Churning out the words

I never take part in NaNoWriMo, partly because I’m always working and to rack up a word count of six for November would be uninspiring for others and embarrassing for me. I find time to write when time finds me. It could be first thing in the morning, in the middle of the night, or just before bed time. I certainly don’t say to myself: “Right, let’s do one thousand words before 9am.” I work at my own pace; I always have and I never feel pressurised to look at the word count in the bottom left hand corner of the laptop.

For that reason I’m not a fan of NaNoWriMo and I never will be. I prefer to write a few chapters and revise them fully before moving on. I’m not a fan of churning out word after word just for the sake of word count. It may look great on paper if you have managed ten thousand words before November 8, but if you’re constantly shifting POV and have made many grammatical and spelling errors, then what you’ve just written is a waste of time. There are so many people who publicise their writing goals online, some really ambitious. I found one guy who pledged to write twelve thousand words per day – is he writing War And Peace Part Two?

On the other hand if it gives people inspiration to sit down and seriously put a book together for the first time in their lives, then I’m all for it.

I carried out a little experiment - thanks to Rod, we’ve had a plethora of posts about poetry recently, and it has inspired me to write an ode (well, not strictly) to Strictly. Not being a poet, nor having the talent of Shakespeare or Keats, nevertheless, I’ve decided to tackle this art form in a matter of five minutes, reaching my word count of around one hundred. So here we go (it’s all fun of course):

Strictly Writing is by far the best blog.
It’s read by every woman, man, cat and dog.
We serve the needs of the writing people
Across the nation, past the tallest church steeple.
We’re here to help and entertain with our wise words
Accompanied by pictures of pens, desks and birds.
Our readers are novelists and poets too
They write in coffee shops and even at the zoo.
They say the pen is mightier than the sword
So turn to the written word and you’ll not be bored.
Thank you to our readers who comment all day
Hip, hip, hooray to Strictly - is what I say!

(Incidentally, November/Movember is also moustache growing month aimed at raising money for charity. If you haven't the patience to write a novel, then grow a tache. Go check it out!)

NaNoWriMo - Nine Days In

I’m ‘nano-ing’ this year, or supposed to be. So far, and despite many hours of plotting and planning, I’ve written an unimpressive 4000 words and have come up with new and inspiring ways to procrastinate. I should forget novels and write a book on new avoidance tactics. Here’s an example of Monday’s frivolous antics:

“I wander lonely in a shroud
Floating high, my shroud has frills
When all at once I hear a sound
Bang bang they go, the daffodils
Beside the lake beneath the trees
I fluff my frills in the cold breeze”

I know. By Tuesday I was thinking of admitting myself somewhere, especially after I’d compiled the second verse. You ready?

“Continuous as the stars that shine
My billowing shroud wants its say
It stretches towards an alpine pine
While all the time the daffs they pray
Their sound it puts me in a trance
I join their chant and start to dance”

What can I say, except maybe apologise to Mr Wordsworth, whose work I revered until this week. As well as poetry desecration, I found myself putting on unnecessary clothes washes, trying to come up with new Christmas recipes, shopping online, facebook-ing, emailing, and yes, I could even be found loitering with intent on Twitter...

This is all because I’m forcing myself to write a story that I’m not sure I want to write. Has anyone else had this problem? I keep telling myself to keep calm and carry on, that it’s only one month and it might actually take a turn somewhere in the process that could lead to an interesting lead at least. I’ve done ‘Nano’ before and I’m a HUGE fan but right now, I fear for the poets. I really do.

On a serious note, all the faffing around has actually helped me clarify that I should be brave and try another idea for another novel. It’s only the 9th today and since this one just isn’t coming out the way I want it to, I actually feel that the rest of November would be wasted if I continue. I simply can't keep writing just for writing's sake. I have to want to tell the story. The characters have to be demanding to be heard, and they're not. They're giving me time off to write rubbish poetry. (Rod, your crown is safe...)

Rest easy poets of the world... I have a new plan and not having had time to plot, well let the pantsing begin.

The Hare and the Tortoise do NaNo*

Once upon a time there was a Tortoise. Her name was Ms Plotter (Beatrix, if you were on first name terms with her, but that took a loooong while) and she lived in a carefully constructed box at the bottom of the garden. Ms Plotter had many fine qualities: she was steady as a rock, methodical and tenacious. Somewhat shy and retiring, but hey, who's perfect? Ms Plotter minded her own business, which happened to be the Writing of a Novel entitled Slow. Every few years she would add another chapter to her oeuvre. This chapter perfectly echoed the stepsheet made of colour-co-ordinated index cards that she had created before writing a single word. She would then spend several months refining and editing said chapter until it was perfect. All this made her very happy.

Autumn came. On the first morning of November, Ms Plotter opened one eye and pondered: should she begin another sentence or hunker down and prepare for a long winter sleep? She was just turning these possibilities over in her mind when her noisy neighbour, who happened to be a Hare called Ms Panter, squealed to a halt beside her and yelled:
'NaNoooo! sweetie! NaNoooo! NaNoooo!'
- nearly deafening Ms Plotter, who retreated into her shell with all the speed she could muster (not much) in case there'd been an accident.
Ms Panter breathed heavily, but didn't go away.
'Quick, dahling! Quick!' she gasped. 'We have just 30 days to do it.'
'Do what?' said Ms Plotter, wishing the hare would go away and do it, whatever it was.
'Finish a novel, dahling -' and with that, Ms Panter was off, laptop bouncing, on another circuit of the lawn.
'Bloody norah,' Ms Plotter muttered. 'It's That Time Of Year again.' It was bad enough in March, when the Hare and her mates went berserk and dunked dormice in teapots. But this was worse. Much worse.
'It's a race to the finish!' Ms Panter was back again. Panting.
'Finish?' Ms Plotter muttered. 'Who does she think she's kidding?'
'Only sixty-thousand words, sweetie - it'll be a piece of p**s -' and off went the Hare, whispering 'what ifs' and 'and thens' and oohing and ahing like nobody's business.

After that, things went ominously quiet for a while. Ms Plotter kept her eyes open just in case, and, over the course of the next week completed another 78 words of her oeuvre. Then removed 43 of them.

On November 7th, the Hare cast herself, gasping for breath, at Ms Plotter's feet.
'Oh-God-oh-God-oh-God dahling -' she panted, like something from When Harry Met Sally, only considerably less seductively.
'Something the matter?' Ms Plotter resented the interruption. She was just getting into her stride. 'Did you get lost?'
'Lost?!' Ms Panter said. 'How can I get lost when I don't know where I'm going? No. It's just that I can't - well, I can't get them down fast enough...'
Ms Plotter cautiously checked the Hare's nether regions. Everything seemed intact. 'Get what down fast enough?'
'The words of course!' the Hare foamed at the mouth. 'The ideas, dahling. The inspiration, the muse, the whole, whole - damned - thing. You know?' And off she raced again. The Tortoise licked her pencil and very slowly crossed a 't'.

On November 14th, on one of her perambulations of the lawn, Ms Plotter discovered Ms Panter stretched out on her back, her face to the sun.
'Given up, have you?' said Ms Plotter.
'Hardly, dahling! I've pretty much finished, in fact. Thirty days? Pah! That's for wimps.'
'What's the title?'
'Around The World in Eighty Minutes.'
'Ah.'

By November 21st, the Tortoise had completed a whole paragraph. Although it still needed a good edit.
She plodded up to the Hare, who was crouched on the grass, tongue out and forehead furrowed, still writing.
'Thought you'd finished?'
The Hare looked up. 'I have, sweetie, I have. Just the query letter to send off, and I'm done. I should have an agent by the day after tomorrow and a nice juicy deal with a top publisher by the end of the month.'
The Tortoise sighed. 'Aren't you going to revise it? At least read it through?'
'You can't improve on perfection,' smiled Ms Panter.
'Ah.'

Winter came. On the last day of November, Ms Plotter settled into her box of straw, her index cards arranged neatly in a file, the crisply printed page of her manuscript baside it, ready for Spring. Her eyes were half-closing when there was a sharp rap at her shell.

'Sweetie! Wake up!'
'Whaa-aaat?'
Ms Panter was leaping around, trembling with excitement. She thrust a brown envelope under Ms Plotter's reluctant nose. 'It's arrived. From the agent. Just as I said it would.'
The Tortoise opened one eye. 'Open it, then.'
The Hare tore the letter open and read the contents, her ears quivering.
'Dear Ms Panter...read with interest...today's competitive market...with regret...bog off.'
'I'm mortified. Mortified, dahling.' Through streaming eyes, she saw the Tortoise withdrawing her head into her shell. 'But hey...there's always next year. We could do it together. You and me, eh, sweetie? What do you say - yes or no?'

Just for a moment the Tortoise stretched her head out from the safe confines of her shell and blinked very slowly.

'NaNo,' she said, so quietly that the Hare could barely make out the word. 'Nah. No.'



*NaNoWriMo = National Novel Writing Month

Stop! Thief!

Number one on today’s ‘To Do’ list is to ‘write SW post’. Actually it says WRITE SW POST! It is capitalised, unlike numbers 2-11 on my list and it has an explanation mark after it, which seems to imply its creation is either funny or of vital importance.

What is important, is that I get something off my chest. In doing so, I might manage a little ‘funny’ but somehow I doubt it, because at the moment I’m a mite pissed off, which always sours my creative juices. I blame Tesco. Well, not Tesco exactly, but the trip I took to Tesco; the browse I had through Tesco’s books; the fact that I picked up an attractive looking one and read the blurb; the fact that someone else had written my book. Bloody cheek ... It’s like this woman (who shall be nameless, but is a best-selling author) tapped into my mind and wrote my story. This particular story has been rattling around in my head for about two years, so you see it IS possible. Two years ago, the vixen must have latched onto my brainwaves, stole my story and wrote it first. Which of course makes it her story now... Brainwave skulduggery is difficult to prove.

I wouldn’t really mind except this is not the first time I have had my brainwaves stolen. It happens quite often. There I am, thinking that I’m directly wired to the Zeitgeist only to find I am the eternal white rabbit – late to the party, idea already published.

I do understand that there are only so many plots etc and that any story can be handled diversely in different hands. However, I am talking whole books here! You know, similar characters, almost identical plot. I tell you, it’s sabotage. If I were a conspiracy theorist, I’d have a view. Okay, I have a view – it’s a conspiracy. There’s a certain group of female writers who have all got together, formed a coven and when they join hands, they nick my novels. They must decide amongst themselves who gets what pickings. There’s strength in numbers you know... It’s the only explanation I can come up with.

That or my school reports were right. I spent too much time looking out the window and often lagged behind. The comment, ‘Fionnuala likes to dream,’ was commonplace. I like to think that it was practise. All writers need to be able to imagine other worlds, however, I do accept that all writers need discipline too. Like right now – ‘Come Dine With Me’ is on in the background and I can’t help being drawn to the fact (despite the sound being muted) that someone is making a right *&$£?* of rolling out pre rolled puff pastry. I am thinking ‘how hard can to be to roll out a piece of pre rolled pastry’ when I should be concentrating on writing this post.

Moral of the story is that I now have to come up with a new idea for the novel that I was going to write for NaNoWriMo, because the one I had has been written by someone else. And when I do, I have to WRITE it rather than THINK ABOUT WRITING IT. (Note capitals to imply importance)

Meantime, I know who you are. There are four of you. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to. And you can bloody well stop joining hands and using whatever thieving ways you use. Leave my ideas alone, or I shall be forced to make effigies of you all and stick pins in them. In fact, there you go. That’s what my next novel will be about. A deranged unpublished writer who sticks pins in dolls of mind controlling published writers. I dare you. See what you can do with that!!

PS OOPS - EXCLAMATION MARK!!

Guest Author Elizabeth Haynes gets all serious about National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo)

We are delighted to shine the Strictly Writing spotlight on author Elizabeth Haynes.  Another NaNoWriMo is nearly upon us and Elizabeth is one of the many success stories associated with this annual challenge.  Here she divulges her very own winning formula and gives us one of those inspirational leg-ups we all need from time to time.  Take it away, Elizabeth...

 
"I feel a bit of a fraud, writing about NaNoWriMo as if I know what I’m talking about. I’ve being doing it for fun since 2005, like a lot of other people, and I never thought for one minute that it might lead to publication. But to my ongoing surprise, it did – and so, dear reader, for your delectation and amusement, here is a precis of my NaNoWriMo journey to date.

My first attempt (2005) resulted in a laughable serial killer-thriller that I lost in early December to a hard drive failure. Lessons learned in 2005:

-          don’t use the same name for more than one character (too complicated)

-          don’t base your serial killer character on your boss (potentially awkward)

-          back up, back up, back up!! Do it now!

In 2006 I wrote 50,000 words of a vast, complicated police procedural – loved it, couldn’t think of an ending so just carried on with the middle hoping the ending would show up eventually. It didn’t. Lessons learned in 2006:

-          keep a spreadsheet or database of characters if you’re going to have lots of them

-          have a vague idea of who the killer might be when you start writing

In 2007 I lived the life of a Nano rebel and continued with my 2006 plot, ending up with a 130,000 word total for both parts and still no sign of an ending, or any idea who the killer might be. Lessons learned in 2007:

-          it’s much more fun to start a fresh new plot each November

-          having a week off work made a BIG difference to my total wordcount

 outside the NaNo HQ

In 2008 I finally got the balance right: a brand new plot, an idea of the ending (even though it changed in the editing process), and… the biggest achievement of all – I finished the blessed thing. I had a go at editing the result, but I ended up working on the first third of it over and over again, not having a clue what I was doing, and each time giving up thinking it was all pointless. In the end I showed the manuscript to two close friends, who both loved it - which gave me some hope. What made the difference was a conversation with my cousin, who uttered the fateful words, “Why not just send it off? What have you got to lose?” Oh, so simple!

The rest of the story has more to do with luck than judgement, but I did end up with a publishing contract for my 2008 book – Into the Darkest Corner, which was released in February 2011.  As everyone’s publishing story is going to be different, the lessons I learned earlier on are possibly more useful:

-          you can’t do anything with a story unless it has an ending, and

-          you won’t get published unless you actually show it to someone.

As always I’m in danger of being Mistress of the Bleedin’ Obvious here, so forgive me the platitudes, but let me console you with this: if I can do this, there is nothing stopping you doing it too. If you’re on that long conveyor belt between starting your first novel and a sparkling book launch, be proud that you’re on the conveyor at all, because there are a lot of people who are afraid to give it a go. You might fall off. You might get pushed off it by that annoying thing called Real Life. But if the only thing standing in your way is a big pile of excuses, I would urge you to be brave and go for it.

So here we are, standing on the edge of a beautiful new November, full of potential and dark, grey, cold days, just made for cuddling up with a computer or a notebook. This might be your year; the year you write something with a beginning, a middle and an ending that’s actually quite good… This might be the year that you end up with something you can actually show someone. And if not that, then it might be the year that you have the best fun, meet the nicest Wrimos online, go to some hilarious write-ins and emerge on 1^st December feeling thoroughly pleased with yourself (and wishing you’d thought to do your Christmas shopping in October).

This year I’m starting with another germ of a story, a vague idea of an ending, a few good-ish characters who are waiting to tell me their stories, and a real cracker of a title! Please feel free to come and say hello on the NaNoWriMo site via nanomail – I’d love to hear from you. I’m Cosmic The Cat on there. And good luck with yours… I’ll see you on the other side."

Elizabeth can also be found on Twitter (@Elizjhaynes) or via Into the Darkest Corner’s Facebook page:

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Into-the-Darkest-Corner/129457203777662

Into the Darkest Corner is a powerful novel of obsession in it's many forms and is currently nominated for the People’s Book Prize, the winner of which is selected purely by reader votes. Voting continues until the end of November, and can be found here:http://www.peoplesbookprize.com/section.php?id=6

A Writer's Mind : Bubble wrap to warped bubbles...

I’m having an enforced break from writing at the moment – just one of those times in your life when events take over, gather pace and then suddenly time is limited and what’s not absolutely necessary suffers.

Which has led me to ask the question... Is my writing absolutely necessary to me? Right now, even as I type these words my mind is filled with the things I NEED to do today – like figure out how to shoehorn the stuff from our house into a smaller one when we move in a few weeks. And wondering just how many storage boxes I’ll need. And if I really need to buy those double width sstttrrronnnggg ones or if the cheaper ones will do. No, I need the double strength ones for all my books. Oh God – my books! Where will I put them?

But amidst all the mayhem, there are two things that have become clear. One – I’m glad of the break. I was weary. And I mean totally weary. Of rejection. Of the process. Of just about everything to do with writing. So a break, a real one, though sort of forced upon me has been really welcome and very much what my writing life needed. I see that now.

And Two. When the time is right, I will return to it. I miss it. I miss being in touch with my virtual writing pals. I miss writing my blog. I miss reading other blogs. I miss the support that is now out there via the internet and something which I think I was beginning to take for granted.

A few weeks ago, when this personal process started and life got too busy for writing, I remember panicking a little because I wasn’t particularly upset. As I said I was weary. But last night I felt the tingle again. You know the one you get when you wander in your head and suddenly there’s a scene from your future work unfolding in your brain? I was packing glasses at the time. Mind numbing bubble wrap stuff, but I was also multitasking and watching my latest TV guilty pleasure – Law & Order, Special Victims Unit. See there’s this detective in it, a character by the name of Stabler, an actor by the name of Chris Meloni. Anyway, he was on the TV but he was also playing lead hero role in my new scene... And God, he looked good.

So folks you heard it here first. When the next book is written and the film rights being auctioned – whoever gets me Chris Meloni to play the lead gets the gig.

As always I’ve got a trusty notebook nearby. And though I know I won’t get to read through it properly, or start a new work until the new year and I’m missing out on Nanowrimo this year – I’m still excited. It’s the tingle you see. Nothing at all to do with boring bubble wrap. Or politicians using bubble wrap, or a poison sandwich wrapped in bubble wrap, or a psycho snapping the tiny bubbles from a square piece in the pocket of his duffle coat as he stalks his prey, or even wierd shaped alien bearing bubbles.

Oh yes, my writing life, I have missed you and you are ABSOLUTELY necessary to me...

National Novel Writing Month - Day Five

Join the madness!

When I first heard of NaNoWriMo - six years ago now - I thought it was one of those 'new fangled fads' that my Nan always swore computers would be.  Little could I imagine that six years later I'd have two WINNER certificates and the NaNo Mad/Fadness would be triplicated by a gazillion (maths not my strong point.  I'm more wordy, me) and that most of the world's writing population now sign up to this annual word-fest.  Oh, and I'd still be doing it.
Every year I adopt the Ostrich position and pretend it isn't there.  If I don't open up any e-mails from the Office of Letters and Light (That's the NaNoWriMo People's HQ) then they might go away.   They might even go away so much they cease to exist.  But they don't.  I can't even delete the e-mails because of the 'pull'.  And when I find (pffft!) five minutes to have a quick read, I remember how exhilarating it all is, and how exciting it will all be and what a fabulous way to unite writers the world over the whole thing is, and how much Twitter will be over-capacity (or under, depending on how well the word-count's going I guess) for the month of November.
And by August at the latest, I'm hooked, lined, sunk and signed up for a  repeat performance. Again.

This is one deadline that can't be postponed.  It doesn't matter how many Open Evenings our school has in November (one, but even so - it IS hairy and stressy, which is also how I LOOK every November... actually make that most days...) and it doesn't matter how many daughter's birthdays fall within the same month (again, just the one, but ... come ON... children's parties are bad enough as it is, especially with them turning.... okay, okay then, seventeen this year, but they still need a cake, right? And presents and stuff?) there is just NO escaping the fact that if you don't get your 1,666 words done one day, there will be a catch-up of *consults calculator.  No, really*  3332 words to do the following day.  And once you've done it a couple of times that week, the easiest thing in the world  is to just give up.  Stop. Become the Ostrich again and pretend it didn't matter in the first place, nobody will notice if you suddenly go all quiet and your word count isn't moving; it's just another 'thing' you didn't do.

It made me feel positively sick with self-pity.    Like the tortoise watching the hare flying off whilst I lolled about under a tree pretending I was going to be a spectator all along.  Letting down the only person that mattered in my race.  Me.

Which is actually what happened my first couple of years.  I think I made it to the 5,000 mark on years one and two.  Year three I got as far as 12,000 and I still like to read it back, and still try to convince myself I might even get round to finishing it one day.  And years four and five (2008 and last year) I got my WINNER certificate.  Very proud.  In fact the feeling I got when I managed to hit the 50,000 mark was actually unexpected.  I don't really *do*excited dances around the room (unless I'm very drunk and Gloria Gaynor is helping me Survive) but last year I could have drowned in tears of my own self-congratulations.  And I don't care how many know about it.  It might also have helped save my sanity because last year, on the 6th November I was involved in a head-on car collision and I still don't know what I'd've done without my NaNo novel to 'switch off' to, keep up with and take my mind off of mangled wreckages and cut and bruised body parts.  TMI?
So I kind of see NaNoWriMo now as a sort of salvation.  It has become my friend.  The one, true friend who allows my creative ideas to flow, unfettered, uncorrected (although I'm still too anally retentive NOT to edit as I go along... sheesh) and unconditionally.  Well, with maybe the one, little condition, that I get to FIFTY THOUSAND WORDS in 30 days!
Seriously, if a lazy-arse like me can do it, then anybody can!
...

p.s. It doesn't even matter that it's the 5th of November and you haven't given it a thought and there's all manner of fireworks to be letting off and "oooooh-ing" over tonight, just shift some grey matter, clip those fingernails and fill up two sheets of A4.  Your creative sinuses will thank you for it... and don't sweat it too much - think of it as warming up for next year!

Kerching...

If you’re still following my NaNo journey, then give yourself a pat on the back.

It has been a bloody hard slog. Normally, I write quickly anyway, but this is something else. The energy required is beyond a working Mum whose other half is currently eating horse and chips in Kiev.

I’ve also noticed a shift in the atmosphere on the NaNo forums.

The end is in sight and the writers are turning their minds to what they should do with their manuscripts.
Strangely, edit like a bastard and submit to an agent seems to not be the popular choice.

Instead there is much talk of self publishing. Companies like Lulu and Blurb are being mentioned as good bets to see your work in print.

I must admit to feeling a little uneasy about recommendations like this. I mean, I have nothing against self publishing per se. It’s a free country and if you fancy getting your work turned into a book, well why the hell not?
What worries me, though, is the idea that this will lead on to something. That if someone, somewhere in the publishing industry happens upon your self -published tome that ‘good things’ will come to pass.
This is not, I have to say, a point of view the self-publishing companies discourage. If I had a pound for every time GP Taylor’s story is trotted out...well it would be bigger than my last advance.

I can’t help but think, though, that this is highly unlikely to be replicated by many authors, particularly if they don’t spend the weeks/months editing that most of us do.

Interestingly, these discussions have been drawn to my attention at the same time that Authonomy have released news that they are now providing an editorial service.

For those of you who don’t know, Authonomy is owned by HarperCollins, and was set up as a forum where would-be-published writers could upload their work with the hopes of being spotted by an editor at the publishing house.

An incredible number of people have taken part in the hope of that all illusive publishing deal.

The whole thing came under criticism for being a cynical way for HC to relieve themselves of their slush pile, and that nothing would ever make it to the book shelves.
To some degree those critics were silenced when Miranda Dickinson was plucked out by my own imprint, Avon, and her first book, Fairytale of New York, was published earlier this month.

I must say I was chatting with the woman who did said plucking at the HC summer party and she was very excited by the whole thing.

So it’s with disappointment in some quarters that Authonomy has now changed its remit and is offering an editorial service. These things don’t come cheap, and again, very rarely result in a work being published.

I sometimes worry that self publishing companies, editorial services, CW classes etc just prey upon aspiring writers, offering hope and taking the cash. I know we have free will to do as we please and no-one is forcing anyone to pay up, but it still makes me uneasy.

That these ideas and solutions are now taking hold in NaNo – lovely, Pollyanna-ish, writing for the fun, NaNo, is, I feel, a shame.

Sigh.

A not-so silent scream

I know you will be hardly able to contain yourself but...here’s another instalment from the coal face of NaNoWriMo. What more is there left to say, I hear you cry. It’s a fair point, well made.

I digress, but how on earth do those daily bloggers do it?
I mean I like being part of the Strictly crew and posting every couple of weeks on a subject that I’m interested in, and hopefully, others will find interesting too.

But blogging every two minutes? What do they talk about? The state of the nation? The state of their cupboards?

Either way, I’m not convinced anyone wants to read what I’ve got to say more frequently than they empty their dishwasher.
Belle Du Jour, may be the obvious exception to the rule, but for most of us, life just aint that titillating.

Anyhow, back to NaNo.
All was going well: word count on track, plot skipping along, structure holding up.

Then bam.

This week has been hit with a classic case of life getting in the way of art.
Of course, for most of us writers, this is part and parcel of the life. A contracted novel takes me a year and during those long twelve months any number of catastrophes happen that suck me away from my desk. What I normally do is make up the hours later. Like a civil servant on flexi-time, I operate a system of borrowing and pay back. True, this often requires a 24/7 commitment close to dead line, but I factor that in.

The trouble with writing, or attempting to write, a novel in a month, is that you’re already flat out with no room for manoeuvre. Buying and selling time in these circumstances is a bit like carbon trading – a great idea in principle, but we’ll still end up in the shit.

You can imagine, then, the nightmare of waking up with a stinking head cold mid week. No chance of sipping Lemsip and surfing the information on Swine Flu. Instead, shoulder to the grind stone, with a chapter to knock out. Thank God, that by Friday, the mists were clearing and I could sweep away the carpet of snotty tissues that had amassed at my feet.

By this point I was way behind, but was lulled into a false sense of security by the fact that I had the weekend ahead of me. I could, I told myself, make up the difference.

Then tragedy struck. I came downstairs and found a plethora of email in my box. Among them, a witty string of mails from the Strictly crew about a certain attractive actor. Inappropriate things were bandied about and, me being me, I couldn’t resist sending a response that I could not repeat here. Suffice it to say, it contained the words ‘dirty’, ‘vampire’ and ‘bite me’.

All a terrific hoot until I checked my sent box and discovered I had mailed it, not to the guys on Strictly, but to the parents of my son’s under 11s football squad.

I am so mortified I have spent the weekend, not writing, but alternately squirming and drinking.
The match on Sunday was cancelled, apparently due to the rain, but my mind is racing...
Today I must get back on track. I must write like the wind. And I must try not to send my children’s Headmaster a photograph of myself maked.

Mr Motivator

As I recently posted, I have taken the plunge and joined up to National Novel Writing Month aka NaNoWriMo.

Checking out the forums on NaNo it’s clear that there are as many motivations for taking part as there are differing types of writer. I had assumed that the place would be wall to wall wannabe authors, desperate to churn out a publishable novel in the allotted time scale of one month.
I was wrong.

A lot of people are doing it simply for the fun and the challenge. They know they probably won’t end up with a decent book at the finishing line but they don’t care. They love the camaraderie and the community. A bit like the fun runners in a Marathon. It’s all about taking part. Getting to the finish line.

Many others are writing something fairly autobiographical, a memoir, or a story based on their own experiences. Getting it all down on paper is a therapy of sorts. I don’t really get this. I’m from oop north where we don’t have ‘ishoos’, but if those writers are helped along the way, then good on ‘em.

And there are, to my surprise, quite a few like me. Writers who are already published and have had some sort of ‘success’. Some of these authors want to kick start their next book, some are changing genres. A lot are, like me, on a vacation from their usual writing business and enjoying the freedom of a month writing anything they fancy.

Strange then, that given the liberty, I have gone and started another thriller. I really didn’t think I would. I saw myself doing something completely out of my comfort zone, experimental even. The market be damned.

I toyed with something dark and literary, all psychological musings and little plot. But it bored me before I even got underway.
Then I fancied a children’s book. Something my own kids would enjoy reading. But the ideas just didn’t flow.
As the first day came and the whistle blew I knew I had to make up my mind fast and I jumped at an idea that’s been niggling me for ages. A political thriller. All conspiracy and terrorist plans. Wonderfully overblown ideas and canvas.
I guess you can take the girl out of the murder and mayhem, but you can’t take the murder and mayhem out of the girl. If I’ve learned nothing else, it’s that this genre is my natural home.

To be fair, though, what I’m writing is still very different.
My main character is a man, which is new for me. And proving hard, I can tell you. And I’m writing him in first person – not done that before for an MC.
Also, and this is very new, I simply haven’t had time to draw up a detailed plan. I know the bare bones of what will happen but it’s all so sketchy. Twice now I have come unstuck because there simply isn’t time to sit and think the problem through. Instead I have taken a committee approach and asked for plot help and setting help. Both, have actually been fun and productive with tons of suggestions flying my way. How cool is that?

So fat I’m on track with my word count and enjoying myself. What will happen this week, who can say.
I’ll keep you posted.

Ready, Steady Go

As some of you know, I’ve been toying with taking part in the National Novel Writing Month challenge.

The arguments for and against NaNoWriMo, have raged both here, elsewhere on the net and in real life. I won’t rehearse them, not only because I don’t want to bore you all, but because, frankly, I haven’t yet decided what I think...typical.

What I do know, however, is that I am going to do it.

There are a number of folk who have questioned my decision, in a way, not lacking bluntness and force.

Never mind the cogent theories that NaNo is no way to write a thoughtful book, completely counter intuitive to the very craft of writing...no, they just wonder why someone already making a living from writing would bloody bother.

I see where they’re coming from. I am extraordinarily lucky in that what I write, has to date at any rate, has been published.

Now, I’m not one of those who thinks you’re not a writer until you are published. I feel a writer is what a writer does and if someone is good enough to pay you for it then, fabuloso, icing and cake etc.
But once you are published, writing takes a very different place in your life than it did previously. For me, I wrote my first book for fun, never imagining anyone would ever see it. I enjoyed every second of it.
Then something wonderful happened and I got an agent. He sold it and I got a three book deal. Since then I have been in a whirlwind of writing the next book, editing the last, publicising the one before that. It’s very full on.

If this sounds like a whinge – it’s not. I wake up most days hardly able to believe this has happened to me. I make stuff up. I write it down. Some one pays me. How cool is that!

However it does mean that I have to be very professional in what I do. I have a responsibility to my editor and she has high expectations of me. Quite rightly so, given the thousands of aspiring writers who would swap places with me tomorrow.

There are also the expectations of the readership to consider. I’m not one of those writers who ‘just writes for myself’. Yes, I write books I’d like to read, but I’m not so self absorbed that I’m unable to be objective. When readers email or write to me to tell me what they loved about a book, I’m unlikely to think, well thanks very much but fuck you. I listen and learn. The views of those not in the publishing industry are often, I find, the most telling. I certainly take them on board.

So I think what I’m saying is that I am going to treat NaNo as a holiday.

The book I’m about to write isn’t for my readership, or my publishers. It’s not part of any contract, there is no-one waiting to read and edit it. No-one is planning its cover. Indeed I fully expect it to be rubbish and put it under my bed.

Perhaps, then, as a number of my friends and family have said, it is an absolute waste of my time. Time I could spend writing another ‘proper’ book.

Perhaps they’re right. Perhaps I’ll give up by next week. Who knows?

But in the meantime, I’ve signed on the dotted line and if you too are doing NaNo, come and be my buddy. My username is Damaged.

Let’s do this thing.

Just For the Hell of It

On November 1st thousands of people around the world sit down to begin writing a book.

Actually, I’m pretty sure that folk do that every day of the year. What a thought. Someone, somewhere sat at their computer this morning and began the first line of the first chapter of what might be the next Da Vinci Code. Okay, let’s not start that one again.

Anyhow, November 1st is different to all those other days when random people begin writing random books ( which may or may not become best sellers) because it’s official.

November is National Novel Writing Month or NaNoWriMo as it’s become known. The idea is that over 100,000 writers sign up on nanowrimo.org and begin work on November 1st. They then write like whirling dirvishes until Midnight on November 30th, by which time they will have 50,000 words.

The website is already buzzing with positive slogans and advice. 'Win or lose, you rock for even trying.' The forums are alive with members sharing previous NaNo war stories. In fact if you look closely you soon realise that many posters have done this whole thing not once but several times before.

My cynical other half wonders why they bother. If their previous attempts have proved unsuccessful why are they simply repeating the experience? Doing more of what didn’t work last time isn’t likey to bring results, he argues.

An author mate of mine hates the whole business. She feels the very notion of NaNo devalues writing. The idea that books can be banged out in this way, is, she feels, deluded at best. Learning the craft of writing, she says, takes time. A lot of time.

NaNo says it is for those who have been scared away from writing by the time and effort involved, as that were a bad thing.
This sort of exercise smacks too much of cutting corners, of trying to get to the end result without putting in the hard graft.

I know she’s right...and yet.

There’s something contagious about NaNo. The enthusiasm, the optimism, the sheer joy of writing. There’s no talk of the state of the publishing industry or reductions in author advances, barely a mention of agents and editors. Instead writers ask for opinions on their outlines. They trade characters and story lines – I’ll give you my villain for a sub plot idea.
Yes, some of it is naive. An almost teen-like cleaving to the notion of what writing a book is all about. And yes, I’ll warrant there are some who couldn’t write their way out of a paper bag, let alone put together a story anyone would want to read.

But something still calls to me. The thought that for just one month I can write something for which there is no contract and no deadline looming is terribly appealing. I could write science fiction or bodice ripping historical fiction. I could write a children’s book or the story of a man finding hidden messages in Italian masterpieces...stop it...
You get my point though, the possibilities are endless.

So maybe this year I’ll join all the other hopefuls and spend November writing just for the hell of it. Anyone with me?