I Made DJ Kirkby Laugh

Apart from the occasion of my previous post, I am not having a good week (not least because I've realised that my latest story-a-fortnight candidate just doesn't hack it). Only three evenings until the deadline, which might seem like loads of time, but Helen's coming to stay... and it is possible that alcohol will be involved...

Fortunately, DJ's weekly caption-competition once again brought a few belly-laughs into my life on Wednesday, not to mention a huge grin this morning when I discovered I was a joint winner for for the second of her two photos (DJ, where do you find them?).

So, I'm happy again.

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)

Achievements & Targets

Projects	2007	2008
Words written	73,359	>100,000
Shorties plotted	46	40
Shorties written	19	26
Flashes written	31	10
Poems written	3	5
Novels completed	1	1-2
Novels plotted	4	0
Novels started	2	1
Total Submissions	53	100
Hits	1	>1

Drowning in New Ideas

While barely treading water in the swamp of editing, I am being deluged with ideas for new stories. I have thought up five new plots in the last three days alone. They're not just snippets, to go in the anecdotes file, but fully-fledged plots with characters, dialogue and satisfying endings.

Unfortunately, they have appeared to me at the most inconvenient moments (as though wallowing in a swamp of mucky grammar wasn't bad enough) and I've had to carry them round in my, already overwhelmed brain, until I could reach the computer.

Lunchtime today was a good example: I was just stirring the milk into some cheese sauce, when this great story-line appeared before me; the action danced before my eyes, and the dialogue sang in my ears (poetic, huh?). Now, I have a certain pride when it comes to making cheese sauce, so I had to wait until it was simmering before I could make a dash for the study, and get out as many words as possible (368) before the beeper went off.

Then, while we were eating lunch, I had an idea for a story about cheese sauce...

Masterly Procrastination

Yesterday morning Jane pitched up with a short story for me to proof. This is an honour, I tell myself, despite the fact that Jane's idea of "short" is anything under 20,000 words.

We tried to discuss some of the salient points this afternoon, but with six kids trashing her lounge we were forced to postpone until this evening. We susequently spent an hour and a half on the phone discussing...er... some films with Dustin Hoffman in, Peter Hall's 1989 production of The Merchant of Venice, the way BBC News 24 insists on making news out of nothing, the moronic nature of Jeremy Vine's presentation style, oh, and her story (and why I was looking for it in the fridge).

Having finally sat down to do some work, all I can think about is that, apart from finishing this story (my ambition for this evening), I have yet to load the dishwasher, put some washing in the tumble dryer, put the bins out, get the cat in, feed the baby, go to bed, and sleep, all before six-thirty tomorrow morning.

So, it's sleep or story, and I know which one's gonna win.

Block, Baby & Banana

Still struggling with my reluctant shorty.

Womagwriter suggested a bit of alcoholic lubrication so, having finally run out of chocolate, I poured myself a beer late (very late) last night. I must admit that it had some effect - although whether good or bad I have yet to tell. In pursuit of consistent results, I thought it best to repeat the experiment this evening... and perhaps tomorrow.

Unfortunately, I am being distracted by ideas for the next story. I know I should dump the one I'm working on and get on with the one that shouts the loudest, but I'm trying to be disciplined about this, which is difficult; the alcochol is interfering somewhat.

I try to write whenever I can, but I have a policy of not working while the kids are around. This means that I really only get the evenings, or when the small boy is at school and the little people are napping.

Having taken advantage of one such opportunity this afternoon (resulting in 300 words), my laptop was sitting, screen still open, on the dining room table at tea time. I had just popped a spoonful into the baby's mouth when she sneezed, covering my keyboard with mashed banana and/or snot.

I subsequently made a bargain with the computer: I promised to keep it away from sticky fingers, banana, and the contents of the baby's nose, in exchange for it refusing to open emails or websites that have nothing to do with research.

This evening, I managed a grand total of 75 words before discovering that only one of us is keeping to this bargain.

I guess I'll have to stick to the beer.

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.

Is this where it starts, then?

Well, not quite.

It actually started about eighteen months ago when my friend, let's call her "Jane", suddenly admitted that she was writing a novel. It was then that I remembered that I too was writing a novel, although I hadn't looked at it for a long time. (So long, in fact, that I had to retype it all - the BBC Micro no longer being my computer of choice.)

So, unless I'm prepared to go right back to the very start (which I'm not, because my memory absconded when my first child was born), it started in March 2006 with 20K words of a novel that I hadn't looked at for over ten years.

Jane, in fact, turned out to be writing a trilogy, of which she had completed only the first 250,000 words (a fantasy trilogy, you understand). She instantly put my meagre jottings to shame, and I determined to prove that I was worthy to sit at her kitchen table, drinking tea, and talking about Writing.

Nine months later (I don't seem to be able to gestate anything in less than nine months), the first draft was ready for editing. I spent a further three months loving it, hating it, and ignoring it in turns, before finally submitting it. It was dreadful, of course, and my wall is now papered with rejection letters, but it got me off the sofa, and into the study.

And so, as the novel disappeared into the clutches of the Royal Mail, I settled down to wait for my Marvellous Manuscript to be considered by the Great and the Good. I kept myself busy by producing another child, and seeing if I could keep its siblings from feeding it too many raisins. Jane, seeing that I had nothing better to do, suggested that I write some short stories in my copious spare time.

It was a terrible idea, and one for which I will never forgive her. Having just spent nearly a year in front of the computer, I was looking forward to spending some time refocussing my eyes. I also felt the need to ask the man who lives in my house what his name is (I knew it once). But, sadly, I still haven't had the chance.

Six months on, my Marvellous Manuscript is now scrap for Jane's kids to scribble on, the first three chapters of the second novel lie lonely somewhere deep in the harddrive, and my husband has started to cook his own meals.

I now sit, awaiting the acceptance or rejection of my first batch of shorties. I sent a dozen out to various women's magazines at the end of August, and now jump every time the phone rings. Usually, it's just Jane to ask if I've got any spare chocolate (she should know better); but I do, at least, now have a certain sense of anticipation with which to greet each day. The arrival last week of an acknowledgement card from The People's Friend caused much excitement. 'They've opened the envelope!'

It remains to be seen what they did with the contents.