Kettle

One of the things we talked about at October's Writing at Rosy's meet-up was rewriting; I commented it's hard to know when to stop once you start.

For instance, I've been reworking the current draft of Hidden Daughter while rewriting the first draft of Coalface, my YA novel.  They're really different, but the experience gained from writing one is helping me see how to get the best in the other.  But as I switch between projects, there's a nagging feeling in the back of my mind that I'll be back there again.

So how do you stop?  Have someone take it off you.

I had the privilege of sitting in on rehearsals for Sent/Received this weekend; a brilliant and terrifying experience.  Characters I had only heard in my head before were now walking and talking in front of me.
Even so, I couldn't stop myself editing the fifth draft copy of the script in my lap - then I realised it didn't matter one bit.  Because it's no longer being performed by me, to me.  Sent/Received has a new voice and a new audience beyond the safety of my laptop.  I did what I do best in these uncharted situations- stayed quiet, put the kettle on, and listened.  
Theatre director Andrea Milde has her own vision of how to tell the story with the cast, and it's been fantastic to watch their experience bring Sent/Received to life, so I can learn how a story unfolds outside of my imagination.

It's something I'm looking forward to doing with my novels in the future; right now, I'm looking forward to rediscovering Sent/Received with an audience at the end of this month in Sheffield and Nottingham.  Hope you can join us - I'll be the one looking for a kettle.

Bumpfh

Running was hard yesterday.  Really hard. 
I felt good setting off, then had a classic 'why am I doing this' moment, then got past that, then bumpfh.  There's no other way to describe it; bumpfh.  I just didn't feel like I had a run inside me.
It can be the same with writing.  All of a sudden, the clatter of the keyboard stops, and I realise the cursor hasn't done anything but blink at me for five minutes, like a patient dog.
Everything inside me told me to turn back.  Not your day.  Give up on a bad job.  Bumpfh is a comfy thing; cosy, reassuring as it helps you take off the running shoes, or switch windows from your WIP to your browser.  Or switch off.

In the wind and dark, I switched playlists on my mp3 player, and kept going.

Some of it was walking; my body was part of the bumpfh conspiracy, pulling a stitch out of the 'can't run' bag to block my way.  Some of it felt like spectacularly poor running; the kind where you think you're not making any more progress than you would with a swift walk.

But I moved forwards.

At the end, I did a sprint finish in the dark; I outran the security light at the end of my street, passing it before it could cast it's glare over me.  I felt that sensation I must have had when I ran downhill as a kid; when your body places your feet with a precision you couldn't dream of actively replicating.  It felt amazing.
That's what this blog post is about; just the process of writing, putting words in order on screen or on paper is important to me.  It should be rewrites for Coalface, but this is a good alternative.  All I have to do is keep the words moving, and the internal power of Freddy's story will do the rest.

I ran yesterday.  And I'm writing today.  Because that's what I do to move forward.  I hope you move forward today, too.

Challenges Pt2

A novel? In 25 words? 
Yes!  Well, sort of.

My second brain diversion this week was the 25 word pitch challenge in Nicola Morgan's excellent blog, Help! I need a Publisher.  Watching other writers work their way through versions of their pitch has been fascinating and inspiring.  And more than a little daunting.  But if they can roll up their sleeves and whittle thousands and thousands of words away to leave twenty five that excite, intrigue and engage, so can I.

So... as Coalface is still a work in progress, so I'm pitching my first novel, Hidden Daughter.  So far, I've got to this:

She'll risk anything to secure her child's future; even history itself. Now they want to know how she time travels without a trillion dollar machine.

If I had an extra word, I'd be able to do more; but rules are rules, right?  What do you think?

Challenges Pt1

I'm a problem solver.  It's a bad habit, especially when the problems you want to solve aren't the ones you should be solving.

And although I'm loving the rewrites on my YA Victorian adventure Coalface, I couldn't resist solving a couple of other things on the way.  Especially when the going gets muddy as we follow Freddy's quest to get his name back.  The big difference is, I've not alphabetized my sock drawer (for a change); I've got stuck into some writing challenges.

There is no I in 'team'- but there is 'Tea; m.'

Writing at Rosy's is a new writing group in Nottingham; they meet at Lee Rosy's Tea on Broadway, and each month there's a challenge set for the next meeting.  The October challenge is to start a story that already has an ending.  Just the same as writing the end of a story from a starting line, right?  Wrong.
 
It's worth mulling it over a cuppa for five minutes, just to see how just one word in your previous draft can constrain and your storytelling if you're not careful.  It's reminded me to question everything in the stories I'm rewriting - I've already had to dump one of my 'darlings' this week.

So I've stuck with it, and finished the first draft this afternoon.  I'm looking forward to giving it a good edit after it's mashed in the pot for a couple of days, then seeing what everyone else has come up with on the night.  If you're busy working on your brilliant version, see you there.