Navigation

Justin Brown

8 kick-ass pieces of writing advice

posted on May 26, 2015 by in Random Style

Not a wasted word. This has been a main point to my literary thinking all my life.
HUNTER S. THOMPSON

Inspect your “hads” and see if you really need them.
MARTIN AMIS

The length of a film should be directly related to the endurance of the human bladder.
ALFRED HITCHCOCK

The conscious mind is the editor, and the subconscious mind is the writer.
STEVE MARTIN

Don’t say it was “delightful”; make us say “delightful” when we’ve read the description.
C.S. LEWIS

I find that discussing an idea out loud is often the way to kill it stone dead.
J.K. ROWLING

The first draft is just you telling yourself the story.
TERRY PRATCHETT

Just do it.
N. IKE

(With thanks to @AdviceToWriters apart from No. 8)

 

That Sugar Film

posted on May 25, 2015 by in Random Style

A rainy Saturday afternoon. Kid’s soccer cancelled.

‘Really,’ I scoffed. ‘A film about sugar?’

I’ll sit through any movie. It’s like a gig, there’s always something you take away.

But sugar?

The premise: Aussie Actor Damon Gameau decided to eliminate refined sugar from his diet. Not the typical sugars we know will kill you – cheeseburgers, chips and sundaes – but the hidden buggers in yoghurts, cereals and fruit juice. ‘You see some of these products in the supermarket with a sunset on them,’ he says. ‘Or words like Mother Nature and a bee and a flower or something. And people believe it.’

Gameau consumed the typical Australian’s 40 teaspoons of sugar a day, kept up his exercise routine, the same kilojoule intake of his typical diet and only ate foods perceived to be healthy. The result? He put on weight, lost energy and craved endless sugary hits. But can a film change behaviour? Afterwards, my niece handed me her fruit juice and threw her M’n’Ms in the bin. As we left our seats I inhaled buttery popcorn and chocolate covered ice cream cones at the ticket counter.

‘Guess you’re not selling too much confectionary this week?’ I asked the usher.
‘Nothing,’ he replied.

And this morning my daughter wanted nothing on her porridge but milk.
Job done, Mr Gameau.

The Black Caps Open Office Doors For Rare Glimpse Into Their Workplace

posted on March 2, 2015 by in Random Style

black-caps-huddle-2015-ps

It is a typical morning in the Black Caps office. Stuffed wallabies and kangaroos hang from the walls. Brendon McCullum (Macca) is reading notes on his treadmill, coffee in one hand and 45kg dumbell in the other. Martin Guptill sits at his desk studying notes.

MACCA: Morning Guppy, first in again?

GUPPY: As always, but not for long. Got a 10’o’clock.

The office door swings open and a cheesy grin appears.

DAVEY WARNER: HEY, C%CKHEADS!

Macca attempts to thwack Warner across the head with his office chair.

DAVEY WARNER: Ha! Messed!

Macca picks up Warner with one finger and hurls him out of the window without spilling a drop.

MACCA: Damn Ockers.

Macca sits down, pats his pet Komodo dragon and unscrews the top of his power shake. He skulls the contents and crushes the bottle with his forehead.

MACCA: Now don’t forget, we’ve got that presentation with Mitchell Starc today.

The office goes quiet. Macca looks at the rest of the Black Caps who have arrived on masse.

MACCA: So?

GRANT ELLIOTT: Um, I’m, I’ve got to be somewhere.

ROSS TAYLOR: My grandma died.

ADAM MILNE: I think, yeah, my grandma’s dy-ing.

Grant, Ross and Adam flee. Three cars start up and speed off.

Tim Southee appears from the kitchen with two semi-naked broads hanging off him. Macca holds up the presentation notes.

TIM: Come off it, Macca! I’ve done heaps lately. Plus, you know, got my hands full.

The girls laugh and nuzzle Southee’s neck.

A tornado of canary yellow enters the office. It is Pat Cummins and he looks pissed.

PAT CUMMINS: Change of plan. I’m Mitch today and I do things different. Arm wrestle to see who wins this deal.

Macca rolls his sleeves up.

MACCA: Game on.

PAT CUMMINS: Not you, him.

Him is the mild-mannered, bearded man in the beige cardigan by the photocopier.

A bogan appears, clinging to the office window.

DAVEY WARNER: You got no chance, P*SSY!

Macca slams the window on Warner’s hand, then pulls it up just enough. Warner falls to the ground below and crushes Mitchell Johnson’s mobile tattoo parlour.

Kane Williamson sits opposite Pat Cummins.

KANE: Can I get you a cup of tea?

PAT CUMMINS: Get on with it, WIMP.

KANE: What about a biscuit?

Pat grabs Kane’s right arm and forces it inches from the desktop. Kane smiles and reciprocates. The desk is split into two. Pat writhes in pain.  A broken wrist and sweaty underarms.

KANE: Thank you for the opportunity. I think you did very well.

PAT CUMMINS: Sheep shagging hobbit.

Kane digs into his work bag and pulls out a can of Rexona.

KANE: Maybe use this next time?