Keep on Keeping on.
"Do you think you'll write a book about your swim?" My Mum was quick to clarify her question: "I know not many would read it, but I probably would." More than a little put out, I hit back: "I think we'll be too busy making the film, to be honest, Mum, so the book will have to wait."
So much is already in place. I have a working title for the film: some sort of clever play on 'Jaws', and with our Sea Dogs name, I'm trying to choose between 'Claws' and 'Paws'. Deciding who should play Graham was easy; I just need to track down Chewbacca, and see if he can do his strange roar/cry with a soft Edinburgh lilt.
I think we have most of the key elements of a good film. We've had set-backs: there was a time when Graham and I were both in and out of A and E; I discovered that hitting the side of a car whilst travelling fast on a bike is not ideal for the shoulder, and definitely not ideal for the bike itself, and Graham's month or so on crutches led to a few moments of doubt as to whether our Channel attempt would go ahead; or to be more precise, whether I could fish him out if we started it.
Alongside the set-backs, we've had the much-needed 'feel-good moments' that every Hollywood blockbuster requires: the random appearances of the lone saxophonist, playing Careless Whisper as we undressed on the beach with the sun rising, definitely deserve a scene to themselves; who knows, maybe someone, somewhere is currently making a film all about him, with a short scene when two blokes appear in the background and start undressing.
And of course, we'll have the 'Rocky' training montage to end all training montages: cutting powerfully through glass-like sea, emerging triumphantly from the crashing waves, gazing 'moodily' across the ocean as the strains of Eye of the Tiger pound behind us; we may have to edit the bits when we limp and crawl across the pebbles or struggle for 5 minutes trying to get our socks on, but otherwise I think we're sorted on that front, too.
The one element I think we're missing is the 'love intrigue'; our wives will be happy to have that confirmed, and I don't see a problem in having some strong 'bromance' at the heart of a very modern 21st-century film.
The main issue, as I see it, is how the film might capture the boring reality of training for a Channel attempt. How do you convey the majesty of the mundane? The hours and hours of - wait for it - swimming; of setting the alarm just a bit too early, and bashing around at home in the dark, trying not to wake up the children, but failing (again); of being just a bit too late for family dinners; of being just a bit too tired to do anything very exciting on a Friday (or Saturday) evening. How could a film capture the true glamour of wearing layer upon layer upon layer of clothing, or of phoning your other half post-swim and not really being able to speak because the feeling in your face had gone completely?
When you sign up for an adventure or a challenge, there is an initial rush, a burst of excitement and energy and enthusiasm. And then there's the main, middle section: when that first rush of belief fades, not so much into the cold light of day, as the cold dark of the early morning, and you simply have to keep training, keep getting up, keep on keeping on. One of my favourite American writers sums it up perfectly:
"Life is like a crossing. At some point, the shore you left is distant and there is no going back. But then you find yourself in the 'middle', and discover it was harder than you thought. You can see the distant shore, and you wonder if you're moving forward at all. The only decision is to keep going, keep going, keep going. And then suddenly, well after you thought it would happen, the other shore starts to grow, and it grows fast. The trees get taller, you can make out the crags in the cliffs and the shore reaches out to you."
I imagine our actual crossing will be like that. But for now, here we are firmly in the 'middle' bit of our training adventure; very little glamour, lots of mundane routines, niggles, injuries and illness, and above all, more than a little doubtful, unsure if we're making the progress we need to make; but, with only one real choice to make: to keep on keeping on.
So much is already in place. I have a working title for the film: some sort of clever play on 'Jaws', and with our Sea Dogs name, I'm trying to choose between 'Claws' and 'Paws'. Deciding who should play Graham was easy; I just need to track down Chewbacca, and see if he can do his strange roar/cry with a soft Edinburgh lilt.
I think we have most of the key elements of a good film. We've had set-backs: there was a time when Graham and I were both in and out of A and E; I discovered that hitting the side of a car whilst travelling fast on a bike is not ideal for the shoulder, and definitely not ideal for the bike itself, and Graham's month or so on crutches led to a few moments of doubt as to whether our Channel attempt would go ahead; or to be more precise, whether I could fish him out if we started it.
Alongside the set-backs, we've had the much-needed 'feel-good moments' that every Hollywood blockbuster requires: the random appearances of the lone saxophonist, playing Careless Whisper as we undressed on the beach with the sun rising, definitely deserve a scene to themselves; who knows, maybe someone, somewhere is currently making a film all about him, with a short scene when two blokes appear in the background and start undressing.
And of course, we'll have the 'Rocky' training montage to end all training montages: cutting powerfully through glass-like sea, emerging triumphantly from the crashing waves, gazing 'moodily' across the ocean as the strains of Eye of the Tiger pound behind us; we may have to edit the bits when we limp and crawl across the pebbles or struggle for 5 minutes trying to get our socks on, but otherwise I think we're sorted on that front, too.
The one element I think we're missing is the 'love intrigue'; our wives will be happy to have that confirmed, and I don't see a problem in having some strong 'bromance' at the heart of a very modern 21st-century film.
The main issue, as I see it, is how the film might capture the boring reality of training for a Channel attempt. How do you convey the majesty of the mundane? The hours and hours of - wait for it - swimming; of setting the alarm just a bit too early, and bashing around at home in the dark, trying not to wake up the children, but failing (again); of being just a bit too late for family dinners; of being just a bit too tired to do anything very exciting on a Friday (or Saturday) evening. How could a film capture the true glamour of wearing layer upon layer upon layer of clothing, or of phoning your other half post-swim and not really being able to speak because the feeling in your face had gone completely?
When you sign up for an adventure or a challenge, there is an initial rush, a burst of excitement and energy and enthusiasm. And then there's the main, middle section: when that first rush of belief fades, not so much into the cold light of day, as the cold dark of the early morning, and you simply have to keep training, keep getting up, keep on keeping on. One of my favourite American writers sums it up perfectly:
"Life is like a crossing. At some point, the shore you left is distant and there is no going back. But then you find yourself in the 'middle', and discover it was harder than you thought. You can see the distant shore, and you wonder if you're moving forward at all. The only decision is to keep going, keep going, keep going. And then suddenly, well after you thought it would happen, the other shore starts to grow, and it grows fast. The trees get taller, you can make out the crags in the cliffs and the shore reaches out to you."
I imagine our actual crossing will be like that. But for now, here we are firmly in the 'middle' bit of our training adventure; very little glamour, lots of mundane routines, niggles, injuries and illness, and above all, more than a little doubtful, unsure if we're making the progress we need to make; but, with only one real choice to make: to keep on keeping on.
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