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.