I'm not getting on with writing. Why? I suppose the truthful answer is I'm too lazy to be a PROPER writer. I don't keep up to doing a daily word count. I write loads when I feel like it. But what about the days when I don't? Often it takes me ages to get started. I sit at the computer, full of good intentions, but then I decide that first I'll check my emails, and then I start browsing facebook and reading blogs, then check my emails again. Hey, does writing this blog go towards my word count? But then, I've not even been keeping up to writing my blog lately.
For a long time I blamed my small daily writing output on having to go out to work. It wasn't my fault if I didn't get much writing done. I didn't have the time. What I can't understand is that now I only work part-time, and in theory I have much more time for writing, I do even less than when I worked full-time.
Anyway, enough of this moping. It's all got to change. Yesterday I went to an event at the Hull Literature Festival. Listening to author Clare Allan has fired me up with enthusiasm. I'm going to set myself a daily word count target (not yet decided what that will be), stop making excuses and just get on with it.
Thursday, 25 June 2009
Monday, 15 June 2009
A Special Day
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It's our Silver Wedding Anniversary today and I'm feeling all slushily sentimental and lovey dovey.
Monday, 8 June 2009
Catching Up
I'm behind with everything and doing a juggling act trying to catch up. I've been having those sort of days where you feel you're working hard, but end up wondering where the result is.
I started looking at my novel-in-'progress pending', in an attempt to get back on with it, but I soon got distracted with copy-editing 'The Dark Threads'. Again! Yes, I thought the copy-editing was long finished, as it's been 'done' both by myself and a good copy-editor. Needless to say, my 'one last look' showed up a few more things that needed amending in my book. So I decided I'd better read it again carefully from beginning to end (I'll be able to say every word on all 350 pages off by heart soon!).
I enjoyed going to London to be interviewed for the Sunday Times. There was an initial panic when I found at the last minute my train had been cancelled, but, thanks to mobiles, I was able to rearrange the appointment to half-an-hour later and catch the next train.
I was prepared for the questions. But still ... 'How long did it take you to write the book?' This was one I'd been dreading as there's no straightforward answer. The writing of it has been 'on and off' over many years. I started writing it forty years (!) ago when I wrote on scraps of toilet paper sitting on the floor with my feet up to chest, knees against the pot, and holding the door shut with my back, in the hospital. OK, I suppose that was writing 'purely for therapy', which isn't the same as writing to be published. I never intended anyone else to see my writing then, but it did turn out to be a gathering together of the material for my book.
I asked myself, when did I decide I wanted to share my experiences and actually write a book about them? Would it be sufficiently interesting to others? Might it do some good (oh, sorry if that sounds 'up my backside', but it was one of my hopes)? As well as just a 'human interest story' I felt I had something to say that needed to be said, but I didn't want to come over all 'preachy' (which I don't think I have). There were a lot of questions I needed to ask myself about my motives for writing this kind of book, but, meanwhile, I just got on with it, feeling I simply had to write it. I mean, I've always been interested in writing, but whenever I wrote anything else, this kept intruding. Perhaps soon, at last, I'll be able to concentrate fully on trying to write other books on other subjects. I hope so. I don't want to be able to sing from only one sheet.
Anyway, I divert. On the whole I think my interview in London went well. Afterwards I wandered around until my bunions (old age creeping on) made me stand in the middle of a street, unable to go any further. I managed to hobble into the bookstore that was only a few yards away and I recovered over a cup of coffee, with my shoes off under the table. Well, I never thought when I began this blog that I'd even be bringing my boring old bunions into it! I don't go on like this in my book - honest I don't!
I started looking at my novel-in-'progress pending', in an attempt to get back on with it, but I soon got distracted with copy-editing 'The Dark Threads'. Again! Yes, I thought the copy-editing was long finished, as it's been 'done' both by myself and a good copy-editor. Needless to say, my 'one last look' showed up a few more things that needed amending in my book. So I decided I'd better read it again carefully from beginning to end (I'll be able to say every word on all 350 pages off by heart soon!).
I enjoyed going to London to be interviewed for the Sunday Times. There was an initial panic when I found at the last minute my train had been cancelled, but, thanks to mobiles, I was able to rearrange the appointment to half-an-hour later and catch the next train.
I was prepared for the questions. But still ... 'How long did it take you to write the book?' This was one I'd been dreading as there's no straightforward answer. The writing of it has been 'on and off' over many years. I started writing it forty years (!) ago when I wrote on scraps of toilet paper sitting on the floor with my feet up to chest, knees against the pot, and holding the door shut with my back, in the hospital. OK, I suppose that was writing 'purely for therapy', which isn't the same as writing to be published. I never intended anyone else to see my writing then, but it did turn out to be a gathering together of the material for my book.
I asked myself, when did I decide I wanted to share my experiences and actually write a book about them? Would it be sufficiently interesting to others? Might it do some good (oh, sorry if that sounds 'up my backside', but it was one of my hopes)? As well as just a 'human interest story' I felt I had something to say that needed to be said, but I didn't want to come over all 'preachy' (which I don't think I have). There were a lot of questions I needed to ask myself about my motives for writing this kind of book, but, meanwhile, I just got on with it, feeling I simply had to write it. I mean, I've always been interested in writing, but whenever I wrote anything else, this kept intruding. Perhaps soon, at last, I'll be able to concentrate fully on trying to write other books on other subjects. I hope so. I don't want to be able to sing from only one sheet.
Anyway, I divert. On the whole I think my interview in London went well. Afterwards I wandered around until my bunions (old age creeping on) made me stand in the middle of a street, unable to go any further. I managed to hobble into the bookstore that was only a few yards away and I recovered over a cup of coffee, with my shoes off under the table. Well, I never thought when I began this blog that I'd even be bringing my boring old bunions into it! I don't go on like this in my book - honest I don't!
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