One down, four to go.

If you remember reading this recent blog, then I've completed one of the goals already.

I pressed the button; Rurik is winging his way through the electronic ether to an agent. I am sitting here wondering what the heck I've done - was he really ready for that again?

The pessimist me is saying 'They'll think it's rubbish!'

The sensible me is saying 'What's the worst that can happen? A form rejection, sent very quickly - so what? You've had them before, but for writing that was nowhere near the quality of the current stuff. You might get some feedback if you're lucky - a line or two saying something nice, even if they don't want to see more. There is always the possibility that they ask to see the rest of the manuscript, in which case, you'd best get those last couple of scenes kicked into order, pronto. And even if, after all that, they still say 'no ta', there are other agents and indie publishers to try - don't lose heart.'

The dreamer and fantasist that lurks behind most of my stories is lying on the sofa, eating chocolate, drinking champagne and telling me 'Darling! They'll love it and have a publisher lined up by next Friday! Film rights to follow!'

Hmm. Well, I've had too much good feedback on this story to believe it's rubbish and I don't particularly like chocolate, so I'm listening to Mrs Sensible...

As one door closes...

Today, I left my job.

I've been working part-time as a learning support assistant in a primary school for just over three years, but my association with the school goes back ten, to when my daughter first started there and I offered to help in her class. My son followed - as did several different roles on the PSA, helping in the library, going on trips, etc etc.

At the leaver's assembly, (I was one of seven staff members leaving or retiring) some very kind words were said which brought tears to my eyes and I was given a beautiful rose bush and a very heavy present. Now, knowing that I do a great impression of Rudolph whenever I'm teary, I deigned not to open the pressie until I got home...just in case.

Most of my colleagues know that part of the reason I've left is to write; their present couldn't have been more perfect. I received a fabulous satchel, packed with the following;

Six notebooks - four lined, one plain (they know I like drawing too) and one full of scriptural quotes with plenty of space to add my own thoughts. Each book is beautifully decorated and completely unique - one with butterflies and birds, one with fabric clouds (!!), one with an Indian theme, one with leaves, one with flowers. And they are all different sizes too - from handbag size to A4.
Pad of sticky notes
A propelling pencil
Biro
A dozen coloured pencils
Half a dozen sketching pencils
A box of HB pencils
A LAMY fountian pen.

I was, to put it mildly, overwhelmed; I cried for ten minutes.

I have no excuse not to write now, do I?

Unfinished business

Have decided today - I'm the world's worst 'finisher'.

I'm sitting in my lounge, looking at two unfinished knitting projects and a ball of wool to start a third, a bag of ties to turn into purses and bags, a pile of ironing that I started two days ago, the paper copy of Rurik that is staring at me (waiting to have a couple of scenes sorted), and the rough list of flowers for the flower festival in August that needs to be finalised.

Years ago, when I was working full-time, I used to be really good at organising myself; we were trained in the use of the TimeSystem, where every large activity was listed as separate, achievable goals and each mini-step was allocated a completion date. I still have the planner, but found it was too big to cart around with nappy bags, children's toys, changes of clothes, etc. Although I still have all the different planning sheets, I rather got out of the habit of using the system for anything other than meeting notes.

Nowadays, I tend to just use a notebook and have a rolling list of 'things-to-do', trying to kid myself I'm on top of things. Problem is, I leave the stuff on the list that I know really needs to be done, and add other things I've done but probably shouldn't have, purely for the satisfaction of crossing something off.

I think I need to sort my planning out if I want to stand any chance of completing yesterday's list...

5 things to do, writing-wise, before the year ends...

1. Get Rurik ready for York - the new prologue and first few chapters are pretty much oven ready.

2. Submit Rurik to agents - there are a couple of scenes which need to be rewritten, but I'm confident I have the outlines in place. Just feel ridiculously scared to send him out again...

3. Self-publish Granny Rainbow - I'm aiming to have at least seven short stories in a collection. I have three stories finished, another four drafted (though 'Granny Rainbow goes green' is giving me a few headaches), and I've lined up an illustrator.

4. Plot ideas for a new children's book - it will be about a famous event that happened in my home town some two hundred years ago, and will ideally be published alongside  a 'grown-up' book about the same event, which I'm helping to edit.

5. Be more disciplined about how often I write - I leave my current employment on Friday, so theoretically I should have more free time after the summer hols.

Listen to yourself...

Another ultimate blog idea today - to write about a time when you ignored your intuition.

Well, there have been a few times I've done exactly that. Especially with writing.

In one particular instance, I accepted the inclusion of a particular sentence into my manuscript. I wasn't entirely happy - it didn't 'read' like me - but I did it because the person suggesting it was an agent and knew what they were doing, right? Wrong. When I put the chapter out for feedback, several people picked up on exactly that sentence: it didn't fit.

There have been other occasions since that one - and every time, I've thought afterwards 'I should've gone with my gut'. I think I'm learning to trust my own judgement more in what I write; I certainly follow the rule 'accept, amend or reject' now, as suggested by the wonderful editrix and author, Debi Alper. I still find amend and reject hard to call sometimes, but I'm more comfortable with my final decision.

Following gut instinct might not be the most scientific of editing methods, but I think I get better results. Just got to keep reminding myself to listen to it...

When being a writer ruins reading...

*sigh*

A plotting point - how can a deaf boy sign to his companions in a dark cave? Don't they need to see him?

I'm currently reading Hollow Earth by John and Carole Barrowman, from which the above situation is taken. The premise of the story is good - twins who draw pictures that come to life, whose abilities are sought by villains trying to access Hollow Earth: a place where demons, devils and imagined creatures lie trapped. 

Unfortunately, I'm getting more and more frustrated with what appear to be pretty basic errors in this book - like repeated information, unrealistic dialogue, too much tell and not enough show. Now I'll gladly hold my hands up to state - this is my own personal opinion,  and this post isn't about the book and its merits - it's about whether being a writer ruins reading.

I wonder whether I'll ever be able to read a book without always thinking 'I'd have written that differently' or 'ping-pong dialogue' or 'that could've been tightened', etc etc. Does trying to become a writer yourself mean that you also become a dreadful critic of others because you're constantly on the lookout for things you can improve? 

I hope not. 

Of course it's always easier to see improvements elsewhere, because you're often far too close to your own work to make an objective decision on it. It sometimes takes another person to come up with exactly the word that you meant, but used twenty-three to say! I feel very strongly that this kind of improvement should be done before your book goes to print, preferably by yourself as the author or your editor - not by the reader. Some rough bits might still get through to the printed page, but it's our duty as authors to make our books the best they can possibly be for the reader who will pay good money for them. I can't help feeling that several of the books I've read recently could have done with a bit more spit and polish before being released on the world. 

Perhaps I've just got to learn to turn my inner critic off at certain times, so the reader in me can enjoy the written word again... 

The Medusa Medallion

One of the ideas for the blog challenge today is 'online shopping'; the Etsy site was mentioned as a source of ideas. Now, I happen to have a cloudie friend who is an incredibly talented artist, who is selling some exquisite handmade pendants and brooches. Check out some of her other designs here. Anyway, as she's selling on Etsy, I thought I would use one of her creations to write a very short, short story for my post today. Here 'tis...

The Medusa Medallion.

I nearly missed it, buried as it was at the bottom of the box among a tangled knot of broken chains and skittering loose beads. I'd reached for the moonstone, wondering what could glow so brightly in the dark recesses of the broken casket. When I picked it out, she followed.

Was it just a trick that made the snakes appear to writhe and coil around her green face, their tiny eyes glittering in the lamplight? I know she glared at me for disturbing her slumber, one eye all-seeing, the other an empty crystal orb. 

I took her to the window to examine my find, where I saw her delicate features caressed by repulsive reptiles. Such beauty, wrapped in a nightmare. She hung loose from the chain I'd wrapped around my fingers, twisting around slowly until she faced me again.

The moonstone beneath her chin glowed; I saw it, but did not understand.    

Not until I felt my body stiffening.