Could do better

What do you do when you can't write? You blog.
Hey ho. Rain, wind, clouds, should be using this time efficiently before term starts and I have to turn my attention back to teaching. I had planned to do so much this summer - get the novel finished (hollow laughter), get fit (even hollower laughter)
Where did it all go? What have I actually achieved?

Not as much as I should. Could do better.

The five chapters are out there in the ether being ignored by my supervisor (or else he is so horrified he can't bear to give me feedback), I'm staring at the outline rearranging scenes and ditching entire chapters - a novella anyone?? And the weather is kindly informing me that summer is nearing the end.

Once term starts I will be head down, nose to the grindstone, elbow to the wheel and a few other idioms. I have a rough outline for lesson plans, a few notes for Assignment briefs, all of which need refining. I have a pile of books I need to re-read and some I need to read for the first time. Amazon have been busy delivering stuff this last week and the pile beside my desk is getting alarmingly high.

But.
First
The Holiday.

Paxos for a week, wish it was longer, but a week of lying about by a pool in the sun sounds bloody good right now. I love that boyf is such a fascist about holidays. It is the one thing he is really bossy about. I am checking the weather on line every day and was a bit alarmed yesterday to see a storm forecast for the day of our arrival, but that's changed to a few clouds now, so I'm hopeful that it will have blown away by the weekend.

Meanwhile, back to shuffling chapters around.

Everyone needs...

...an editor. A good writer friend who will, with patience and a good eye go through your work without prejudice and make all those small deletions and highlight all the bits of overwriting and self indulgent phrases.
I have boyf, who has spent hours this weekend doing just that. It is daunting watching someone else wield the red pen over your work, but boy is it helpful. I have just looked at the first chapter and with his help it is now tight, fluid and does what I want. In fact it is pretty damn close to resembling exactly what I thought I'd written but hadn't - does that make sense?
Writing is lonely most of the time, dispiriting a lot of the time, sometimes it is frustrating, sometimes exciting and always consuming. What makes all of this bearable is having someone who understands to share it.

Last night we talked through his screenplay which he is adapting for an American audience. I can see why, but I wish it wasn't necessary. We discussed the different national sensibilities, how would Americans get this joke or that line? It is almost like having to write a whole new story. Of course when he is done or at whatever point he is ready, I will do the same for him as he has done for me. The trouble is, I won't have to do as much, he is very good at editing his own work.

Saw a woman I used to know in Sainsburys this weekend. She didn't see me and I didn't put myself out to be seen. The thing is, that now my kids are older, I have no reason to pretend friendship with this woman - which I did for years. While our children were friends, I ignored the oh so subtle put downs, the passive aggressiveness and the outright rudeness of this woman. When I saw her in a dress shop and she decided to try on the same outfit as me and called out 'I'll need it in a smaller size' in a loud voice, I didn't beat her senseless with her oversized handbag. When she had to stand in for me at the last minute as parent rep at school and took the chocolates the teacher had been told to give to the rep - saying - 'Oh, I didn't like to hurt her feelings, and I've already accepted them' I didn't choke her with her own Alice band or drag my keys along the side of her oversized car. I never called her on any of the mean things she said or did. I smiled and seethed.
No more. I can ignore her with impunity. My daughter is no longer in touch with hers. I can be honest with myself - she was a bitch and I was weak to keep her in my life for so long. I can, with time and distance see that I did what I couldn't at the time. Now I can be better, truer, I only keep the friendships that are meaningful and rewarding and that deserve to be in my life.
Now if I can learn to do that with the words I write....

ps next chapter

My innate Tiggerishness is slowly returning. I figure if we don't have hope, then really there's nothing. As writers that has to be our gift - our endless optimism and hope.
I look at the next couple of pages for rewriting and they're not so bad, I start thinking about the plot again, the twists and turns my heroine is going to take, and a small frisson starts to build.
If I can't sleep tonight, I will write the next chapter and then I'll make cookies for boyf (I got in choc chips just in case).

Out of the abyss.

It has been a horrible 24 hours. I managed to work myself up into an 'I am wasting my time, I have nothing to offer and my life is shit,' state last night, so much so, that my body resorted to its favourite pastime of not sleeping.
I'd not had such a bad bout of insomnia for some time, so the ferocity of it was startling and because I wasn't alone I couldn't put the TV on or play music and dance about (don't knock it till you've tried it) or start making complicated cakes - all good activities for insomniacs. I couldn't even write, because that was the last thing I wanted to do even if I had been able. I was stuck - staring into the dark, the abyss, the lonely night.
Eventually, after a wary but wise boyf left without breakfast and sent a loving text from a safe distance (smart man my boyf), I managed to grab a couple of hours sleep. I was woken by a delivery. Plates. Not just any old plates - pure white bone china dinner plates- 8 of them. Now to some people this may seem an odd thing to make a person feel better, but you know there's not much wrong with a world that can produce objects of such simplicity, beauty and function.
My sister understands, but I doubt anyone else would.
I have now, rescued my work from the bin where I hurled it last night and from the trash can on my computer, I have re-organised my office space, placed my desk adjacent to the window and I feel ready to step back into the fray.
No, I've still not heard from the Agent I emailed asking if she'd like to see this book when done, I've not had any major insights into solving plot and character problems. But I am hopeful and that's all you can ask for in the end.

Cup Cakes as an aid to writing

Got back the first 50 pages from Boyf with lots of ticks and lots of comments. Realise that my biggest fault is the one thing I haul students up for - the show don't tell syndrome - Bugger! The annoying thing is that as soon as it is pointed out it seems obvious, of course I need a scene here, of course the tense is wrong, of course, of course, of course.
So...
Back to the computer, having first trawled through the internet to look for posture chairs - if I'm going to sit for long periods, shouldn't I have one? Then Amazon to get all those books I need to read over the summer before term starts. Then I go through emails, facebook, la de dah de dah. Procrastination is a wonderful thing. Yesterday I got so desperate to find things to do other than write I made cupcakes, not just the straightforward ones either. Oh No, mine had to be the ones that needed courgettes and carrots and grating attachments. They tasted wonderful though, and I recommend Harry Eastwoods -Red Velvet and Chocolate Heartache, the woman is a poet of food and once you get past the weird ingredients (she uses vegetables instead of butter/fats) and take a leap of faith, the results are amazing.
Which brings me back to the editing, it is a leap of faith, the writing thing. You sit down and wonder at this strange sludgy mix you have in front of you and despair of it ever becoming something even vaguely readable, the idea of someone actually enjoying it seems far too much to ask.
Which means it is back to the screen for me, page by page, line by line - get rid of the adverbs, build up the scenes, check for over use of the 'to be' verbs and get this one right. And the cup cakes? They'll be my reward.

Good, bad and red shoes

Ok, the good bit first. Ran my first all day course in Central London on Saturday and it was fabulous. Exhausting, but fabulous. The students were vibed up and exciting and worked extraordinarily hard all day. I was so tired at the end, I could barely register being bought new shoes in the Kurt Geiger Sale - red studded stilettos that make me feel a bit Betty Boo and are going to look great with jeans.
Home for nap and bath and then off to boyf's family for dinner. I had thought that the dinner party last week that I did after the Awayday, was the worst dinner party I'd ever been to (and that's bad when you're the hostess), but Saturday was vying for a place in the lists. I think the best bit was being told that I wasn't 'family', and when I thought about it later, I realised it was actually a compliment and was quietly relieved.

Boyf gave me the first bit of his novel to read today, then hovered over me saying things like 'you hate it, don't you,' every five minutes. Men! No, let me rephrase that, Creative Men! So, here and for the record, I love it. Partly because I'm in it (ficitonally dead, but hey), but mainly because it is good, it is funny and it is poignant. Tomorrow he's reading my first pages, and I have no doubt I'll be equally insecure, but I have new shoes, so nothing can really be that bad.

Writerly bites

It has been an odd couple of days. Lost a client - careless I know, but sometimes you find you're just not suited and the relationship has to end. It is sad, but essential. Meanwhile, my own book is making slow but steady progress. I am keeping up with the running and trying to ignore the pain in my knee - which is strapped as tight as I can get it. And I have discovered Gu bites - delicious pieces of heavenly reward for each chapter edited.
Writers when writing are basically selfish people. No let me rephrase that, we make selfish people look good. The problem is that you are trying to live two lives. The life of the book and your own normal every day life. The latter becomes a bit dull, you can't control people the way you can in the fictional life and that becomes frustrating and depressing. So you get snappy with loved ones and turn inwards in a slightly obsessive unhealthy way.
Or is it just me?
And the boyfriend?
No wonder we will do anything to procrastinate and not write - in some dark deep place, we know that the process will take over and the Hyde (or was it Jekyll) side of our nature will come out.
I finished reworking chapter 5 today. It needs another look through, but it is ready to be left for a second mulch. So onwards with chapter 6 which is lying around looking sloppy and unstructured at the moment - a bit like younger daughter bedroom at the end of term, when the dirty washing and unpacking have merged into an amorphous mass - you know there are outfits she is fit to be seen in for work experience in there somewhere, you just have to dig around patiently for a bit.
Tomorrow I'm off for an Awayday. This, apparently, is where you go along to a hotel with all your work colleagues and discuss what we did wrong last year and what to do about it for next year. I think we get lunch and I hope to get paid. It is a 2 hour drive there and back and I have organised a dinner party for tomorrow night back in London. Do I sound less than enthusiastic? See, told you, writers are selfish. Now where are those Gu bites? Boyfriend is coming over, I need to hide them.

A Safe Place

John Lewis. The smooth swish of the escalators, the white linen, neatly folded, the very white bone china in simple pale grey and white boxes, the friendly staff, the odd bits of household equipment you never knew you needed but which now seem imperative to your happiness....ahhhh.
I find it very soothing. In fact, I am beginning to think that John Lewis (or Peter Jones...I love the view of London from the cafe) is my 'safe place'. You know the place that therapists and yoga teachers tell you to find when they are trying to get you to relax, unclench the jaw and take your shoulders out of your ears. I'm not sure if I prefer the china department or the linens. I wonder if it is my age, or a stage in my life where a department store can evoke such a feeling of well being.
People who know me are surprised, 'I would have thought it would be a Shoe Shop, if anything.' Well, yes, it is true I love shoes, I love buying them, trying them on, going to shoe sales - but it isn't the same. I've been thinking about my sister today, she is in Khartoum, working 12 hour shifts in a huge cardiac unit, the heat is so unbearable she says she has forgotten what a chilly drizzle could possibly be. She is out there as a nurse for Medicine Sans Frontiers, she is incredibly brave and I admire her hugely. I am also grateful that I have never had the slightest wish to do what she does. Where she is working is probably the least safe place on the planet you could fine.
When she gets back, I'm taking her on the tube to Sloane Square, I'm going to lead her through the quiet coolness of Peter Jones and I'm going to buy her the largest, gooiest cake and biggest cappuccino I can find. In the meantime, I'm checking the sales and buying an extending mop and four perfect white bone china bowls.

Cleaning and egg timers.

So far today, I have pulled up chapter five on the computer, cleaned out the kitchen bin, rearranged and cleaned the freezer, changed the sheets on the spare room bed, put a wash on, seen a friend for coffee, messed around with a lock that needs fixing on one of the doors and rented out said spare room to Korean girl for two weeks.
Writing? What writing? Obviously I have all day to write, so I'm doing everything I can think of that isn't. Oh and I just made out my shopping list and arranged to pick boyfriend and new computer at 3pm.
Facebook is dull today, the weather is pants, I'm running out of things to do instead of write. I may have to finally get on with it...arghh. But then I remember my blog and calm returns.
So, yes, I'm not writing, but it is up there in front of me and every so often when my brain doesn't notice, I have a little peek at a paragraph or two, make some edits. Yes, I'm editing - I hate and loathe and despise editing. It's like quicksand, if you get too far into it, the entire chapter disappears in a haze of delete, delete, delete. You look at your words on the page, the ones that seemed so shiny and bright not so long ago and now are dull and stupid and should have been written in crayon. So I need distractions, I need it to be dark outside, I need the promise of a glass of wine when it is over, I need a better chair, a favourite pair of tracky pants....I need to sit down and just get on with it. Back to the egg timer. Remember that? The fifteen minutes? (Not of fame, but hey, you never know).
When I teach the Nanowrimo method, I get students to write in 15 minute slots, the friendly ticking of the timer in the background reminds them that this is finite, it won't go on forever and 15 minutes feels doable, you can fit it in between other stuff. Soon they are writing 15 - 20 sometimes 40 mins at a time. So I'm going to dig out my egg timer and set it to 15 mins and I'm going to just edit in that time what I can.
Let you know how it goes.

Writing and Organizing

As the Summer School term ends I am getting back into the Novel writing and starting to make notes for my PhD thesis. First though I need to spend some time sorting out the admin hell of resuming study. This will involve filling out forms and finding funding from somewhere. However, needs must. I am more and more convinced that in order to work I am going to need to complete this PhD and that the PhD needs to be written for its own sake.
So, mornings will be novel writing and afternoons are for admin and thesis notes as well as paid work/editing and all the other stuff that makes up life.
It seems as if just as everyone else closes down for the Summer I'm just revving up. That's fine with me, I can't stay out in the sun for too long anyway and I'm not taking another holiday until September, by which point I hope to be well into this draft, if not nearly finished with it.
So watch this space. First six chapters are mapped out. First three have gone off to supervisor for a read. I doubt he'll make any comment until I'm officially on the books, but it makes me feel better to be sending stuff out. Next three chapters should go off by end of next week.
Meanwhile, I had a wonderful weekend and the words 'Oh My Gawd' will from now and forever bring a smile to my face.

Parenting by phone

'Mum, you are nagging.'
Youngest daughter complains, two days after Glastonbury and our first phone conversation since before she left.
What she doesn't understand is that when you are parenting by phone, text and email, you've got a limited window of opportunity. I had a ten minute phone call in which to get in nagging, love and information. I needed her to know it was unacceptable not to call and let us know she was safe, tell her how much I missed her and how proud I was of her, pass on bits of gossip and find out what her plans were for end of term and summer holidays. Oh yes, and get her to chase up a Summer job opportunity I'd heard about before someone else got it. This is modern living I guess, we abbreviate in order to try and pack it all in. Things get lost along the way though. Because I don't think she realised how much I admire her managing to stay up all night dancing, how jealous I was that she got to see Tom Jones, Blur, Bruce Springstien and Kasabian, that I laughed myself silly recalling that she crept into the only cool tent on site and woke up to find it was the church tent and people were praying at her - loudly and in song!
Time passes, kids grow up, we all get a bit older. This is a summer we will remember, because it is so hot, so I hope it is a good one. I hope that both my kids hang around a bit this summer and chill out, that we get a chance to go shopping, have pizza nights, a laugh, and just a bit of nagging in there too. C'mon - it's my job, like doing embarrassing dances at family weddings.
By September, they'll be a blur heading back to college and uni - life whizzing by - decisions to make - futures to forge. I hope they enjoy the summer though.

Bloke has decided he doesn't like being referred to as 'Bloke' - not even 'The Bloke' - He wants to be a Geezer instead, but that doesn't seem right either. So, I'm going to call him by his name - Marc - because that's who he is and it suits him.
He's coming over later so I have to get on and write now, otherwise I'll be the one getting nagged!

Life of an insomniac

The trouble with sleep is that you have no control over it. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not a control freak (well, not much of one anyway), but as I value my sleep I like it to be of good quality. Just recently I've gone back to the insomniac nights - wandering around the place at 2am in the morning wondering if there are any biscuits I have hidden from myself and rearranging furniture. When I finally get back to bed and get to sleep I've been having really weird and vivid dreams - sometimes they are upsetting and sometimes they are scary, but they are always deeply frustrating. Last night I kept losing things in my dreams, people, letters, money, places. It was very upsetting.
I woke up this morning cross, irritable and tired, the bedclothes were all over the place and the dreams were haunting me. It was supposed to be a writing day, but after several cups of coffee, a chat with a friend and a visit to the DIY shop, I still didn't feel refreshed enough to sit down and do anything constructive.
I thought I'd edit last week's chapter - no, that wasn't happening either.
I tried putting music on - nope. I rearranged the sofas - nada. Finally I wrote down all the things I hated about trying to write, and finally something started to emerge...a new chapter....hurrah. It's a bit rough round the edges, but it is down there, all 2,000 ish words of it, a draft of chapter 4.
So, another day and another night. I'm in my pj's, I have a book, a glass of milk and a cookie (the last of the homemade ones). I'm not going to think about youngest daughter going to Glastonbury still mad with me, or the horrible weekend we had. I'm not going to think of the teaching, the money issues or the rain promised for Friday. I got a chapter done, it was a writing day - I deserve a good night's sleep.
night night
x

Sara Bailey is away

From Friday, I'm off on a much needed, well earned break. I have two wonderful friends and colleagues taking my classes over for a week while the bloke and I head for the sun in Spain.
I am up to date with the Nanowrimo word count, in case you were wondering - 8017 words to date and taking the laptop with me.
I've had a couple of glasses of wine too, mainly to celebrate eldest daughter being viva'd for the Dean's Prize. She didn't get it, but was in the top 10 Medical Students in her year, so well done babe!
Will check when I'm back and hope that I've heard from Supervisorman by then about update report - I need it to get financial support. Then I just have to find the rest of the money for my PhD and I'm laughing. Meanwhile, I'm packing a bikini, a dress and factor 25 alongside the laptop. The rest can wait.

Drag me to Hell and back

Title is partly to do with film I went to see last night, Sam Raimi's 'Drag me to Hell' and partly to do with how I feel about writing at the moment. The film first - brilliant. One of the scariest films I've seen for ages, but compelling at the same time. So that rather than not wanting to watch you cannot help but get out from behind the jumper/jacket/sleeve/armpit of person next to you and keep your eyes on the screen. Came to conclusion that most films are moralistic tales - in this case, be nice to old ladies, they are really really strong and really really scary. In a way, the modern day horror movie takes the place of religious tales or fables - maybe this is why teenagers are so attracted to them. Just a thought.
So, that's the horror film dealt with. Now for the horror of writing. It has been a bad week for me, the first chapter felt limp, the second was fine and bounced along, the third chapter got written then deleted in a fit of pique. Head got put in hands, then under the duvet. Eventually I resorted to sulking and rearranging cupboards. Not my finest hour.
How you feel about your creative work is always going to affect your mood. It is human nature. The book is like your child, you want it to be perfect and you will defend it without question, but you are also its biggest critic and will have a tendency sometimes to just see the bad bits and not the good. Which is why I am going back to the unconditional love of Novel in a Month with this particular book. I think after being hauled screaming and kicking out of the cupboard (where it was put after a bad supervisory experience - more on which another time) it deserves to run around naked for a bit, have some fun, see if it is a book or maybe movie? Who knows - I did come up with a possible movie title for it last night, 'Take Me With You'. Not sure if that's a book title as well.
So it is back to writing without thinking too much. Instead of a daily output of 1000 thoughtful words tearing out the hair and wondering why it reads as if no thought went on at all), I'm going for the 1600 daily output of Nanowrimo. The weather is good, the egg timer is primed. Time to get out of the hell of writing and back into the fun of it.
I'll let you know how it goes.

one thousand words a day

Right, so I've started the new novel, and I've been working on doing a thousand words a day six days a week, with the idea that I'll finish it before the beginning of the new term in September. So far so good, I'm on day three and I've done 3,000 words which is Chapter 1. Whew! The bloke had a look at it over the weekend and I've made some notes based on his comments, but the idea is that while this isn't 'Novel in a Month' I do want to put a pretty tight deadline on it. I think of it as a thoughtful Nanowrimo - less writing by the seat of my pants, but still getting the words down. I firmly believe the story is in all of us. Aristotle didn't make up stuff for Poetics, he observed and recorded - we are wired up to create narrative, it really is a matter of getting the brain out of the way and allowing the story through.
Met with supervisor yesterday and after lots of gossip and catch up chat, we have a sort of plan, I think. Basically, I get on with it and send him what ever I want feedback on. I'll send him the first 10,000 words before the holiday and see how that goes. I think I just need to get into better habits. We talked a bit about using this blog for the PhD - there may be some question about the validity of using it as an academic document. My feeling is that it is more of a Journal, a record of the process of writing, that, hopefully will work as a bridge between the novel and the critical analysis work.  This is my theory and I'm sticking to it.  Have run out of words today, brain feels as soggy as the weather, which is rank.
Meanwhile - off to see 'Tormented' tonight, with the bloke and youngest daughter.

Sentence by Sentence

I'm a bit low at the moment, some sad family news, nothing majorly drastic or dramatic, but distracting. I've been trying to write the opening of the new book and it is HARD. The trouble is that I read a lot of stuff - some good, some bad and I'm always looking for what works and what doesn't - which means when I come to write I cannot turn the internal editor off. Today I have managed 237 words and I'm about to reduce that down to about 150 because the last four lines are all telling not showing.
It is a sentence by sentence day, where all you can do is try to move forward sentence by sentence, one tiny baby step at a time. The plan is pretty much there and I like the working title enough not to mess around with it any more, I may just go for broke and try to bash out a replacement 150 words before I go off to teach, or I may just stare at the screen a bit more.
I ought to go for a walk or a run, but it is raining - again.
Not a good day.
Let's hope tomorrow is better and I'm not feeling sad anymore.

Things that go bump

There are various things that stop me from writing - lack of sleep, worry (leading to the former), paperwork, planning, teaching, cooking, shopping, buying new shoes -OK, the last couple are really just huge procrastinations. But I've been wondering lately if this is right or - Are writers expert self saboteurs?
I've had a stressful week, although teaching in Southampton has stopped, I still have the paperwork, the follow ups and the meetings to schedule in and attend. I got double booked teaching at Richmond and had to get the bloke in to help out (and why is it men don't listen, then tell you it is your fault they didn't?). Then to cap it all my computers all went doolaly at the same time. I rang the ex to ask for help - OK screech would be closer - not realizing that he was at new girlfriends house. He was calmly telling me where to look for the helpdesk number and I'm telling him I don't read manuals (as he well knows) and why can't he just tell me how to fix it. There is silence at the end of the phone. An uneasy feeling creeps across the back of my neck. 'Er, am I disturbing you?' 'It's fine', comes the terse reply. Oh great, the first time she hears my voice and it is down a phone making like a fishwife - NOT the impression I wanted ex's new girlfriend to have of me. Hey ho.
'OK, sorry, bye, I'll check the manual.'
I find the number, a nice guy answers the phone and guides me politely and calmly through the procedure. Computer flickers into life and all is well in the world.
Why can't all men be like Apple helpdesk guys? They listen, they don't judge, they wait while you scrabble through the fluff on the floor to find the cable and they don't give anyone else their attention while you are with them. Perfect. All men should spend a week on an Apple helpdesk - they'd learn alot and not about technology.
So, the computer works, I am calm -ish, I've slept well, there is no excuse, now where did I put my notebook?

New Knickers

Is it just me, or does anyone else have 'Rainy day pants'? Yesterday was a particularly awful day - the job I had hoped would give me some financial security simply evaporated in front of my eyes, one minute there, the next poof! gone. It wasn't even as if anyone else got it instead, or that I failed the interview - it simply disappeared amongst a load of government cuts in education.
So I was a tad upset last night and not feeling much better this morning, staying in bed for an entire day seemed like a really good idea, better still it was raining and looking pretty grim outside. But then friends left messages on Facebook and called, and I spoke to my daughter who is having her own awful time with exams and staying in bed seemed stupid and indulgent. I'd get dressed and retire to the sofa with tv or a trashy book - much better. Which is where the knickers come in. While scrabbling around in the drawers I found a pair of bright satin turquoise panties given to me by my lovely daughters last christmas and so far unworn. They were given as 'cheer you up on a rainy day' pants, and never has a woman needed rainy day pants more than me today.
Feel slightly trashy - there are bows and lace involved - I am now at my computer ready to work, Queen are on the stereo singing uplifting songs, a big mug of tea by my side and hope in my heart.
Thanks for the pants girls - everyone should have a pair.

Blackberry bushes

Augusta Webber (Tennyson's favourite poet for those of you who like to know these things), said that a woman's life is like a Blackberry bush (no not the electronic devise beeping in your pocket). People come along and strip her of her fruit (time) and then expect her to be replenished the next day - an endless supply of giving.
I'm feeling particularly Blackberry bushish this weekend, and for a change, I'm not blaming anyone but myself and my conditioning. Because the reason dear Augusta said this was because this is the way woman are conditioned and it doesn't seem to matter how feminist we are or how evolved, we still drop everything to tend to others.
I was in fact writing a different blog yesterday evening when the bloke turned up and I stopped, just stopped dead mid sentence and went to see what he wanted to eat, drink, watch. Part of me just stood there with her metaphoric mouth open going 'Hey what??' while the other part grated cheese and opened a bottle of wine. I felt angry and resentful for the rest of the evening and the poor bloke couldn't work it out, he had no idea that there was this huge row going on in my psyche.
'What did you do that for? He'd never stop work for you?'
'I want to be thoughtful and nice'
'Do you want a pinny too? And a 1950's frock to go with that?'
'Look, it wasn't going anywhere anyway.'
'It might have, you were just warming up.'
'And then I'd have been at the computer for hours and he'd have felt neglected and gone home, or started texting friends.'
'So?'
'Well....'
'Get a grip woman.'
One goes off in tears other self sulks...oh joy!
And you know what? I don't even like Blackberries.

The Cheque is in the post

Probably the most welcome words in the world and the best part of any writing - getting paid! I think this has to be a better feeling than finishing the work, after all the hours of writing, rewriting, drafting and polishing then sending out over and over again, to finally have in my hot little hand the final cheque for my script....fab.
And it cleared.
Even better.
Because, and I don't mean to be a suspicious cynical misery here, I didn't like to count my chickens when the cheque arrived. The small time I've spent in the film industry - I've learned that you expect nothing and trust no one. Sad but true. So, I can draw a line under that project and move on with the next thing.

I discovered a new novel writing/note taking programme on line this week and have spent a few hours playing with the free download. Interesting. I think I'm going to include it in my PhD study on the 'How to Write' books. I've also decided to record my progress with the PhD in a blog - separate to this one probably and I won't start it till later in the year.

How lovely to finish one thing and be excited and open to new projects. Off to write some more on my novel outline this afternoon.

And the cheque? Well, Kurt Keiger are having a sale!

Reading in a fog

I'm marking. The pile that has lurked in the corner all through the Easter break has now moved to the desk and awaits my pencil. I hate marking. In fact I would venture to guess that I hate marking almost as much as my students hate writing the assignments in the first place. One of the reasons I hate marking is because it is putting a value on someone's creativity (I'm marking creative work here) and none of us like that. I feel as if I'm saying to someone, well yes, you may be a creative genius, but your spelling is atrocious and you have no concept of punctuation, so forget it. Which is NOT what I want to do at all. The sad thing is that the things like spelling, punctuation, structure - the stuff I teach -is important. If you get it right, the creativity can shine through, if you don't, then it is really hard to see, in fact sometimes it is downright impossible. It is a bit like reading in a fog.

Apart from marking, this week has been fun. My fab daughters came over for a very girly night in, movies, popcorn and taking the piss out of the local Pizza delivery guy who insisted on calling doughnuts, duffnuts. One sister visited and another one is coming to London in a couple of weeks. They are all getting to meet the bloke, who is remarkably calm about all this familial attention. There is even the threat of a big family get together later this year to introduce him to the olds - blimus!
Meanwhile I am waiting with baited breath for him to finish the latest draft of his movie so I can read it. I love that we can exchange work - no pencils, red pens or grades involved - just chat and the usual 'just get rid of the damn pizza scene! I don't care how funny it is, it isn't working.' He has been really helpful listening to me find my way into the new book, asking the right questions, pushing me into really thinking about the characters, their motivation and the story, always the story. I think we all need an ideal reader, someone sympathetic but focused, who won't let you get away with crap and knows your weakness and your strengths and who is always trying to help you be better than the last draft.

So back to the marking and the fog. Some of these students will find their ideal readers over the next couple of years - it might be a colleague, a lecturer or a friend. If you've already found yours, treasure them, make them tea and bring them cake sometimes. Even if they say you need to rewrite and rewrite and rewrite. They will lead you out of the fog and the view will be fab, I promise.

Housework and Hope

I love hoovering, but I hate housework. What has this to do with writing? I hear you ask? Well, I'm not sure either but bear with me, because I'm convinced that it does. Housework is doing the skirting boards, the inside of the lampshades, checking the paintwork and looking up to see that yes, really your fine cobwebs would not be amiss in hammer house of horror. Hoovering is clearing up a few crumbs you can see and pushing the rest under the sofa with last week's newspapers. I love writing, I even love the rewriting, the check through for crumbs of enlightenment, the bon mot that was lovely originally and now looks untidy - it's hoovering, you just sweep it away to moulder in a spare folder. Housework is the editing bit, the fine tooth comb work, the, really this needs redecorating or even 'let's just move, try a new house/book.'
I'm hoovering.
Skimming over the surface just enough so I can get on with the main event - the creative bit.
I've got an outline, of sorts and enough of the first draft still unsullied by red pen to work with and I'm ready to start. I may even have a title, although I'm hugging that to myself at the moment, I want to live with it for a few days/weeks before I let it out.
I'm hopeful about this book, I don't mean that I think it'll get published, but I do think it is finally going to get written. It has taken years to reveal itself to me and I finally feel that if anyone asks me what it is about, I can tell them without having to use powerpoint, a flip chart and six pages of footnotes. All I'm going to say right now is it is about ghosts.
What better day to think about things coming back from the dead...Happy Easter.

Interesting Times

Have chosen the old Chinese curse as my title today, partly because I'm feeling a bit cursed and partly because living an interesting life can be a mixed blessing.
Have just heard that the film script I wrote has been turned down and producer, who is nameless and a fickle bastard at the best of times, has decided that he'd rather do his daughter's script instead. Well, of course, I'm delighted that a girl less than half my age getting the opportunity I've been working my butt off for. But that's the way it goes, nepotism is rife everywhere, and if I'm honest, I'd use it if I could too. Good luck to her.
However, the film industry eats people, and one of the reasons I'm able to write this without sobbing into my pillow is because I've been here before. Last time I allowed myself to believe the hype, so much so, I could taste the catering van's bacon sandwiches and when it was pulled, I was inconsolable. I really did sob, nash my teeth and send horrible curses to all involved. This time, I promised myself I wouldn't get like that - it is a total waste of energy.
So today, when I got the news, I sent off my final invoice - at least this time I got paid for being rejected (that's progress in my book), and took myself off for a walk in the park to admire the daffs and laugh at the ducks.
As my bloke says, we're a bit like carpenters, you want to be a craftsman who gets to do fabulous historic work, but mostly you're just putting up the frame, everyone else will come and add their bits and the people who inhabit the house will be the ones remembered.
So it is back to the novel - lots of post it notes round the edge of the computer - the beauty of a desktop is that there is space to do that - and a note book full of ideas and unsullied hope.
So, yes,life is interesting, but that doesn't have to be a curse, it can be a blessing.

Not the end...

The Write a Novel in a Month students finished the course this week and I'm proud to announce that as a group of approx. 12 students (regular ones) they managed a whopping 500,000 words between them, half a million - that's a huge amount of wordage. Over 40,000 on average each. I feel so proud of them all. Even the ones who felt they didn't write much, still did more than they would have done if they'd not come on the course. And that's the whole point really - to get you all writing, finding your voice and expressing yourselves.
There was a great deal of celebration and as I left 'The Bull' three more bottles of fizz were heading towards the table.
For me, this isn't an ending at all. I've got pages of what really amounts to notes for my next book and I'm trying to clear the decks so I can get down to seeing what is there. The first thing to do will be to print it all out, get a new red pen and a pile of post-it notes. As my (don't know what to call him...boyfriend is too young, he likes 'Hellraiser'???? - go figure, other half is wrong, I am a whole person in my own right. Man in my life is too long winded, bloke? OK - I'll try that, The bloke), as the bloke says, this is the best stage in writing, when you can still believe you are creating something good and worthwhile before the rejections and criticisms come pouring him. (The bloke is a bit of a pessimist).
My friend Jacqui Lofthouse is in the process of editing her novel at the moment, and I envy her that, she's at the end, doing all the tidying up, the smoothing out, the final polish before sending it off to her agent. Now that's the stage I look forward to, when you know you can't do anymore and this thing you've slaved over, dreamt about, obsessed and fretted with, is finally done to the absolute best of your ability.
So, if I have any message to students reading this, you are not at the end, but the beginning of something fabulous, exciting and totally transforming, enjoy. And see you all again soon.
sara
x

Technology - friend or foe

Have just taken delivery of new iMac. Lovely, I hear you saying - lucky you!
Well, yes and no. While, I'm delighted at the big shiny screen which is easier to see and at a better angle for my neck and back when writing for long periods, there is all the stuff that goes with new technology to go through.
I'm very happy with my old laptop, have been for a while now, I like writing in bed, propped up with pillows and an old paperback tucked under the bottom of the keyboard to get the right angle. All my work is on the laptop and here is where the problems began.
I was told that it would be easy to transfer all my stuff from one machine to the other - this is a lie - it isn't. I was told that if you buy an iMac from an Apple store someone will take you through the process. Mine wasn't, so I can't. I didn't get it off the back of a lorry, but it did come direct from a warehouse somewhere (as part of the ex's updating of technical equipment), so I have no where to go for help and am stuck with something large, unwieldy and although lovely, useless.
And I wondered - is this how the novelists will feel after they finish their novel in a month?
I hope not.
The first thing to do, is to put your book away for at least a month - give it time to mulch down and give yourself some distance from it.
After a month or so, take it out, get a large mug of tea/pot of coffee, some paper, a red pen and a pad of post-it notes. Now go through your 50,000 words and make notes, draw diagrams, mark particular passages and start making a plan - how are you going to make this rough draft into something you can work with?
Shameless plug follows - I run 'Develop Your Novel' course as a follow up, for anyone interested and in the Richmond area.
But there are lots of writing groups and classes available all over the country to join where you can work on and develop your rough draft into a finished product.
Remember - all first drafts are shit - this is a given.

Unable to put the new Mac in a drawer for a month, I guess I'm just going to have to bite the bullet, make a mug of tea and ring the technical support.....wish me luck!

Be Brave, Be Successful

Fantastic news this week. One of my students from last year on the 'Write a Novel in a Month' course has published his book.
See it here on www.murderersapprentice.com
I had a lovely email from him saying that he had been trying to write the book for over two years before he started the course and once he had finished the course he completed the book within three months.
So. Hope for you/us all.

I love it when I hear that students have done well and this news at a really good time as I was feeling a bit low earlier this week - too much marking and not enough time for my own work. I was beginning to wonder what I was doing.

I also had a big falling out with an old friend this week. I can't put details on here, it wouldn't be fair to the parties concerned, but it made me think about the nature of loyalty and living life fearfully. There is an old proverb that says - to live your life fearfully is to live half a life. As writers we are brave every day we face the page - we have to be.

As we go into the final week of the course I am asking all the students to be brave and keep going - you are so close to the end, it is in sight and you will feel such a sense of achievement when you reach the end. And you never know - in a year from now I may be getting more emails about publication dates.

Too much life, not enough sleep.

My class are fantastic - they work so hard and are writing pages and pages. I am so impressed with them.
They are making me look bad!!!
No, seriously, they are doing brilliantly keeping up the word count as I slip behind another day. My excuse is too much marking, too much of other people's work to read and not enough time to think, day dream and wonder where my heroine will go next. It is proving unfortunate, to say the least, that I put her in a wheelchair within the first few pages - not permanently, but long enough to make her immobility extremely annoying for the plot. I feel like saying 'get up and walk woman' like some latter day saint, but this would be cheating, so she is progressing to crutches and I will let her wheels sink into the sand on the beach and leave her with the tide coming in for the time being.

Meanwhile, other things in life - went to Manchester to see the man in my life perform comedy, it was very funny. Well, he was funny - obviously, it is after all, one of his jobs, being funny. The situation was funny too - a drunk dinner crowd (tables, so some people had their backs to the stage area), a steadily getting drunk and belligerent compere and a wimp of a promoter. Suffice it to say, I was glad he went on first, that the fight was avoided and that I had a bottle of wine inside me. Oh and we had the worst meal ever ever eaten anywhere - yey! But you know what? None of that mattered and at the risk of sounding soppy, it was good to get out of London and just be with each other - that and the pillow chocolates.

Lovely drive back over the Yorkshire moors. A stop off in Wandsworth to see the legendary Gary and his surprise grand-daughter and then home and sleep - oh god, I miss sleep. A glorious 8 hours, which, for me is close to a miracle as I'm a chronic insomniac most nights, waking up after 4 hours and wandering around looking for boring things to do to send me back to sleep.
Roll on Easter and the lie ins I'm promising myself.

Synopsis, Shelves and New Shoes.

Still writing. Tried to work out a synopsis for this book and realised that even while it was waaaaaaay too early for that, it was a 'very useful exercise'. I did it partly because I was teaching synopsis writing this week and thought that I should put my money where my mouth is (also a lesson on cliches - they are so hard to shift once you get going..arrgh!) Partly because I like to have an idea of where I'm going and I see the first synopsis as a kind of roughly drawn map - you know the one jotted down on a paper napkin rather than the google directions complete with 'turn left, continue down Acacia Avenue for 53m' type. It is also very useful for seeing if what you have is a story or just an interesting idea.
What you do is write a synopsis of what you have in your head, then look at it very hard, does it follow the shape of a story, does anything happen? Does the character change? Do they have highs and lows and a massive big rug pulling bit near the end? If not, tidge it around (a technical term) until it does. What you end up with might not be what you were hoping for, you have to lose that heart attack scene and the dream sequence but what you get is a much better story.
At least that's what I'm telling myself as I rearrange bits of paper,index cards and post-its.
A break from the writing involved painting my shelves. The decorator let me down at the last minute today - literally the last minute. He sent me a text five minutes before he was due here to tell me he'd just realised the fee I'd offered was too small and, I quote, 'he didn't work for peanuts.' I was shocked. We'd agreed the price a week ago, how did it suddenly get to be peanuts? I had no idea people were able to turn down work - obviously the recession hasn't hit decorators yet! Well, I looked at the shelves and you know what, he was right - a monkey could do it. So I may have splodges all over me and an ache in my arm, but the shelves are white and I'm up a new pair of shoes (possibly two!)
As an added bonus, that rhythmical slightly boring job was great down time for my writing brain and I think I've got my next scene.

Evolution

Now I know this year has some sort of link with Darwin because the man is everywhere I look - and having just looked it up, I find that it is 150 years since the publication of 'Origin of Species'.Yey for Darwin. I have been thinking recently that it was going to take me at least 150 years to finish writing my 'novel in a month'...arghh!!! NOT a good example to be setting.
I know things are going badly when I start buying and reading all the 'How to Write' books that I've missed. The latest is 'Wannabe a Writer' by Jane Wenham-Jones. http://www.janewenham-jones.com/ The book is brilliant - witty, intelligent and great for stopping me writing. Thanks.

All procrastination aside, my book has slowly started evolving (see how I tied things back into the title? Oh dear). Although it isn't turning out quite the way I had thought, in fact, it is turning into something very different, a little bit dark and a lot more interesting. This is fine - any of you Novel in a Monthers reading this - because, it is now clear to me that THIS is in fact the book I want to write, that I need to write, the book that is itching the back of my subconscious like a mozzie bite in June. So I am just letting it happen and the words are there, all jumbled and one hell of a mess at the moment, but I'm making notes, and creating plans and filling in index cards and bits of notebooks and finding stuff I had put in the 'might need it someday' folder (then refiling them, because, in fact, I don't need them right now.) But most of all I'm excited...and that's what evolution is all about - moving forward into the unexpected and welcoming it.
I like to think Darwin would agree.

Displacement activities can be the key to success.

Finally, some clear space to write. Today is going to be a full day of writing. Ha ha ha ha. This is a huge mistake, never ever clear a day in the diary to write - it is fatal, I realise this with a sinking heart and start making lists of alternative things that absolutely have to be done first. All this becomes academic as I manage to spill tea all over my lovely new white duvet cover, a wash needs to go on and then I need to find clean linen.
That done, the phone goes and it is a new private student - she sounds lovely and we have a really constructive first session. I love getting to know a new client sharing with them the excitement of a new book.
But today is MY writing day - I jot down a few paragraphs before the next interruption.
The post. Bills, yuk, vouchers for John Lewis - yey!
Obviously, I need to go shopping.

I love Peter Jones, it is an oasis of calm and kitchen equipment. Kitchen equipment reminds me I've promised to make Red Velvet Cupcakes for the kids birthdays. Even though my daughters are both grown up (17 and 22 on Saturday and yes, born on the same day) they still want homemade cakes, and even though I've arranged for Hummingbird cupcakes http://www.hummingbirdbakery.com/flash.html for them to share with friends, I know they'll be hoping for mum's lopsided offerings too. When I get home I find a recipe on the internet and manage to cover myself and the kitchen in red food colouring - it gets everywhere.
While they are cooking I unpack my Peter Jones goodies - cutlery, mugs and a saute pan, then roast pinenuts for the rissotto this evening.
Writing? Yikes! I rush to the computer and somehow I manage to get another few paragraphs down. Cakes out, search for icing ingredients and more sugary goo on my face and fingers. Back to the computer write for an hour or so and when I check my wordcount realise that somehow I've managed to write nearly 3,500 words.
Blimus - maybe a day of writing is a good idea after all!

Getting to know you

So here I am, day 4 of the Novel in a Month, I should be at around the 6,000 word mark and I'm down by about 3,000 words. I feel crap, have a cold and the washing machine engineer is clanging and sighing next door in the kitchen.
The novel, is taking shape though, and I have made pages and pages of notes. I love this stage, the 'getting to know you', bit, where you daily uncover a new aspect of the character you are writing. It is a little bit like falling in love, where even the most annoying habits of your new man, seem fascinating and wonderful. There will, of course, be bad times ahead, some of those habits, the inconsistencies will rise up and bite me on the novel writing arse, but for the time being I'm still in the honeymoon period.

Sunday night I met up with a friend's group of 'Arty Women' - writers, publishers, women from the art world and Life Coaches. I love the way women network and interact with each other. Watching us all over dinner, was like watching an intricate social dance. At no time was anyone left out of conversation, we moved seamlessly from one group or dialogue into another, passing on information, exchanging ideas, contacts, points of interest. Do men do this in the same way? I don't think so.
I was sad I had to leave early, but am really glad I made the effort to go out and meet with these interesting, high achieving but down to earth women. Thank you Jacqui for including me.

New Novel in a Month Course

A new Novel in a Month Course is starting at the end of February at Richmond Adult College http://www.racc.ac.uk/course/R0017909 and due to massive interest we are running two courses side by side - one to be taught by me and the other by the very talented Susie Lynes. So if you haven't signed up yet, there may just be a few places left.
I have decided to join the students again on this ridiculous exercise and draft out my next novel idea, so you can follow my progress as I try to keep up with their enthusiasm and keep the rest of my life in order. As I have now moved into fab new flat and finally have the study I've always wanted, I realise I have run out of excuses. So.... watch this space.