On being uncool

So it’s Sunday…

But I can’t concentrate because I’m swinging and bobbing up and down a bit in my chair, listening to Johnny Horton’s The Battle of New Orleans. I love that song.

I watched Midnight Cowboy last night and have been tormenting myself all day, trying to work out how I knew the ‘Everybody Talks’ theme tune… not from the original: I’d have been two to three when that movie came out and I’ve not seen it before. (Apparently it was featured in Forrest Gump but I haven't seen either!) It's no doubt something terribly uncool ... like the Julio Iglesias cover and I'll wish I never mentioned it.

Anyway, Sunday means a word count confession.

I haven’t done any illicit Sunday writing today which is a bit disappointing… but I’ve started my second book review and I’m hoping with a fresh brain first thing in the morning it will come together in that magic way that it (sometimes) does.

Right so here goes, words this week: 3,101

So Sheepish, what have you done this week?

Sunday word count & excuses, excuses…

Since I started my mini race with Sheepish I’d been writing pretty consistently. This was good because it meant I was carrying all the threads of the plot in my head and was shuffling between them as and when it was needed. Then I had the emotional traumas of the UK and even when I had a tiny opportunity to write, I couldn’t.

The day that I left Bangkok, you may remember that Paul Theroux came to visit the Neilson Hays Library. He said during his talk that he was grateful to his family for providing him with a stable and happy environment in which to write. I noticed this comment but didn’t think much of it until several weeks later, a good while into my UK trip and then I realised that this is essential to me too. My family here give me that (mostly) and I am very grateful to them for it. (It also appears that I can’t write in my pyjamas…I have to get showered and dressed and honestly, I feel a bit resentful about this. What is the point of working from home unless it’s so you can stay in your pyjamas all day?)

So the writing should have exploded in this last seven days but in addition to losing the thread of what happens next, I’ve also been making hats fighting jetlag. I really am rubbish at changing time zones – what am I doing living here? Or going back there?

Anyway, the words this week have been a rather pitiful 458 but any words are welcome: some are most definitely better than none. And this has pushed me to a word count of over 80,000 which is rather fab.

I was still holding onto a bit of anxiety though; these weren’t new words. They were inserted while rereading the last 10,000 words which I had to do in order to remember what was going on in my story. Even after re-reading I still couldn’t see my way forward so I was quite despondent yesterday but I went back to it fresh this morning and I’ve disentangled the different threads and now I have mapped out a rough way forward.

Fingers crossed please.

Today

Today was marked in the diary some four weeks ago as ‘the great hat making day.’ In truth, I don’t think any of us actually wrote that in our diaries because that would have been a bit, well, silly, wouldn’t it? I wrote something more like ‘S & C coming over to help make hats’ but the fact is that it’s taken on epic proportions in my head as one of the problems that I might, possibly, conceivably, hopefully, be able to solve.

(Aging parents who refuse to accept they could do with a spot of help: no, I can’t crack that one.)

But I can make the hats for the Melbourne Cup. Hmmm, I haven’t yet been able to work out how to hide the bits that we don’t want to see… so actually I haven’t resolved this problem either but three heads, when S & C turn up, are likely to be better than my jetlagged and under par one.

But it’s another day not writing, and the woolly one is banging out those words… I have, over the last few weeks of fretting about the folks who refuse help, also been worrying about the dénouement of the novel. Mostly I’ve been agonizing over the location and whether removing the characters from the setting – which is pretty important to the novel - will weaken the story or not.

In the end, I’ve decided to remove them… for the truth of their characters; inside the house they will not tell the truth. Therefore they must be removed. In order to have them elsewhere, I need to research something and a couple of days ago I heard back from a friend I was at art college with. She’s willing to answer some questions and so now, after the hat making, I can crack on with the last 10-15k of words.

Better watch out woolly one; I can still put you in the hot wash…

Sunday catch up

Today is Sunday. I expect you know that… and instead of staying in London until Thursday, I am leaving to go home to Kent because my mother has also (in addition to my Dad who broke his pelvis a few weeks ago) had a funny turn and a fall. She is fine; her confidence is shaken but she’s not broken physically.

What else?

Oh yes. I had my industry day yesterday with the Literary Consultancy. I think this deserves a full post so I will do that tomorrow.

It only remains to say that words this week were only 1498. I am rather pleased with any words at all. But once settled at my parents, I think I shall be able to get on again. I look forward to hearing Sheepish's words... there'll be no threats about putting her in the hot wash from me today... just a feeble arm raised to toast her wordcount win and thank her for keeping my nose to the grindstone.

Oh buggerty bottoms

I wasn’t trying to lull Sheepish into a false sense of security… I had a dire week. Really, horribly busy and more shopping for those damn costumes! I even picked up some extra tasks on the way.

In order not to hand in a pitiful word count, I’ve been indulging in some illicit Sunday writing. It’s only illicit according to the Woolly One, but Saturday and Sunday writing has always been part of my routine. The rest of the family are out during the week at work and school and so come the weekend, they want to stay home and play with their toys.

This week’s word count is 3265 words. (Oh bugger, I’ve just seen Sheepish’s word count…and she’s beaten me again. I am trying to remember that getting my words written makes me a winner too, but bah, pah, and other annoyed noises.)

*Sigh* And I’ve another bad week coming up with my flying to London, corresponding jetlag and my TLC Industry Day – for which I haven’t yet got an elevator speech prepared.

Book news

After my 4,000 words last week, I lay awake on Sunday night worrying that the big scene I’d so enjoyed writing wasn’t where it ought to be or perhaps it’s just that too much is revealed. So yesterday I didn’t do any writing at all: I finished Rebecca instead.

Oh I am so sad I finished Rebecca. I really enjoyed it. I must have read it longer ago than I thought because there was only one time when I pre-empted what was about to happen. Every other plot twist came as a total surprise. It makes me so sad that for all the years I’ve been reading I haven’t kept a log book of what I’ve read. That list – over there on the side bar – is the first time I’ve recorded what I’ve been reading.

Other book related news:

I’ve just started The Little Stranger by Sarah Waters for Book Club. I don’t normally suggest titles for book club because the whole point of it for me is being told what to read by someone else. The Little Stranger was my choice though because of an administrative cock-up (mine) I had to insert something at the last minute.

For commenting over at Novel Spaces I won a book by Farrah Rochon which I received a couple of days ago. Thank you for that, Farrah. It’s quite ridiculous how snail mail still excites me!

This morning I must write (HA, Sheepish, not so easily sidetrack my woolly friend!) and this afternoon I must continue the Bangkok wide search for some suitable, gargantuan trekking shoes for Son.

From washout week to storming Sunday

I reported yesterday what a disastrous week I’d had with my novel writing. And it couldn’t have come at a worse time… just as I’d launched on a neck and neck race with Sheepish. So the week was a disaster: draw a line under it. There is no point in dwelling on it but nor did I want to produce a shameful 600 words which is all I’d managed. I’d done well enough the previous week to make up for a shortfall this time but, you know, I didn’t want to give Sheepish the satisfaction… Although… maybe, I could mess with her head? I could lull her into a false sense of security, couldn’t I? Then she'd relax and I'd whip her woolly bum next week? *Clears throat* that sounded better in my head.

No no no. I said 500 words a day, five days a week. That’s my minimum. There was nothing else for it but to dedicate my Sunday to it.

So Sheepish, punctuated by Sunday lunch at the pub with family, I’ve had two Starbucks stints today and my words this week: 2607. I have to say, even though you’ve beaten me, that I am a bit proud of myself. It takes my total word count (as you can see left) to 68,000.

I can do this. I can.

OFFICIALLY OVER-EXCITED

This week’s been a washout as far as writing has been concerned: novel writing at any rate. (Pah: just as I started a personal race with Sheepish and I’ll be seriously lagging behind this week and tomorrow is WC day (word count day!)

This week has been full of sickness (mine and Daughter’s) and of course I should be writing now because this afternoon I am on the Neilson Hays Library stand at the Living in Bangkok exhibition at Bumrungrad Hospital.

But instead of writing, I’m jumping up and down with excitement because I read this yesterday. I had, up to this moment, been quietly excited but my trip to London is getting closer and OMG I think it’s time to lose control. This is Othello with Lenny Henry at Trafalgar Studios. AND I’ve got tickets. OMG, OMG. I am going with Leigh. Yay yay yay. Othello is my favourite Shakespeare play and I have a rather large soft spot for Lenny Henry and every faith that he will be stupendous. I am wondering if Leigh will be embarrassed if I want to go to the stage door to swoon a bit…

Now I’ve got myself over-excited. I’ve got to calm down and write lots of words so I don't shame myself in front of Sheepish tomorrow. And then I can get off to the hospital to promote the library when really what I want to do is think about LH as Othello...