Plodding on with Work and Novel

Having read numerous blogs and having lived with myself for the last 30-odd years, I knew this would happen. I'd been keeping a strict update on the writing, with a chart pinned to the wall to encourage me to write every day and put down the word counts. And then, I stopped.

Obviously, there are countless excuses I could come up with as to why the novel suddenly came to a grinding halt but what's the point? There will always be a reason not to write, which makes it all the more important to keep writing. Luckily, it was only a small blip and I've got back into it again. I'm now a month behind my self-imposed deadline but the annoying thing is, I only have about 5,000 words to write. I can easily knock out 5,000 words in a day for the day job but when it comes to crafting a novel, procrastination makes this extremely unlikely!

I've been really buoyed on by the updates of Cally Taylor over the last couple of weeks and the excitement of her novel getting published. If it's a dream to write a novel then there's no point sitting there thinking about it. It's not going to write itself and a finished novel has infinitely more chance of being published than a blank ream of paper.

Avoiding Writing by Learning How to Write

I went to the two-day conference, 'How to Get Published' at Kingston University at the weekend. I'd seen it advertised in a couple of mags and, instead of doing my usual - "that sounds goods, maybe I'll do it next time", I actually booked a place, bundled the kids to my parents and went back to school.

It was a really beneficial two days that was pretty intense but packed full of handy info. It was great to hear from people from all sides of the industry, from agents and publishers to authors. Everyone was honest to the point of being off-putting but, as any budding writer knows, nothing's going to put you off once you get the bug! The authors were genuinely inspiring and although it took them years to make it, they never stopped trying. I have learnt that editing really is the key - Michael Ridpath spent years re-writing his first manuscript until he felt it was in the best possible condition to send to agents. The strategy clearly worked but it means I've got years of work ahead of me before I think about sending anything to anyone - slightly depressing!

Well, I'd better get back to it - 10,000 words to go...and that's just the first draft.

Seeing your Name in Print

Last week I received two magazines in the post that I had articles published in. Now, this doesn't happen very often, I hasten to add! I generally write web copy and, although it's great to see your work up there on a website, nothing quite beats the buzz of flicking through a magazine and seeing real life pages with your name and words on them.

I had a travel piece about Singapore in 'Owners Perspective' magazine and then a parenting article in 'Step Ahead', which is also on their website. There'll probably be a drought of magazine articles for months to come now!

Lost (for) Words

I took my laptop on holiday and thought that I'd tap away in the evenings as we sat in the campervan and listened to the weather in North Devon.

Well, it all went according to plan and words were indeed written but then they cruelly taken away again. On the last day of the holiday my son knocked the laptop off a table, the screen went blank and the computer died. I know, I know - back-up, back-up, back-up and normally I'm religious about it if I do ANY work at all on my laptop. But, having forgotten the memory stick and having absolutely no access to Internet (I normally email work back to myself for double security), I didn't back anything up during the week.

It wasn't a huge amount - about 3,000 words - but those words were written at a particular time, in a particular place and with a particular frame of mind that will never all be replicated exactly. In other words, they're gone.

I've tried to be pragmatic and I haven't screamed and shouted - it's worse than being angry; I'm sad. Now, I just can't face replacing those words with others that just won't seem authentic somehow and I haven't written any more of the novel for about four days.

I know I need to just dust myself off and stop being so bloody stupid. They're not miraculously going to reappear and no one else is going to finish writing the book so I need to snap out of it...tomorrow...

Setting a Deadline

There's nothing like a self-imposed deadline to get the fingers tapping away and I've just set mine. I've booked a place on the Writer's Conference at Kingston University at the beginning of September and I'm determined to finish the first draft of my novel by then.

There's no particular reason why this should be the deadline but it fitted in roughly with when I wanted to finish the first draft and it just seemed fitting that it would tie in with a conference about trying to get published. The idea is that I finish the draft, go to the conference, have a bit of thinking time and then get on with some serious editing.

Getting Inspiration

Well, it was a bit of a mixed bag last week. It started off so well with lots of words written on Monday and Tuesday and then it all went horribly wrong. I could blame the kids....hell yeah, let's blame the kids! After putting in 14-hour days breaking up fights, preparing food and mopping up poo, the last thing I felt like doing was switching on the computer and getting stuck into the novel.

I know, I know, these are exactly the type of excuses that everyone uses when they say "I'd love to write a book, but I haven't got the time". There's always time, you just sometimes need to give yourself a bit of a kick up the backside. Anyway, that kick finally came after reading the 'race to the finish line' Tweets of novelists Helen and Cally yesterday. It was really inspiring to read about their progress as they completed the last few scenes of their respective books and both sat down with a well-earned drink afterwards.

I think it reiterates the fact that writing can be such a solitary experience and the Internet is a fantastic resource, not just in terms of information about the craft itself, but also for getting in touch with other people suffering the same highs and lows.

They both found the time to write and today I got myself back on track. As the kids created mayhem and destroyed the house, I sat down with my laptop amongst the debris and wrote a few hundred words. Now I'm raring to go again - although I'll probably have to delete everything I wrote today as I'm sure it won't make any sense.

Another One (probably) Bites the Dust

I've just submitted my entry to the Guardian short story competition. It feels great to send off a piece of writing. Although I'm never under any illusion as to the outcome of the submission, it still feels like an achievement to actually get some work to a standard whereby you're happy for other people to read it.

I personally find it really rewarding to keep writing short stories while I'm plodding on with the novel. I haven't done as much as I'd like recently, and I'm sure I should probably be concentrating all my efforts on wrestling my way through the mighty tome, but there's a great deal of satisfaction to be gained from completing a story, however short it is.

I've got a long way to go before I can celebrate finishing the book and short stories are a great way to hit a mini milestone along the route.

Yummy Mummy Envy

I always reckon I've done quite well if I manage to have a shower, find some vaguely matching underwear and remember both kids and my bag when I'm leaving the house. So, I was feeling pretty smug this morning when I arrived at toddler play just after it opened instead of running in sweating for the last few minutes.

All thoughts of smugness evaporated when a vision of yummy mumminess swanned through the door and put my poor efforts at hair (scraped back), make-up (none) and outfit (well, it was clean) to shame. Dressed in a crisp, dazzling white linen dress with a long sparkly bead necklace, matching hairband and silver sequinned pumps, the woman had two small kids with her and a third on the way - I'd guess she was about six months' pregnant.

I had to do a double take as I thought Charlotte from Sex and the City had just swanned into playgroup. If I ever had anything white in my wardrobe, it's now turned into the uniform sludge colour of washing that doesn't get sorted into colour groups. I'd certainly never dream of wearing a white dress within a mile of my kids. As it is, I'm usually liberally doused in snot, food and various other child-related goo before we make it anywhere near the public. And how on earth she managed to find the time and space to contemplate, choose, and put on accessories is just beyond me.

You know what they say: "behind every cool, calm and collected mum is a full-time nanny".

What if it's a Load of Rubbish?

Yeah, yeah, I know writers have these melancholic thoughts all the time. I've read countless articles and blog posts about published authors going through various stages in their novels when they think they can't go on; they've run out of ideas; the book isn't actually that great after all. Anyway, unpublished as I am, it's my turn.

Having cracked the halfway point, it seems I've reached the top of the mountain and have collapsed in a sweating, panting heap with no energy left to get back down the other side. I've got serious doubts about my main character, the ending of the book, the sub plots, the minor characters. Are they too stereotypical? Do they have enough going on in their lives? Is the story interesting enough to hold a reader's attention?

I've been forcing myself to keep writing a bit every day and I'm hoping the doubts will pass and I can get back to belting through the first draft and worry about sorting the problems out at the re-write stage.

Unfortunately, I've got some riveting insurance articles to write first today before I can get down to the novel. Got to pay the bills somehow!

Reaching the Halfway Point

At the end of last week, I finally reached the halfway point for the first draft of my novel. It was a minor celebration, as it's technically just a word count plucked from the sky, but it still felt good.

I guess it's a bit like the due date for a baby: although you really have no idea exactly when it's going to arrive, it's nice to have a date to work towards. I just hope that finishing the book isn't as painful as giving birth.

Positive Mental Attitude

So, after submitting a short story to the Shortbread website, I was really chuffed to get some positive feedback from the Editor.

Each story is individually read before it goes live and it means you get some indication of whether anyone's going to like it, before it's unleashed onto the story writing and reading world.

It's crazy but even a few nice comments can have a dramatic effect and it was enough to spur me on and get going on a couple more short story ideas - things that have been fizzing away on the back burner for months.

Small steps...

Less Thinking, More Doing

I had a quiet work day yesterday so I thought I'd catch up on some pitches and submissions. I sent a short story to 'My Weekly' and I pitched a couple of magazines with a travel article. I also joined up to Shortbread and spent half an hour reading some of the stories to get a feel for the site. There's some really good stuff - pretty eclectic too.

I don't seem to have too much luck when it comes to pitching on spec. I tend to get most work through repeat clients or word-of-mouth. But, every so often, I have a mad morning and write some pitches to send out. I had one accepted a month or so ago and that spurred me on for a bit. Not exactly a retirement fund but it makes me feel like I'm doing something useful on the quiet days.

Anyway, back to writing copy about car insurance...

A Cock in a Frock on a Rock

Much as I’d love to claim authorship of the above, it’s actually a line from ‘Priscilla, Queen of the Desert’.

I’m a massive fan of the film and I was excited but slightly nervous when I heard that a stage musical version was coming to town. Such a wonderfully original and quirky indie film unleashed on the theatre-going world as a big budget musical? Could it work? So many similar offerings have been universally panned, finished their run early or failed to reproduce the smallest iota of the excitement or authenticity of the original incarnation that it’s better to expect the worst. Anyway, having gone to see it for myself last night, it seems that the reviews (mainly good) and the word-of-mouth (all good) were completely justified.

From curtain-up, when three glamorous divas were lowered from the gods to swing mid air and belt out the opening number, we all knew it was going to be good.

The casting is fab, the cheese factor has been judged superbly and the choreography is stunning. However, it’s the ‘no expense spared’ costume and set design that really pulls the show into a league of its own. Seriously, they’ve splashed the cash and haven’t missed a trick. There are so many fantastic little details where corners could have been cut without anyone complaining.

There’s plenty of exposed, toned flesh to keep the straight ladies and gay men’s eyes firmly glued to the stage and I was pleased that they hadn’t toned down the innuendo and blatant sexual references too much and turned it into a watered-down ‘ooh, er missus’ version of the film.

I wasn’t the only person who enjoyed it – a packed house all got up for a standing ovation at the end. Well, apart from the three elderly ladies in the row in front of us. They cackled their way through all the penis jokes, admired the bare buttocks pretty vocally but unfortunately mobility issues meant they couldn’t jump to their feet for the finale.

Just Take the Damned Drugs

I've just been listening to Jeremy Vine on Radio 2 while eating my lunch and I've been compelled to come back to the computer for a rant.

It was a discussion about the pros and cons of taking pain relief while giving birth and the bit I caught seemed to almost exclusively feature the "hair shirt" brigade.

The big natural birth argument seems to revolve around the old adage that childbirth is the most natural thing in the world and that women have been doing it for thousands of years. Well, yes, they have but I just don't get the logic - the same could be said about periods but I can't imagine anyone going without the modern conveniences of sanitary wear just because that's how it was done in days gone by.

Having gone through two births I feel I've got some inside information about the subject. Much as we'd all love to see our babies sliding gracefully into the world after a few mild labour pains and a couple of pushes, the reality for most people is a very different experience. I personally found the whole thing pretty horrific. Having been lulled into the whole natural birth philosophy during my first pregnancy I was determined to have a water birth with no intervention. The best laid plans and all that... After 36 hours of excruciating agony, someone realised the baby was lying back-to-back, her head was stuck and I'd have to have a forceps delivery. Fancy trying that without any pain relief? Neither did I.

No one is denying that childbirth is natural but one could argue the same about kidney stones or appendicitis and you wouldn't dream of suffering either ailment without some knockout pain relief. There's definitely a school of thought that maintains you've had a much more real and connecting experience if you've given birth naturally, with an almost corporate boardroom one-upmanship (or should that be one-up'woman'ship) amongst those who've done it all with just one slug of gas and air and a couple of pulses of a Tens machine. But why should those of us who opt for a little pain relief be made to feel as if we've somehow cheated?

I've got nothing but admiration for women who do manage to give birth without the aid of drugs but it just isn't an option for everyone. After two days of full-on labour, with a 91/2lb baby that was stuck, I took every damned drug that was offered to me.

Working for Free

I'm not sure if it's down to the recession or just the fact that so many people are willing to work for nothing in order to break into journalism but I've noticed so many posts and ads for jobs recently that contain those worrying words - 'intern' or 'unpaid'.

I know there's always been a culture of doing a bit of work experience or submitting a few free articles in order to get bylines and/or experience but it really seems to have reached the point of ridicule lately. Whilst a recent graduate or someone with no credits should definitely be prepared for a bit of 'voluntary work' on publications, it's undoubtedly going to have a knock-on effect for people who've carved out a career and are actually trying to make a living working as copywriters and journalists.

I'm by no means putting myself up there as a seasoned hack; I'm pretty small fry in comparison to the big guns on the dailies and large circulation glossies. However, I don't see why the career that someone's been building up for years should be belittled by assuming that they'll be prepared to work for absolutely no renumeration. Not just that, but they should be thankful for getting the opportunity to slog their guts out over an article, or to trudge across town in rush hour and work ten-hour days for three months with just a travel card and a couple of luncheon vouchers to show for their troubles.

When I left uni, I did a few weeks' of work experience at a publishing company and that did lead to my first editorial job so I can hardly moan about the use of the system - it worked for me. BUT, and it's a big but - I had absolutely no experience at the time and it was a great (and possibly one of the only) way to get your foot in the door. It just feels like many companies are now exploiting this common route into publishing by using unpaid staff for longer contracts and more responsible jobs. In short, they're trying to pull in career writers and editors to work for bugger all.

Fun in the Sun

With two kids now in tow, holidays aren't quite the relaxing oasis of sunbathing, reading and wine consumption that they used to be. Still, on the upside, I did manage to read almost half a book, sit out in the sun for at least half an hour every day and try out most of the local beers.

I also managed to do a bit of writing and it was fab to sit outside under the shade and write. I knew I wouldn't get much done so I didn't bring the laptop but writing longhand was actually quite a nice change, even though it took a while to get rid of the shakes as I don't usually write more than a sentence with a pen these days. I've just finished adding the words to the manuscript and I reckon I managed a couple of thousand so not bad.

I really looked forward to a few minutes of quiet writing time and was a bit twitchy to get going again when we got back at the weekend. Hopefully this enthusiasm will last - I keep reading about other people coming to a standstill at around the 30-40,000 word mark. I don't have a great track record of persevering with projects so I'm desperate to push on through with the first draft. Now I've got the chapters (very roughly) marked out into scenes, I'm hoping this will help to get me through any really bad patches.

The Writer's Life for Me

I work for myself and I work from home so I've got the luxury of being able to knock-off a bit early if I want to. Of course, in reality this rarely happens but I always harbour thoughts of hanging out in cafes or going for long walks around London, searching for inspiration and a bit of downtime.

Anyway, I actually managed the former on Wednesday. I didn't have that much work on so I shut off the computer around 3pm and took my novel notebook to the local deli for a coffee and a bit of writing. The notion of writing in a cafe iss a bit like picnics, or days on the beach: not quite as decadent and romantic as it plays out in your head when you're imagining the life of a writer. On the next table, a woman was with her financial advisor, discussing ways to keep her business afloat, while the man behind me slurped and chomped his way through lunch to the point that I felt like ramming the damned sandwich down his throat.

On the upside, I did manage to map out the remaining chapters of the book - very roughly into key scenes for each chapter and it was great to get away from the computer at home and out into the real world for an hour.

Going Public

There’s nothing like announcing your intentions in public to give yourself a kick up the backside in terms of getting on with it. Which is why I’ve dedicated this blog to dealing with the ongoing traumas and dramas of getting through a first draft by the end of 2009. Whether anyone reads the blog or not, it’s out there and it’s public and I’m hoping that will be sufficient impetus to get me through the difficult spots and keep plodding on regardless.

I’ve set myself a pretty reasonable 3,000 weekly word count. I’ve kept it fairly low on purpose, as I want to make sure it’s doable whilst fitting in the unpredictable nature of kids and working. That way, if I write more, then I can give myself a pat on the back.

I’m trying to write a little every day – whether it’s 100 or 1,000 words, I think it’s really important to keep the momentum going and to try and get into the habit of squeezing a bit of writing time into each day.

So, I’ve started switching the laptop on and getting my notes out just before I put the kids to bed. Then, once they’re tucked up, I sit down and write for 30 minutes to 1 hour. No tidying, no clearing up, no cooking dinner and definitely no sitting down on the sofa – any procrastinating and I know I’ll be done for. Even if I only manage a couple of hundred words, it feels like an achievement and a tiny bit of progress. If I'm feeling particularly knackered and have had a really hard day, a cheeky glass of wine by the side of the laptop provides a bit of extra incentive to sit down and start writing.

Get on with it

The novel had been festering away in the bowels of my computer for well over two years. I’d made pretty good progress when I first started it: getting home from work and writing for an hour or so, then doing a bit more at the weekend. However, that was before the pitter-patter of tiny feet and the legion of excuses that comes with the arrival of kids.

They have indeed provided me with plenty of reasons to avoid dusting off those first 20,000 words and getting on with the process of writing. Sleepless nights; decline in useable brain cells; no time to grab a cup of tea, let alone sit down to write; no space; no privacy; no life. But, there came a point when I couldn’t go on blaming the little critters for my lack of creative enthusiasm. They’re sleeping through, I have my life back (to some extent) and there’s finally a little bit of space in my frazzled brain to hold new ideas.

If indeed, I want to stop saying:
‘I’d love to write a book’, and instead be able to say:
‘I’ve written a book’, then I need to get a bloody move on and actually
start tapping some keys.

So, a few weeks ago, I finally opened the Word document and reacquainted myself with the novel in progress. Since then, I’ve written another 10,000 words and have started mapping out the remaining chapters in more detail. It’s proving to be strangely cathartic and hasn’t impinged upon my precious down-time as much as I’d presumed it would. So far, I’m really enjoying the process of getting to know the characters again and getting into the story. I’m just hoping this will last and it’s not just a rush of initial enthusiasm. Watch this space!

Pink at the o2 (Sunday 3 May)

So, we'd finished the barbecue (which was essentially rained off and moved indoors, in true British style) and were just tucking into another bottle of wine when I was offered a free ticket to the Pink gig. Perhaps it was the wine, perhaps it was the Bank Holiday joie de vivre but before my better judgement could kick in, I'd eagerly accepted.

I've hummed along to a couple of tracks, seen clips from a few music videos and would recognise her photo in a magazine but that's about as far as my level of Pink knowledge goes. So, basically I went along with few, if any, expectations.

Turns out the girl can sing - and I mean really pelt out a number. The gig was more theatrical performance accompanied by rock/pop tunes than anything else but I like the fact that a certain amount of money and effort was spent on the tour. Although I hadn't spent any buying a ticket, I felt justified on the part of the other genuine fans who surrounded us in their droves. The place was packed full of lesbian bikers, teenagers wearing pink tutus, and the odd parent looking out of place but secretly pleased to be there.

I knew more songs that I thought and was genuinely impressed by the quality of the show and the sustained quality of her singing performance. She chatted between songs and flitted around the stage effortlessly in her impossibly high stilettos. The highlight was when she performed a trapeze routine and carried on singing while swinging across the stage upside down.

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

This week we've decided to crack down on our youngest's early morning rising with all the might of a military campaign. Having endured months of being woken up at 5am, it was time to take drastic measures. It's all very well if you don't mind being tucked up in bed with a Catherine Cookson tome and a cup of cocoa by 9pm. However, if you fancy a bit of a life then it's absolute hell to be cruelly deprived of sleep by a screaming toddler who's ready to start their day when young urban things about town are just hitting the hay.

Anyway, we settled on the 'back-to-sleep' method which basically involves leaving him for 5 minutes when he first wakes up and cries then going in, giving him a cuddle until he settles and then putting him back in his cot. This process is repeated, adding a couple of minutes onto the crying stage after each time you have to go in. Obviously, the first time he realised that he wasn't being taken downstairs for some milk and noisy plastic toy action, he was a bit put out and screamed as soon as he was placed back in his cot. However, with about 5 more cuddes and settles he did go off to sleep for a bit. The second morning he slept until 5.30am and then settled again after just 3 visits. This morning he slept until 6am and then settled after 1 cuddle for another half hour. Result!

I know, I know, it's very early days but those extra couple of hours' sleep have revitalised me and I've lost some of my pessimistic resignation to the whole sleep issue. We're determined to believe that it's working...

The CBeebies Lesson for Everyone

I read at the weekend that parents have been complaining to the BBC about the CBeebies presenter Cerrie Burnell. Cerrie was born with one hand missing and apparently some over-protective parents were concerned that their offspring might have nightmares about her appearance.

If you truly believe that there’s nothing more difficult for your child to have to deal with than seeing someone with a disability then you should be thanking your lucky stars. Personally, I applaud both Cerrie and the BBC for helping to introduce young children to the notion of disability in an environment that’s familiar and comforting to them.

I think the BBC has a pretty good record when it comes to addressing the thorny issues of gender, race and disability in its children’s programming and I find it extremely saddening that parents feel the need to try and shield their children from the realities of disability. Cerrie is a great role model and presenter who just happens to have a disability – so what?

One of the most important jobs we have to do, as parents, is to instill a sense of understanding and acceptance into our children. Children are naturally inquisitive and, when given a reasonable response to a reasonable question, they will digest the information and move on. My daughter asked about Cerrie’s hand and I explained it to her. No big deal. If kids were exposed to, and learnt about, disabilities from an early age then the world would be a far more tolerant place. What message is it sending to your child if you snatch the remote control and desperately try to change channel, or throw yourself in front of them every time someone with a disability comes onto the telly?

Forget the organic baby rusks, yoga classes and hand-spun ethical cotton sleep suits; teach your child to accept people for who they are, not how they look, and you’ve given them the best start in life.