Losing the plot - literally!

November already? How did that happen?

The last few weeks have been rather busy, writing wise. I finished the rewrite of Rurik-Reeka and it's out with readers at the moment. As a result, I began to write number 2 in the series, and it's going reasonably well. Particularly as I've also plotted out book 3 and most of book 4! Makes quite a change to be working with pen and paper again.

I've also given several author talks - two to social groups in the evening, and one as part of the 2017 Loogabarooga Festival. (I'll be blogging about that one separately in a couple of days time). It's meant a bit of a boost for book sales, which is rather lovely.

With all this going on, I lost the plot. No, not like that! Let me explain...

Since writing Kingstone, my writing 'process' for each new novel project is to buy an A4 ringbound notebook, with lined paper and preferably with a margin. This is where I begin to thrash out with pen and ink whatever idea I've had, shaping it into a real story. Inside is a chart, where I block out a square for every day on which I write. (And a square for every day that I don't, so I can keep a track of when procrastination takes over... )

(Apologies - the pics are quite dark as it was pouring with rain when I took them, and the camera didn't think it needed to use the flash...)

Inside, the pages are full of notes and scribbles and sketches and questions. It is by no means neat; some pages are obliterated with crossings out when something doesn't work.

There are often loose pages of pictures slipped inside or notes from other notebooks stuck to the pages as I see or think of something that would be useful, except I didn't have THE notebook to hand to capture it in.

The notebook becomes the foundation on which the actual story - the typed-up-on-the-computer version - is built. The entire plot is sandwiched between its covers. And by the end of typing up, the two look very different. Although you might recognise something in this photo that became an essential part of the cover of Kingstone...

The notebook ultimately becomes redundant, but I hang onto it. Am I sentimental? A hoarder? To some extent, yes - to both! The book represents hours of work and thought, and to me, it's a reminder of the struggles I went through to craft the book that ultimately (fingers crossed) was published.

But really, the reason I hang onto it is because that notebook has become a tool.

How so? Well, when I give an author talk, I take along the notebook in which I plotted Kingstone. (I do have others, but this is the only notebook so far which contains a single, unique story.) I find it's really useful to show - especially to children - the process I go through, and that it isn't neat, I spell things wrong, (ocassion and embaressment are my worst words), I do lots of crossings out and I work out of order. But because this is the ideas capturing stage, and there's only me that sees it, it really doesn't matter!

Anyway, as I said, I lost the (Kingstone) plot. Lost this incredibly valuable (to me) notebook. I knew I'd taken it to the school on my recent author visit. I knew I hadn't unpacked all my props because there was no point unpacking them all only to reassemble them a week later for the evening talks. It had to be in the house. Except when I got everything together for the evening talk, I couldn't find the notebook. Anywhere. An hour before I was due to give the talk, and there's me, Mr Squidge and Squidgeling T running up and down stairs, looking for it.

No joy. I had to take another notebook instead.

I must've left the Kingstone notebook at school - that was the last place I'd definitely had it with me. So I contacted the school - had any of the teachers found an A4 ring bound notebook filled with flowery post-it notes?

Apparently not. I was gutted; I simply didn't have anything else that I could hold up and say 'Look - this turned into this!'

I moaned to Mr Squidge about it, got cross with myself for losing the notebook, and then, as I turned to walk out of the dining room where we'd been talking (well, me talking, him listening with a rather pained expression)...I saw it.

The flippin' notebook.

Still in the bag I'd taken it to school in, which was tucked between a chair and the sideboard, and hidden behind a couple of boxes with kitchen stuff in (No, we're still not finished. Don't ask) that I and Mr Squidge had both missed in our frantic search of the previous evening.

The relief literally made my knees go weak.

So I may well have lost the plot - temporarily - but I'm now well and truly back on track and all geared up with my Kingstone notebook for any future author talks.

Hooray!!