There hasn't been much to blog about really. I've been poorly since January, and you didn't want to know all about that, did you? That's not to say that I haven't been doing anything, I just haven't had the energy to bore you all with it afterwards. Now I'm finally starting to get some strength back, I'll tell you what I've been up to writing-wise:
I've written quite a lot: been keeping up with my Story a Fortnight, and working on the novel(s) too.
I've subbed quite a lot: this is good. I subbed virtually nothing last year (though I wrote loads).
I've done a Della course: can't recommend them highly enough.
I've been to a couple of book launches: any excuse to buy books and drink wine, eh?
I've made use of my camera: as part of some Tom-Foolery-inspired photographic walks.
I've chilled with blogmates: a girly weekend with Helen (in which Spiral Jen played a rather drunken part), and a day with DJ, Troy and Mrs Troy, and various associated children.
I have also, by virtue of some domestic rearrangements, discovered a Room of My Own without my having to convert the loft. More of this later.
My list of Things to Do this year include: London Book Fair, Flash Fiction evenings, Novel Racers' Meet, SaF Meet, another Della Course, and Isle of Wight trip with DJ +N3S, Calistro's book launch (hint hint, Calistro), and no doubt much more.
Do you have any writing/blogging-related events planned for this year?
Showing posts with label Della Galton. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Della Galton. Show all posts
Monday, April 20, 2009
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Playing Catch Up
I can heartily reccommend Helen M. Hunt as a perfect house guest. Not only did she bring a bottle of wine for her hostess, but a book too! How civilised is that? Daphne, by Justine Picardie, has now found itself on the very top of my reading pile!
Helen and I collected Cal from the station in the morning (although it was still the middle of the night as far as Cal was concerned), and we travelled on to Bournemouth together. Now, I always thought having kids in the car was distracting, but kids are nothing compared with writers, and writerly conversation...
You know those Police!-Stop!-Action!-type documentaries? Where you're sitting in the police car, bombing down the fast lane, blue lights on? And some muppet is sitting in the way, completely oblivious? And the policeman starts mutttering, 'come on, get out of the way'? And then the car brakes, and lurches into the middle lane? Well, I was that muppet. In my defence, Cal is really tall, and she was sitting in the middle seat, so I couldn't see a thing out of the rear window, except perhaps, just a corner of a blue flashing light, when the cop car got really close and angry... Fortunately, I was only going a little bit over the limit, so it wasn't me they were after...
As with last time, I thoroughly enjoyed Della's course, and would encourage anyone, with any interest in writing commercial short stories, to attend if at all possible. The woman knows her stuff. She knows the markets too, inside out, and she makes suggestions that leave you thinking anything from 'now why didn't I think of that?' to 'I'd have never worked that out in a zillion years'. Unbeatable!
The let-out-of-class drinks meet was great too. Womagwriter (who is local) came to join us, and I wondered that the West-Brom-watching locals thought of us, discussing the finer merits of first-person versus third-person points of view. We did sound a bit nerdy! But who cares. Great day, girls. Thanks!
Okay, so will whoever nicked the last week, please bring it back now?
The lovely Karen Clarke has given me an award. It is supposed to be because I have cheered her up, but really it works the other way around. Thank you Karen!
I would like to pass this on to Sally, who always appears (at least) to have a smile on her face!
Helen and I collected Cal from the station in the morning (although it was still the middle of the night as far as Cal was concerned), and we travelled on to Bournemouth together. Now, I always thought having kids in the car was distracting, but kids are nothing compared with writers, and writerly conversation...
You know those Police!-Stop!-Action!-type documentaries? Where you're sitting in the police car, bombing down the fast lane, blue lights on? And some muppet is sitting in the way, completely oblivious? And the policeman starts mutttering, 'come on, get out of the way'? And then the car brakes, and lurches into the middle lane? Well, I was that muppet. In my defence, Cal is really tall, and she was sitting in the middle seat, so I couldn't see a thing out of the rear window, except perhaps, just a corner of a blue flashing light, when the cop car got really close and angry... Fortunately, I was only going a little bit over the limit, so it wasn't me they were after...As with last time, I thoroughly enjoyed Della's course, and would encourage anyone, with any interest in writing commercial short stories, to attend if at all possible. The woman knows her stuff. She knows the markets too, inside out, and she makes suggestions that leave you thinking anything from 'now why didn't I think of that?' to 'I'd have never worked that out in a zillion years'. Unbeatable!
The let-out-of-class drinks meet was great too. Womagwriter (who is local) came to join us, and I wondered that the West-Brom-watching locals thought of us, discussing the finer merits of first-person versus third-person points of view. We did sound a bit nerdy! But who cares. Great day, girls. Thanks!
Okay, so will whoever nicked the last week, please bring it back now?
The lovely Karen Clarke has given me an award. It is supposed to be because I have cheered her up, but really it works the other way around. Thank you Karen!
I would like to pass this on to Sally, who always appears (at least) to have a smile on her face!
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Della Galton's Course I
It was when I reached the motorway, switched on the cruise control and turned the stereo up so loudly that I practically had Jimi Hendrix in the car with me (Voodoo Chile makes such a great change from Wheels on the Bloody Bus), that I realised I was actually doing my own thing.
The next fun part was finding Helen. She was in the queue for the coffee machine when I spotted her. She glanced at me a couple of times, no doubt wondering why I was grinning at her! Once introduced, we sat together, and giggled a lot. We all giggled, and laughed. It was a great day.
There were six in the class, and Della (who is as genuine a person as I could wish to meet) allocated half an hour for each of us, and we were all encouraged to comment and advise on each other's stories, which was a constructive and encouraging exercise. Everyone had good ideas! Certainly my story, when it is subbed, will need to be credited to Me, Della, Helen, and a nice lady called Christine.
Helen's going to write a proper course review on Monday. This is good, because my brain is a shambles, and I can't think of anything else to write except that it was a great day. But, I think I said that already.
It was a great day (sorry). I learned a lot. I'm very glad I went. It was all thanks to Della, for being so clever; Helen, for being so adorable; Jane, for Bullying me into it; Julia, for looking after the small boy; Liz, for looking after the small girl; my lovely step-daughter (and her mum), for looking after the baby; and himself, for picking up the pieces.
See the Della Galton website for details of more courses. I can't recommend her teaching highly enough.
The next fun part was finding Helen. She was in the queue for the coffee machine when I spotted her. She glanced at me a couple of times, no doubt wondering why I was grinning at her! Once introduced, we sat together, and giggled a lot. We all giggled, and laughed. It was a great day.
There were six in the class, and Della (who is as genuine a person as I could wish to meet) allocated half an hour for each of us, and we were all encouraged to comment and advise on each other's stories, which was a constructive and encouraging exercise. Everyone had good ideas! Certainly my story, when it is subbed, will need to be credited to Me, Della, Helen, and a nice lady called Christine.
Helen's going to write a proper course review on Monday. This is good, because my brain is a shambles, and I can't think of anything else to write except that it was a great day. But, I think I said that already.
It was a great day (sorry). I learned a lot. I'm very glad I went. It was all thanks to Della, for being so clever; Helen, for being so adorable; Jane, for Bullying me into it; Julia, for looking after the small boy; Liz, for looking after the small girl; my lovely step-daughter (and her mum), for looking after the baby; and himself, for picking up the pieces.
See the Della Galton website for details of more courses. I can't recommend her teaching highly enough.
Saturday, February 02, 2008
When the Muse Strikes...
Having raved about space pens, and their usefulness for writing on the back of one's hand in the middle of the night, I must now post a cautionary tale.
After thinking up a whole new shorty, whilst drifting off to sleep last night, I had to sit up and write myself a note. There being no Moleskine nearby (or paper of any sort), I had to resort to simply writing the title on my hand. Falling For Him it was called. I was somewhat surprised to see these very words splurged across my cheek when I looked in the mirror this morning. I guess I must have stuffed my hand under my face as I snuggled back down, and before the ink had dried...
Being a space pen, of course, it is capable of being used underwater and, thus, has waterproof ink:
IT DOESN'T COME OFF. No doubt the liberal application of turps would shift it, but I don't fancy rubbing that into my face. Oh well, it's all in the name of art, I suppose. I just hope it's gone by Monday!
The story, incidentally, would not suffer being relegated to the back of my hand, and proceeded to spill itself into my brain. In the end, I had to get up and write the bloody thing down. One thousand words poured out in under an hour. I read it through this morning, changed the odd word, and showed it to Jane, who pronounced it to be perfect. This afternoon, it has gone off to Woman's Weekly. Concept to post box, in under twenty-four hours. I'll rival Della Galton yet!
After thinking up a whole new shorty, whilst drifting off to sleep last night, I had to sit up and write myself a note. There being no Moleskine nearby (or paper of any sort), I had to resort to simply writing the title on my hand. Falling For Him it was called. I was somewhat surprised to see these very words splurged across my cheek when I looked in the mirror this morning. I guess I must have stuffed my hand under my face as I snuggled back down, and before the ink had dried...
Being a space pen, of course, it is capable of being used underwater and, thus, has waterproof ink:
IT DOESN'T COME OFF. No doubt the liberal application of turps would shift it, but I don't fancy rubbing that into my face. Oh well, it's all in the name of art, I suppose. I just hope it's gone by Monday!
The story, incidentally, would not suffer being relegated to the back of my hand, and proceeded to spill itself into my brain. In the end, I had to get up and write the bloody thing down. One thousand words poured out in under an hour. I read it through this morning, changed the odd word, and showed it to Jane, who pronounced it to be perfect. This afternoon, it has gone off to Woman's Weekly. Concept to post box, in under twenty-four hours. I'll rival Della Galton yet!
Thursday, January 24, 2008
I Whole Day to do Writing
Jane has been bullying me, for some time, to go on a Della Galton course.
'I can't,' I said. 'It's all day. What'll I do with the kids?'
'I'll have them,' she said.
'But it's in Dorset,' I said. 'That's miles away.'
'This side of Dorset,' she said. "Hour-and-a-half max.'
'It'll be really expensive,' I said.
She made me look it up. 'Thirty-five quid,' she said.
And I said, 'Oh.'
So, on Monday, I wrote to ask if there were any spaces. I received no reply, but not wanting to hassle the great lady, I waited patiently. That was until (the lovely) Helen (to whom I am now twice indebted) forwarded me a warning from dear Della of the last few places available. I scrabbled another message off asap, and learned from the (almost instant) reply that my original email had never arrived. Eeeeek!
But it's okay, cos I'm now...Pencilled In! Yippee!
It turned out to be a really awkward day for Jane to have the kids, so, I called in some non-existent favours from some wonderful friends, and now have the following three-way schedule to staple to himself's forehead: [actually, I'll spare you the schedule; it's complicated...]
(Still loving the novel)
'I can't,' I said. 'It's all day. What'll I do with the kids?'
'I'll have them,' she said.
'But it's in Dorset,' I said. 'That's miles away.'
'This side of Dorset,' she said. "Hour-and-a-half max.'
'It'll be really expensive,' I said.
She made me look it up. 'Thirty-five quid,' she said.
And I said, 'Oh.'
So, on Monday, I wrote to ask if there were any spaces. I received no reply, but not wanting to hassle the great lady, I waited patiently. That was until (the lovely) Helen (to whom I am now twice indebted) forwarded me a warning from dear Della of the last few places available. I scrabbled another message off asap, and learned from the (almost instant) reply that my original email had never arrived. Eeeeek!
But it's okay, cos I'm now...Pencilled In! Yippee!
It turned out to be a really awkward day for Jane to have the kids, so, I called in some non-existent favours from some wonderful friends, and now have the following three-way schedule to staple to himself's forehead: [actually, I'll spare you the schedule; it's complicated...]
(Still loving the novel)
Sunday, September 30, 2007
A Story a Week
When I started working on short stories, the ambition was to write one a week. After the first month I was already behind, when someone told me that Della Galton wrote ninety last year. Please don't tell me that she was also looking after several ankle-biters at the same time...or I might just have to give up.
So, how well have I been doing? I started on the 24th March when the baby was two-weeks-old. (Well, there were a couple of guys ripping my kitchen apart too, so I couldn't do any baking.) Now, the baby is, erm, twenty-nine weeks old. So I must have twenty-seven stories by now.
Er, no.
I have good weeks and bad weeks, but if I spend more than a month on each story, I feel that I'm not going to get a reasonable return on my time. You'll notice two assumptions at this point. One is that I'll get any return for my time, and the second, that my time is worth something. It is, of course; if I weren't writing, I would be watching TV (and learning useful tips about cleaning the house), or actually cleaning the house (ha!).
One of Jane's stories was recently placed third in a competition. Now, Jane's grammar is bad and I am asked to proof everything; so, I hold my head up, knowing that it was my grammar & punctuation that won the prize. It was all her plot, though, and she's good at plots. Grammar you can learn, but plots come from the soul. Although I'm not quite sure where Jane's come from - she writes fantasy after all.
So here I am, still twiddling my thumbs. The baby being whisked away in an ambulance was a great excuse for procrastination, but I think, maybe, I'll get my head down this week instead. I put on 2lbs with the stress of it.
Although that might just have been the chocolate.
So, how well have I been doing? I started on the 24th March when the baby was two-weeks-old. (Well, there were a couple of guys ripping my kitchen apart too, so I couldn't do any baking.) Now, the baby is, erm, twenty-nine weeks old. So I must have twenty-seven stories by now.
Er, no.
I have good weeks and bad weeks, but if I spend more than a month on each story, I feel that I'm not going to get a reasonable return on my time. You'll notice two assumptions at this point. One is that I'll get any return for my time, and the second, that my time is worth something. It is, of course; if I weren't writing, I would be watching TV (and learning useful tips about cleaning the house), or actually cleaning the house (ha!).
One of Jane's stories was recently placed third in a competition. Now, Jane's grammar is bad and I am asked to proof everything; so, I hold my head up, knowing that it was my grammar & punctuation that won the prize. It was all her plot, though, and she's good at plots. Grammar you can learn, but plots come from the soul. Although I'm not quite sure where Jane's come from - she writes fantasy after all.
So here I am, still twiddling my thumbs. The baby being whisked away in an ambulance was a great excuse for procrastination, but I think, maybe, I'll get my head down this week instead. I put on 2lbs with the stress of it.
Although that might just have been the chocolate.
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