The days have winged heels, Homer said (the Greek fellow, not the yellow one).
This week has been one of jet lag without the benefit of actually going abroad. The jet lag was caused by a Bank Holiday here in the UK which crept up on me and messed up my already fragile plans.
As predictable as traffic jams on a Bank Holiday, is the fact that I am running out of days at an alarming rate. Then along came that extra day’s holiday and where did I find myself?
Surrounded by thirty-seven women.
Now I would like to claim that these were Novel Blog groupies; but they weren’t. They were - and believe me I counted them - the number of women who entered the cinema I was sitting in with my wife before another man came in.
I don’t think you need a PhD in Cinematic Theory to realise that this can’t have been a James Bond film. No it was...Mamma Mia!
I always worry about those exclamation marks. They seem to say - this is going to be loud and screechy. And it was. The hoards of women surrounding me wept, clapped, sang and even danced as the film unfolded before my cynical eyes.
Of course, I didn’t enjoy the film. True, I did get cramp in my feet which manifested itself in what someone could be forgiven for thinking was foot tapping; and the silly smile that kept crossing my face must surely have been a result of too much fibre in my diet. And what some believed to be laughter as Julie Walters strode across tables while singing Take A Chance On Me was definitely caused by me choking on one too many Malteesers.
That’s not to say the experience was a total waste of two hours (and let’s be honest, two hours in the presence of Amanda Seyfried is hardly a waste).
I was struck how much the plot resembled a crime novel. There was a list of suspects (i.e. possible fathers), a set of clues and red herrings and finally a denouement with a twist.
Looking at it this way, I can satisfy myself that Monday wasn’t a day lost to the thief that is time, but rather a research trip that just happened to be made up of dozens of slightly insane women having the time of their lives.
When all is said and done, my plans didn’t meet their Waterloo. They actually made another step towards my goal; and as planning goes, that’s the name of the game.
Thursday 28 August 2008
Thursday 21 August 2008
Week 48 - Battle Weary
Looking at the calendar this morning, I had one of those moments when the sheer enormity of your situation really hits home.
It’s now less than one calendar month until the end of my year-long novel writing journey. In less than four weeks it will all be over...but will I have a completed novel?
I know one thing for sure, it’s going to be close.
Throughout the past year, Kate Mosse’s 52 tips for writers has been a frequent source of inspiration and this week she has done it again. Her tip 48 is on “Fine Tuning” http://www.mosselabyrinth.co.uk/advice/48.asp and that’s exactly what I am doing. Having read through my novel again I am about to embark on the final draft - essentially small corrections and hopefully a little bit of polish.
For anyone who has made it this far - this close to the end - her words really resonate. There is definitely a little bit of battle fatigue setting in; energy levels can seem at an all time low and the thought of re-reading that particular scene again makes you want to desert and run for the hills.
But that would to be snatching defeat from the jaws of victory on a level of which the English cricket team would be proud.
I think - I hope - that I have left enough time to work through the final draft.
Sheer force of will is what’s required, along with a lot of hard work and probably too much caffeine.
Maybe then I will be able to avoid a batting collapse and make it through the worsening light to stumps.
With just four blogs to go, it won’t be long until we have the answer.
It’s now less than one calendar month until the end of my year-long novel writing journey. In less than four weeks it will all be over...but will I have a completed novel?
I know one thing for sure, it’s going to be close.
Throughout the past year, Kate Mosse’s 52 tips for writers has been a frequent source of inspiration and this week she has done it again. Her tip 48 is on “Fine Tuning” http://www.mosselabyrinth.co.uk/advice/48.asp and that’s exactly what I am doing. Having read through my novel again I am about to embark on the final draft - essentially small corrections and hopefully a little bit of polish.
For anyone who has made it this far - this close to the end - her words really resonate. There is definitely a little bit of battle fatigue setting in; energy levels can seem at an all time low and the thought of re-reading that particular scene again makes you want to desert and run for the hills.
But that would to be snatching defeat from the jaws of victory on a level of which the English cricket team would be proud.
I think - I hope - that I have left enough time to work through the final draft.
Sheer force of will is what’s required, along with a lot of hard work and probably too much caffeine.
Maybe then I will be able to avoid a batting collapse and make it through the worsening light to stumps.
With just four blogs to go, it won’t be long until we have the answer.
Thursday 14 August 2008
Week 47 - Beginning of the End
“The moving finger writes and having writ, moves on.”
Too right Omar (and Agatha).
There’s been a lot of that this week as my red pen has skimmed through the pages of my second draft. Mostly it's been typos, but now and again I have found inconsistencies that have so far escaped my notice.
The worst moment was when I realised that I had left a strand dangling that I had completely forgotten about. I say strand, more like the contents of a Lancashire textile factory (when they still existed).
It shows the value of this two-week process and has been quite an eye-opener. Some parts of my novel I have actually enjoyed re-reading and even found myself getting caught up in the plot.
Other parts not so much.
But that, I guess, was ever thus. In fact, it raises a point relevant to a number of emails I’ve had from people following the blog. These can be summed up from Suzanne in Surrey who asks how I am feeling about the impending arrival of week 52 and what that means for the book that's been such a major part of my life for almost a year.
What she’s talking about is letting go. From comments I have read as well as things I’ve read on other blogs, it seems that one of the main barriers that prevents new writers from completing their book is that they are not working to any time frame.
Even if they manage to reach the end of their story, there is always the opportunity for a re-written chapter here and a change to structure there. Without a deadline, the story will just go on and on...
This may be one of the main things that separates the professional from the amateur. The professional HAS to stop at a certain point and hand the book over. He or she knows that the book could always be a little better, but what good is that if it never gets to sit on a bookshop’s shelf?
It’s all about knowing when to let go.
Which is what I’ll have to do in five short weeks. It’s the only way it’s going to land on a publisher’s desk.
Of course, it won’t be easy.
It’ll be murder.
Too right Omar (and Agatha).
There’s been a lot of that this week as my red pen has skimmed through the pages of my second draft. Mostly it's been typos, but now and again I have found inconsistencies that have so far escaped my notice.
The worst moment was when I realised that I had left a strand dangling that I had completely forgotten about. I say strand, more like the contents of a Lancashire textile factory (when they still existed).
It shows the value of this two-week process and has been quite an eye-opener. Some parts of my novel I have actually enjoyed re-reading and even found myself getting caught up in the plot.
Other parts not so much.
But that, I guess, was ever thus. In fact, it raises a point relevant to a number of emails I’ve had from people following the blog. These can be summed up from Suzanne in Surrey who asks how I am feeling about the impending arrival of week 52 and what that means for the book that's been such a major part of my life for almost a year.
What she’s talking about is letting go. From comments I have read as well as things I’ve read on other blogs, it seems that one of the main barriers that prevents new writers from completing their book is that they are not working to any time frame.
Even if they manage to reach the end of their story, there is always the opportunity for a re-written chapter here and a change to structure there. Without a deadline, the story will just go on and on...
This may be one of the main things that separates the professional from the amateur. The professional HAS to stop at a certain point and hand the book over. He or she knows that the book could always be a little better, but what good is that if it never gets to sit on a bookshop’s shelf?
It’s all about knowing when to let go.
Which is what I’ll have to do in five short weeks. It’s the only way it’s going to land on a publisher’s desk.
Of course, it won’t be easy.
It’ll be murder.
Thursday 7 August 2008
Week 46 - Campanology
For the past week, I’ve been hearing things.
It’s been like my very own Turn of the Screw, with Henry James’s dense prose passed through some cerebral oscillator to emerge on the other side as a cacophony of bells.
Or to be more precise, I’ve been hearing that moment just before the bells ring. Like the beginning of Time on Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon when you know there will be dozens of bells ringing out their discordant alarm and you brace yourself for the shock that is coming.
This can mean one of two things. One: my wife has been playing too many Neil Diamond albums; or Two: my deadline is approaching faster than you can say, “Oh, God. Not Sweet Bloody Caroline again.”
It’s probably both.
As I come to the end of week 46, even my failed algebra brain can work out that the end is approaching. I have spent the week going through my second draft armed with nothing more than my trusty red pen.
The good news is that it has been deployed into action considerably less than at the same point in my first draft. The bad news is that it is still making its mark on pretty much every page.
The key, as any Home Guard Corporal can tell you, is not to panic. I’m still on track and I need to take solace from the fact that the book isn’t as bad as it might have been. Some parts - whisper this only - border on the printable.
I have another ten days of red pen action, before I spend the remaining five weeks of my 52 on the final draft.
Deadline day is 20th September. Until then I need to stay calm and continue to work my way through my 52-week plan one step at a time, placing all the various pieces together to form the final work. When I look at it this way, it stops the whole task from looking too daunting.
After all, it’s just another brick in the wall.
It’s been like my very own Turn of the Screw, with Henry James’s dense prose passed through some cerebral oscillator to emerge on the other side as a cacophony of bells.
Or to be more precise, I’ve been hearing that moment just before the bells ring. Like the beginning of Time on Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon when you know there will be dozens of bells ringing out their discordant alarm and you brace yourself for the shock that is coming.
This can mean one of two things. One: my wife has been playing too many Neil Diamond albums; or Two: my deadline is approaching faster than you can say, “Oh, God. Not Sweet Bloody Caroline again.”
It’s probably both.
As I come to the end of week 46, even my failed algebra brain can work out that the end is approaching. I have spent the week going through my second draft armed with nothing more than my trusty red pen.
The good news is that it has been deployed into action considerably less than at the same point in my first draft. The bad news is that it is still making its mark on pretty much every page.
The key, as any Home Guard Corporal can tell you, is not to panic. I’m still on track and I need to take solace from the fact that the book isn’t as bad as it might have been. Some parts - whisper this only - border on the printable.
I have another ten days of red pen action, before I spend the remaining five weeks of my 52 on the final draft.
Deadline day is 20th September. Until then I need to stay calm and continue to work my way through my 52-week plan one step at a time, placing all the various pieces together to form the final work. When I look at it this way, it stops the whole task from looking too daunting.
After all, it’s just another brick in the wall.
Friday 1 August 2008
Week 45 - Temperature's Rising...
There it has sat. A brooding presence; sleeping for now, but easily woken. Its yellow mass, while seemingly benign, concealing passions, betrayals and deeds most foul...
As you should be able to tell from that florid paragraph, I am now seven days into my ten-day “lay-aside” period. I think I must be suffering withdrawal symptoms from writing every day. I cough and extended metaphors spring forth unbidden.
I need to get out more.
It’s funny though how habit has trained my mind in a daily writing mode. Of course that can be nothing but a good thing - normally - but for the last week my world has been one long twitching cold turkey.
Seven weeks remain. Just seven out of 52. It’s all starting to get a little tense. But I have resisted the temptation to take a peek at that manuscript because I know how important those final seven weeks will be.
Come Monday morning, I will be sitting here with red pen in hand as I prepare to make changes for the final draft.
The clock is ticking. Its morbid chime resonating like the footsteps of death that walk the mist shrouded alleyways of my mind...
I definitely need to get out more.
As you should be able to tell from that florid paragraph, I am now seven days into my ten-day “lay-aside” period. I think I must be suffering withdrawal symptoms from writing every day. I cough and extended metaphors spring forth unbidden.
I need to get out more.
It’s funny though how habit has trained my mind in a daily writing mode. Of course that can be nothing but a good thing - normally - but for the last week my world has been one long twitching cold turkey.
Seven weeks remain. Just seven out of 52. It’s all starting to get a little tense. But I have resisted the temptation to take a peek at that manuscript because I know how important those final seven weeks will be.
Come Monday morning, I will be sitting here with red pen in hand as I prepare to make changes for the final draft.
The clock is ticking. Its morbid chime resonating like the footsteps of death that walk the mist shrouded alleyways of my mind...
I definitely need to get out more.
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