Memories of writing

I've started on the path to losing my study: I've bought a laptop. Soon we'll buy a new bed, decorate and install my eldest child in the room that has seen two and a half novels and countless short stories written. I know I've been lucky to have kept hold of this room for so long, but it's still sad to see it go.

The imminent transition to writing on my lap got me thinking about all the places I've written since I started writing.

First I wrote on my bed when I was thirteen or fourteen. I shared a room with my sister and I had the bottom bunk which meant I wrote hunched over and in semi-darkness. I listened to albums copied on to 90mins tapes, an album on each side, dodgy sound. I remember listening to a Poison/Meat Loaf combo, and an Alice Cooper/Aerosmith one. Over and over, turning the tape rather than putting in a new one. The height of technology came when I got a double tape player, which meant one would roll seemlessly into the other, then I could turn them both over.

My mum had an old electric typewriter, which I attempted and failed to use. I spent an awful lot of time Tipp-Exing letters out.

Around that time, my dad bought a printer. We'd always had computers (Vic 20, Commodore 64, anyone?) but finally we acquired a word processing programme and a printer. The printer, however, was a graphics-only one. It only had a certain number of dots, and they didn't go below the line of normal text - so the tails of the 'y's, 'j's and 'g's sat on top of the line.

That printer was replaced, and finally I had manuscripts I could professionally send out! Yay! Cue first sale, and second sale, happy writer... then a bit of a lull.

When I moved into my flat with my now-husband and a friend, I commandeered part of the living room for a brand new black-ash desk. I don't feel bad about taking up a large part of the room, because it was the coldest place in the whole flat. The room itself was so cold I was convinced there was a ghost (add that to the fact that our clocks never kept time, ghosts were a sensible explanation), but also my desk was against the wall that backed on to the communal - and unheated - stairwell. I would often be found writing dressed in my coat and a long red scarf. Cue, despite the frozen fingers, a couple more sales, a happy writer... and then nothing...

Next time... Moving into my current house!

The fun of research

Or in my case, the fun of choosing a subject you don't have to research. Alas, I have to research, and it's hurting my brain.

To recap a little: my current WIP that I'm writing for the 80,000 in 80 days challenge is heavily influenced by the characters' reaction to the news. Fine. Except, I need to go back to 2004. I'm currently trying to find out what happened in late 2007, early 2008. But, and this makes it worse, just the bad bits. I can find lots of news, but I need devastating news. (I know this doesn't sound like the most optimistic novel you'll ever read, but I'm sure there are more depressing ones out there.) I find myself disappointed when all that happened was an election or a state visit.

I normally don't research. I think I've mentioned this before. My characters all live in a tiny bubble for the duration of the novel/short story without any outside influence. This, I decided, probably makes them very 2-dimensional; and I wanted to fix it and make the characters in my new novel more rounded. The problem with this remit for research is it's so broad. Usually - I suspect, having never done it - writers research how to blow glass because a character is a glass blower. Or when a particular flower blossoms, so they don't confuse their seasons.

Researching everything that has happened in the course of a five year period is overwhelming to say the least. I'm starting to think my normal avoidance of the outside world is much more preferable.

Back into the swing of things

I know when it's time to update my blog, because my meagre traffic reduces to zilch, zero. This has almost happened again, therefore I post now.

I say almost because, for some reason that I have never managed to fathom, this post about spelling  is the most popular. It has, since it was written had about 70 views (which for this blog is quite a lot). This week, it's had hits from Iran, Norway and USA. All from Google. So there must be a search term people are using to get sent my way, but I can't work it out. Maybe you can suggest why...?

So, yes, this post is called Back into the swing of things because I've had a week off with my kids for half-term, and - and - the 6 weeks holiday is upon me in seven weeks' time, I was reliably informed by a friend.

That gives me seven weeks to get the rest of my novel written (there's another 40 days to go on that), read and polish three novellas that I'm hopefully submitting in August time, and enter six competitions - therefore readinh and polishing those six short stories, or writing new ones.

Three, two, one... go!!!!

Day 28

My full-of-good-intentions resolution to submit short stories hasn't got off to a flying start. I was a little disheartened to be not included on three competition short lists this week, which knocked my sense of being able to write anything good ever.

So, I've been concentrating on the novel challenge. After typing The End sometime last week, I printed it out - all 149 pages of it - and have been reading through and scribbling notes all over it. I've added some sections, I've worked out more research that needs to be done, I've rearranged sentences so that they now make sense. I'm going to ban myself from working on the computer until every page has at least one note on it. Then I'll let loose and see how many words I can add.

I've used this method before, but without the willpower of not touching the computer. I've sat down, altered a sentence or two, but then immediately wanted to type it up. Hopefully, the way I'm working through the chapters this time will make a much more fluid read by the end.

A benefit of working on the page is that I can curl up on the settee, music playing in the background - actually, that should read foreground - with a cuppa in my hand, and enjoy the words I've written. It's much more comfortable that sitting at my desk in my cold study, rubbing my hands together to get the circulation flowing again.

Submissions are the logical next step

After reading Jen Campbell's blog  it's occured to me that with all this novel writing malarky - and prior to that, some novellas which took up a lot of time - I've stopped submitting short stories to magazines. I still enter competitions, which - if you win - takes care of actually earning some money, but there was a time when I knew which were the best magazines to submit to, submitted prolifically, and I got a fair number published.

Now, I have no idea.

I think I stopped submitting regularly when every third new website seemed to be a literary journal of sorts. I've never been all that comfortable with online publishing, and it just seemed as though quantity was more important than quality - the choice was overwhelming. I've probably mentioned this aversion before, and I know the reasons seem very lame. The biggest reason is that I'm a set-in-my-ways 30-something, and I like holding magazines and books in my hand. It gives me much greater pleasure to see my name printed on a page than on a screen... because (another lame reason) I can write my own name on a screen!!

Seeing my work laid out on paper, properly type-set, with an illustration or two, just seems proper. But, after reading Jen's post about all the stories she's having published imminently, I feel like I'm being left behind. So, my mission, set in stone here today (albeit a bloggy stone) is to submit work to magazines again.

Now, all I have to do is work out which ones.

About Libraries

I'm currently reading through the novel stuff I've written already, because I had a horrible feeling I was losing the voice.... and I was right, I am. But it should be easily solved.

Anyway, because the writing stalled for a moment, I thought I'd talk about libraries again. If you remember, my last post about libraries was somewhat controversial, not least because I used to work in a library and a lot of the people who read this blog are librarians. I don't remember saying the words 'all libraries should be burnt to the ground and Harry Potter slaughtered', but that's what seemed to be implied.

Well, my local library has now closed one day a week, taking the current opening times to four and a half days a week. I'm fine with this - at least I am when I can get my head around which day it's closed. I'm fine with this because back in the day, it was only ever open for four and a half days a week, and everyone was happy with that.

But - oh, yes, it's a BUT all right - I do object to the plan I read in my local free paper earlier this week. A plan - but hopefully not the plan - is to further reduce my local library hours to fund other, smaller and less patronised libraries further down into Cornwall, to restore their opening hours to what they were before the cuts. Er, why, Mr Cornwall Council Man? Is that not a little unfair? Are we not all in this together?

My guess is that as the library also houses the Cornwall Council One Stop Shop, they're considering reducing the opening hours even further so they don't have to talk to us at all.

Day 12

Wow - day 12 already, and I'm still - for the most part - managing to write something meaningful every day (apart from today, that is).

My word count currently stands at 16,097! (I feel this should have a drum roll and someone announcing the figures like they do on Comic Relief, but I'll make do with hearing the voices in my head - please feel free to announce this number Comic Relief style too.)

Yesterday evening I hit another wobbly plot problem, so out came my trusty fountain pen. Somehow, writing longhand, with a pen that I love to use, helps the words and ideas flow better than through a keyboard. My wobbly plot problem came from the fact that one of my characters is deeply upset by world news events (all the bad war stuff and climate change - for those who know me.... yes, it's a little bit me, but I'm not going to react the way my character does). And in writing all this in my minamalist style I realised I was missing out a lot, and probably not conveying the true horror my character feels.

So, do I change the style, do I make his problems not quite as bad...?

At the moment, I haven't decided. I cheated, and wrote an entirely different section instead. It made me feel good that I was writing, and made the problem vanish, if only for a little while. I haven't added it to my word count yet, as it's all very scrawly longhand with lots of crossings out.

Today, instead of writing, I had a chat and hot chocolate with a friend, and then went shopping.