However, never let it be said I'm not mercurial. Or that I dislike double negatives.
Last week was not the most satisfying in terms of novel-writing, it has to be said. My schedule was wrecked by various things, some trivial and some decidedly not, which left my mind in a sleep-deprived funk.
Still, I soldiered on. I strove for at least 1500 words a day and sometimes managed it, more through the war-of-attrition tactics I detest than anything approaching creativity or inspiration. On Friday, after a weird week of work where everything was rather topsy-turvy, I managed a grand total of absolutely naff all and the panicky feeling returned.
Saturday dawned, wet and grey. I trudged to yoga in the rain, computer in my bag to head directly to Costa to get some damned work done. I have not done well using the writing nook of awesome for some reason, and so after my invigorating bourgeois stretching, I strode off in search of coffee.
Gladdened I was, to discover my corner table was free. While notoriously changeable and resistance to structured living in many ways, I have certain things which I like to keep routine. Each coffee shop I frequent more than say, twice, has a spot I like best. The reasons for choosing my places varies from place to place and I have different coffeehouses for different wishes.
Ferinstance, I really like the London Wall branch of The Evil Empire, not because the coffee is good (of course it isn't), but because they have a downstairs away from the hustle of the City which possesses a huge skylight under which it is rather nice to sit. However, this particular branch is only open during the week and so is almost exclusively a Day Off place. On the other hand, the Brushfield Street branch of the same is in a delightful old three storey building and I like it for that, and for the distance from the bustle of a Spitalfields Sunday that the top floor enables.
I have specific needs and wishes from each of these places and each has a fabric of memory associated with it related to successful or not-so successful writing shifts, and to time spent with friends and family. Except one. There is one Costa which I have never taken anyone to. It is where I have written and edited Walking in the Shadowlands with such focus that I feel like I've got entire months missing from my life... and no matter how quickly I drink my iced soya latte (I always swear I'll pace myself) or how much time I waste reading Private Eye or dicking about on the internet, I always get a good chunk of work done.
Sweet relief! Catching up thanks to a chapter about the Second Great Fire of London and more importantly, catching hold of an inspiration I'd had on the short walk from yoga to coffee and realising that it might just hold the key to unlocking a huge chunk of the story.
A combination of things too minute to go into led to one of those semi-glorious moments which are not quite EUREKA! but which allow many other pieces to slide into place and enable things to make good sense.
Suddenly a boy born in Finsbury who just seemed plain bad was a boy born in Peterborough whose badness at least had motives behind it, no matter how foul... and would allow me to soapbox a little without thrusting my anachronistic feelings or opinions onto characters who would not have viewed the world in such a way.
The writing, it happened. A few fits of 'grr' here and a little too much distraction there... but it happened. Green tea in the writing nook followed coffee at Costa. A pause to complete a couple of online courses (aced them both!) and catch up on a little TV. Back to the grindstone.
Much the same happened on Sunday, though the day was constructed a little differently thanks to a pause for Remembrance Sunday and a loooooong hot bath (not at the same time). I'm still having to get used to just getting the words down and leaving in-depth research for later.
I must admit I got distracted by the 1811 Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue, almost none of which I can regale you with in this forum although my favourite new euphemism for the Worst Word has got to be that used in the book: "The monosyllable". Also, it's surprising how many words are still in common usage in the exact same forms as in 1811 and how many words are still used but in somewhat altered form.
Those Georgians had fabulous linguistic style in both their formal and vulgar speech. No1 rites liek that n e mor, amirite?
Remind me to tell you one day about how I spent several hours writing to the sound of Mrs Mills and Winifred Atwell to get in the mood...
Long story short: after a good couple of hours at Costa and managing to knuckle back down when I returned home, this what my word count looked like on Saturday night:
What's that Lassie? It looks like I've almost hit the halfway mark and it's only 10/11/2013? Why yes!
Amazing what you can do if you just sit your arse down and get on with it, with a little inspiration and caffeine, innit? I've got chapters for 1841, 1851, 1861 and 1941 done. 1871 is started. 1891 is laid out. The 2001 and 2001 bookend chapters have been started.
That's not to say it's any good. I'll post a snippet or two later this week.
Challenges to overcome this week:
1. Thursday night is a write off writing wise because I'm doing a gig with Clarabella & The Crypt Kickers at the Alley Cat Club in Denmark Street and you should totally come along if you can because our brand of pre-decimal blues is fantastic.
2. Thursday and Friday I'm doing training for work which is always fatiguing.
3. I might be going to the England-Chile game at Wembley on Friday because the Mammy won tickets and I foolishly said I'd go. Never been to a proper football game before, but I can't help thinking I'd be a fool to try.
4. Saturday finds me at an audition for Snapshot Songs in the afternoon and I don't know how that'll go or how much time it's going to take.
5. The usual mix of gym, laziness, distractions and the simple fact that after a full day of Day Job, one's brain is mushy at the best of times.
6. I'm going to run out of steam at some point because that's how writing works. the Nanowrimo site refers to 'Week 2 doldrums' which, when one considers that my Week 1 was almost a total loss, probably means that I'll get 'em in week 3.
On the other hand, I have twenty-three thousand words. I wrote thirteen thousand words in two days and when you consider how much time of that was wasted doing other stuff like washing up, laundry, grocery shopping, walking to and from places, yoga and sleeping, that ain't so flipping bad.
And now, I'm crowd-sourcing from you all. Did you and/or your family live in London during the period 1841-2001 at all? What were their/your experiences? Do you have any myths or legends related to this that would suit such a story? Let me know... because as much as I have many such legends to draw from in my family's loooooong history here, our experience is not/was not universal and it's my job to find truth in the fiction, to shine light into corners otherwise left dark.
CW, 10 November 2013
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