I have a very old laptop. The screen is hanging on my a hinge, and typing it takes the computer 5-20 seconds to catch up and actually print what I have typed onto the screen. Today, it has been officially dying, reboots, followed by major overheats and general slowness, am now panicking. Knowing my luck, it will blow in the middle of my university work, and event though I backup, I can’t complete the work any other way than via my computer.
So, I have started a go fund me. Sadly, in this economy, and as a parent I have no disposable income to save, or put toward things. My spare money goes on clothing for my daughter, food, bills. Any help, no matter how small, is greatly appreciated.
I have accomplished so little this week. I feel guilty just blogging about it rather than working on my first draft. I have such self doubt, the story is in my head, yet when it comes to getting it down my brain starts bitching.
It will get easier. I know, any day now the groove with come back. Just need to keep typing. Keep typing. Keep typing….oooo look….Skyrim….
I have been working on Evelyn & The Shadowman for a year,
though it is only since January I actually was in the position where I
found myself actually taking this writing lark seriously. Supported by
my partner, I am now a writer,a frugal, financial budgeting writer.
Though it has really only been the past couple of weeks I have kicked myself up
the arse and got back and track after several weeks of limited productivity.
The trouble is, I spent hour after hour reading other peoples strategy’s, epically
procrastinating while daydreaming whole plots and never getting it down on paper.
Why? People have said it time and time again – Writing is hard.
It was a challenging jump for me, taking my hobby and focussing myself to treat it
like a job, because it is, my profession now and that prospect is rather frightening.
Today I made great progress, thus I have time to post a blog about my recent writing
conquest. Many writers will list what you need to do, and state their way is the only
way. I think that is complete and utter bollocks. There is no right, or wrong way.
There is only your way.
I write backwards. It works for me and levels out the chaos that is my creative mind.
I write the opening few chapters, and have always known how Evelyn & The
Shadowman will end. So today I officially started working backwards.
Yesterday evening I got through the epilogue and the final chapter
and am having great fun in approaching the story this way.
It’s like a mystery, working out how the characters got there, how it changed them and how they evolved. Though admittedly I can now hear David Tennant in my head talking about timey wimey wibbly wobbly.
”It was deafening and Penemue found a distant corner and slipped down, eyes clenched tightly closed as he hugged his knee’s and pleaded for silence within his own mind.
INSERT MORE STUFF, SCENES, CONVERSATION AND STUFF HAVE THIS HAPPEN LATER!!!”
I am now hitting fifteen thousand words after doing the bad BAD thing of editing as I went. Which I do not advocate. It eats your brain and turns your idea’s in the brain dribble. The above is an example of how I write, and that’s not even the worse of it. I have pages with notes and bullet points rather than anything that constitutes a novel. But, a first draft is not meant to be a novel, a first draft is you telling yourself the story.
Today I made great progress and write the final scene to my novel. I finally know where I have to direct the story and feeling in greater spirits. Of course, the downside is, I still have 75 thousand words to go. But, I am having fun and reminding myself to just keep writing, if I hit a block, or a scene I am stuck on, I move forward and add a mental post-it-note to finish later. Onwards and upwards.
On a side note, I think I am going senile as I am sat here with a fresh cup of coffee, sat next to a secondary cup of coffee I momentarily forgot about.
Question of the day: How many mugs of coffee does a writer need at their desk?
At the beginning of this year I was lucky enough to be in the position that I could choose to stay at home and focus on finishing my first ever novel. With the support of my other half, I now find myself stepping into the somewhat alien waters of calling myself a professional writer. Am I? While I write every day, I have yet to finish my first draft and I suppose I will not view myself as a professional anything until the job is completed. I cast aside the rose tinted glasses long before I became a full time writer, I knew from day one it would not be the romantic ideal that it is so often portrayed and as I sat myself down to start my first draft, I was a realist. Okay, so I was a hopeless romantic, pretending to be a realistic while lavishly daydreaming my hours away and getting very little done.
When I finally knuckled down I told myself to write two thousand words a day. This happened once. Day three saw a sentence, and I began judging myself, feeling a failure and feeling like a disappointment. That’s when I smacked myself around the head (proverbially, not in an epic re-enactment of Dobby from Harry Potter) and reminded myself why I was dong this. Fun, and the fact it has been the only hobby that I have always fallen upon in times of relaxation. So, I found procrastination is my friend. I do not write to targets, I just make sure I write a little every day. If I don’t procrastinate I find my brain does not find those great nuggets of character conversation. I am the writer who does the dishes while making exaggerated hand gestures while inwardly witnessing my characters having a heated debate. Procrastination (and apparently dishes and housework) is my friend.