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Of Determined Non-Dithering June 19, 2008

Posted by Jen in : Journal, Novel , 29 comments

Now then, now then, she said in the style of Jimmy Savile. Jangle jangle, etc. I’ve been Thinking. Yes, yes, alert the media.

You see, around three years ago, I had a different life to the one I have now. I didn’t live in a cul de sac. I lived in a nice house that I owned with a bridge and a river. I had all day to myself and went running, did yoga, flounced about in clothes from Jigsaw and generally had a very nice time.

But I wasn’t happy. I took a few packets of St John’s Wort and drank quite a lot of Merlot. I chuntered on (isn’t ‘chuntered’ a good word? It really does what it says on the tin.) about having to separate the strands of my life to see which bits were wrong because I really didn’t know. And no one else had the foggiest what I was talking about and just thought I was a miserable cow. And then, everything else crashed around me. It happens that way – the Universe likes to get its laughs where it can.

But I’d started writing. Hallelujah. I was saved by the power of the pen. Ugh, not really, I just thought I’d see if I could make you vomit. I have to get my fun where I can too. If it’s good enough for the Universe, it’s good enough for me.

But, actually, it’s sort of true. I’d always told people ‘I like to write’ though never actually wrote anything except lists of things that I might have forgotten due to aforementioned gulping of Merlot. I need to be creative, to write, to photographise things. Being creative from time to time also means I can make better use of the misery I secretly quite like. Can’t go round be jolly all the time, that really would be puke-inducing.

But I haven’t written anything for months; between the coursework, full time job and very slow editing of The Novel (now called Still Life I think - apt, too, given the speed I’m going) I can feel those feelings of dissatisfaction bubbling up again. But amongst those bubbles were a head-poppingly good idea that draws together the bits of The Novel together that were stranded. And like my own strands of life a few years back, just that one thing has made all the difference. Means a massive re-write before the August RNA critique deadline but hey ho.

So. There you go. Blimey, that was a bit boring, wasn’t it?

I’ll summarise, in case you nodded off. Have Had Idea. Will re-write or die. Will also write more new stuff before I go funny.

Will try to figure out why I woke up with the Jim’ll Fix It theme tune in my head and secretly hope that you, dear reader, will end up humming it too. Mwah ha ha, the power of brain bamboozlement is mine.

Of Monday Marvelousness April 7, 2008

Posted by Jen in : Journal, Novel , 14 comments

Ooh. I’m feeling a bit… a bit… a bit something? I’ve just started reading Books, Baguettes and Bedbugs and, well, it’s doing things to me. Especially now that I’m actually ‘reading like a writer’ instead of simply devouring any book that comes my way. It sounded ideal – books, food, Frenchness and – joy of joys – an alliterative title. I like those, in case you hadn’t noticed.

But it’s a bit too good. Every word is so perfect, so beautifully chosen. Not stodgy or highbrow, just evocative and perfect and slightly unusual. The trouble is, of course, that it’s making my own as-yet-unedited manuscript look as if it has all the grace of a baby elephant. And it’s made me realise that even if The Novel is something of a chicklit affair, it still needs enough poise and beauty to make it stand out from the queues of other wannabes.

I seem to be having one of those days when everything seems almost impossibly beautiful. Don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll be my usual curmudgeonly self soon enough. But the world really was dazzling when I got up. It’s Monday morning. I’m duty-bound to look a bit cross but I’m smiling inside.

 


 

And when the neighbour reports that I was hanging out of the window, photographing his cock, this is what he meant. Honest, m’lud.


 

 

 

 

 

Of Musical Musings April 3, 2008

Posted by Jen in : Journal, Novel , 23 comments

In the absence of anything sensible to say, I thought I’d do the decent thing and steal a meme from A Writer.

If Your Life Were a Movie…What Would the Soundtrack Be??

So, here’s how it works:
1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc)
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that’s playing
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button
6. Don’t lie and try to pretend you’re cool…because you’re not!
7. Stick the soundtrack on your mp3 player and listen away during the day.

Now, I should tell you that I never, never play music on ’shuffle’. I have to listen to the right thing at the right time. Control freak? Um, yes actually.

But.

Doing this soundtrack thingummy has made me listen to music that I love and I actually haven’t heard for ages. And listening to Morcheeba before brek instead of in the kitchen, cooking, makes it seem completely different. And, somehow, that has combined with the thoughts I’ve been having about ’skewing the perception’ after one of Lucy’s posts on Box Elder. Art, music and perception are the main themes in The Novel so it’s all ticking away in my noggin in a most whizzifying way. I digress. Here, have a soundtrack:

Opening Credits: Candyfloss Branches – Kat Flint (I do love Kat Flint)

Waking Up: No Bravery – James Blunt (so much for being cool, eh? At least you know I’m not cheating)

First Day at School: Situations – Jack Johnson (Ugh, have gone right off poor Jack)

Falling in Love: War in the Mind – Lauren Hill

Fight Song: Silver Dagger – Martha Tilston

Breaking Up: One More Cup of Coffee - Bic Runga & The Christchurch Symphony Orchestra

Prom/Dance/Ball: Down to the Sea – Tim Booth

Life’s OK: Mood for a Day (Live) – Yes (hmmm, some old fogey music slipped in there)

Mental Breakdown: Damascus - The Natacha Atlas & Marc Eagleton Project

Flashback: I Wanna Be Your Lover – Prince

Getting Back Together: Otherwise – Morcheeba

Birth of Child: I Don’t Know Enough About You – Peggy Lee (hmmm, cool pick)

Wedding: Re-Offender – Travis (ha!)

Final Battle: Chameleon Day – Talk Talk

Funeral Song: Late Light – Rosie Brown

End Credits: Allegri’s Miserere – The Tallis Scolars (might have this at my funeral for extra weeping value)

Oh, good, I’m late for work now. That really sums me up…


Of Weekend Whingeing March 30, 2008

Posted by Jen in : Journal, Novel , 30 comments

Well, there it is. The Novel. All printed out and bound, new pen at the ready. Crikey. There’s quite a lot of it. All those words wot I thunked with my Brian. Oddly, flicking through, I barely remember writing much of it. And no, this would not be a good time to point out the wine glass on my desk.

Hmmm. I realise now, of course, that I should have been reading about editing over the past four weeks instead of fannying about. I really have no idea where to start, short of reading it through with fresh eyes. Even that feels a bit daunting on a rainy Sunday afternoon.

A year to write. God, is that mad? I’m giving myself three months to edit. Re-write. Roll my eyes. Sob bitterly. Whatever. The delete key is looking quite alluring at the moment. If my keyboard had a fuck it key, I think I’d be quite tempted to press it.

But. I have to get it sorted before August so that I can submit it to the RNA New Writers Scheme people for crit. Yes, I’ve joined the Romantic Novelists Association. They sent me a magazine last month called ‘Romance Matters’. Bet that gave the postman a good laugh. How embarrassing.

A year of my life to write a novel that’s probably crap. God. And, if that weren’t bad enough, I signed up for the A363 Creative Writing Course with the OU this morning. That, in itself, is a good thing. But I have just bought all the past course materials for the other half of my degree which I’m doing in French. I’ve got a bit rusty since I took the foundation module. The reason for this? According to my OU academic record, it’s 10 years since I last studied French. Ten Great British years. How did that happen? I could’ve trained to become a brain surgeon or astronaut in that time. But no. I’m still just me, sitting here with a glass of wine and a pile of piffle to edit.

I think I may be on the brink of a mid-life crisis. Fat, forty and a failure. Ok, so I’m not 40. But I will be one day. Pass the bottle.


Of Dithering not Doing March 21, 2008

Posted by Jen in : Dieting Misery, Journal, Novel , 23 comments

Four days off. Goodness me. Whatever will I do with myself? The boys are spending Easter with their dad and grandparents. I’ve had bold notions aplenty about what I could get up to. Having put my foot down, as it were, I finally collected my new car last week. I envisaged zooming about like they do on the adverts, looking fab ‘n’ funky with my flossy hair billowing behind me as I gad about from one cool place to the next. Sadly, much as I tragically love my new Corsa, the only other people I’ve seen driving them are grannies or people wearing anoraks. Hmmm.

Anyway. Four days away from work. I’m gradually acclimatising to the going-to-work-every-day thing. Time is magically expanding (along with the ironing mountain) and I’ve started writing again in the mornings. I even managed a 40-minute romp through the woods before my working day yesterday. Sadly, it did mean that the hair-straightening time was obliterated but I don’t think anyone noticed my large Russell Brand hairdo.

So. Shopping this morning. I do so love being pushed about by simpletons in a supermarket. But, once the fridge is filled with M&S goodies and the bathroom crammed with pamperingness, I shall relax. R-e-l-a-x. The snow will be falling and I will be chilling.

Apart from lazing about, there is the small matter of The Novel to edit. Yikes. Oh, and I ordered some new running shoes yesterday. Yes, I’m moaning about lardiness again. This weekend is the start of my stop-being-fat period. I hope the shoes get lost in the post arrive soon.  I know someone who’s looking forward to a daily early-morning run.

Crumbs, dieting for two hours has clearly made me weak and soppy. Pics of my pets indeed.

That’s better.

Of Midnight Madness February 8, 2008

Posted by Jen in : Journal, Novel , 37 comments

That’s it. I’ve finished writing The Novel. I was quite prepared to stay up until it was time to get up if I had to.

I wish I could say I felt happy. But I don’t feel anything. Well, utterly knacked out. That’s not very writerly or funky, is it?

Time for The Novel to ferment now. A month should do it. Yeah, right. I’m already thinking ways to tweak the ending. And bits I want to add in. Obsessed.

But. Tomorrow I am not going to think about it. Well, not much, anyway. I’m going to walk the dog, do yoga, snip at things in the garden. And we have tickets to see Mark Watson. Friday evening comedy. Bliss.

‘I’ve finished,’ I wearily told Lovely Bf. ‘That’s it, the first draft done.’

‘That’s brilliant,’ he exclaimed. ‘Any chance you could have a wash now?‘

Oh, yes, sheer glamour my life.

Of Timely Travail February 4, 2008

Posted by Jen in : Journal, Novel , 28 comments

Crikey. I’ve nearly finished writing The Novel. And do you think I feel happy about the impending end of this year-long toil? Nope. Instead, I feel all swirly in the tummy department. I don’t know why I feel so odd about it; I thought I’d be galloping towards the finish line, yelling and screaming and planning my prize. In fact, I actually feel physically sick that it’s coming to an end. Has the whole thing driven me quite mad?

I spent the weekend sobbing and wailing about being useless – being without a job or any source of income becomes a bit of a worry after a while. Needless to say, the fact that I’ve been slaving away on a novel didn’t count for anything. But it’s rubbish, I wailed to anyone who’d listen. The dog, mainly. The hairy bugger agreed with me too. Sigh.

Today, however, things are falling into place. I have a temp job lined up, starting on Monday. Phew.

But. All this sitting about, writing stuff down which I have thought of in my brain, has not done much for the diet. And I have become awfully scruffy. In fact, I have become so shamefully grotty, lurching about in either jim-jams or mud-splattered dog-walking gear that lovely bf presented me with a parcel today.

He had ordered me some clean clothes. Not going-out clothes, just staying-in-but-not-being-a-complete-state type clothes.

He had done his research by reading up on what Tranny and Susannah recommend for my body shape, apparently.

‘Oh yes?’ I asked, scowling. ‘And what body shape did you decide I have?’

Lovely bf looked a bit worried at this stage, knowing that there was unlikely to be a correct answer to this particular line of questioning.

‘You’re an egg-timer,’ he declared.

Oh good. I’m so happy now.

.

Of Triple Ineptitude January 24, 2008

Posted by Jen in : Journal, Novel , 25 comments

Hmmm. Would you like some advice on how to have a happy career? Marvellous. Here you go then:

  1. Do not write an email on spec to a tip-top publishing company proclaiming your fabulous tea-making abilities. Especially after exceeding your daily caffeine intake in one hour. This could give the impression of lunacy.
  2. Do not accidentally out yourself in your blog of nonsense. Your prospective new employer will google you and read things you may not wish them to know before an interview. This, also, could give the impression of lunacy.
  3. When, despite the odds, you have secured an interview on the very same day as your email, do not start the conversation by talking about pyjamas. This could give the impression of lunacy and laziness.

Good Lord. At least, as Prospective New Boss commented on my rumbly tumbly, I did not mention the fact that I was crammed into too tight suit trousers. After an hour and a half, breathing was tricky enough; performing any sort of digestive activities would have been a miracle.

And, as if that wasn’t enough dimwittery for one week, I had a dishwasher-related incident last night. This has caused my little finger to go completely black with bruising. I look as if I’ve had an ancient curse placed upon me.

And, just to top it all off, I have discovered – 80,000 words into The Novel – that I have characters called Kittie and Kat. Oh, bloody hell.