Novel mode

Novel mode

I’m in novel mode again, a pleasurable, guilt-ridden state. I’m not quite sure who flicked the switch from hard-working freelancer to dreamer. Slowly, very slowly, I’m understanding how I work best…

Storyworld immersion

…and why as a responsible parent, I don’t write fiction all the time. To do it, I need to fully immerse myself in my story world.

At the moment, for instance, I  have an image in my head- one of my main characters is stroking a kitten. She was a gift, but from whom, and why? And why was his reaction so negative at the time? It’s all I can think about as I go to sleep or load the washing machine.

Making sure it still feels like fun

I hardly noticed the work I put into my first novel. I was a mum at home; there were many other things I should have been doing with that hour in the afternoon. Because of this, writing rarely felt like a treat in comparison to my other options.

I’m trying to think of this manuscript as socialising with interesting (albeit imaginary) people when I could be earning money or doing something about my laundry pile. Allowing the housework to build up really helps foster that sense of indulgence.

Wasteful editing 

It is common sense to sure up your structure before you try perfecting your sentences. After all, you may be chopping that carefully worked prose later. I’m not doing that. Looking at the story as a whole overwhelmed me. So, as working anyway round is more productive than pontificating about process, I’m editing at the micro level before the macro. And I believe I’ve found my stride.

 

Afraid of my own novel

Afraid of my own novel

I’m theoretically in control of what happens over the pages of my novel. My say-so is required for Zombie apocalypse, Viking invasion or any other horror. And I’m writing women’s fiction. So it would be pretty irrational to be frightened of it.

But I was, mainly because I had no idea where to begin. As soon as I realised I had some time to begin another edit, I signed myself up to improve my French on Duolingo, rediscovered my Freecell addiction and did some washing.

I then remembered Hillary Rettig’s advice not to get hung up on getting everything right in one go, and to do multiple drafts. With some of the pressure off, I bravely opened the file. Immediately, one of its many faults came to my rescue. I needed to change half of it into the past tense. That would keep me busy for a week or two.

Ah! you might be thinking. She’s doing something clever with points of view and structure. No! I just couldn’t decide as I was drafting it which tense it should all be in. And once I had, kept forgetting. So when I say half of it is still in the present tense, I mean there are some scenes with both. I’ve told you this already. It’s a Nanowrimo novel.

 

 

 

 

When the washing machine’s a few feet away.

When the washing machine’s a few feet away.

 

I met a deadline yesterday. Relaxing a little today, I had a very pleasant morning and early afternoon with my next one. I’d already done the research and produced a rough draft. Now it’s a matter of making sure it reads well, makes sense and importantly comes in at the right number of words. Hopefully, I’ll manage to send it in a few days early.

This means that tomorrow, I can afford to focus on other things in my life, like catching up with friends. I’m not talking about long lunches, just messaging people to let them know I’m still alive. And laundry. I wish I knew how to drop housework into a writing day, but I don’t really. You’d think it would be easy to put a load of washing on when I’m working in the next room.

If any of you have any tips on the whole freelancing/housework balance thing, I genuinely want to know.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Imperfect, but here.

Imperfect, but here.

You may not have noticed, but I’ve been blogging weekly since New Year. I’m quite proud of myself.

There are many benefits, the most obvious of which is my connection with you lovely lot. However, I have to fight perfectionism and vanity to do it. I want each post to be as interesting, as amusing and grammatically correct as the last. And the pictures I’ve taken with a cracked £40 phone to be as beautiful as those in a travel magazine.

But you know that’s not the case, and the fact you’re still here teaches me a lesson: we’re imperfect, fallen human beings with the capacity to enjoy imperfect things.

So, I’m posting this on a Saturday, instead of the Thursday I was aiming for. I’ve not told you the half of what’s happened this week, I can’t see a joke in the last 150 words and I’m showing you a picture of the garden because frankly, the house is too messy for anyone to see. But something is going up because it’s good for me.

Thank you for still being here.

 

 

Novel tangles, crocuses and people who have been warned.

Novel tangles, crocuses and people who have been warned.

I keep thinking of new things to tell you, but can’t think of a coherent order to put them in, so I’ll just spew them out. I think an editor would call this a signposting issue.

I was feeling pretty pleased with myself as I read through the first seventy pages of my novel. After that, parallel story threads started to tangle, which made for interesting but deeply confusing reading. For the last few days, I’ve stared at the words for half an hour or so, then thoroughly overwhelmed, escaped to twitter or the supermarket.

But some prayer and sleep, and I think I’ve located the offending knot in the centre of my metaphorical ball of wool. The sense of achievement allowed me to push through organising the rest of the section. As a bonus, I’ve managed to rationalise large amounts of repetitive whinging from one particularly miserable character. I’m obviously now ready to come on here and boast about a good day. (Sorry about that! I rarely feel like blogging on a bad one.) On with the rest of my structural edit. One can always hope that was the worst bit.

Spring is flirting with Bournemouth. The crocuses (croci?) were planted before we moved into the house (see above).

We’ve one and a half of a couple staying with us from this Saturday, hopefully for the next month or two (although we’ve given them an out clause). They’ve been warned about the mess, the children and the project of a house and are still coming, so we like them already. And if you’re reading C&C, see this for proof I wasn’t exaggerating.

 

 

 

 

 

Revising the Nanowrimo Novel

Revising the Nanowrimo Novel

Yesterday morning, I started revising my new novel, simply because I didn’t have the creative energy to pitch article ideas. And I’d run out of every other method of procrastination I could justify that early on in the day.

Printing the manuscript provided a major mood-lift. Whether e-books take off or not, there will always be something about seeing your work on paper.

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I remained cheerful, glancing through as I manually numbered the pages. (Learn from me, and do it in Word, before printing.) I wrote most of the novel during a prolonged November lie-in, focussed on word count rather than the Man Booker prize. But the story looks as if it’ll hold together without massive plot adjustments. My last book took three or four years to get to this stage.

Then, mid-print out, this month’s issue of Writing Magazine belly-flopped onto the door mat, cheering me up further, as my article, “Get Serious”, is inside.

march 2017