet, seeing as I'm sure it's been covered elsewhere again and again.

Danny Hawaii, in the middle of an early morning newspaper investigation uncovered this gem:

"For now, web surfers are in two camps as far as blogs are concerned ... There are the committed bloggers on one hand, and a large number of people who don't know or care about blogs on the other. It's a split universe ... "
Rueters

Which pretty much amounts to saying this:

There are two kinds of people in the world. Those that divide everyone into two kinds of people, and those that don't.

Danny Hawaii OUT

Back On Track

After much cajoling and canoodling, Danny Hawaii is once again in motion.

Two months ago he was left standing at the bar of a long dead fictional nightclub with one of the other main characters, George Evanescu. After running into a bouncer he was expecting to avoid, Danny Hawaii was a tad shaken AND stirred. So George and him chittered and chattered and drank and stared.

Unfortunately, that's where Danny was frozen in time, two months ago.

The novel decided to take a short hiatus to Tahiti or some other island with no threat of tsunamis. Picture two hundred pages of manuscript kicking back in a hammock, being fed grapes by a couple of Polynesian girls, and you can see why the novel's been away for so long.

The word count at this point had already been pushed past the fateful mark of 50,000, but this doesn't mean there's cause for celebration. It's just another milestone along the way.

Now, today, two months and an infite number of worlds away, the word count has been pushed forth by a glorious sum total of five hundred.

That's FIVE HUNDRED words more.

In that short space of time, Danny has made it from the bar to the men's room, and into a well-lit cubicle within.

What's in the cubicle? Why is Danny in the cubicle? Who else is in the club?

Will we ever find out?

STAY TUNED

Danny Hawaii OUT

Numerology, Characters & Age

It's not often you hit the word count button and end up with a nice round number.

44,000 is today's word count. Woo hoo. It sounds big to me but it's only a couple of thousand more than it was a couple of weeks ago.

Sometime she go fast, sometime she don't.

The speed hump was caused by the buildup to an important scene. One of the characters had to ramble on and on and let out some clues in the process. But I couldn't get him to do this until I'd fleshed out the background details some more. This included the almost accidental introduction of a new character. The universe does the work of creation and then the character pops into existence at just the right point for just the right reason.

Mysteries work differently to other stories. I see these kind of characters as tools that are used to develop clues and plot points along the way, and a mystery - at least for me - needs a lot of these.

Sometime she do the same old thang, sometime she need some new vibration.

The new character is an old woman, somewhere past seventy. She's mentally unstable, but no doddering fool. This inherent contradiction gives her plenty of energy for a woman of her age.

I've always had a fascination with old people and I've often said that I can't wait to be sitting at a bus stop, complaining about the youth of today and spitting on the ground at random intervals. Add in a beige cardigan, some slippers, and a walking stick with a silver handle and I'm there. Count on it. It will happen.

But don't go thinking I'll be without a Hawaiian shirt and a hat, okay?

Danny Hawaii OUT

Fact & Fiction

Drum roll ... WORD COUNT UPDATE ... 41,303.

I recently introduced myself over at The Mystery Writer's Forum and asked a few questions relating to the location of my novel. Nice bunch of folks over there. Welcoming and helpful. A real community of like-minded souls. I'm sure I'll be visiting more often.

Back to the biz.

Originally I had planned to set the novel in the not-too-distant future, in a fictional town/city/suburb based on Newtown, a suburb in Sydney. My home town.

After working with a mixed bunch of fictional and real names I felt it was time to settle the subject once and for all.

There's still a few details to flesh out, but I've moved to - roughly - the present time and my present location: Newtown, Sydney, Australia (actually, I live in Erskineville, which is the next suburb south).

I only had to change the one character, plus a few street names.

So, exit stage left for Detective Sergeant Roger Thornberg of Newtown Police and enter ...

Roger Thornberg, Licensed Detective (yes, they are often referred to as 'inquiry agents' in Australia, but not always). He's lost his uniform and a few years, gained a belly and sideburns, and changed his speech habits. He runs an agency up the road from Danny's called Thorns & Roses and he's supervising Danny for the 12 months needed to approve his application to become a licensed detective. Danny's already done the government-approved course so that's all that's holding him back now.

I think he's much a more interesting character to work with and I find it far easier to 'write' him. I can see him clearly in his brown and pale blue recycled suits and shirts with oversized collars and oversized sideburns. He's a throwback to an Australia of the 70s and represents the old guard.

Who's the new guard then?

Danny Hawaii of course.

Who Is Danny Hawaii?

Perhaps it's impossible to wear an identity without becoming what you pretend to be.
- Valentine, "Ender's Game" by Orson Scott Card

The Nature Of Intelligence

It doesn't matter how smart you are, you'll still point the spoon the wrong way when you turn the tap on.

SPLASH

Danny Hawaii OUT

Goodbye 2004, How I Knew Thee Well

First I would like to wish everyone I know a very Happy New Year and I would advise them not to consume the same mass quantities I plan on indulging in. Chances are if I see you on the night I might not even remember it.

No, that's not true. When I was a young boy, a gypsy woman placed a strange curse on me: I am doomed to have a good memory.

For me, this year has been a year of changes in perspective and of getting things done.

At some point around the beginning of the year I had the strong realisation that I was actually in a good relationship and that this could be my base for 'taking off' in terms of my personal goals.

Lotsa love to ya, baby!

My first novel is really chugging along. I started at the beginning of August and I've reached 35,777 words (or 132 pages). I'm just over half way. I only had a few major events planned for the second half of the novel, so the last few weeks has seen me plotting and scheming my way into the rest of the sordid details. So once I recover from New Year's Eve I should be able to use my lunchtimes at my other job for further adventures in wording.

My partner in love and I were forced into moving house a few months ago on account of the previous landlords. Initially, I ran around telling everyone that we were evicted and that we were stupid to have nominated each other for the eviction.

That's known as a dumb joke.

The reality of it is that our landlord's daugher wanted to move in to their house with some friends. Fair enough.

We've ended up in what we both think is a nicer place, even if it is a bit smaller. So the New Year will involve us warming the house with a few close friends and then rocking out on the town. Somewhere. I'm not telling where. Okay?

So here's a final toast to you all for the year:

Go lick a power point!

Jack Daniels

I don't have this drink that often because it holds some special memories for me. But last night I went to a BBQ and I ended up polishing off two four-packs of Jack & Coke in bottle format all by myself.

The first time I drank Jack Daniels was at the age of 17. I drank a lot of it. All on the one night.

It was my birthday and two friends of mine, lets call them Michael and Michael, bought a bottle of the stuff as a birthday present and brought it to school. So, 'straighty-one-eighty' Danny ends up carrying a bottle of whiskey in his backpack for the whole day. At school. To class. Where all the teachers are. I didn't get caught, but I did have a whole lotta worry on me.

Once the day was over the three of us boys headed up to the rocks near a tower at the local beach. It might have been a light tower, I can't remember. The bottle was passed around and for some strange reason I ended up consuming the larger portion of it. We then made our way down to the northern end of the beach. Michael had the bright idea of getting hold of a cask of cheap wine.

After a few plastic cups of that it was just like drinking water. Each successive cup went down unnoticed, much like mouthwash wouldn't if it was swallowed.

I remember confessing I had a crush on a particular girl and I'm sure it meant a whole lot to me, but it just fades into obscurity with the passing of time.

Another friend or two turned up later, but by that point we were lying on the grass, in the dark, vomiting out the side of our mouths.

Obviously this helped clear my head because I jumped up and decided to leave. I remember trying to tell the others of my decision through the use of telepathy, but they didn't listen, so I walked off in a huff.

It probably took half an hour to walk home and fifteen minutes to get my key in the door.

And something like two days to recover.

During the debriefing of the evening - back at school a few days later - we discovered that I'd walked off without my ghetto blaster and that Michael had driven the others home while drunk and hit ... maybe only a few parked cars on the way.

Michael, quite the graffiti artist (seriously) tagged our names all over the bottle and I still have it on my shelf.

At Michael's funeral a couple of years ago I came up with the idea of recreating that fateful evening from so long ago. We were to fill the bottle with Jack and drink it down at the beach again, minus one. I guess the idea was a bit too morbid for the others so the bottle stays where it is.

In my room. On the shelf.

Last night's drinks were for you Michael.

Cheers.

A Date With Dentistry

I am NEVER going to do that again.

And neither should anyone else. Please, if any of you have a problem tooth or two, head over to your local sinister butcher (a.k.a The Dentist) and get a checkup. Get it sorted NOW. Before it's too late.

To explain: a long time ago I went to the dentist to have a wisdom tooth taken out. It was a trouble free operation and after it was over he mentioned that I should come back soon and get a filling done.

Ten years later and a few weeks ago, I went to have a checkup. I thought, maybe a couple of fillings and it would all be over. No such luck. I lost that tooth that very day and was told I would need thirteen more fillings. THIRTEEN.

Once the needle had done its numbing work on my gum I thought it would be a simple matter of a quick pull with the pliers.

No, no, no.

There wasn't enough left of the tooth to grab onto. He had to cut away some of the bone so that he could get his instruments of destruction in and split the tooth root by root. After that it was easy. After half an hour of grunting and pulling and jiggling with a selection of pliers and other pointy things, it was easy.

After it was over, I peeled myself off the chair and wondered what the assistant would use to clean the sweat from the plastic covering.

And to 'cap' it all off, I got to pay for it afterwards. Mumbling and spluttering to the woman from my medical insurer explaining that I'd been paying medical insurance every month for the last three years didn't stop me having to visit their office to process my claim manually.

That was a few weeks ago.

This weekend went pretty much the same, except we spent an hour or so trying to save the tooth by drilling and filling. Eventually we ran out of time and the next patient came in. I had to go home for a couple of hours and wait while the anaesthetic wore off so I could go back and get the tooth taken out.

In the interest of my own sanity I won't mention the earthing plate underneath my back or the smell of my own burning gums or the hour of agony after the anaesthetic wore off before the pills took effect.

I won't mention that although the dentist was a friend of the family and a pretty nice guy that locked the surgery door and stayed back to do the job right, he really did look like a gorilla.

I'll just mention the number of fillings I still have left to do.

Twelve.

Danny Hawaii OUT

Danny Hawaii Novel Under Threat Of Self-Combustion

Sounds like a headline, don't it?

The novel has reached 32,000 words and about 120 pages.

As I make my way through it I'm starting to realise that it is probably going to be broken up into two main parts, or two related cases. The first case is fairly well plotted out, but I only have the broad strokes of the second case painted in my notes. The threads that link the two canvases together are also fairly clear in my mind and in my notes.

That's all fine and dandy. I can handle that. That means I'm almost half way there, as I'm looking at about 65,000-75,000 words total.

My problem now is that I find that the further I get into the novel, the more I have to start juggling all the elements and actually doing some research. I may have to revisit my 'Character Connections' flowchart that I drew up a few months ago. Which means that I have to redo it, because it was a total mess.

Still, even as I write this the little gears in my head are ticking away and the background processes of my mind are piecing all the bits together. I am fairly confident that the logic of the plot will make sense and all of it will unravel neatly in the denouement.

For now, it's all a bit messy and sketchy.

Thank [insert deity] for revision!

Danny Hawaii OUT

(wow, is it me I'm writing about, or am I playing the part of a person that's pretending to be me that is writing a novel about a fictional character that's based on the person that's pretending to be me?)

Funeral Dirges R Not Us

I thought it might be good to document this somewhere. It's not really something for the novel though.

When I die - if I die - there's a song that needs to be played at my funeral. If I have a funeral.

The song is 'Boom, Boom' by John Lee Hooker.

It's very important to get the version right. I want the one that is heard in the movie 'The Blues Brothers', with Hooker and friends playing on Maxwell Street, Chicago, chugging it all out and stomping them boots.

The DVD of the movie has the full version of this song.

It's also very important that it is played VERY LOUD. Don't dare go skimping on the P.A.

Danny Hawaii OUT

Danny Hawaii's Annual Health Warning

Don't drink and drive while swimming.