Confession time

OK, here's the thing. I'm a writer, right? But for the past few months I've been a writer who doesn't, y'know, write. 


I think this little fella was partly to blame for this sad state of affairs...

But it's not exactly fair to blame a cute little pupster for me being crap. Because that's exactly what I've been: CRAP. The real reason is... I just haven't wanted to write. I got 50,000 words into the WIP and realized I had no earthly clue what should happen next. Instead of sitting down with a notepad and working it out, I decided to ignore the problem. Surprise, surprise, this wasn't the best solution. 


Every time I even thought about opening the word document I would feel vaguely sick and massively uneasy. I would rather do ANYTHING than write - anything at all. But the thing is, when I don't write, I feel horrible. I mean, really, really horrible. I feel guilty and useless and pointless and blah. I was honestly starting to wonder if I'd ever finish this book. The deadline isn't getting any further away, and I already know this book's going to need some major rewrites (something I've never done before... eek). So everything was looking a bit rubbish, really. Apart from the puppy. Thank God for the puppy.


But then... but then... Something happened. I'm not sure what, exactly. But I started writing again this weekend. I still have no idea where the story is going, but now I really want to find out. And that ain't going to happen unless I write the bloomin' thing. 


Thankfully, a few factors suddenly came together to make me want to write again...


There's this song...

And this one...

There's also a playlist that one of my very favourite people created for me (thanks, Fras!). And the encouragement and help kindly provided by another awesome friend (thank you, Lauren!). And not forgetting the sensible advice from the lovely Zoë Marriott and my favourite email buddy, Lara. All these things went into the pot and helped me serve up a big ol' bowl of writing stew this weekend. And I'm still going. I do hope I haven't jinxed it by telling you lot.


So I'd better get back to it, eh?

SPOOKY!

My dad's just read TORN. His verdict: better than ENTANGLED. So that's good. He phoned me one day while he was reading it and said, 'There's a cocker spaniel!' I'm ashamed to say that this was news to me. I hadn't looked at the text for well over six months and my memory is... ahem... poor.


It turns out I wrote a cocker spaniel into TORN way before I ever even considered getting a dog, let alone a cocker spaniel. SPOOKY, HUH?


The strange thing is, this isn't the first time this kind of thing's happened. When I was writing ENTANGLED, I randomly decided to give Grace a love of running. There was no real reason for it. I think I was probably just looking for something for her to do that wasn't moping around her bedroom. So I wrote a running scene. Now I'd never really run in my life, apart from the odd sprint for the bus and the obligatory cross-country hideousness at school (wearing nothing but a T-shirt and brown gym knickers... um... WTF?!). I imagined what it might feel like to run if you didn't hate running - if you loved it, in fact. Turns out it wasn't all that hard to imagine.


THEN I STARTED RUNNING! OK, this was maybe two or three years after I wrote that first running scene, but still! And the weird thing was, the feeling was exactly like I imagined it to be. 


This has got me thinking... what's next? What am I writing into the current WIP (UNDONE) that will eventually come true? I'm tempted to write a character who wins the lottery. Reckon that'll work?


So how about you? Have you ever written something that's come true? Or written about something you'd never experienced before, only to find out your imagination was pretty spot-on?

Remember the time...

... I wrote 30,000 words in two weeks?

*collapses*

Things I have learned from writing 30,000 words in two weeks:

1. I am in awe of writers who do this sort of thing as a matter of routine.
2. It makes for some particularly freaky dreams and odd sleeping patterns.
3. Having a writing hangover is almost as bad as having a real hangover, but you feel extra sorry for yourself because you were writing, dammit!
4. I can't read books written in the first person while I'm writing a first-person book. (N.B. This has never been a problem when writing at my normal sloth-like speed.)
5. My slightly (!) obsessive personality comes out to play in a big way. If you are not my novel, I have no time for you right now. Harsh, I know.
6. This book is going to need a whole lot of editing. Seems like my usual pace allows ideas to percolate, while this pace... er... does not.
7.  Movie and TV soundtracks are the perfect writing accompaniment.
8. I can stay off Twitter for an hour at a time. Easily.
9. Writing can be fun. (I'd somehow forgotten this one.)
10. I'm not sure if I can carry on at this pace, much as I'd like to.

So... what have you learned this week?

Taking your own advice

People sometimes ask me for writing advice. And I'm happy to give it, for what it's worth. I've always been all, 'Hey! Don't worry about your first draft being crappy. All first drafts are crappy. Power on through to the end and worry about fixing stuff later. That's what the second draft is for!' Pretty decent, not-at-all-grounbreaking advice, wouldn't you agree?

But yesterday I realized I haven't exactly been practising what I preach. I've been lucky, in that the first drafts for my first two books were not crappy (and I do put this down to luck). I didn't have to rewrite whole chunks/excise characters who weren't pulling their weight/throw massive swathes of text out the window. Like I said, LUCKY. So it was all very easy for me to tell people not to worry about things like that during the first draft, because I hadn't had to do it. Ever.

Things are a little bit different with New Top Sekrit Project. I am writing so far outside my comfort zone that I can't even see my comfort zone (not even with binoculars). And it's fun and scary and HAAAAAARD. I'm 13k in and already I can tell that so many things are going to have to change in the second draft, and that the second draft is going to involve a hell of a lot of thinking. Trouble is, thinking hurts my brain (much in the same way that coming up with titles hurts my brain... Clearly my brain is very sensitive). The temptation to try to sort things out now is proving very, very hard to resist. But if I do that, there's a strong possibility that the amount of work that needs to be done will scare me silly and I'll end up not bothering to finish the book. And that would make me a quitter. (Actually, I've always been a bit of a quitter in other areas of my life, but not in writing. Not yet. And I don't intend to start now.)

So... I'm taking my own advice. Powering through the first draft. Not looking back over my shoulder. Ignoring the bits that stink worse than bin juice. It's kind of frightening.

Have you ever given advice and then realized that YOU'RE the one who should be listening to it? Makes you feel a bit stupid, no?

I'm writing

Yup, I'm writing again. So that's good. But am I working on the thing I'm supposed to be working on (i.e. my WIP)? Hell no! I'm working on a Top Sekrit Something instead. In your face, WIP!

The TSS is very different from anything I've written before - completely out of my comfort zone. And by gum, I'm enjoying it. It's hard work and I'm having to THINK and write notes and RE-THINK and (gasp!) actually plot, for a change. Now you know I'm a committed pantser, right? But this project just demands plotting. It goes against everything I believe in, but it seems to be working. My whole world has been turned upside down. I'm not sure what to believe in any more. If I'm no longer a pantser, then WHO AM I?

On a lighter note, who is this Rebecca Black person? And WHY, GOD, WHY?!

A dangerous obsession

I remember the good old days. They were happy, carefree and full of candyfloss and toffee apples. *sighs wistfully* Ah, those were the days. I wish I could turn back the clock and appreciate each and every moment for what it was: pure freedom.

Of course, that was B.W.C.O. You know what I'm talking about, don't you? What?! YOU DON'T! Oh my. Before Word Count Obsession, of course.

Those heady days spent writing ENTANGLED, when I only looked at the word count when I'd finished writing for the day - and sometimes not even then. It just wasn't important to me. I didn't even think I'd reach the end of the novel, so word count was irrelevant. Such innocent times.

Alas, those days are long gone. Now my eyes are drawn to that number on the bottom of my word doc every couple of minutes. That number that refuses to rise as rapidly as I want it to. Every hundred words is noted...

Just... got... to.... reach... one thousand...

N.B. Imagine this in the manner of a certain cartoon character who always seemed to be talking to himself while struggling to climb a huge mountain. Here he is:

Lion-O! Thundercats! Hooooooooooooooo!

But I digress (yet still add to my word count, so who cares?!)... The point is that I wish I could free myself from Word Count Obsession. If only there was a cure. NaNoWriMo isn't exactly helping, even though I'm not participating. When you read on twitter that someone has written 1000 words in ten minutes, which happens to be the exact word count it's taken you all day to achieve, it's somewhat grrrrrrr-making to say the least.

Please tell me I'm not alone. Perhaps we could form some kind of support group.



Blood from a stone

It's no secret that I've been finding writing a little tricky lately. I've been hovering at the 40-something thousand word mark for months and months. At times it's felt like I would never reach the magic 50k. Don't get too excited... I'm not there yet. This morning, book 2 stands at a mighty 49,000 words. This gives me hope that I might one day (maybe even today) reach the big five-o.

Towards the end of last week I got a rush of Deadline Fear. The January deadline has always seemed ridiculously far away. Now it is not. I was hoping to finish book 2 by the end of summer. Needless to say, things didn't work out exactly how I'd planned. My whole world has been turned upside-down. Writing hasn't been very high on my list of priorities. I tried to write, but it felt like I was hauling each word from the very depths of my soul*. It was exhausting and not fun in any way. Writing should be fun, shouldn't it?

So what's changed? Well, I got over myself. Writers write, right? This is my job now. I can't lounge around waiting for inspiration to strike. I have to MAKE it happen, by sitting at my laptop and staring at the screen for hours and hours. Even if I only write a couple of hundred words. It's something, and something is better than nothing.

I'm currently aiming for a first draft by the end of November. That will give me a month to sort it out and make it all shiny for my January deadline. So that's the plan. Feel free to mock me mercilessly if I'm still flailing around on the first draft in mid-December. (But if you mock me, I may cry.)

So what's YOUR plan? You do have a plan, don't you?


*Note to self: try not to write a grief-soaked book when you're, y'know, soaking in grief.

The finish line

A wee while ago (OK, a long while ago), the lovely Becky asked me to write a post about finishing a novel. That's the tricky bit, you see. Starting is easy peasy. Well, it was for me. That's the exciting bit, when the possibilities are endless and you're going to create a MASTERPIECE. So you write, and you write some more, and you do horrible things to your characters and rub your hands together with glee. If you're anything like me, you add in random plot twists as and when the mood takes you. The words are stacking up, and before you know it, you have half a novel. YAY! Go you! This is a huge achievement.

And then it hits you. 'Whaaaaat? I actually have to tie up all those plot twists? Can't someone else do it for me? It's haaaaaaard.' This is exactly how I felt when I was writing Entangled. And it was bloody hard to overcome. You see, I'm all about creating problems - not so much with the solving. I very nearly gave up. But I didn't. And neither should you. Just keep on keeping on. One word at a time. You'll reach the end eventually. And it doesn't matter if you look back and think your novel is bobbins with a capital 'B'. You can rewrite the whole thing if you like. But at least you'll have something to work with - a beginning, a middle and an end.

It's true that I'm not particularly qualified to talk about how to finish a novel. I've only finished one thus far. But one is more than none. And hopefully I'll finish another one in the next few months. Hopefully.

Know your characters

I was talking to a writerly friend yesterday and she has an amazing idea for a novel, but no idea where to start. I've come across Pre-Novel Stress Disorder before. A writer can be so excited about their idea (and maybe it's a BIG idea that involves... gulp... world-building) that they are paralyzed by it - they can't set fingers to keyboard for fear of screwing it up completely. Maybe they think they won't be able to do the idea justice - that they'll never be able to translate what's in their head onto the page. It's a scary business.

So my suggestion was to start small. Get to know your main character. Here's a little questionnaire I provided as a starting point for said writerly friend:

Who’s her best friend? Does she even have a best friend?

Who was her first crush?
Has she ever had a serious relationship?
What does she want to be when she grows up?
How does she feel about herself? Body image?
Is she the kind of person who’s always on the peripherary, or is she more likely to be the centre of attention?
What three words would her friends use to describe her?
What’s her relationship with her parents like?
What is she scared of?
What kind of music does she like?
How many siblings? How do they get on?
Is she a cat person or a dog person?
What makes her happy?
What makes her sad?
What’s her favourite subject at school?
Would she be more likely to text you or call you?

Some fairly obvious questions there. And perhaps it won't help at all, but it's a START. And we all need somewhere to start, don't we?
 
So how do YOU start a new project? Do you suffer from the dreaded Pre-Novel Stress Disorder? Any tips to share?

Miss Writey McWriterson

Yup, it's true. Today I am mostly writing. And it feels bloody great. It's been a while (and not exactly a wee while) since I've really and truly immersed myself in book 2. OK, so if I'm entirely honest with you, I haven't really and truly dunked myself headfirst in the story since... um... October. Just before Entangled went out on submission to publishers, in fact. Coincidence? I don't think so.

Yes, I've written dribs and drabs here and there - slowly but unsurely building word on word to reach a grand total of 29,000. But I've been annoyed with myself EVERY SINGLE DAY for not doing more. For not being a proper writer who actually, y'know, writes stuff. Just for the record, it's pretty tiring being annoyed with yourself all the time. I wouldn't recommend it. Reading about other writers on their blogs and on twitter just made me feel worse (and also better, somehow. Don't ask. It's complicated). Gawd, this is starting to look like a pity party, but WAIT, because I am officially 100% (hopefully) OVER IT.

I am writing. I'm getting to know my characters again, and they're doing things and talking to each other, and surprising me in all kinds of good ways. And it feels right. This is what I'm meant to be doing. This is why I love writing.

So I hope (reallyreallyreallyreallyreallyhope) that Writey McWriterson sticks around for a while.

It's good to back.

Yesterday

...was a VERY good writing day for me. I invited my best friend round specifically for a day of writing. After a delicious lunch (BLTs crafted by moi), we settled down to write. Bestie was in my spare room on my PC, I was in the living room on the laptop. The overly long playlist I created for my WIP was on the stereo. It was perfect.

I wasn't tempted to stop and see what was happening on Twitter/Facebook/Hotmail/(insert distraction of your choice here). I wasn't tempted to read the paper (I'd already devoured The Guardian's Ten Rules for Writers), or watch Top Chef or read a book. I. Had. To. Write. That was the whole point of the day. And there was someone there to call me on it if I didn't.

The sound of Bestie typing at superhuman speed spurred me on. I was at a tricky stage of the WIP, so for me there was a lot of stopping and thinking and staring into space. But where I might have normally given up and gone and done something easier instead, I carried on. Because there was no other option. And I was enjoying myself - really, REALLY enjoying myself.

We stopped halfway through the afternoon for a cuppa and a biccie and a bit of 'How's it going?' chat. Bestie assuaged my doubts about the WIP - she's really very good at this. I should think about hiring her out to other stressed writers (for a hefty fee of course). Then we went back to work. Tap tap tappity tap. Or in her case, imagine more of a machine-gun sound (only more soothing).

When I reached a good point to stop, I did. This happened to be just after writing a section that gave me butterflies. All of a sudden I could see the possibilities ahead, and it was EXCITING again. I can't wait to get back to it. Not today though, as today is my Sunday of Doing Nothing.

So yesterday basically rocked. I think I'm going to try and incorporate this 'writing together' thing into my schedule on a regular basis. I may need to find some other writers to join in though, as Bestie actually has other things to do sometimes.

What do you think? Does the idea of writing together completely horrify you? Is writing a solitary pursuit as far as you're concerned? Is it lame that I sometimes need someone to hold my hand when I write? (Actually, don't answer that. And it would be really hard to type with someone actually holding my hand.)

There's something wrong with me

This weekend I realized that I suffer from a terrible disorder. It’s very serious, and I wasn’t sure whether to reveal it here or not. But here goes...

I suffer from Only-feel-like-writing-when-I’ve-GOT-to-leave-the-house-in-less-than-an-hour-itis. There. I feel better now that I’ve shared. On Saturday, the whole day stretched ahead of me like an incredibly long stretchy thing. I could have written War and Peace in that time. (Well, not quite, but you get my point, yes? Good.) But did I do any writing at all? Well, yes actually, I did. But only very late that night when I was completely exhausted from all the sitting and lounging and mooching.

And then yesterday morning, I was struck by The Urge. I started writing super-early. I didn’t even let a couple of phone calls distract me. (If you ever call me when I’m writing, pretty much all you’ll get out of me is a ‘Whaaa...? Yeah...er... I can’t think right now. Sorry.’) And the clock was tick-tick-ticking and I had to leave the house in fifteen minutes, but I had so much stuff in my head that I hadn’t managed to get down yet. I was trying to write this tricky scene where I had to replicate the way people talk on TV (and no, I’m not going to tell you which people) and I couldn’t quite get it right. And still the clock ticked on. Finally, with one minute to spare I jotted down some random words at the end of the WIP – words that would hopefully remind me of what I was intending to do with that scene. Alas, looking back at them today I have no idea what the heck I was on about. Hey ho.

Does anyone else suffer from this? Perhaps we could form some kind of support group?


Awesome YA book you really should read: The Giver, by Lois Lowry (which contains one of the most upsetting scenes I’ve read in a long time) 

The writing blues

'I have forced myself to begin writing when I have been utterly exhausted, when I've felt my soul as thin as a playing card, when nothing has seemed worth enduring for another five minutes ... and somehow the activity of writing changes everything. Or appears to do so.'
-Joyce Carol Oates

This is one of my favourite writing quotes, and I usually find it to be 100% true. But a couple of days ago, the opposite was the case. I sat down to write feeling fine and dandy, and by the time I'd written 1000 words I felt hollow and just... bleak. Maybe that's what you get when you write depressing scenes in which people do HORRIBLE things.

Note to self: include fluffy bunny rabbits and ickle kittens in next scene. And do NOT kill them.

BOOK NEWS: we're getting closer to a title, and a designer will be briefed about the cover very soon. My book's going to have a cover and EVERYTHING! How awesome is that?
(Answer: very.)

Kill, kill, kill!

Good writing session last night. I’d been dreading tackling this bit, because it meant killing off one of my favourite characters. Of course, as the writer, I could have chosen to spare her, but where would the fun be in that?! Besides, the whole story is about her death, so there was really no avoiding it. It’s just... I’d kind of grown fond of her (even if she is the meanest of meanmasters).

Writing the scene was disturbing, but in a good way. I got that proper writing buzz where you surprise yourself. Or rather your characters surprise you. This is THE COOLEST THING EVER. I’d forgotten how good it feels. I heart writing, big time. I’m relieved to be feeling this way again, as I’ve been feeling a bit shaky and unsure about this novel. But it’s all better now. Huzzah!

So I left my doomed character’s life hanging in the balance at 8.38pm. Cruel, I know. But I couldn’t quite face finishing her off just yet. That will be tonight’s job. And I’m REALLY looking forward to it.

Song of the day: Bad Romance, by Lady Gaga

Where I write

Forgive me if there are any typos in this post. I slammed a door on one of my fingers in the middle of the night (middle finger, left hand, if you're interested). I was trying to halt a ninja cat invasion of my bedroom. The mission was successful, but the finger was collateral damage. Big ouch. I'll do my best to soldier on though, like a brave little... er... soldier.

One day I will write in a big white room at the top of a house. There will be no neighbours. The room will have huge windows overlooking the sea. There will be a big desk facing the window, and a ridiculously comfortable and perfectly ergonomic chair. To the right of the desk will be a whiteboard-clad wall scrawled with notes from the latest WIP. There might be the odd post-it stuck on there too. In this place I will be the writer I've always wanted to be: inspired, relaxed, organized and not plagued by RSI.

Now I write in a medium-sized room in a top floor flat. There are neighbours - noisy ones too. The room has a small window overlooking an estate. There is a sofa and a laptop. There is an notebook with scrawled notes from the WIP - a notebook I ALWAYS forget to look at. In this place I am the writer I am now: vaguely irritated by my neighbours, kind of uncomfortable, but pootling along just fine all the same.

The truth is, it doesn't really matter where you write, as long as you actually WRITE.

(Still, one day that Dream Room will be mine. Oh yes indeedy.)

A leetle bit of progress and a leetle tiny kitten

I've written a couple of thousand more words on the WIP. All fears that I might have lost the ability to write have disappeared... for now. The trouble is, the next section is TRICKY. And I think it might even prove to be quite harrowing to write. So I'm doing what I do best and procrastinating. Seriously, if this was an Olympic sport I would be up there with the best of them, procrastinating a-go-go.

Here's a rather wonderful Procrastination Aid for you. I could watch this clip non-stop for hours and hours and hours. That wouldn't be at all weird, now would it?

Back to work

I've just started reading through my WIP with a view to jumping back in and GETTING ON WITH IT. So far it's looking OK, making me smile in all the right places. I haven't even cringed once. That's got to be a good sign, right?

After last week's excitement it feels good to be getting back to the business of actually writing. I'm not going to lie though - I'm feeling a wee bit of pressure. This book HAS to be good. It just has to. Eek. I'm scaring myself. The best way to proceed is probably to ignore The Book Deal (which will be impossible because... YAY! BOOK DEAL!) and carry on as before: just trying to write a story I would like to read.

So I'm going to try my best. Wish me luck. I think I'm going to need it.


Song of the day: Man in the mirror, by Michael Jackson
Non-disappointing lunch of the day: leftovers from last night

A message from our sponsor

Cat prefers writing in the first person. She's never actually tried writing in the third person, except for status updates on Facebook. But they don't really count. Thus far in her writerly life, Cat has found the first person narrative to be a more than adequate means of telling her stories. She's not necessarily saying that it comes easily to her, but she does find it to be the natural way the words spill out of her brain, through her fingers and onto the keyboard. Currently, she finds herself pondering whether she will ever write something in the third person... or even the second. (The most likely answers being 'Possibly' and 'Not a chance in hell'.)

Cat also enjoys reading books written in the first person. She often finds them to be extra-specially pleasing in ways that other books are not. She would be very interested to know what you think? First person or third? Which one would win in a fight?

Early one morning...

I’ve got a new writing strategy that I’m pretty excited about. It may well be temporary, but I’m going to tell you about it anyway. And maybe the very act of telling you will make me stick to it (I doubt it, though).

OK, here goes... My new writing strategy is WRITING IN THE MORNING! That’s before work. Pretty hardcore, right? Well, maybe not to you, but to me, it’s a revelation! This morning I got up early, got ready for work, had my brekkie and then sat down in front of my laptop for an hour. The result: 786 words. Not bad. It got a bit hairy towards the end, as I kept on looking at the clock. I was determined to get the chapter finished before I had to head out the door. And I did! I reckon the last couple of sentences will need a rewrite though as they were somewhat rushed.

All in all, I’m pretty pleased with how it went. I managed to get lost in the story, and not fret about my list of things I had to do as soon as I got to work. And it put me in a good mood, knowing that I’d achieved something before 8.30. I won’t be doing this every day though, because I’ve got to go running a few times a week, and I’m sure that there will be some days when I just don’t feel like it. But whatever happens, it will mean some extra writing time each week. And that can only be a good thing.

I’ve still got a way to go though: Anthony Trollope used to write for three hours every morning before he went off to his job as a postal clerk. If he finished one novel and still had time left before the allotted three hours was up, he’d just put that one aside and start the next one. Now THAT’s impressive.


Person of the day: Conrad (who gave me the idea of pre-work writing)
Song of the day: Cave in, by Owl City

Two posts in one day? 'That's not possible!' I hear you cry

20,000 words. Tra la la! And some of them are quite good ones. Oh happy day! I'm going to treat myself to... a cup of tea.

Er... I don't really have anything else to say right now. Just wanted to share my mini-milestone. 20,000 words hopefully = just under a third of a book. Aiming for about 70,000 words on this project I think, but that could change. Those naughty characters of mine aren't acting the way I expected them to. Tsk tsk.