Nursing . . .
Hospital . . . fairy style.
No book trailer updates and no blogs for a few days, as my better half has had surgery and needs my care and attention.
Hospital . . . fairy style.
No book trailer updates and no blogs for a few days, as my better half has had surgery and needs my care and attention.
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!
Yesterday, I flew through the first 37,000 words, in 8 hours of editing. Finnian had entered the souks of Fahsi and was being seduced by the offerings, not the least of which were the hashish and opium dens. Oh, said self, this is all going so well, I’ll be on the beach in no time.
Rheban beach.
This is why writing takes a second seat right now. There’s beaches, lots of them, blue skies, water and swimming and I try so hard to feel guilty that I am not getting on with the editing but I just can’t. Tasmania is a delight with its coastlines and deserted spaces and summer or winter, one can always find a stretch where there is no one or just one other person. Husband and self walked along the beach and I tried to think of plot, characterisation, pace . . . the best I could come up with was to store reactions to the senses.
A gift for all those who over the year have become friends and who take the time to read just another blog among millions. It’s a bit of a long blog if you can bear it. Stick with it friends, let’s face it, this is a time of year, with blizzards in the Northern Hemisphere and dust/rain in the Southern Hemisphere, when we all should just be sitting with a good book. Please enjoy and Happy Season to you all! See you after Christmas!
Some days aren’t meant to be writing days, or if they are, the inspiration is so low that one seeks diversion. Time away from quill skill. So the dogs and I go to the beach. They do their obligatory sniff and so do I, although mine is just to breathe in the scent of waves, salt and seaweed with my nose twitching in the air, whilst theirs is at ground level. I look along the beach: 2 kilometres of white sand. And we do it, the dogs and I.