oops.

I have just written a thousand words of complete and utter toss.

This is all my own fault. I can't blame tiny, he has slept and been remarkably good. So good in fact I can't even fill in the 'vomited on' thing as he has learnt remarkably good manners (he is asleep by me as I type).

So what have I done?

Well.

I have quite strict rules. I generally know what is going to happen and who is going to do it to whom and where and when. I do not deviate. I don't hold with this idea that characters take on 'a life of their own' at all. You sign up to be in something I am on with then you are a soldier in my army. You will go where you are told and generally when you get there you'll die in a horrible but inventive fashion.

But.

I deviated. I didn't mean to but I did. A character who was purely meant to answer a door suddenly became more than that. Now, it was quite a cold blooded decision. It allows me to flesh out a lot and add lots of detail but it has also cocked up what I wanted to do somewhat. And as the whole bit I've written hasn't been thought through at all it's all over the place, badly written nonsense at the moment. Which I know sounds rather negative but it isn't as it's a thousand words that are all very useful just very raw. They can be massaged and the only reason I did it is they contribute far more than they cause trouble.

I hope.

Gonna be a long rough edit to do at the end of this chapter but I think it will be worth it.

Maybe.

(All errors courtesy of excessive tiredness.)

C7 at 3800 words.

Nonsense

Chapter six is finally finished. 5659 words which is about spot on. When I go through and do a rough edit it will probably grow a few hundred words as I leave out a lot of description first time through, especially during dialogue.

This makes the grand running total of 'Felt's Theorem' 34681 words at the end of chapter six with seven chapters left to go (in theory anyway, it may end up being more or less. Probably more in which case I shall have to mess about so there are still the correct amount at the end.) Shrew has been quite amenable to me doing stuff over the past few days. If only there wasn't the kitchen to do, books to review, and a million things in the house that need done as well I would have done a lot more. I am, of course, adept at ignoring everything around me but I am trying to not to utilise that skill too much at the moment.

The weird thing about C6 is it didn't do any of the things I had written down for it. The original plan was for X to meet some men that would put him on the trail of A PLACE then go back home to unravel MYSTERIOUS DOINGS after visiting THE SHOPS.

In the end this didn't make sense. X met some men and from there I thought he would just go straight to visiting A PLACE and things would be found out.

Once things were found out he would go shopping and do some unravelling. In the end the chapter finished with X outside A PLACE due to me having him dither about in town trying to decide which door to use. Which I know sounds like a ridiculous thing to spend time on, which door, but it is plot relevant and gave me an excellent pay off line for the chapter so it was all worth it. Plus, it will hopefully leave the reader desperate to find out just what goes on in A PLACE. And I will tell them.

The telling was the fun bit I mentioned before that I wanted to write and had intended to go in the next chapter but moved forward to C6 in a moment of vexedness. It was the right decision as changing the order of events has made things work but I am oddly happy that events in A PLACE will still be in C7 as that's what it says in the chapter guide so everything is right and proper.

This post probably made sense to no one but me.

Failwriter on failing.

The Shrew can laugh and giggle and talk back to me now - in his own nonsense language. It's astounding really. He becomes more like a little person every day. Talking of days...


Lets talk about 'write every day.'


This is one of those maxim's; like 'show don't tell' that is handed out as really good advice. It is. But it is not the best advice I've ever had. The best advice I've had is 'do whatever works for you.'


But that 'write every day' haunts me. It really does. I feel like I should be writing every day even though I've found it doesn't work for me. Sure, I think about writing every day and if you're unlucky enough to get me on the topic of books or writing I can talk about it at great length until you suddenly find yourself with something urgent to do that is away away from me and endless talk of words. But actually writing every day ends up being counter productive. And inevitably, instills a certain sulkiness in the RJ.


Take chapter six. I got stuck. After nearly 30,000 words of plain sailing I was stuck. Couldn't skip it, too important. Couldn't go forward as something was wrong and I didn't know what.


I should have walked away and let the daydreams mess about with the jigsaw in my head until it clicked. But I had that 'write every day' in there. Cackling at me. 'If you don't write every day you'll never be a real writer. Write every day. Don't make excuses. WRITE EVERY DAY! DAMN YOU!'


So I was, creeping forwards in fits and starts, sometimes only one word in a day. Too irritating to blog about.


Now. This isn't writers block. Or woe-is-me hand stapled to the forehead suffering for your art type of thing. It's just a small vexation*. An example of how good advice in general is not good advice for everyone.


I left FT alone for a bit. Thought about it. C6 stood at about 5000 words at this point and I knew most of them were awful. Really just rubbish and they nagged at me as their direction was also off. Just awful I can cope with. Direction being wrong I can't as it means vast amounts of work later on. I hate work.

So I did what I should have done already. Stopped.

After a bit of dithering about, reading, playing Shrew games on the floor, it came. A sudden realization that this bit shouldn't go there it should go later and the later bit I really had been wanting to write for weeks should go where I was now. So I split the chapter, cutting it down to 3200 words. Struggled a bit with the next thousand as I felt like I was going backwards but got them done (still not great but done and a lot more easily than the it had been up to that point.) Now I am at the bit I really want to write. Good oh.


This is how I write. Fits and starts. Little bits, dribs and drabs. Bit of thinking. Stop. Then splurge out five thousand words or so and slow down again. A bit like one of those bucking bronco rides you see. Slow, slow, fast, slow. Probably, this method is due to my ailing health and fitting stuff in around that. It also works with the child, though I have less freedom to just write when it hits now. Still, the Rookmother doesn't mind me staying up until all hours if I so desire and everything is fine.


Now I get to write the bit I want. I am excited about it. But very tired. One will fight the other.


Fun, fun, fun.


(Best Shrew words at the moment. Man-ning! Man-ning-nah!)

(Wordcount - 4316)


*Also one of the reasons I try not to read blogs by name writers anymore. You read how they do things and think, 'ooh maybe that would help me.' All it does is mess up whatever system you have in place. Cue sulking.

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.