Cherish dreams

I will cherish my dreams.
Please, don’t give up on your dreams.

I will keep writing… even if it feels as if like my plan is not about to come together. I want to see my book published on a bookshelf in a bookshop. As twenty ten comes to a close and draws its final breaths I am glad that this year is behind me. It was a year crammed full of mixed emotions, some good and some not so good, none of which will not be forgotten.

Twenty eleven is yet to reveal itself. I am certain it will be full of great potential opportunities. I will wait to see it uncover this promise with a sense of renewed energy, because I am certain it is full of good things to come.

Judgements

Do you make them? I do all the time. Am I right or wrong?

Do you know, I don’t think it matters. My reasoning is that as a writer I need to see both sides of a judgement. I don’t have to agree with either view of it, but I must be able to interpret it, so that I could use the information at an appropriate juncture for my character in my story.

I am the sort of person who likes to review the past twelve months at this time of year and make plans for next year. My focus is clear. I want to be a published author with a best selling novel on a bookshelf near you. The hard part will be achieving this goal.

Will I stay focused? Can I achieve my aim? I don’t know but I will give it my best shot and I will only be able to comment on my achievement and make a judgement as to how successful I have been in twelve months time.

Wistful wishes?

I’d like to tell you that the Mince pies are cooking, filling the house with a warm fragrant smell that’s inviting and my home is fully decorated with festive trimmings. All the presents are wrapped sitting under my Christmas tree.
Wouldn’t that be lovely? And, if only it were true, lol.

My days of being truly organised have passed. What happens now is more a random and relaxed event and equally as interesting. It becomes a lucky dip affair and what’s not done won’t get missed, or so I tell myself. So if my Christmas card and xmas letter to you arrived before the deluge of snow I’m glad, and if it didn’t then it might never surface.
I wish you all that you wish for yourself on this cold, crisp Christmas Eve.

White Christmas?

I am hoping that it will not snow before Christmas day, and I know that’s mean of me but I need to get to my Christmas dinner! Otherwise I will not be eating anything very festive if I get stuck… here as I do not have a Plan B! So I think my reasoning for not having a white Christmas until after Boxing Day is quite reasonable, lol.

Which reminds me I have written a nice chapter themed and titled, 'Snow' for my novel and I have a few more ideas to add to it before it is complete, regarding how my character, Alicia, feels about being snowed in. More to come on this later...

Struggling - Writing a tough chapter

Yesterday, I managed to achieve my goal!

Write a really tough chapter. It was one that needed me to get deep into my character and I’m very glad it’s done, down on paper now, because I can breathe easy and stop thinking thorough a tough but relevant scenario.

My character strangles his wife. He didn’t mean too - in a blind rage, it was an act of madness that consumed him. And I’m glad to report that he didn’t kill her. But he knows he has gone too far, scared the hell out of himself. Terrified his wife. He is full of remorse but does he know he has done irreparable damage to their marriage and destroyed their relationship. This is a possible new lead to follow but I haven’t written this yet. How can he fix things? Is it even possible?

I ask myself these questions when I am developing my story, which grows organically. As one act occurs the impact leads to new questions that need answers. I try to keep it straight in my head, by getting inside my characters to understand why they do what they do. This helps me to discover how to find a resolution or not as the story demands.

Do they?

I saw a poster today - it said:
Two wrong's don't make a right but three rights make a left!
Now that tickled me, but then, I am easily pleased.

Seen today

Snow showers today were different. The first was spiteful and nasty, it stung my skin with tiny piercing arrows! And my coat was caked in snow, an unusual experience and then an hour later the next shower was soft and gentle. So much more fun walking in this snow, it stuck to my hair, tiny perfect beads of white snow creating a unique bobble hat! But I saw people using umbrellas in the snow shower… aren’t they cheating?

Favorite quote:

“You can’t give a hug without getting a hug.” (Unknown)
Go hug someone, soon.

Driving home

Driving home tonight in a swirling snowfall, it felt like I was travelling at warp speed through a brilliant galaxy of tiny stars as they whizzed towards me. Twisting and twirling passed my windscreen. Enchanting. It was like I was six again, filled with wonder at the magical quality of being transported to another world.

Receiving Critique

I submitted Chapter 44 for critique. I trust the group I belong to and I value their constructive feedback becasue we have got to know each other. But I often wonder if I have done enough to capture the mood of my characters. Are my explanations clear and concise? Will my readers feel my characters? The last thing I want to discover is that it sounds contrived.
Of course if I’m patient I will find out in a few days. Funny but chapter 44 sounds like I’m at the end of my book but this number is misleading. It reflects the fact that it is the most recently written, and not the ultimate order in which it will appear in print! (oh how I wish. I am keeping my fingers and toes crossed that maybe one day…)

My view of the world

My view from my window today of the South Downs is obscured by Fog. I hate Fog! It limits me in every way. My mind is befuddled in part from a poor night’s sleep last night and this morning’s limitation of only seeing as far as it, the cold white creeping mist, allows. I find it eerily disturbing. I don’t like the way the fogs flatness blurs the boundaries, shortens my view. I can barely make out and see one street away. Part of me would declare today a duvet day but I can’t. I know I must get up and write. Write the chapter that is rumbling around in my head.

Procrastination or not?

I am writing a novel. Working title – 'Letting Go' – but I am suffering from procrastination. Oddly the type is frustrating… I am writing other things, not concentrating on finishing my novel. I have written around 65,000 words and need to get to the end. so that I can begin my full edit and issue a synopsis. My other projects do have a higher priority as I am getting published so my dilemma is simple. I have to find a way to stop avoiding my novel writing and refocus my attention as well as make time for urgent work. Hmmm. Any suggestions?

Seen while driving

A sky to die for - glorious glistening golden stripes strung across the vast horizon as the sun sunk beneath mulberry- blue coloured clouds. An evening to remember. Breathtakingly beautiful. Shame I did not have my camera in the car. (NB2self: take camera out to play!)

Editing an Anthology

My Brighton writing group is going to publish an Anthology of work, short stories and poetry, during 2011 and I am to be an editor! The prospect of editing other peoples writing fills me with… I know I will need to tread carefully, so as not to bruise or crush my fellow writer’s egos. Some of the work is fabulous. I have outright favourites already, shocking I know. Other pieces need polishing to make them shine more brightly. This is new territory. Naturally my own work will be edited by others. I’ll let you know what progress we make. Our first editors’ meeting is yet to take place!

Living in Narnia

The Snow created a magical silence,'white whisper.' A wonder in this age. The air space above my house was quieted. No overhead drone from unseen aircraft bearing heavy loads to distant foreign lands. Little or no bird song was heard as these tiny creatures conserved energy looking for morsels of food that weren’t buried deep beneath impenetrable cover. No motor bikes whined up the main road seeking freedom as their riders gather speed, racing towards the next bend. Cars didn’t venture out down our road, a slippery slope of a hill with a tight left hand turn at the bottom! The pace of life slowed to a walking pace, a soft tread underfoot cushioned by a white carpet that absorbed all sound. I found time to write – bliss. Heaven!

Where did it go?

Book I'm Reading:

‘Long Time Coming by Robert Goddard.’ A well woven modern historical story set in 1976 & 1940. Stephen takes a journey, back through his family’s history and he discovers that his uncle, Eldritch Swan, has been imprisoned in Ireland for 36 years. A good yarn, full of intrigue. I am half way through and can’t wait to finish it!

I would recommend reading this one, soon.

What are you reading? Would you recommend it?

Winter coats

My writing rituals:

I try to write as early as possible in the day. I find my ideas flow easier before real life sets in, and clouds my judgment. I have a favourite chair in my room by the window. On a sunny day the sunshine floods my room, filling it with light. On an overcast day the sky feels lower, close enough to touch, which changes my mood. Far away, on a clear day, on the distant horizon I can see the South Downs! Today it's white out – Snow as far as the eye can see! A winter wonderland.
Do you have a special place to write?

45 Minutes

“A tale of a divorced man back out dating, finding his stride. Handled like a business meeting what Greg says he wants is different to what he needs.”

Greg was baffled. He sat alone, briskly tapping his left foot. Frustrated. He had been stood up by his date. Mildly disillusioned he rang the dating agency. A sympathetic voice apologised for his inconvenience. She promised to send more candidates for him to review. Greg hung up. Barely appeased and still niggled...

Kissing the Pavement

Samantha bit into her pasta, spicy pepper cappelletti. Steam escaped scalding the inside of her mouth. She spat. Then squealed. The offending half-chewed, mangled piece of pasta flew through the air and landed softly in the hollandaise sauce of her dates’ Eggs Benedict. Samantha groaned. Hung her head in her hands. Attempted to hide her shame, as she babbled helplessly....
If you would like to read how the rest of this short story goes you will find it @ Ether books
http://bit.ly/bpvC84