A Ridiculously Late Book Review - 'Where the Wild Cherries Grow'

Oops... I'm ridiculously late in posting this book review, and I can only apologise! Due to my depression and anxiety, my concentration and motivation are slippery little suckers, coming and going so fast I sometimes can't hold on to them - and what I really want to do (like read, or write, or post on this blog, or paint my nails gorgeously bright colours) slips away from me. This is life for me now - and for a lot of people with long-term, fluctuating illnesses. BUT no more moaning or apologising! Onwards we go...

The book in question is 'Where the Wild Cherries Grow', by Laura Madeleine (author of 'The Confectioner's Tale' - also a great read), who Tweets as @esthercrumpet. The blurb is below:

It is 1919 but the end of the war has not brought peace for Emeline Vane. Lost in grief, she is suddenly alone at the heart of a depleted family. She can no longer cope. Just as everything seems to be slipping beyond her control, in a moment of desperation, she boards a train and runs away.

Fifty years later, a young solicitor on his first case finds Emeline's diary. Bill Perch is eager to prove himself but what he learns from the tattered pages of neat script goes against everything he has been told. He begins to trace a story of love and betrayal that will send him on a journey to discover the truth.

What really happened to Emeline all those years ago?

This novel has themes and motifs that I am drawn to time and again: strong females and their efforts to overcome a challenging situation; the written word, here shown through a diary (but often shown through letters, or inclusion of 'novel excerpts' etc); a search for the truth; love in all its forms, emotionally touching but never sentimental; and food, the visual description of it as well as the exploration of the nourishment cooking gives.

Laura Madeleine is a strong, lyrical writer, who has created rounded characters in Emeline, Bill, Clemence and Arlo. They have authenticity, and each one grows and develops without taking over the story. The plot unfolds at a fair pace, and the description of settings and events is perfectly pitched: just enough to satisfy, yet not too much (some people find description slows a narrative down, but I personally enjoy its richness and texture). In terms of details, there is flavour and wonder in the descriptions of how things smell, and the descriptions of food are sensuous and delicious, making me feel I am hovering over the stove, angling for a lick of the spoon...

If I had a criticism, it would be that, for me, the ending of Bill's part of the story felt too quick, and a little too neat - perhaps all I needed was a few lines more to link back to earlier plot details (not wanting to give spoilers!), just to anchor his resolution a little more with what exists from his past.

However, I LOVED this novel - it's a story of how we might shrug off what is expected of us; how we learn that listening to our instinct is how we will be free. How we will truly live.

I'm looking forward to Laura's next book - but am armed with a snack, as her work does make me hungry...!

Many thanks to Laura Madeleine for the copy of 'Where the Wild Cherries Grow'.

~ ttfn ~

Forward is Forward...

(Pinterest)

...even if slow. The past few months have been VERY slow, but inch by tiny-bloody-inch, I've been moving forward. It's a triumph over my depression and anxiety that I can a) do that and b) RECOGNISE it.

Well done me - and well done you, too, if you've been going through something similar.

At unexpected but deeply appreciated moments, creativity has poked its head back round the door - and I've been able to craft, and even to write (new, fresh stuff!! Stuff that isn't the 3rd Book, but instead Book 4... So the idea that was the 3rd Book takes a backseat while Book 4 roots itself and starts to grow.)

I'm growing, as well - I've learned to 'go with it' in situations, interactions and days (and hour by hour, when it was really bad), instead of pressurising myself with must-dos, should-dos and oh-god-what-did-I-dos.

[Disclaimer: The 'go with it' scheme has not yet completed full Deb-Life trials, and such exposure may well result in user error and/or buffering/stalling. Deb promises to accept the updates and/or reinstallation required in such cases. In particular instances, add-ons may be advised eg fluffy kittens, strawberries and/or sunshine.]

Today, I've submitted Novel Number Two (once called 'The Dress Designer's Daughter' but now titled 'An Apprentice in Paris') to 3 literary agents. I feel a bit cheeky sending multiple submissions as I tend to be a one-anything kind of girl, but this is the way of things now. I will, of course, do the right (and requested) thing of notifying anyone should anyone else show interest.

Forward is forward for Novel Number Two, then - and will be for Book 4, and me. I'll leave you for now with:

(Pinterest)

(Pinterest)

~ttfn ~

28 Days to Form a Habit: Day 2

(Pic found on Pinterest, from pickthebrain.com)

This morning our postman delivered another parcel (anxiety has made me discover that internet shopping/home delivery is the way forward - so much easier, less stressful and I don't have to worry about where/how to park!!) - it's my latest jigsaw puzzle.

I feel a bit of an old fuddy-duddy admitting it (!), but anxiety has also taught me that I LOVE jigsaw puzzles, because they help my brain stop over-thinking and over-worrying. For me, there is enough to concentrate on to distract, but it's not too-taxing a concentration (like work has become. Which is a bugger, but there you go. I'm ill. What can you do?)

Anyhoo. The jigsaws I like to do are a little bit different to usual (story of my life!) - they're mystery ones, where there is no image to follow for guidance, just a mystery story booklet which sets the story and poses questions that the completed puzzle solves...if you can figure it out. I love it! It's like being in Murder, She Wrote or Columbo (my lifelong faves), without the cheese or dodgy 70s fashions/sets.

Today's puzzle was started around noon, and I stopped just before 5pm - I've done about half, I think, and have the pull to go back and carry on... I've identified elements of the scene but can't yet see the overall setting, and I'm intrigued to figure out quite what the smudgy grey stuff is in the middle.

Really is the story of my life, then!

~ ttfn ~

28 Days to Form a Habit: Day 1

I ran out of ink, Pen Pot Blog, which is why I’ve not posted in forever. Ink is hard to refill when you’re swimming for your life through the thrashing oceans of depression and anxiety.

(Once, I was really, really good at actual, physical swimming– I had all those patches-presented-as-badges and the bronze, silver and gold proficiency certificates. Shame primary school had to end, eh?!)

Swimming is kind of a habit, I guess – and someone once told me that you can form a new habit in 28 days. 28 consecutive days of conscious thought and effort results in an automatic-habit. Let’s try it, then.

Habit I Want to Form =

Recognising and expressing my thoughts and feelings (you know, the deep, difficult, private ones, not the I-take-tea-with-milk-and-two-sugars kind. I do, though, so let me know when you’ve got the kettle on). I want to form the habit of getting these thoughts OUT, so I’m not alone and pushed down with them ALL. THE. TIME.

How Can the Pen Pot Blog Help?

By being somewhere I can share them, pick at them, try to figure them out. By being the place and motivation to create and share 28 consecutive posts of change, just like days in real life.

Maybe no one will read us, Pen Pot; maybe some will. Maybe we’ll have just one actual reader. But these kinds of numbers don’t have value here: it’s the habit of opening up and putting My Self out there, as much as exorcising my thoughts, that I’m trying to form.

Today's Thoughts

So. Day 1. I’ve noticed the blue sky and thought about how its blueness communicates change; is a vehicle for it: clouds move across it, but the sky and its blueness remains. Endures. Is appreciated, and loved. And will be seen again, once those clouds have buggered off. Just like me and my depression.

(I was writing a sentence, just then, questioning if this thought-approach is what they mean when they say ‘be mindful’, because I always want to yell, ‘But what am I supposed to do to be mindful?!’ – and then a phrase announced itself in my mind, all authoritative and authentic-like: ‘You don’t do, you be.’ So… I don’t need to do anything about the sky being blue – I don’t have to remark on it, take a photo of it, research the science behind how we see colour and/or how weather forms. I just need to know and accept that I’ve seen the sky is blue, and that – to me – it’s kinder and friendlier being blue than grey; that I’m alive today to see it, and that’s enough. God, this mindfulness thing still seems bonkers!)

(Any tips on how to improve my attempts at being mindful?! Answers on a postcard, please – or in the comment box below!)

I’ll be back tomorrow, Day 2, for another thought and exploration – want to join me in this habit?!

~ ttfn ~

The 3rd Book

(Picture Credit: studded-hearts.com)

"I’m...at the fluid, early stage of the new book where anything could happen…writing is a process...hewing a vague shape out of nothing,

[and then] the real work begins. "

– Juliet Greenwood

Now that Novel Number Two is out on its trail of agent submissions (aka to be or not be rejected), it's beyond time to get on with the 3rd Book. (I could spend ages telling you how I'd planned and intended to be further along with it than I am - but just read my last post and you'll understand why I need not to dwell; why I need to push but not pressurise myself.)

The bones of the 3rd Book's idea came ages ago - and what immediately branched from it was the name of the main character, and the title. These two things feel rooted, authentic (though this early-doors appearance of the title is unusual for me!); have sustained the idea for two or three years.

But everything else...is still fluid, like water gathered up through a network of roots, rejuvenating, provoking, blossoming.

Over the past few months, I've scribbled down the odd 3rd Book thought as it's come along, but yesterday was the first day that I started deliberate, actual work on them. A bit of research (mostly consisting of relevant titles saved to my Amazon wish-list...some of which will get bought), and a raft of  Post-It notes recording new thoughts, new avenues.

I'm not sure yet which ones the 3rd Book will take - but I know there is joy in the journey of figuring it out. (I've been down this road twice before - but how everything changes!)

Creativity is joy, challenge, reward - and escape. The best place to be, at least for me.

~ ttfn ~

Do Your Best

"It may not be your ultimate best, but if it's your best today, then that's ok.

Be kind to yourself."

One of my besties told me that on Monday. And she's right. (Thank you, Bev!)

I've always been rather a perfectionist (!), with high standards which I beat myself up about when I don't reach or maintain them (writing, studying, working...though not so much housework. Hmm).

However, I'm not competitive with other people (which means I'm a boring game player: you can beat me at Monopoly five times in a row and I won't bat an eyelid!) - I've always believed that each person has their own, different sides and strengths, and have never seen the point in competing with either (a personal belief, of course, and you're entitled to believe different). But with regard to myself, I'm not so kind.

Admitting that is hard.

I'm about to admit something else, too. Doing so here, on my own Blog in such a public sphere as the internet (eek), has been so hard, so vulnerability-inducing that I never thought I would - but Twitter has seen me open up a bit more, so I've already 'put it out there' (as it were!) that...

I suffer with depression. Have done for years. And now anxiety has joined in.

I was diagnosed in 2008, and it seems I have recurring chronic depression. I go through cycles where things are better...and then great big dips where things are not.

Living with this invisible illness is hard. It is insidious and has changed me. To be fair to myself (and my long-suffering friends and family!), not all of the changes are bad. I've become much more tolerant and relaxed, much more accepting (much quieter, too: give me a cuppa, slippers and a purring cat any day over the vodka cranberry, killer heels and nights out clubbing that I used to love...).

I Tweeted once that 'depression changes your default settings'. My default, everyday-usual setting used to be a jolly, bubbly, chatty soul, who would small-talk the hours away with complete strangers. A smile was never far away, nor was a determined, disciplined motivation to get things done.

That default setting was great. It was useful in my (old) retail sales job (despite battling on with customer service/sales roles for years while the depression blighted me, I had to leave the retail sector this January due to the anxiety of being in a room with other people...); it was useful in my social life, in the minutes waiting in a queue... I could call up it whenever I needed it.

But accessing it now is much harder.

Because depression un-installed it.

It isn't the go-to-without-thinking way of being any more. That's not to say I'm a miserable moo every second of every day (!) - I still laugh, chat, motivate myself and get stuff done. At a much reduced rate than before, though, and sometimes five minutes of one of these things is the most I can manage that day. But I can still be that chatty, bubbly person - it's just much, much harder. And much less immediate.

Depression (and anxiety, this time round) has updated my operating system so that I'm also anxious, claustrophobic, reclusive. Sad. Tearful. And sometimes none of these things, because all I feel is FLAT.

Feeling FLAT is the worst. I've always been such a passionate person (about reading, writing, music, friends, family, films, animals, topical issues: never without an opinion, me!) and on the days (weeks, months...) when all I can feel is FLATNESS instead of joy, affection, love, accomplishment, amusement, calmness, comfort, peace, cosiness (etc etc) is devastating.

Is utterly disarming, actually - how do I live, how do I exist in every moment of every day being this person?

By being kind to myself. By remembering that if today's best is five minutes of chat (or writing/reading, or grocery shopping, or admin work at my new job in an office - which is going well, thank you ;0), then that's ok.

It doesn't matter if tomorrow's best is ten minutes or two hours; it doesn't matter if last year's or a decade ago's best was massively more.

As long as it's my best today, it's enough.

And that is better than the depression installation that just won't quit.

Be kind to yourself, too, dear Reader - let's do our best together.

~ ttfn ~

Blog, I Need to Tell You Something...

Blog, sit down. There’s something I need to tell you. I, um... This is hard to say, but here goes: I’ve been cheating on you. With Twitter.

I’m so, so sorry. It wasn’t intentional, and you’ve done nothing wrong. It’s not you, it’s me.

You see, life has been really testing and tough for the past 6 months, and I was struggling and Twitter… Well, it gave me something I didn’t know I needed.

A quick, 140-character expression – and sometimes not even my own thinking or composition, not if I Re-Tweet someone else, someone who’s view I like, find amusing or even agree with. It’s so fast and easy, and reaches so far… I’ve not had to grapple with paragraphs, prodding and editing them till they’re intriguing, till they build upon each other, like a Blog Post. I’m sorry, that sounded awful. You’re not that bad; really, you’re not. But you know what I mean.

The thing is, even though I’ve read that a Tweet only has an average life of 18 minutes, that life can be seen by so many more people than the handful who read us, Blog. I’m not sure of the actual readership numbers, but I have a strong sense Twitter gets me seen by lots of people. Which is ironic, because I’m not even that good.

So, Blog, what can we do? I am committed to making things better; really, I am. If you still want to? Good. Thank you for giving me another chance. Because I do miss you. We could start by dating again: let’s say we’ll Post in the first week of each month, like we used to; but we’ll widen what we used to talk about. We’ll try new things. Maybe we can even post more in each month – but I don’t want us to promise something we can’t keep. Best we agree to try, and then add to the results of that.

But I have to be honest – I don’t think I can give up Twitter. You see, there is room in my life for both of you. And…maybe…you might like to join in? Perhaps you can try, see what you think? It won’t be as bad as you’re worried it will be. Really.

So, Blog, what do you say? Maybe if the three of us make an effort and join together, we’ll do better than if we were on our own…

I'M FINALLY PUBLISHED!!!

[*I've been trying to add a photo of said article, but it's not working grr! I'll try again later!]

Okay, so it is an article in a niche magazine and not a novel - but the words are my own, printed so people can read!

I've always loved cats, and have been reading Your Cat magazine for over a year - and as my cat Ebony is a bit of a special case (ah, bless!), I took the plunge one day and pitched the editor. She said she'd love to include Ebony's story as a True Cat Tale...but couldn't say which issue it would appear in.

Imagine my surprise and delight as I opened the newest issue (October; just gone on sale!) and found 'My Scaredy Cat' listed in the Contents pages... :0)

I'd emailed a few photos of Ebony for possible inclusion, but something even better has happened... Your Cat magazine has commissioned an illustration instead! It's bespoke to Ebony and her story, and is beautifully rendered - thank you Nancy Trott for your excellent work; and thank you Your Cat magazine for the idea!

While it may seem like small fry to some, having this article accepted and seeing it in print is a huge deal to me - because, after dreaming about it since I was a little girl, I'm PUBLISHED at last!

If you would like to read Ebony's story (and the other informative articles, and swoon over some cute pics too...!), pick up a copy of Your Cat magazine (being that it's a niche title, you might have to track it down in bigger newsagents/supermarkets - the sister title, Your Dog, rules the roost at my local Tesco, for example, meaning I get my copy of Your Cat at the newsagent in the next town!)

10 Things I've Learned About Editing

1. However long you estimate it will take, add another 6 weeks.
2. A stock of red pens is essential - scribbling on your ms in any other colour feels wrong.
3. Even when you think you're good at avoiding repetition, some pesky words will multiply. Exterminate on sight.
4. You'll feel a sense of joy, even triumph, when you spot how some themes/motifs/characterisation resonate throughout the ms - and you'll enjoy figuring out how to strengthen the effect.
5. Cutting will become second-nature. Yes, it will.
6. When rewriting a section/paragraph/sentence, ensure not to over-write.
7. The 1st Draft is for you, the Writer; the however-many-it-takes-to-get-it-near-ish-perfect is for the Reader. Deal with it. It makes you a better writer.
8. It's tiring. Take breaks, for screen-sore eyes will miss things.
9. Best excuse to buy new stationery. Ever.
10. It's fun. Really it is. And you get to do it all over again with the next book...

Talks editing...

Yup, that's what I've been doing since the 15th of May...and there's plenty more to do!

I didn't quite make my self-imposed 3-months-away-from-novel, but I did manage just over 6 weeks. Then the itching just got too much, and I had to pick up my red pen and scratch it...

While scratching (this metaphor is getting a little gross, now, isn't it?! Oops.), I decided to test out a new method of editing - at least, new to me.

With Book One, I line-edited and line-edited and line-edited, zooming in on the tiniest of details, but somehow never thinking to look at the overall effect, or to do this first before I wasted time and energy on a section that I should delete anyway...

But I have done that this time, for Novel Number Two.

I got myself a hard-back spiral notebook (any excuse for new stationery, eh!) and started reading my manuscript. From beginning to end, with no line-edits at all.

Okay, okay, so there were some line-edits, but only quick, didn't-have-to-mull-them-over-ones! Fact: It is impossible for me not to have a pen in my hand. Anyhoo...

When I got to the end of each chapter, I wrote notes on what worked, what didn't; what should move to another point in the storyline; what needed to be Shown, not Told - and sometimes what needed to be Told, not Shown (detail gets very interesting for me, but no so much for anyone else...); whether the characterisation was working; whether I even needed certain characters; and so on.

At the start of this process, I was in agony. The book was awful, of course; how could I have written such drivel? And then I got over myself. Everything needs work to be the best it can be - from baking to Olympic Sports. Simples. So I got to it.

Once, I said to a friend that the beginning of the book is actually the last thing you write - and this, for me, is true: it is only when my characters are on the page speaking and doing and interacting with other characters and situations that I know them; that I know what is authentic for them, and can convey this accordingly.

Reminding myself of this, I set about redrafting the first two chapters: fresh documents, typing anew, no copy-and-pasting. Then I read my Overall Notes alongside the red-penned manuscript, and worked through the relevant points, making changes here and there (pretty much everywhere, actually).

Now I can see that while the Overall Read-Through was slow-going (especially to an impatient soul like me), it has earned its keep: after all that work, the beginning of the book is now much sharper, stronger and effective.

All I've got to do now is to make sure the twenty-or-so other chapters do the same...!

Better get back to it, then!

~ ttfn ~

If My Novel was a Picture Book...

...it might look something like this (there's a lot of pics, so I hope you'll stick with me!):

Impractical Purpose = pretty scrapbook pages to flip through at will. 'Nuff said.

Practical Purpose = visual aid for editing/redrafting my novel; perched on a book-stand on my desk.

Credits

Scrapbook = SMASH book
Pros: yummy papers not seen anywhere else; an individual, quirky feel.
Cons: spiral binding too narrow, causing the pages to bulge when layered/matted upon; in my Smash, not many of the original yummy papers remain...oops! This is because my papercrafting technique has improved and expanded, leading me to tear out my early, amateurish layouts...and start again!

Papers, stamps and embellishments = too various and bought-long-ago to mention! My favourite craft shopping sites are the Glitter Pot and Kaisercraft at Merly Impressions, plus specific searches on eBay (time-consuming but worth it for one-of-a-kind finds, particularly with stamps).

Photographs = from Pinterest and the occasional magazine. I don't know the names of the original photographers, but would be glad to credit them.

Illustrations = most are from Inslee Haynes (if my dream came true, she would design my novel's cover!). Others are by Robert Best, Megan Hess, Katie Rodgers, Thomas Saliot, Clifford Faust, and a couple of others whose names I don't know...but would be glad to credit them.

~ ttfn ~

Performance Anxiety

I'm not a sporty or dramatic soul, and so I'd like to think that I wouldn't have to worry about my performance. But I do and I am. Have to worry, that is (don't worry: I am not about to become a sportswoman or an actor. Phew.)

Yesterday, I enjoyed spending another entire-day reading (there's been a few of those recently), and completed The Book of Lost and Found by Lucy Foley. I absolutely loved this book: the overseas settings were so real I could step into them; the characters were so involving that I wanted to be with them; and the storyline was so intriguing and moving that I wanted it to go on and on. 

This book also encompassed themes that I love to think, read and write about: loss and love; painting and painters; women finding and living their independence; the definitions of family, and the grounding family gives you. This book also made me realise that my tastes have matured (five years ago, I wouldn't have enjoyed reading passages about wartime and the various methods of and the people involved in resistance - but I do now), and that this opens up new areas of reading and writing for me. 

This book moved me; and pleased me, for the threads of resolution were woven into the final chapters, yet nothing was tied up too easily or too emphatically - enough was left for me, the Reader, to fill in. This book got me looking on the author's Facebook page for news of her next one; it got me scrolling through her book-signing photos and watching the couple-of-seconds-long video of the book coming off the printer's press...which was so intoxicating. 

But this book also scared me.

Because I'd love to write this well, to produce a manuscript capable of doing all the things this one has done to me to other people.

But what if I'm not that good? What if, after all these years and years of writing on after each hurdle and seeing that my work has indeed evolved, I'm still not that good?

This is not the only book to do this to me. My other favourites - The Forgotten Garden and The Distant Hours by Kate Morton, Lighthouse Bay and Wildflower Hill by Kimberley Freeman, The Unseen and A Half Forgotten Song by Katherine Webb, The Book of Summers by Emylia Hall, and A Gathering Light by Jennifer Donnelly - have also made me feel this way.

I do know that this is performance anxiety. I do know that I'm not the only writer to feel this way. And I do know that this feeling will pass. Promise. In several days, I'll be able to write my Reading Journal entry extolling how fabulous the book is, and it will take its place on my bookshelf next to my other wish-I'd-written-'em favourites.

But till then, for a little while, I feel not-so-good. While it doesn't sound it, this not-so-good is a lot better than incapable, which is what I used to feel some years ago. 

So it's probably good timing that today is Easter Sunday and I am internationally-permitted to consume (and console myself with) chocolate - indeed, it would be internationally-rude not to, wouldn't it?! 

Believe me, I have no performance issues when it comes to chocolate. Except about when to stop eating it...

~ ttfn ~ 

So. My Novel Is Written. NOW What Do I Do?

Rest, ruminate; lament. Tell myself to pull my socks up: if it really is that bad, I can fix it when I return in three months for the Big Edit (which is kind of like a deep clean...)

Read a bit. Craft a bit. Buy a lot – and cringe when the credit card bill comes in. Remind myself that these purchases were essential: rewards for writing a whole novel, and things-that-have-been-on-the-wish-list-so-long-they-have-to-have-a-new-home...

Fuss the cat loads, now that she has started sitting on my lap. Realise that this is not just because she was an un-socialised kitten who has made huge leaps forward in trusting humans, but because there is actually room for her now that I’m not using the laptop every night. Oh.

Craft a bit more now that I have new stash.

Sort through things everywhere (writing room, bedroom, lounge, kitchen), chucking out what I haven’t used in a year. Or two.

Begin relevant research, now that I know what is actually relevant... Get lost in fabulous but irrelevant detail once again, and remind myself that I just chucked loads of that out. Decide not to repeat.

Start to give the Pen Pot a spring clean with a fresh look, then get irritated with technology and give up. Resolve to put ‘patience’ on my Christmas List.

Bake some. Eat much more.

Consult the calendar, certain my self-imposed three months must soon be up.

Scream when I see that only two weeks have passed. Two weeks.

Console myself with a bar of chocolate. And another one. Stop short of being sick. Here, try one of your cupcakes, you say? Oh, go on, then, it would be rude not to...

~ ttfn ~ 

Those Two Little Words...

I'm a little late posting this month, and I apologise. You can blame the need to write those two little words...

'The End.'

Yep, in the last hour, I have completed the last page of the final chapter of Novel Number Two.

Whoop whoop!

And here she is: 

Admittedly, this is only the 1st Whole Draft (I call it this because each chapter has already been edited at least once...or four times!) - and so there is cutting and redrafting and polishing ahead of me... But, for this stage, I. Have. Achieved.

And by my deadline, which I set as part of my New Year-ness. Double whoop whoop!

I will come back and blog again, but I'm understandably rather knackered right now... 

I will be leaving my manuscript (and I feel I can really call it that, now that it's finished! Triple whoop whoop!) alone for 3 months, so that I have 'fresh eyes' as we writers call it, don'cha know, for that big rewrite.

But for now, I do believe I deserve a celebratory Mini Egg or two (bags, of course - how could anyone limit themselves to one measly little egg?!)...

~ ttfn ~

A Little Bit of Magic

(Picture credit unknown - I'm glad to rectify!)

You know that moment when an actor you like leads you into watching something you never thought you would, just because they're in it? And then you discover that you quite like this new thing, after all?

This happened to me, the other evening. Poppy Montgomery has fast become my favourite actress after watching her in the TV show Unforgettable , which has equally become a favourite. (Sadly it's been cancelled in the US, but I've got the first season on DVD and am waiting for the second to be released, plus hoping that Sky will show the final season soon...)

Having first seen Poppy Montgomery in Without a Trace, and now loving her in Unforgettable, I knew she is an actor who brings warmth, wit and a little bit of rebelliousness to her performances - so I decided to give the TV movie, Magic Beyond Words: The JK Rowling Story (2011, director Paul A. Kaufman), a chance. And I wasn't disappointed.

Regardless of what anyone might think of Harry Potter and the phenomena that resulted, it started life as a story. A story that an unpublished, unknown writer dreamed up. A story that was imagined, dwelt in and transcribed onto the page. A story that, through the actual writing alone, changed the life of its author.

Storytelling is a magic in itself (though of course I would say that!) : not everyone can do it. But this TV movie did: it captured the wonderment and warmth of creativity, the thrill of spotting story elements on the shelf of everyday life, and the liberty of what you'll do with them.

Storytelling can surprise you, move you and empower you - and I wouldn't be without it.

~ ttfn ~ 

Niggles

To write this post, I'm going to have to share a smidge more of Novel Number Two's plot than I have before. Eek! You see, I've learned not to talk too much about the Work in Progress (WiP) for several reasons: 

1. Even though I'm a born chatterbox, I'm rubbish at speaking about any WiP, making what I know is well-written (not meaning to be being arrogant, here) sound dreadful; 
2. People seem interested, so you talk, draining yourself of detail as you try to do the WiP justice - only to discover your details have actually drained the people, who are now not so interested (!); 
3. Telling too much makes you vulnerable - to people's good and bad reactions, and to yourself, because at some point you'll realise things need to change, and now don't you look daft?; 
4. You could be giving away your idea - ideas aren't copyrighted, so someone could turn that idea into an actual story, submitting it to an actual agent while you're still playing about with punctuation, therefore beating you to your publishing and readership dream; and 
5. It is mine - at least until it's yours (i.e. my book in your hand - always dreaming of being published, me!), which, for now, will be when I'm distanced enough from it to allow you to read it by email. 

Anyhoo. Deep breath. With these points clung closer to my body than armour, what I need to tell you is this:

• My main character gets herself onto an apprenticeship. 
• At the end of each week, the apprentices are rated. 
• And as the writer, it's bloody hard to remember who gets ranked where when (which is just as hard to say, isn't it?!)

Today, I finished the narrative draft of the second chapter-on-the-go (as per my goal this week; with the first chapter-on-the-go finished on Thursday). While the story was done, the niggles [details that I put in square brackets and bold type, to come back to later - these might be the placings on the apprenticeship, for example, or how long it's been since such-and-such happened] remained. Thing was, I wanted to sort them out now so that I'd feel the chapter was completely complete (at least in its First Draft form. Which will get rewritten. I know, I know, we writers are complex beings.)

So, with my pen poised over my notebook page, I skim-read the previous seven or so chapters...and realised how much I'd forgotten. Forgotten! How could I do such a thing when I've got a really good, really detailed memory? But there I was, discovering that I'd forgotten: which chapter came after which (I've named not numbered them, you see); character developments; actual events; and dialogue revelations. Oops!

I'd also forgotten how many words I'd actually got onto the page (even though I counted them all up and bragged about them in my New Year's post!). I'd forgotten quite how much story this amounts to. And it's a lot. It's a big chunk of book. And it makes me proud.

Of course, I'm sure you linear-minded, number-loving types are wondering why I didn't start the book with a spreadsheet set up for such things. But, you see, I'm a writer, and writers aren't linear-minded types; we love everything free and flowing, ebbing backwards and forwards, allowing for change and invention...even if it does mean we forget things.

But now my notebook is updated with who was ranked where when; what my main character did at these particular points; and with a few more niggles I'll need to sort out in the Redraft! I am determined to keep it updated as I write on...wish me luck!

~ ttfn ~

Reflect and Redirect

(Picture found on Pinterest - credit unknown)

Here we are, four days into January, and all that Christmas fuss is out of the way for another year (I know, I know, I'm such a bah humbug - but that's just how I roll) - and while I do hate to follow the crowd (as one of my besties rightly says, 'Be a goat not a sheep' - thanks, Zoe!), it really does feel like the time to reflect and redirect. (Oh, my bah humbug-self does hope you had a good Christmas and New Year, by the way!)

Reflection: 2014 Pats-on-the-Back

• Craft continued - shared over making cards and scrapbook pages, and sewing a footstool, toaster cover and a phone charger bag.
• Cupcake baking begun and, if I do say so myself (!), aced:

• Ebony welcomed home and settled in:

• 44 books read - while writing...
• 70, 295 words of Novel Number Two (that's 70,295 words everybody - whoop, whoop!) - which equates to 15 chapters (and, when added to 2013's chapters, makes 32 completed ones...)

Redirection: 2015 Get-Goings

• Admit I need to rest and relax when I get in from work, BUT don't slump in front of the TV all evening...
• ...so, at 9 p.m., used my second-wind (I'm a definite owl, you see, not a lark) to get an hour or two of writing/planning/crafting done.
• Continue crafting, sewing and baking.
• Finish the two chapters-on-the-go by the end of this week (Sunday 11th). Achieved by Sat 10th!
• Write the (estimated) remaining 5 chapters by the end of February, which will complete the entire first draft.
• Leave Novel Number Two ALONE for 3 months...
• ...and do other things!
• Begin editing NNT after these 3 months, so (hopefully!) from 1st June.
• Research agents to submit to.
• Write covering letter and synopsis.
• Submit by the end of summer/beginning autumn.
• Start the next book...!

I could (probably should!) add in 'Go for a walk every day', 'Lose the million of stones you're overweight by' and 'Actually get your hair trimmed every three months' - but I know I won't do any of these, and pressuring myself will only make me dour and doubtful. Much better, instead, to focus on making the most of what I can do, and leave room for a little spontaneity (which may turn in to walking, dieting or hair consideration...well, I can try for optimism too, right?!)

Whatever reflections and redirections you have, I wish you all the best with them.

~ ttfn ~ 

Lifted from the Day Job

Working with the general public (especially in a clothes shop where opinions are sought, and life stories told) is fuel for writing - with names and identifying characteristics changed, of course! This week, an almost-request shocked me so much it HAS to go into a book (!) somewhere, sometime - and it'll do just fine to amp up the tension in the scene I'm about to work on...

We'd just opened the shop and I answered the phone to a distressed lady, who explained that she'd lost, though wasn't sure where, a very special ring the day before, and wondered if it had been handed in. The ring had been designed by her husband for a particular wedding anniversary and it meant so very much to her... I looked around the tills and the desk drawers, and checked the Lost Property box - and found nothing. Having been working the night before, I told her that I'd not heard of anything that had been handed in.

This set her off on another round of explaining how important the ring was, how upset she was (and rightly so: we all have possessions that mean a lot to us), and which particular fitting room she'd been in. Double-checking, I scoured all of the cubicles, looking under the stools and in the corners, but with no success.

I said I'd take her name and number just in case, later in the day when tidying and cleaning, we came across it...and then she said, "Do you clean every night?" I replied that we do, but that my colleague hadn't mentioned finding anything (I'd been working on the other floor and so hadn't been there when the fitting rooms were vacuumed, but, trust me, my colleague-in-question is a thorough cleaner...!). And then it came...

"What if it went up the vacuum?"

You can hear the unsaid question just as loudly as I could, can't you?!

Now, I must be clear and fair: the lady did NOT ask me to go through the vacuum bag.

But I sensed that she was about to... (Or is this just the writer in me, filling in the blanks in the most imaginative, most conflict-ridden way?!)

I don't know about you, but searching by hand through a filthy vacuum bag in the hope of finding something you cannot be sure was lost in that very place borders on the unreasonable... Or maybe it doesn't, if you're that person; maybe you'd be happy to trawl through it, maybe the dirt and dust of hundreds of customers passing through one shop during all the days since we last changed the bag would be nothing if you could just grasp the certainty that the item was there...or not? And if this is true, maybe it should be you, not me, doing the going-through?

But how can I, the sales assistant who knows the customer is always right, suggest that?

And this sense of unreasonableness countered by it being inappropriate to refuse is EXACTLY what my writer's mind loves...and is going to put in my scene!

Back to real life now: I managed to steer the conversation away from the vacuum, assuring the customer that we'd notice something like a ring on the floor before the vacuum got to it (which is true - especially as we're always picking size cubes off the floor so they don't clog up the vacuum...!). I took the lady's name and number...

...and, during shift-change later in the day, was glad to discover that the ring had indeed been found by a colleague, and that the message had simply missed me. Phew! Once I'd collected it from the manager's desk and ascertained it was the same as the description the lady had given me, I was able to call her back and, a few hours later, reunite her with her ring. She was so pleased it had been picked up and not pocketed, she brought my colleague a bottle of wine and box of chocolates as a thank you - which was lovely of her.

So, all's well that ends well - and that gives me inspiration to increase the tension in my scene, with the not-nice character making life hard, horrible and mucky for the main character...

~ ttfn ~

Storyboard

I'm loving my new light-bulb lamp, just ready to shine with bright ideas!

I'm probably a lot luckier than most writers, because I have got a dedicated writing room (okay, so it used to be the cupboard-under-the-stairs, but beggars can't be choosers, can they?) - except I haven't been using it recently. Most of this is to do with our new cat (I know, I know, but bear with me!), because, having been a farm kitten and therefore not socialised, she is the definition of a scaredy-cat: she's only been able to make her territory the lounge and kitchen, and hasn't shown any interest in what lies behind the doorways... Suffice to say, she is an indoor cat until she can get up the courage to explore the rest of the house, let alone our garden...and that's why I've not been writing in my writing room: because I haven't wanted to leave her on her own. There, I've said it: I'm a soppy softie!

So, for the last 6 months (yes, really!), I've been bringing my laptop into the lounge and trying to write while ignoring the noise box (a.k.a. the TV) playing its nonsense...with mixed results! After a difficult month where I wrote very little, I've now started my week off work and I'm determined to WRITE. So, soppiness has to take a back seat...and that's where my storyboard comes in.

As you can see in the photo, my desk faces the wall and the wall is covered with pictures... You see, I love art and photography and the way they spark my imagination (which is why I lose hours of my life on Pinterest!) - and I have used image-upon-image to inspire the writing and development of Novel Number Two. While covering the small wall of a small room in pictures might be a clutter-chuck-up for some, it's not for me - because each image is a trigger; a scene-in-waiting. They're my storyboard. Obviously, I don't have walls enough to have the book storyboarded from beginning to end...plus I get bored easily! So, I change the pics every few months or so, and this particular storyboard charts the...wait for it!...final sections of the book...

There's probably 7, maybe 8 scenes represented here - and I've begun work on 3 of them, but need to get my words on... So that's what I'm going to be doing this week, in my dedicated space with my dedicated time. Let's see how far across the storyboard I get...

~ ttfn ~ 

On an unseasonably warm day...

(picture found on Pinterest - I am unaware of the photographer but would be glad to credit them)

...I paused while eating lunch outside, listening to the sounds I heard overhead, then wrote:

Seagulls squabble

as they order noisily 

from a lunchtime menu

I haven't yet seen.

~ ttfn ~