Half a league, half a league...

Not doing tonight's wordcount yet as I hope to get more in.

But, I am oddly pleased with this sentence, even though I can't quite decide where the comma should go and keep moving it about.

Abstract castings flowed around the shaking machine, mimicking currents within air and holding a murder of metal crows frozen in flight upon them.

Status Report. Mon 17th May.

Times urinated on - 1 (he also got the floor and Tweety Pete the magical bird toy that seems to stop all crying.)

Times vomited on - Mostly vomit free today.

Other - 0

Times The Shrew seems to have fallen asleep so I have very carefully put him to bed and then picked up the computer to try and get something done and he has immediately started screaming - 4

Cups of Coffee drunk - 3

Cups of Green Tea - 3

Food consumed - 1 X Fish and chips that were rather unpleasant.

Odd Jobs done - 1 (I had some blood taken ahead of my infusion of EXTREMELY STRONG DRUGS in a couple of weeks.)

Words - 272 (although they are not good but that's not important. The fact they are there is all that matters. Goodness can be added later.)

Level of dislike felt for chapter 6 - 8.3

My back hurts. The Shrew has started to smile though he has not quite worked out just what a devastating part of his armoury this skill has the potential to be. How do I say no to that?



4271

Days of Whine and noses. (Runny noses, that is)

It's a law of physics that you can't get out any more than you put into something. What this law really proves is that Physicists don't change nappies.

Anyway.

I have had a horrid cold and I bloody well HATE chapter six.

I know conventional wisdom would say that in that case I should just skip on to chapter seven and come back to chapter six when I can cope with its hatefullness but I don't hold no truck with that. Well, actually I would really like to do that but the nature of FT won't let me and chapter six is a sort of keystone chapter as it's the one in which...

Ah. Hang on. Problem here. This is a writing diary and of course I will want to, occasionally, mention what it is I am trying to achieve but I also don't want to give anything away and that would be a very easy thing to do. So, I must come up with a system. You've got to have a system. So I shall explain the system now. It is based on the Alphabet.

Character X. This is the main character.
Character Y. This is whatever Character that X is interacting with at the time.
Character Z. This is another Character that X is interacting with that isn't character Y when Y is already in play.

Y and Z are never set. Make sense. No? Good. It's not really meant to.

Also there's the AbeeCDees. These are a chorus of minor to important characters that are looking on but not directly involved in the action at that particular time. Although ABCD's may become Z's and Y's and vice versa.

Confused? You will be, you will be... /yoda.

So back to why I can't skip Six. It's largely because six frames character Y. Y has been involved for while now but not really done much. Six introduces Y and does so through the eyes of X (the whole thing is first person through the eyes of X). What I am trying to do is above my current pay grade show you Y so you understand what X thinks of Y but also get enough information to make up your own mind as a reader what you think of Y, which may well be quite a different conclusion to the one X has drawn. Six also introduces a number of important plot points that will have a ripple effect through the book.

So I can't skip six as it may mean I create a rod for my own back later on.

All this stuff in six is really boring to write. I don't even get to kill anyone which everyone knows is the most fun bit of writing.

I thought I may also mention here what a good job it is that I am still typing to myself. If I was at the stage where I was imagining there was a huge audience who were hanging on my every word they may be wondering why I did not do anything on Thursday and Friday when I gave the clear implication I would fill this in every day. As I am still typing to myself I can skip the excuses and just say I have caught up a little.

Another 150 or so words done but it has been like getting blood from a stone.

A tired stone that has been vomited on twice.

3999

Faff and Nonsense

Shrew is five weeks old now which means we're still at the 'ohmygodtheonlythingkeepingyoubreathingistheEyeOfMordorlikegazeIkeepyouunder' stage of new parenthood*. He also has a cold at the moment which makes it even more important I use the POWER OF MY MIND to keep him going. I gather that this is all perfectly normal.

However, I find writing works best when I hit that zenlike state of suddenly-it's-three-o'clock-in-the-morning-and-there-are-a-few-thousand-words-on-the-page-where-on-earth-did-they-come-from? stage. They might be rubbish words filled with stupid errors but they are there and it's much easier to mess about with stuff that's there than to get it there in the first place, for me anyway.

Clearly, these two states are incompatible.

This is currently how a late night writing session works.

Scenario A)
Child is asleep. Decide I might try and write a bit
Faff about making a drink and/or food.
Check on The Shrew.
Start writing.
Realise The Shrew is making weird sounds.
Try and ignore weird sounds.
Realise I can't.
Check on The Shrew -

Q1. Is The Shrew awake? Y/N

Y - He will see you and want to be picked up. Pick up The Shrew. Writing postponed.

N:

Q2. Is he moving/making visible signs of being alive? Y/N

Y - Sneak back to computer.

N - Poke The Shrew. Shrew wakes up and wants to be picked up. Wish you hadn't poked him as that was a really stupid thing to do. Pick up The Shrew. Writing postponed.

Scenario B)

Child is asleep. Decide I might try and write a bit
Faff about making a drink and/or food.
Check on The Shrew.
Start writing.
Realise The Shrew is not making weird sounds.
Try and ignore the lack of weird sounds.
Realise I can't.
Check on The Shrew -

Q1. Is The Shrew awake? Y/N

Y - He will see you and want to be picked up. Pick up The Shrew. Writing postponed.

N:

Q2. Is he moving/making visible signs of being alive? Y/N

Y - Sneak back to computer.

N - Poke The Shrew. Shrew wakes up and wants to be picked up. Wish you hadn't poked him as that was a really stupid thing to do. Pick up The Shrew. Writing postponed.


At the moment he is happily asleep in my arms but will scream if I put him to bed as he has a cold. This means I can only type one handed so can't write on FT, I cannot move from the position I am in, my arm aches and my back will kill tomorrow.

But.

*put soft focus lens in now*

When I look at him I am almost unbearably happy.

And achy.









*I cannot spell the word parent without spellcheck to show me how it should be done. I blame the French.

Status Report. Wed 12th May.

Times urinated on - 0 (Hurrah.)
Times vomited on - 2 (boo)
Other - 0
Times The Shrew seems to have fallen asleep so you have very carefully put him to bed and then picked up the computer to try and get something done and he has immediately started screaming - 4 (he has a cold so we'll let him off.)
Cups of Coffee drunk - 2 (all needed reheating)
Cups of Tea - 0
Food consumed - 1 A cheap pepperoni pizza that made me feel sick.
Odd Jobs done - 1 (If visiting the dentist for a filling counts. Orw my mouf.)

Words - 365. (Mostly dialogue so it looks like more words than it is.)

Status Report. Tues May 11th.

Times urinated on - 0 (The Rookmother had that honour today.)
Times vomited on - 1
Other - 0
Times The Shrew seems to have fallen asleep so you have very carefully put him to bed and then picked up the computer to try and get something done and he has immediately started screaming - 6
Cups of Coffee drunk - 3 (all needed reheating)
Cups of Tea - 0
Food confused - 1 Croissant and a few Cheese and Onion Chutney Flavoured crisps.
Odd Jobs done - 1 (I finally got all the cables around the TV into those cable tidy things as they had been irritating me intensely. This was an important task. YES IT WAS.)

Words - 2


FYI. Rook is variously known as: Rooksley, The Shrew, Shrewby, Child, Tiny, The Small and infinite variations of all of the above.

Dentist tomorrow. May get some more writing done in the small hours.

The Baseline

This is the position this blog starts at. This is to avoid weaselling on my part. There'll be little writing at the weekends but hopefully something done each weekday (even if it's only a tiny bit). Though that won't always be the case but no doubt I shall offer up pathetic excuses at the time they are relevant.

So. we are up to chapter six. At the end of chapter five the wordcount stood at:-

(Drum roll)

29,022


Cool.

Chapter Six currently stands at...

(Drum Roll)

3272.


That's actually considerably shorter than the other chapters but I'm only halfway through.



When I'm writing I have developed my own little system. If you're interested? I'll presume you are. Actually, I'd just like to note here that it's quite fun to realise pretty much no-one is reading this. I talk to myself all the time and now I type to myself as well. But that's a digression.

System, RJ, tell yourself about the system.

I have three documents open. The Chapter I'm working on, of course. the Feltipedia which is an attempt to note down all the stuff, things and people that occur in the world (I'm doing pitifully at keeping this up and if I am keeping up to it it's usually an act of procrastination. So it's good that I'm doing pitifully, sort of.) I also have the chapter guide which is my anti-procrastination tool. It has a 'stuff that needs done'(STND) column. In that column I put, well, stuff that needs done.

What the STND column means is I have no excuse to stop just because I can't quite work out, say, the architecture of the setting. I can, quite comfortably, dither about such things for weeks but now I just put WHERE IS THIS???? in the text and a note in the STND column and move on. Stuff comes naturally when it's right and the delightful Rookmother and Mr. M have offered their map drawing services (The Rookmother has already done the house in the story which helped enormously) so I can add directions in later.

I have no excuse not to write.

None.

Except the baby.

And illness.

And the books I have to review.

But I'm sure I can write around those things.

(dontthinkaboutthexboxdontthinkaboutthexboxdontthinkaboutthexboxdontthinkaboutthexboxdontthinkaboutthexboxdontthinkaboutthexboxdontthinkaboutthexboxdontthinkaboutthexbox)

What, Huh? Who? Where? Why?

I wrote a novella.

I liked it too so I let a few of the nice people who read stuff for me and a nice publisher chap read it and they liked it. They also, to a man (and woman) said 'this is good, but it should be a novel, RJ'.

Of course, I knew they were talking rubbish. 'Cos if I'd wanted it to be a novel then it would be and it was not. It was a novella and that's just how it would stay. The story did what I wanted it to and adding any more would ruin it (it's art!!! /handstapledtoforehead). This decision had everything to do with serious critical thinking and nothing to do with the amount of work involved in finishing a novel* and the general slackness of the RJ. Mostly.

Probably.

Alright. It was entirely a decision based on 'can't be arsed, bored of this now and don't want to fail'.

And anyway, I was busy with other things. Being ill, (I've been doing this professionally for about four years now) and the fact that the radiant Mrs. RJ was pregnant (contrary to what people will tell you she found pregnancy to be an entirely unradiant experience.) and I would soon be a stay at home Dad. Rumour had it that small children would leave no room for writing.

So why on earth would I lumber myself with the idea of writing a novel that would probably never get published anyway when I had much more important things to be doing?

Well, the answer is I wouldn't. Because I am not stupid.

Except.

I had this idea about three months before young Rook was born. And thought it would work within the existing framework I had.

Not that the novella wasn't entirely complete and perfect and everything. Because it is. Well. Was.

But there was no harm in trying this idea out, was there.

Just to see?

And the 25,000 word novella 'Felt's Theorem' is now slightly longer at 28,000.

At chapter five.

Of thirteen.

And young Rooksley is five weeks old.

Which begs the question, what are you playing at, RJ?

I don't know. But I hope to blog word counts as I steal words between feeds and then blog the inevitable faff and disappointment of the submission process** when I finish the thing.

Hopefully that will be before Rook finishes university.

Fool that I am.





*Having written one already.
** See above.