Words Scrubbed: 71,388 New things: Gus smells of smoke, Maksim knows an Ethiopian restaurant, Rafe can cook salmon steaks; ooh, and there’s a great new thing for Lissa that I don’t want to talk about Old things I still like: Greenland mummies, a plum, climbing Old things I miss, aka murdered darlings: sunlight on the aerodrome, Nick leaning his head on Maksim’s shoulder Fetishes: good God, none at all, unless you count the hoodie I’ve now been wearing for three days Soundtrack: Celtic folk, for some reason Sustenance: coffee, popcorn, olive bread with mayo and tomatoes Reason for stopping: that’s a draft! It is still on the short side, which I am disappointed about, but I think it is all pretty much unfucked. Next steps: another grand read-through, and a double-check of the calendar to make sure I haven’t introduced new fuckery with all the reordering of scenes. More tinkering will ensue. Thanks to my industry, though, I now have two extra days in my schedule with which to tinker. […]
“dark forces are out there gathering”
So three days of ten feet tall covered in gold dust, and now we’re having a day of not very tall at all, soon to be covered in chalk dust. I’ve just rewritten the same damn thing four times, and now I’m walking away from Crappy Version #5 and going on to the next thing before I give myself a migraine. The gym opens at noon and I will be there to strip my soft little fingers on the wall until my brain locks in again. […]
“the water on stone, the water on concrete”
Words Scrubbed: 66,278 New things: Gus passes out, Nick sulks, Rafe makes tea, Stella is giving up men, I finally know what that lovely-smelling vine is Old things I still like: dawn on the windshields of the infantry trucks, cardinal-red window panes Fetishes: only my usual thumb-ring Soundtrack: Underworld, some horrific eighties hits that I had to turn off Sustenance: coffee, popcorn Reason for stopping: hungry husband […]
“what are you after, if not disaster”
Words Scrubbed: 60,463 New things: Gus has a shower, Maksim tidies up; in fact there’s a lot more cleanliness Old things I still like: Stella makes salad Fetishes: still with the B-hoodie Soundtrack: Band of Skulls, Robert Plant Sustenance: toast with peanut butter, creme caramel rooibos Reason for stopping: my hair is too long […]
“we only like you ’cause you’re cute and young”
Words Scrubbed: 57,829 New things: Maksim takes one less taxi, Rafe climbs cathedrals, Stella makes Gus laugh, Lissa gets a kiss Old things I still like: the new moon egg–I like it so much I might rename the book after it Fetishes: still with the B-hoodie Soundtrack: “Drop the Pressure”, “Shiny Disco Balls”, “Dancefloor Destroyer” (what? Come on, this bit has some really depressing stuff in it, and I needed a pick-me-up.) Sustenance: more coffee, leftover French lentils with purple carrots and fennel, random corner of cheese, picholine olives, a quinoa cookie Reason for stopping: I’ve been in this chair for twelve hours, minus a 5k run. Plus my cat is twanging the doorstopper again and clearly needs someone to throw him a superball. […]
“I keep the lights on to ease my soul”
Words Scrubbed: 53,385 New things: fake migraine, yet another taxi Old things I still like: a huge chunk of Afghanistan Fetishes: the B-hoodie (because the A-hoodie got cheese on it) Soundtrack: Kate Bush, Amy Winehouse, Martina Topley-Bird Sustenance: Friday’s cold pizza again (all gone now, thankfully) Reason for stopping: bright sunshine, the gym is calling, and my brain gets boring between about noon and two pm […]
“it was dirt and dirt is all the same”
Words Scrubbed: 50,099 New things: Lissa is the quiet one in the family, Nick tears up a lilac, Rafe has a vice, Gus finds a witch she can like Old things I still like: the Gulag, Cape Town, lemonade Fetishes: hoodie Soundtrack: Florence and the Machine, Patti Smith, Joanna Newsom Sustenance: Friday’s cold pizza, orange flower chocolate, Mariage Freres rooibos Reason for stopping: time to cook up some purple carrots! […]
In which I begin my Novel Enduro
Here’s the scoop… Two weeks of leave from my job. Final polish of the final draft. Agent query. The house is as clean as it ever is, lately. I’ve got coffee, tea, sticky notes in five colours, my favourite hoodie, Patti Smith on repeat, my trusty laptop (even if the “L” key has been half-eaten by a cat). If I can’t get this done and dusted, I have no right to call myself a professional writer. What I’ve done before this point: shared Draft 2 with my writing group, and used their input to re-draft the first 45,000 words. What I still have to do: unfuck the last 35,000 words. Write the pitch. Figure out which agents will like it, and query them. Why I suck: this could have been done a year ago. Why I rock: it is getting done now. What else I can do if I finish ahead of schedule: 2 stories to fix and send out; 1 story to finish and find someone to critique; writerly business such as registering for Readercon and buying plane tickets; and if all those things get done, I’ll be so chuffed that I’ll grab my pretentious cane and swan around […]