...has sort of zipped by, don't you think?
It's one of the weird things about NaNoWriMo; it makes November both the longest and shortest month of the year. On the one hand I've still got a ridiculously large number of words to squeeze out of my head, but on the other it feel like only yesterday that I was tidying up my writing space for the kick off. A quick run down of how things are going:
Heating fail. In a great example of the fabulous timing of Sod's Law, our central heating packed up at the beginning of the week, leaving us slowing freezing in our drafty old victorian terrace. It's amazing really how depressing it can get, being cold all day. I survived by buying new hot waterbottles and keeping mine tucked down the front of my dressing gown while I typed. On Friday, the Boiler Magicians came and sorted it out.
Word count win! So far this year, the writing has been fun, and it has been reflected in my word count. As of tonight I'm at 17,222 words, approximately two days ahead of where I need to be. This is good because this upcoming week contains at least two days when I suspect getting anything done will be difficult.
I'm enjoying the story and I'm beginning to wonder if this is a full length book rather than a novella. :s It's always difficult to decide this; ideally, I'd like to have finished this story by the end of the month, so I can get on with a) finishing A Boy of Blood and Clay, b) editing Bad Apple Bone or the rogue c) option, starting another book. ;) But if I'm really getting somewhere with the story, perhaps I should consider continuing into December. Hmm, it's all about the pacing...
I have been surprised by the cynicism of some people. It's not a huge deal, as most people seem to "get" NaNoWriMo and what it's all about, but there does seem to be a little flicker among some who seem to think it's a bit silly and deserves a bit of mockery. My initial response to such people would be "Come back and take the piss when you've written a book in 30 days, dude. Or anything longer than your facebook status update". But I have been good, and ignored any such comments. It's my folly and I love it.
And that's where I am at the moment. :) Guido Foss has made it to the Flats, and is about to find out just how unpleasant life can be out in the desert. I shall enjoy making it difficult for her.
Sunday, 8 November 2009
Saturday, 31 October 2009
The Writing Space
This is the place where I will be doing much of my grimacing at the laptop over November. Items of note; Charlie the Nano Pony- my Nano mascot, pile of sweets and Thorntons chocolate for rewards/sugar fuel, Nano calendar on the wall to the right, small stack of notebooks from previous books to remind myself that I can write, moomin mousepad (I don't have a mouse, but it is very cool) and various postcards of interesting stuff.To be honest, I don't really subsribe to the Writing Space idea. Someone once wrote (can't remember who) that writing often had to be done around the edges of life; much of my writing is done on the fly, in notebooks or down the pub or on the bus. Having a special space for it is lovely (and I have spent many minutes admiring my little desk and it's collection of pleasing objects) but life doesn't always give you the time to go and sit in it.
Still, for NaNoWriMo having a desk to write at is all part of the fun, and I'm looking forward to starting- not long now! :)
Sunday, 18 October 2009
Where I am now...
I am better than I was.
As some of you might know, I've had a shitty few months. Ongoing problems with a tooth, a chest infection that may or may not have been swine flu, an unusable bathroom for weeks, and very sadly my Nan passed away.
I suppose that sometimes strife doesn't line up in an orderly queue, sometimes it just shouts "BUNDLE!" and lets rip. The good news is, I feel like I have, to some extent, come out of the other side now. Although my chest is still a little weak and I have a very sensitive gag reflex now, I'm over the mystery flu. We now have a bathroom with an actual door and sink (you don't realise how important a toilet door is until you don't have one for weeks). We've had my Nan's funeral, which was as difficult and painful as you would expect, and there will be more pain to come as the house where I grew up in is emptied of all the things that made it home, and is sold; but you take the memories that you can and you soldier on, always the walking wounded.
The tooth that was lingering on has been removed. Hoo-fucking-ray! The horrible thing about that was the waiting for the appointment; even when I was feeling myself again, and relatively happy, always at the back of my mind was the tooth problem, sucking away any ability to relax. Now it's sorted, it is genuinely like a black cloud has stopped hanging over my head, and has gone off to bother Charlie Brown or Calvin or someone.
So I am better than I was. :) A side effect of the crap of the last few months has been that my writing has taken a serious knock. I can't concentrate when I'm anxious, and a number of problems with A Boy of Blood and Clay that I had been trying to write around suddenly became insurmountable, and I lost my way with the book. Shitsticks. I forced myself to write for a while, and stopped again when I realised I was hating it, hating the characters, and hating the story. The problem is longwinded, but the short version is this; with Bad Apple Bone, I had the main character in my head for some time, years even, before I started writing. I might not have known the plot, but I had a good idea of what Noon was like. With A Boy of Blood and Clay, I did the briefest of outlines and character sketches, and then threw myself into it, assuming I'd be able to make it up as I went; after all, it had worked with the last book.
It turns out, that was a slightly silly idea.
So I've put A Boy of Blood and Clay to one side for a while. I don't know the characters well enough, and it needs a hell of a lot more research before I can get the story into the shape I wanted in the first place. I'll come back to it (if only because I've written 63,000 words of the bugger already!) and Mike and Faye and Gushel and the terrible Eustace Cream will certainly get an end to their stories one day.
In other news, NaNoWriMo is two weeks away! I had a great time last year writing Bird and Tower, and I can't wait to do it all again- this time with more planning and research, obviously. ;) More about that on the next blog post.
As some of you might know, I've had a shitty few months. Ongoing problems with a tooth, a chest infection that may or may not have been swine flu, an unusable bathroom for weeks, and very sadly my Nan passed away.
I suppose that sometimes strife doesn't line up in an orderly queue, sometimes it just shouts "BUNDLE!" and lets rip. The good news is, I feel like I have, to some extent, come out of the other side now. Although my chest is still a little weak and I have a very sensitive gag reflex now, I'm over the mystery flu. We now have a bathroom with an actual door and sink (you don't realise how important a toilet door is until you don't have one for weeks). We've had my Nan's funeral, which was as difficult and painful as you would expect, and there will be more pain to come as the house where I grew up in is emptied of all the things that made it home, and is sold; but you take the memories that you can and you soldier on, always the walking wounded.
The tooth that was lingering on has been removed. Hoo-fucking-ray! The horrible thing about that was the waiting for the appointment; even when I was feeling myself again, and relatively happy, always at the back of my mind was the tooth problem, sucking away any ability to relax. Now it's sorted, it is genuinely like a black cloud has stopped hanging over my head, and has gone off to bother Charlie Brown or Calvin or someone.
So I am better than I was. :) A side effect of the crap of the last few months has been that my writing has taken a serious knock. I can't concentrate when I'm anxious, and a number of problems with A Boy of Blood and Clay that I had been trying to write around suddenly became insurmountable, and I lost my way with the book. Shitsticks. I forced myself to write for a while, and stopped again when I realised I was hating it, hating the characters, and hating the story. The problem is longwinded, but the short version is this; with Bad Apple Bone, I had the main character in my head for some time, years even, before I started writing. I might not have known the plot, but I had a good idea of what Noon was like. With A Boy of Blood and Clay, I did the briefest of outlines and character sketches, and then threw myself into it, assuming I'd be able to make it up as I went; after all, it had worked with the last book.
It turns out, that was a slightly silly idea.
So I've put A Boy of Blood and Clay to one side for a while. I don't know the characters well enough, and it needs a hell of a lot more research before I can get the story into the shape I wanted in the first place. I'll come back to it (if only because I've written 63,000 words of the bugger already!) and Mike and Faye and Gushel and the terrible Eustace Cream will certainly get an end to their stories one day.
In other news, NaNoWriMo is two weeks away! I had a great time last year writing Bird and Tower, and I can't wait to do it all again- this time with more planning and research, obviously. ;) More about that on the next blog post.
Wednesday, 2 September 2009
The Oxford Street Branch of TopShop is a cleverly disguised circle of Hell
I went to a wedding on Sunday (and a lovely and happy wedding it was too) which obviously meant I spent the week beforehand desperately running from clothes shop to clothes shop growing more and more desperate as I realised I am ultimately doomed to never find anything I like ever. In fact, the chances are that if you spoke to me in the last week or so you'd have had to put up with at least a bit of whinging about how much I hate clothes shopping, and how dreadful the whole experience is.
So I just wanted to say it again here. I hate clothes shopping. Yes I do.
When I've mentioned this previously in the week, I have had at least three people respond with "Oh but all girls love shopping, don't they?". Side stepping the obvious urge to break things here, I will acknowledge that yes, the stereotypical view of women is that they love the shopping, can't get enough of it, love shoes more than men etc. I will admit that there was a time when I might have enjoyed it slightly, mainly when I was a teenager with a) no bills and b) no serious job, so I could wear what I liked because I didn't have to worry about not having money for other things or buying clothes unsuitable for work. Now though, I find it to be a poxy, mind-deadening experience of hideousness, and here are the fundamental reasons why:
1) The people who do like shopping. Shops are heaving with the sort of skinny, invariably blond women who absolutely adore buying clothes, presumably because everything fits them and they look great in everything. They can be seen grazing skinny fit jeans in Top Shop and fingering fabrics like their lives depend on it. True, it's not really their fault that they enjoy it, but it doesn't stop them getting on my wick (and getting in my way).
2) It's the same old shit in every single shop. This is probably the biggest reason I hate it. Seriously, I walked up and down fucking Oxford Street and halfway around Lewisham, not to mention all sorts of random shops I jumped in out of desperation and they all contained EXACTLY THE SAME DAMN THINGS. If you would like, for example, a mid-length skirt at the moment, you're stuffed. You could be entirely ready to accept any style or colour, or even be prepared to snip sequins off it for a wearable skirt, it won't matter because they don't exist anymore. Because, I suspect, it's not "in season". If you want gypsy neck tops in colours such as lurid purple and bright green, black leggings or smock tops, well then you're in luck because that's all there is. Honestly, the most depressing thing about high street shopping is the relentless assertion that you must all dress like the herd; get in line with the other sheep, because we can't be bothered to provide you with an actual choice.
3) The lameness of the shops themselves. The Dorothy Perkins that closed it's changing room an hour before the shop closed itself, for no apparent reason- two members of staff were actually sitting in it, having a chat, but they looked at me like I'd cacked on their gypsy tops because I wanted to try something on. Really? You expect me to buy something without trying it on? Perhaps if I was one of the size 6 blond brigade, this would be viable. The New Look with changing room doors like wobbly saloon doors, with an inch gap in the middle that everyone can clearly see you through. I expect most women have been in changing rooms whilst small children nip about randomly pushing open doors and yelling for their mum- I've always hated this, but in New Look it doesn't really matter because everyone can see your pale bottom and holey underwear anyway. And there's TK&Max, where 60% of the items you pick up will have holes in already or stains in odd places, and good luck trying to find an actual pair of shoes. No chance.
I did find stuff to wear in the end, and amazingly, I liked it (a long purple skirt, tellingly in a Marks & Spencers Outlet store- you can't find any long skirts otherwise, believe me!). But what it has left me with is a huge reluctance to ever go high street shopping again. And I don't think I'll be missing out, quite honestly.
So I just wanted to say it again here. I hate clothes shopping. Yes I do.
When I've mentioned this previously in the week, I have had at least three people respond with "Oh but all girls love shopping, don't they?". Side stepping the obvious urge to break things here, I will acknowledge that yes, the stereotypical view of women is that they love the shopping, can't get enough of it, love shoes more than men etc. I will admit that there was a time when I might have enjoyed it slightly, mainly when I was a teenager with a) no bills and b) no serious job, so I could wear what I liked because I didn't have to worry about not having money for other things or buying clothes unsuitable for work. Now though, I find it to be a poxy, mind-deadening experience of hideousness, and here are the fundamental reasons why:
1) The people who do like shopping. Shops are heaving with the sort of skinny, invariably blond women who absolutely adore buying clothes, presumably because everything fits them and they look great in everything. They can be seen grazing skinny fit jeans in Top Shop and fingering fabrics like their lives depend on it. True, it's not really their fault that they enjoy it, but it doesn't stop them getting on my wick (and getting in my way).
2) It's the same old shit in every single shop. This is probably the biggest reason I hate it. Seriously, I walked up and down fucking Oxford Street and halfway around Lewisham, not to mention all sorts of random shops I jumped in out of desperation and they all contained EXACTLY THE SAME DAMN THINGS. If you would like, for example, a mid-length skirt at the moment, you're stuffed. You could be entirely ready to accept any style or colour, or even be prepared to snip sequins off it for a wearable skirt, it won't matter because they don't exist anymore. Because, I suspect, it's not "in season". If you want gypsy neck tops in colours such as lurid purple and bright green, black leggings or smock tops, well then you're in luck because that's all there is. Honestly, the most depressing thing about high street shopping is the relentless assertion that you must all dress like the herd; get in line with the other sheep, because we can't be bothered to provide you with an actual choice.
3) The lameness of the shops themselves. The Dorothy Perkins that closed it's changing room an hour before the shop closed itself, for no apparent reason- two members of staff were actually sitting in it, having a chat, but they looked at me like I'd cacked on their gypsy tops because I wanted to try something on. Really? You expect me to buy something without trying it on? Perhaps if I was one of the size 6 blond brigade, this would be viable. The New Look with changing room doors like wobbly saloon doors, with an inch gap in the middle that everyone can clearly see you through. I expect most women have been in changing rooms whilst small children nip about randomly pushing open doors and yelling for their mum- I've always hated this, but in New Look it doesn't really matter because everyone can see your pale bottom and holey underwear anyway. And there's TK&Max, where 60% of the items you pick up will have holes in already or stains in odd places, and good luck trying to find an actual pair of shoes. No chance.
I did find stuff to wear in the end, and amazingly, I liked it (a long purple skirt, tellingly in a Marks & Spencers Outlet store- you can't find any long skirts otherwise, believe me!). But what it has left me with is a huge reluctance to ever go high street shopping again. And I don't think I'll be missing out, quite honestly.
Tuesday, 1 September 2009
fly by postings
Well. Well! August has been both busy, and poxy, and it has to be said very little good appears to have come of it. Skipping over some of the shitty stuff I will launch into a hastily written update of where things are and where they may or may not be going...
Firstly, there's the new forum! Well, not quite so new now, we've probably taken the plastic covers off it by this point and scratched the cover a bit when we put it in our pocket with the keys without thinking, but it's up and running and groovy, and we're having plenty of good discussions, sometimes even Box Room related. We had some troubles with the url because it got fiddled with, so here it is in case you need it: http://theboxroom.phpbb3now.com/index.php
I now have three short stories up at scribd.com and they've had lots and lots of views! Whee! I've had some interesting feedback about them, so big huge sweaty thanks to all the people who read them and risked their delicately balanced sanity. The newest one up is Goose, the short story I originally wrote for this very blog- yes, this very blog! Here's the link so you can read it in non-brain achey text, and marvel at a picture of me with a lovely basin haircut: http://www.scribd.com/doc/19017865/Goose
A Boy of Blood and Clay has somewhat ground to a halt. The maelstrom of cack that this month has been took a lot of time away from writing, and also put me in a bit of a depressive funk. The writing has started up again, hesitantly, but I'm starting to look over what I've written and where I'm going and... I'm concerned that I might have bitten off more than I can chew. I love the ideas in A Boy of Blood and Clay, but I have a terrible feeling it's all a bit ambitious. I'm beginning to wonder if this is the book I should have written three or four books down the line; at the moment, I'm not entirely sure I can pull this off.
I have two months to finish it. Two months before the manic, sugar fueled craziness of NaNoWriMo. I'm going to give it that long, and see what happens.
Firstly, there's the new forum! Well, not quite so new now, we've probably taken the plastic covers off it by this point and scratched the cover a bit when we put it in our pocket with the keys without thinking, but it's up and running and groovy, and we're having plenty of good discussions, sometimes even Box Room related. We had some troubles with the url because it got fiddled with, so here it is in case you need it: http://theboxroom.phpbb3now.com/index.php
I now have three short stories up at scribd.com and they've had lots and lots of views! Whee! I've had some interesting feedback about them, so big huge sweaty thanks to all the people who read them and risked their delicately balanced sanity. The newest one up is Goose, the short story I originally wrote for this very blog- yes, this very blog! Here's the link so you can read it in non-brain achey text, and marvel at a picture of me with a lovely basin haircut: http://www.scribd.com/doc/19017865/Goose
A Boy of Blood and Clay has somewhat ground to a halt. The maelstrom of cack that this month has been took a lot of time away from writing, and also put me in a bit of a depressive funk. The writing has started up again, hesitantly, but I'm starting to look over what I've written and where I'm going and... I'm concerned that I might have bitten off more than I can chew. I love the ideas in A Boy of Blood and Clay, but I have a terrible feeling it's all a bit ambitious. I'm beginning to wonder if this is the book I should have written three or four books down the line; at the moment, I'm not entirely sure I can pull this off.
I have two months to finish it. Two months before the manic, sugar fueled craziness of NaNoWriMo. I'm going to give it that long, and see what happens.
Saturday, 15 August 2009
Lights
And following on from yesterday's post where I put up a copy of a story I may have already forced you to read, today we have a brand new spanking spanky new one! Up at scribd.com for your reading pleasure:
http://www.scribd.com/doc/18640699/Lights
It's another scary story (I'm coming to terms with the fact that I only write scary ones) and it isn't very long at all, so if you could give it a quick read and let me know your thoughts, I would love you forever and buy you a drink next time I see you.*
*May not actually happen.
http://www.scribd.com/doc/18640699/Lights
It's another scary story (I'm coming to terms with the fact that I only write scary ones) and it isn't very long at all, so if you could give it a quick read and let me know your thoughts, I would love you forever and buy you a drink next time I see you.*
*May not actually happen.
Friday, 14 August 2009
Short Story Goodness!
Hey all! You may or may not know that it's been a fairly crappy couple of weeks for me- I don't wanna go over all my woes here, but the short version is that at the moment I am stuck at home with possible/suspected pig flu, or at least a mild dose of it. The most annoying thing about this, in a way, is that although I initially thought "Well at least I can get some writing done..." the truth is, when you have to pause to cough your lungs up every 2o seconds, it's really difficult to concentrate on anything, let alone write cool stuff.
I have managed to do some little bits and pieces towards getting some of my short stories up on the web and readable. Firstly, I have plonked London Stone up online myself- you can see it here and even download it (if this works):
http://www.scribd.com/doc/18589919/London-Stone-PDF
If you haven't read it yet, please do give it a go; I really rather like it, which I can't often say about my own work! If you have already read it, let me know if this PDF business works...
Note: The picture on the front is from a photo I took on my wander around London, if you're interested.
I have managed to do some little bits and pieces towards getting some of my short stories up on the web and readable. Firstly, I have plonked London Stone up online myself- you can see it here and even download it (if this works):
http://www.scribd.com/doc/18589919/London-Stone-PDF
If you haven't read it yet, please do give it a go; I really rather like it, which I can't often say about my own work! If you have already read it, let me know if this PDF business works...
Note: The picture on the front is from a photo I took on my wander around London, if you're interested.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
