I listed my challenges for the past week
last week, and all I can say about it really is this:
Ugh. When exactly did I get a busy life? LOVE this link on B&N:
"10 Signs Someone You Know Is Doing National Novel Writing Month." with particular reference to this one:
5) She can be found on Facebook and Twitter at weird hours of the night
and early morning posting things like, “1,837 words in an hour!” and
“What’s another word for ‘burnished’?” and “Did Vikings wear bedroom
slippers?”
A busy week of intense day job (still transitioning from old job to new), singing and 'Introduction to Quality Management' later, I spent Friday night in my armchair desperately glad I'd said no to going to Wembley and otherwise staring slack-jawed at Netflix and wondering if I might have hit a new low.
And yet, Saturday dawned freezing cold and I packed myself off to yoga then coffee shop. Ah Costa, my dear love. NOT MY USUAL TABLE OMG WEEP FOR ME AND MY TRAGEDIES... I wasted some time with researching too deeply (as per...) and updating my Nanowrimo Page.
Which is here. Totally check it out, yanno?
Updating meant I had to come up with a title, a synopsis and an excerpt and knowing that many of you won't click the link, here's some stuff for you to whet your appetite and pique your curiosity.
The Bright Side of Life - Synopsis
One 'ordinary' family. One house.
150 years of census returns
tell some of the story of the Bright family of 19 Lizard Court, London
EC, as they bear witness to the highs, lows and changing face of London
through modern history. The Bright SIde of Life fills in the blanks and
what the censuses don't say.
2001: Denny O'Toole doesn't
understand why his parents insisted he come to the funeral of the
nonagenarian aunt he hasn't seen since he was a child: what a tale he
has to learn...
1841: William Bright, cabinet-maker, brings his
family from Peterborough to the ancient borough of Finsbury under cover
of darkness in the hopes of escaping a past nobody wants to remember,
least of all his son Billy.
1891: Billy Bright, well-regarded
patriarch and businessman. Tadgh O'Toole, the upstart young rival who
would sweep assertive daughter Polly from under his control. There can
be only one winner.
1961: William Bright O'Toole's own company demolishes the family home to build a housing estate.
1981: While some of the O'Tooles are ascending through the class barriers, what about the ones left behind?
What do you think, friends? Comments below or emails to the usual.
Back to the Update of Too Much Detail:
A break while I went to audition for a one-off choir thing called Snapshot Songs, then the indulgence of a second coffee shop stop where I was engaged in conversation by a gregarious woman for a couple of minutes while we waited for our orders - and then she just walked off mid-sentence when she was given her drink. Oookay...
Back home at last, I soldiered on, determined to keep going as intensely as I could. The B&N link above mentions sleep-typing. I can confirm this is something I can do with surprising efficiency, though quality is yet to be ascertained. At one point I thought I was going to have to give up and sleep but wouldn't you know it, I managed another 1500 words before I was done.
I've also discovered that contrary to my own beliefs, I seem to work better in silence sometimes than with music going. Also, that when I am listening to music, it needs to be something which isn't a distraction.
Which rules out Rory Gallagher, Thin Lizzy, the Doors and all the stuff which is seared into the fabric of my soul. Hmm. At least on
Walking in the Shadowlands I was listenning to the boys for
genuine honest to goodness no truly this isn't just an excuse research.
Fortunately, it doesn't rule out Tim Buckley, and he has been my musical sponsor this weekend. It is so strange to me though, that silence - previously such an antagonist to me - should be so useful and helpful now. I don't know why, but I'll go with it for now.
Oh, and it was my Granddad's birthday on Saturday. The aul' man would have been 94, which is an amusing number for we
Private Eye readers but... for the fact he's not here to celebrate... I have to make do with walking the same streets that he called home, and while this is decidedly
not the story of our family, there's enough there to feel something. So it was weird to be immersed in his world without him here.
For the tl;dr crowd: I got
a metric ton of writing done on Saturday:
Mostly in the 1891 section, which is the 'Big One' I suppose, though right now it's become a monster of a chapter.
Sunday was less productive in terms of word count, probably because of the brain mush problem, probably because I chose to do minor silly things like sleeping, laundry, eating and bathing, along with things like Too Much Research just to get a pub name (The Hammer and Anvil) for the story's "Local", and re-reading more of the book
Necropolis: London And Its Dead by Catharine Arnold
.
I also picked up with the tv show
Revolution again and discovered to my genuine delight that the second half of season one doesn't suck as badly as the first half and that it is in fact, quite compelling in its way. I needed
something to wash over my brain.
I also got HUGELY AND MASSIVELY AND GINORMOUSLY distracted by
this video. I am trying to avoid spoilers for
Doctor Who and nearly didn't click the link but am very glad I did. I just wish we'd seen more of Eight. Like, at least two or three seasons' worth. The radio versions are good but come on - Paul McGann and Sheridan Smith on TV as Eight and Lucie Miller? That this does not exist is a TV Crime up there with the Cancellations of
Firefly and
Rome. I can't forgive and I can't forget. Not while we live in a world where
Two and a Half Men exists
and is still running,
Then again, I had a minor flash of inspiration to made the 'modern day' arc make more sense. Which is nice, and I even wrote some of it down!
I'm finding it very easy to get sucked into the universe I'm building - essentially a small fictional pocket of St Luke's Parish in Finsbury which exists within the context of the real thing - a bit like Coronation Street and its immediate surroundings exist in a strange and slightly parallel version of Salford, interacting only really with themselves...
but Billy Bright is a dark character and I don't like being in his head. He does absolutely awful things, says terrible things and blames the world for all his troubles... it's not fun being in there. Nor was it much "fun" to write the dark stuff I came up with today. But I did and there is always something incredibly satisfying in the act of creating something out of nothing.
Not nearly so many words as the day before, but some good research done. So, where does that leave me for the rest of November?
Well, this coming weekend might be abust writing wise - my best friend is coming up to London Friday-Sunday and it while it will be made of awesome that's not much time for writing... so I'd best knuckle down a bit during the week and make it easier on myself.
Day Job. Consider this one a given. I think I'm going to start getting the bus home instead of walking a bit more often, just to claw back some time - not only will I (theoretically) get home quicker, I can scribble while I'm on the bus... if
The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Bronte on my kindle doesn't lure me away. Which it has done here and there. I'm rather enjoying it, actually. Certainly swifter of pace than her sister Charlotte's novel
Villette which was looooooooooooooooooong.
You might also have noticed I'm distracting myself with this post itself... at least my eyes are open. More or less.
So, by end of Sunday 17th November the word count is - officially verified by Nanowrimo's site:
40,278.
Until next time, my lovelies...
*
Here's why I'm doing this and A LINK FOR DONATIONS: http://www.justgiving.com/clareprsnanowrimo
For more information on the Author: http://nanowrimo.org/participants/clare-worley
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