So here we go into the next phase of the trailer production. How do the major movie producers do it? The image that I have in my head is Academy quality, but of course the reality is a whole other thing. I’ve no idea what I’m doing and can’t wait to get what I’ve done so far to my brother so that he can do the AVID thing.
Part of the Stream of Consciousness blog has emphasised marketing, whether it is done by the writer or for the writer by the publishing house. With that in mind, I have decided to venture into booktrailer-dom.
from the inimitable Fairy Tales on Facebook
I have been sitting thinking today, working through the next phase of the WIP, trying to picture just what I want to happen. I have an outline you see, a storyboard if you will and I tend to brainstorm at the end of a writing spell, write things down in pen, maybe a para, maybe only a word, but it helps me to move on more fluidly the next day. So I was having one of those moments and my husband disturbed me (with a glass of wine) and I told him that I had an image in my mind for tomorrow. I then realised that the idea that I had written two extra chapters way back before I had to leave it all on Nov 20 and which I thought I had lost, was indeed a figment of my imagination. To be sure I had thought them up, I just hadn’t written key words or paras anywhere. In my head the two lost chapters were there as a faint image, they just weren’t on the computer. Does that make sense? As my husband said, I forgot to press the metaphorical ‘save’ at the time.
There was a great blog today from a guest blogger on Nathan Bransford:
http://blog.nathanbransford.com
Worth reading because it lists all the excuses people use not to write. I know I’m a victim of the ‘but’ days. There’s too much housework, I need to do some cooking, I’m needed on the farm, or worst of all . . . I can’t be bothered today!
I’ve just begun to read The Shifu Cloth, hereafter referred to as the WIP, after not doing anything to it since Nov 20. I can hardly remember it and I’m quite excited by what I’m finding. Nicholas is on Maria Island in the Pymm Archilpelago in his stepfather’s house on the Merrick’s Estate. He’s trying to piece together the mystery surrounding the disappearance of his sister-cousin and I’m eager to find out what happens.
I’m about to start working on the work in progress at last. ( what else would you do but work on a WIP) And in trying to make contact with my muse and to gain inspiration, I’ve spent hours looking at books, photos and the internet. I’ve spoken in other blogs about the strange places I find my inspiration, places like the wonderful French haberdasher’s Sajou. And now I have just been given a link by a friend and it is so beautifully astonishing that I know I’m going to get heaps of ideas from it. The site is www.architecturalwatercolours.com and under the section called Notecards and within the sub-section labelled Chinoiserie is the most stunning collection of the fantastic and the real in Asian inspired architecture.
I’m one of those readers who has, for all of my life, taken stories at face value. Which I suppose contributes to my failure as a member of bookclubs: because I was never able or desirous of finding meanings within stories, subtle or otherwise.
I think I might have broken the back of the edit. I have addressed every point the editor reported and now want to print off the ms into hard copy and read it as per a book but with a red pen in hand. I imagine, that with good luck and a fair wind, I shall have finished and be ready to send it back to London for final comment by the end of next week. Marketable or not. Waiting for the answer will be excruciating.
After watching an episode of In The Night Garden, my dose of calm and equilibrium for the evening, I have decided that to escape over the ocean while I wait for an answer is the way to go. Just me and Upsy Daisy, maybe Iggle Piggle and the Tombliboos,
Pinky Ponk
all in the Pinky Ponk as it floats on clouds of what seems to be expressed air (farts in more commonplace language). We shall fly over my little bay outside the window and I shall watch the boats and the gulls, the dolphins and the divers. We shall fart and dip over Maria Island and return on the crest of a sea-breeze and I shall have ditched my anxiety, like so many farts and noxious ballast, and be ready for as straight an answer as London can give me.
