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.