Tag: writing

Write on top of the world

B18alpine

I’m back to reality, after last week’s flights of fiction in the heights of the Australian Alps.

Five days – two spent mostly driving, which meant hours of plotting, and three spent writing (and plotting, and character soul-searching, and – because I had a writing partner along for the fun – laughing at the self-induced madness that is writing.)

It was great.

But I defy any writer to imagine themselves sitting in one of these very comfy chairs in front of the fire (it was just chilly enough to justify one) and not being inspired to write…

18Lounge

18FairhavenI’m pretty damn happy with how it all went, because the work in progress is now 47 out of 51 chapters done, so just 4 chapters and 146 hashtags away from being a finished first draft.

Buckets of thanks to my family for doing without me, and my writing buddy for coming with me, and the lovely staff at Ramada Dinner Plain for keeping us caffeinated.

I know I’ve said before that the writing life has highs and lows, but it’s worth remembering that, sometimes, the highs put you on top of the world.

Or at least on top of the mountains.

So, wherever you are this week, I wish you good writing!

 

Get away from the water

Get away from the water: writing and the subconscious and frogs

Last night, my pleasant dream segued into nightmare.

It started with family and friends, relaxing by a garden pond, enjoying afternoon tea. Then, something moved beneath the ripples. I looked closer. Closer.

And there were … bad things in the water.

Deathly-pallid, slimy things, writhing and flapping. Skimming beneath the surface and edging towards the shallows, as the water spread wider, and it became apparent that to get past it, we would have to go through it. *

Look, knock yourself out with some dream analysis – I don’t mind.

But I’m pretty sure I know where this slimy slice of subconscious was coming from.

I was whining yesterday that I have too many stories jostling for room in my head. I’m 66,500 words into my fifth manuscript, and trying to finish the first draft. I had my fourth manuscript critiqued by the talented local spec. fic. crit group last month, and I’m itching to get back to the next edit of that. I’m working on my critique of another member’s novel for this month, which requires focused reading. And I don’t write a lot of short stories, but I’ve currently got two rumbling around, bullying my brain and demanding to be done.

I made the foolish mistake of saying I should tie a toad to my head to extract the stories (it’s a medieval cure for headache), and then sit the slimy little sucker on a keyboard so it could type the tales up for me. And wouldn’t that make a great story?

It’s only a short hop, skip, and a splash, and I’ve got baleful, unblinking eyes peering at me through dark, rippling water.

So, enough analysis – I’d better get to work before the water rises any higher.

*Don’t worry, Sophie – I know you made it out. Megan, Alex and Gaia, sorry … but we weren’t going under without a fight, I’m sure of it.

Stuck for an elegant simile

Where’s the perfect simile when you want it?

You know, you can stand around all day here, waiting for a metaphor, and then three of them arrive at once!

Actually, I was thinking about how I suck in and pour out stories and I decided I was a story silo. But, no. Because the grain that goes in is the same grain that comes out. There’s no sense of the process of absorbing stories and creating new ones, inspired by what’s been absorbed.

None of which is helping the two things I am working on tonight:

The first is a title for my book to include in the synopsis. IMPOSSIBLE!

The second is beginning to build an online presence of myself as an author.

So the blog post is productive writing. Pondering whether I’m a silo is not.