Short listed

I’m not going to be on line much today. The electrician is due to work on the shower etc  and I don’t want to risk being cut off in mid flow.

Writers News has just arrived. I was pleased to discover that I was short listed in their story competition.

I haven’t been entering these lately – I didn’t feel it was right as I’m a professional, but with markets closing and competition increasing, I decided to try and win at least once, just to prove that I could.

When I first started writing fiction, I entered most months and was shortlisted several times but never won a prize. I didn’t mind. Some of those stories went on to be sold to Woman’s Weekly. Plus, I enjoy working to a deadline and having a theme to work with. For the past few months, entry’s been free, so I hope people won’t mind if I have a go.

Start of a new tax year

It’s been such a warm, sunny day, the temptation to go outside was almost overwhelming, until I remembered that until the men have finished work, I don’t have a bath or a shower. So I went to B and Q instead and bought some tiles for the floor. Very exciting, I don’t think but it was better thinking about my tax return. I need to be in the right mood to face that.

The board games group this afternoon wasn’t a lot of fun. Too many volunteers! When I got there, everything was already set up which is MOST unusual.

Writing wise, I’ve done nothing but work on the book today. The word count is rising rapidly. I keep at it, I will have the first draft finished by the end of the month, at which time I will start looking for an agent. One thing’s certain, I won’t be going back to my old agent. 

This time I want somebody I can actually talk to.

SUNSHINE AND POTATOES

The sun is shining.

I have two men, working in the bathroom, doing what I’m sure will be an excellent job. My solicitor is away until Thursday. Since Mum has started going to the day centre twice a week, she doesn’t call me anywhere near as often as she used to. Right now, if I shut my eyes, I can almost imagine that life is good and normal and that there’s nothing for me to worry about.

I’ve just had a terrible feeling of de ja vu, which I’ll ignore.

I’ve been working on the book again this morning and making good progress. Now it’s time to stop. This afternoon I’m going to  the board games group where I’ve been volunteering for quite a while. It used to be on Thursdays and has just been moved so I have no idea who will be there, volunteers wise, or even if I’ll be needed.

I’ll have to wait and see, but if I’m not needed anymore, I’ll have to find something else to do.

When I get home, I really must try to do some ‘new’ writing. The trouble is there are lots of other things I need to do, like sort out a story for my once a month submission to My Weekly, and work on my next Writers Forum column so that Carol doesn’t have to chase me again. I also want to plant some more potatoes!

It’s amazing how an hour in the garden makes me forget all my worries and cares. 

For me, there’s nothing like watching things grow, especially from seed.

Elephants and stairs

I feel as though I’m running out of steam, or to quote one of my favourite groups (REM), pushing an elephant up the stairs. .  

I was meant to be going out tonight, but I couldn’t face it. Today I wrote about some sad and upsetting times in the not too distant past and became quite upset. I’m wondering why I’m putting myself through this. If I tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, will people think badly of me? The trouble is, I’ve spent too much time, wasted too many chances, not doing things in case people disapprove. I know that if I’d stood up for myself sooner, I wouldn’t be in the mess I’m in now.

I’ve managed to talk myself out of things before which explains why I have at least six partly written novels in the computer, and only one completed one.

I’ve sold two stories today – one to The Weekly News and one to my best market, Take a Break’s Fiction Feast, but even that didn’t cheer me up. I could really use a holiday. I’ve been waiting for my local coach holiday to make me an offer I can’t refuse. I want to spend a couple of days in Liverpool as I’ve never been there but whenever a possibility does come up, it clashes with dog sitting or something in the diary.

Often when I get to the end of the day, I feel as though I haven’t done very much. Today I’ve added 1500 words to the book making 14000 so far, done the next lesson for one of my writing pupils and a critique of a 2000 word story, and I’ve made those  two sales, but it still doesn’t seem like enough.  Maybe I really DO need a holiday.

Feedback, lessons and tiles

Speaking to the solicitor last night didn’t upset me as much as I thought it would.

I was fairly sure his letter wouldn’t get the response I wanted. I was more annoyed that he’d left it so late in the day before contacting me. I had a very bad night, all the same. Just couldn’t sleep.  

In a peculiar kind of way, I’m glad this legal business is dragging on. Whatever the answer turns out to be, I’ll need to decide what to do next. it's hard to explain, but it’s easier to write the bulk of the book, not knowing what’s going to happen. It makes it easier to simply say it how it is. .

I keep telling myself I’ll find time to write some fresh short stories for Take a Break, but so far that isn’t happening. My priority at the moment is working on the book about Mum. I’ve managed to rewrite a few old stories from years back so that I can keep posting things out, but I can’t carry on doing that for much longer.

This morning, I did a critique. Somebody sent me a two thousand word story, aimed at Take a Break and wanted me to give them some pointers. Next I have to look at my pupil’s homework and write the next lesson for her.

I have two pupils and although it’s hard work, I’ve always enjoyed helping people to get more out of their writing. After all, if nobody had helped me, I would still be sending out stories with no idea as to why they kept coming back.

All’s quiet upstairs at the moment. There’s just one man in the bathroom today, tiling and plumbing away like a beaver.

It’s going to be such a big improvement. I can hardly wait until it’s all done.

Mothers' Day

It’s just gone  two and I haven’t called her yet.

I sent a card.

I will call her eventually, even though she won’t remember five minutes later. It’s what daughters do.

I’ve spent the morning working on the book. It’s bringing back all kinds of memories which have remained peacefully sleeping for years. Many writers say that they use their own lives as material. That’s something I’ve never done, and always resisted doing mainly because my memories aren’t exactly upbeat, a quality my main markets want in a work of fiction. So I’ve always used my imagination, pretending to be other people. It’s why I write fiction, as a means of escape from my life.
Writing a factual account is both easy and hard. Easy because I don’t have to plan a plot. Hard because I’ve tried not to remember many things that have happened to me, and looking back is painful.

I keep wondering why I’m doing this. There’s a good chance nobody will ever read the book so why bother as it’s so painful? But I know the answer to that one. I have to do it for me. Thanks to Lulu I can get the book printed and send it to all those people who jumped to conclusions, who judged me without ever hearing my side of the story.

Today I’ve been writing about my father – how he was committed and sent to a mental hospital, and then about his funeral five years later. All the feelings I felt back then are coming back, the sadness, the guilt, the anger, the sheer hypocrisy of people but I have to admit that so far, it’s not hurting as badly as I thought it would. Maybe it’s doing me some good, finally getting it all down on paper. I hope so anyway.

I’ve just passed the ten thousand word mark so it’s time to stop working for a while and do some gardening.

Working on the book is hard

Now that I’ve started to write a book about Mum and me, I want to get it finished and out of the way. This morning I wrote three thousand words. By the time I’d done that, I felt drained and had to stop. I’ve always avoided looking back into my past as I find it upsetting, so it’s no surprise that I’m finding tackling this book difficult. I’m going to try and write a thousand words a day, preferably at the beginning of the day so I can then take a break and come back to writing later, feeling refreshed. 

That’s the plan anyway.