Half time

So, I've reached the half way mark (STOP TIME GODDAMN IT!) of my writing retreat and so far pretty good. Two seriously bad days - one because something happened that knocked my equilibrium out of phase and the other one because someone stayed out drinking till 4am in the morning and then felt like shit the following day - it's difficult to be witty when you just want to sleep. Still, it ended up not being a bad thing as meant I had some thinking time and I needed that.

For instance, it made me realize the (now infamous) chapter 10 isn't chapter 10 at all, but more like chapter 14 or 15. And chapter 11 (half written) is chapter 15 or 16. Which means I am now writing chapter 10 again. However, this time it's so easy. Everything just flows and I've written over 2500 words today. I could quite easily finish the entire chapter today, but surprisingly enough I have to leave the library in an hour to buy shoes and then I have to drink cocktails. Priorities you know.

I've also had some days of wondering why I am writing this crap, days when I think the story is banal because on the surface it looks like some little love story. But it's not. And I just have to keep reminding myself that it's really got nothing to do with love as such. A lot of people have recently asked me what the novel is about and the reaction when I tell them is interest. Or maybe they're just being nice... Anyway, talking about it and telling people is making me more focused on the key aspects and the psychological issues the novel is exploring and the sense that what I'm writing is trite dissipates. At least temporarily. 

So all in all I think at the half way mark we can give the retreat a tick. I'm focused and showing up almost every day. And I accept I'm bound to have days when I'm less productive because I need to think. (Or because I've been out drinking till 4am...)

Just one more thing before I dive back down into my chapter for another hour, I would like to thank Max for providing me with the opportunity to using the word "cockpossum" in my novel. FINALLY! That has made me very happy and even if that had been the only section I'd written during my retreat I'd still think it a success.

Screw Chapter 10

Day 4 of battling with Chapter 10. 

It should be so easy. I know why I'm writing it, what the purpose is for the overall story, where it needs to go. I even know how it ends. But I'm having to work so hard for every sentence, every paragraph, every cleverism. 

I'm on take 2 of the chapter. Or not really - I scrapped the start of the first version because it was not necessary for the story. I just wanted to write it because it amused me. But then it didn't amuse me. 

In all fairness, I have almost hit my minimum daily word count and I have another 1 1/2 hours before I have to pack up and go meet a friend so it's likely I get there. And if I didn't blog instead I could go over it... Because I also wanted to make up for Monday and Tuesday's lack of hitting the target and the need to rewrite. Though of course some was salvageable,  

This is one of the chapters written from my female protagonists point of view, and I just can't get her to act and say what I want. My other two protagonists, both male, just fly through my fingers. I never have to stop and think. And the source of energy in the novel, I don't have a problem writing her either. Ever. I'm wondering if it's because this protagonist started off being so much like me, and even though I've complete changed her since, I still find it hard to make her the arrogant hussy she's supposed to be. She's very complex so in theory I really should enjoy pinning her down. 

Why do I find it so much easier to write from a male POV? 

Or maybe I've been finding it difficult to write because I'm tired and iffy from overindulging fine rum and waking up at 6am almost every morning after like 5 hours sleep not being able to go back to sleep. Which makes me too tired to be witty. I don't know.
  
All I know is I fucking hate Chapter 10. 

Unwanted

The cab door closes the night

Leaving footsteps of broken glass

And paper napkins

Soaked in tears from a bottle.

She is unwanted.

(Just found this little piece written last summer - I quite like the first four lines.)

Are you a character in my novel?

If I had a cocktail for every person who's asked me if they are in one of my stories I'd be in the gutter. Wait... I'm already in the gutter. Oh well.

But seriously, I find it interesting that so many people seem to want to be written about. It's not like I'm John Irving (sad face) and it would actually be cool to be someone he'd find interesting enough to want to write about. Because isn't it in a way a little bit flattering if someone were to turn you into one of their characters?

Someone asked me recently if he was in my novel, and I had to say yes, you kind of are. But luckily I didn't have to elaborate as I'd already gotten him drunk by then. I kid!

But it set me thinking about this.

It's interesting to me in particular because the main reason I got stuck two months or so ago when I decided to change my protagonists around is because I can't imaging a writer writing about someone they are really close to, writing as in stealing someone's entire personality, fictionalize them and sticking them in a novel. Quirks, mannerisms, likes, dislikes, dress-sense, jobs, names, even things people say (thanks Jason!) but not lifting a person from real life and base an entire character on that person.

I think most of my writing is to a large extent autobiographical. I discussed this with the cameo man who said he thought fiction was more autobiographical than autobiographies. I mean, how can I write if I don't draw on my own experiences and feelings to then imagine what someone else might feel or do? Which is why real people sometimes slip in - they are part of my life. And therefore also connected to that which I am thinking about. I think, for me at least, when I write I sink myself into my characters and their situations. Whereas in an autobiography you have to take a step back and look at your life and tell the story from the outside even though you were part of it, because it's based on fact. At least that's what I think - feel free to disagree.

I have a saying: don't piss me off or I'll put you in one of my stories. But this is something completely different, this is about slander (should I be careful?) or blowing off some steam and write bad things about someone you don't like or if someone's annoyed you (hey, maybe I should stick a molesting Unruly Prof in the novel). Not that I would ever do that of course.

So are you in my novel? Well, you'll just have to wait and buy a copy when it's published, won't you?

Edit Sober

So four days until I start my writing retreat. (Though in all honestly don’t think I’ll get any work done for the first three days.) Am I ready? Yes and no. Dying to continue the story and get close to the end of it – I’m actually probably over half way now so it’s not impossible I’ll be able to see the end when I return (eeeek!). But I’m not so keen on leaving my life here for a month. Though I guess nothing will go away – at least not my confusion or the distraction. Just hope I can leave it all behind. 

I had planned to do some editing today – I have four chapters that just need a little bit of tweaking and polishing. My excuse for not doing this is it feels premature to make even these small edits before I get to the end. More things will no doubt change before then so at this point it’s almost a waste of time. No? No, you're right - I'm so lazy. 

It's the sober thing. Because I dread it. Editing. And to edit sober. I’m following Hemingway’s advice on this. Because not only is it best done sober, but it is sobering too. In a way, if you think about the Hemingway quote, “write drunk” doesn't necessarily have to be about being drunk on alcohol; it could be about being drunk on your craft, your words, your story and where that’s taking you. The losing control and allowing yourself to be taken to places where you'd normally not dare to go without a little courage, to explore, adventure. And to dream. Whereas when you’re editing you have to cast a sobering eye on what you’ve created, dreamed, during the drunken episode. And what if your dreams don't measure up in the hard, cold light of day and reality? 

So right now I feel a bit guilty and lazy; I really could at least look at the chapter I discussed with my mentor on Wednesday. There’s not even much to do, just straighten out some sub clauses and parenthesis that not even I can follow as they twist across a couple of pages. 

It’s just… I prefer the drunk part. 

On the cusp of everything?

After my angry outburst about my sucky friends I went and got some new ones who are really supportive so this is my way of telling you all you've been dumped.

I kid. ...

Though it is true I have been fortunate enough to spend time with some really amazing and great people these last couple of weeks. And I think in the future I must do more of that. 

Anyway, writing.

I've had a few weeks of woe. I've not been in the mood, I've been pissed (in the American sense. and in the general sense too I guess...), and I've found other things (such as visible ribs, Burlesque Charleston and gin) to be of much more importance and I have allowed myself to get distracted. So not much writing and I feel really bad about that, as I would because, hey, I expect to be of some caliber unknown to man. 

But I worked hard. That is for two Sundays in this last month. With the result of one chapter at 6000+ words. One can't complain, right? Though at this stage in the process I would expect me to write a lot more. Needless to say I'm very disappointed in myself, again thinking I might be committing the sunk cost fallacy and I should just walk away, and that I am of course a complete failure. At life. 

Someone asked me on Monday if they could read a chapter. I had two in my bag I brought out to get this awesome sentence I’d written just to illustrate the point I was making (about loneliness and being in relationships for the wrong reasons). It was a discarded chapter I'd printed off to reuse some of the imagery and I didn't want him to read something that I have binned. The other chapter was the one I wrote in two days. And all of a sudden I felt almost scared. What does my writing say about me? Not technically - I know I'm really good with words and it's engaging and funny at the same time as it's dark and poignant with very psychologically complex characters. It was more a question about what I write about. But I thought about it the next day and took out two chapters that are pretty finished and was going to send them. Then I read some of one of them this afternoon and felt it was crap. Again, technically great but... I don't know... I was suddenly doubting myself.

However, I have now had my fragile (ahem) writer's ego massaged, petted, fed and bathed by several sources this evening so I'm feeling pretty good about it all again. My mentor has no doubt about where I'm heading. Some of the comments: The voice is great, combining playfulness with a real depth of emotions. There’s a complexity to the characterization. I could go on, but I won’t. We have arranged to have a meeting in September (we'll both be in NYC at the same time) but when I come back I will concentrate on work (fucking REF and studentships) and we will catch up and see where I'm at in December. This is not to say I won't write or edit between coming back and December - just not have the pressure on me when I don’t feel I have time. I might want a mentor after Christmas again, or even before, to get me to the finishing line. I’ll just have to see how it goes.

Also need to say, my other blog - wow! Every time I post something I get one or two new followers. Which is sort of worrying since that's all about my crazy head... But still, shows my style is engaging and fun and, maybe most importantly, honest. 

And I'm just about to finish my vision board (left over from the Reinventing You workshop I talked about in my last post). There's a picture of, yes, John Irving on it. Still haven't been able to find his contact details though.

So yes, I'm on the cusp. I'm on the cusp of a month long writing retreat; I'm on the cusp of finishing my novel; I'm on the cusp of visible ribs; I'm on the cusp of something potentially really great starting whichever way it turns out. And like one of my favorite people in the world said (this was in text speak but I hate text speak so I’m refining it): “Remember, you are in control.” 

Amen to that!