The New Bike

I bought the new bike a couple of weeks ago, and am still getting used tothe improvement.

It weighs about half the old one, so I carry it up the stairs into the flat to keep it save from the maurauding Local Youth. Interestingly, the number of people I've met on the stairs has quadrupled since I started carrying a bike up and down...



Having handlebars at a comfortable height is something of a novelty. And gears that work. And mudguards which aren't falling off, and a chain which doesn't make a clack-clack-clack sound constantly.

It's also noticably faster; I can beat the number 37 bus easily now!

Getting Started (2)

Keep your computer disconnected from the internet, till you've written X number of words. I got 1,100+ done this evening.

If you're editing a printout (I like to edit on paper then type corrections in), don't even switch on the computer.

It's amazing how long "just checking my email" can take...

Children Characters

I drafted a short story this evening for May's Writing Magazine short story competition -- a piece on "Moving House" aimed at the seven to eleven age group. We moved from Cambridge to Oxford when I was ten, and I drew a lot on my memories of my own emotions and distinct ambivalence about the move.

I'm not sure whether consciously putting so much of myself into the protagonist of a short story improves the work or not -- I wrote a story a couple of months ago about a teenager which was based on how I felt at 14, and although the self-reflection made the writing hard at times, I thought the finished story was better than some of my other attempts.

When I'm writing about adult protagonists, though, I don't use my own life so closely or deliberately. I wonder if this is something about childhood in itself (are the emotional memories from childhood especially strong?) or whether it's just because I've not had a great deal of adult life to draw on yet...

I've done very little children's writing before, so wanted to give it ago. It's not one of my better stories, and needs a lot of redrafting, but I'm wondering whether it would work for a children's magazine (assuming it doesn't win the competition!) -- I know the Brownies' one publishes short fiction.

I also managed to get another novel query to an agent in the post today; I stocked up on stamps during an epic transaction in the post office earlier (I like to make the most of queueing), so should be sending off a couple more submissions in the next week.

Nunhead Weirdness

Having lived here for a couple of months, we're starting to get used to the just slightly odd character of the neighbourhood. Perhaps it's because Nunhead can't decide whether it's part of "lively" Peckham or "yummy mummy" Dulwich.

On Saturday, we wandered to two local events: the Farmers' Market in Lower Telegraph Hill park (monthly, though we only just discovered it), and the Nunhead Cemetery Open Day (annual, with more traffic than we've ever seen round here before!)

The Farmers' Market was much as expected, and we bought some very nice goodies from the cheese, wine and bread stalls. The Boyfriend was wearing a black t-shirt with a celtic cross on, which the woman at the cheese stall seemed to approve of. The conversation went something like:

"I like your t-shirt. Where's it from?"

"I'm not sure actually -- it was a Christmas present from my mum."

"Is your mum a witch?"

"Well, some would say so, but not quite in the way you mean..."

I'm not sure I've ever met anyone for whom the question "Is your mum a witch?" counted as perfectly normal small talk...

Nunhead Cemetery Open Day was even odder. We'd expected the small children, the face painting, the bug hunt, the cheap book stall (yay!)though maybe the sheer number of different little conservation organisations surprised us.

What we didn't expect was the popularity of the event amongst London's Goths. They'd taken over a picnic table; old-school, first generation Goths (one had grey hair) with impressive costumes.

I suppose it makes sense, it is an old Victorian Gothic cemetery. I didn't see any of them queuing for the face-painting, which was a shame...

Writing before work

This is more prosaically about timings than about priorities. (Though I do see the writing as more important than the day-job in most respects -- apart from when it's time to pay the rent!)

I woke up unaccountably early today, and rather than snooze for half an hour, got up and hammered out 500 words before setting off to work. It felt like the day was off to a good start.

Sadly, as soon as I left the flat, I noticed something was missing: my bike. On the plus side, I now have an excuse to buy a new one (and I'd had it over a decade). On the minus side, I had to get the bus, which adds a good 20 minutes to my journey each way.

Managed another 600 odd words this evening (after a fruitless search of the immediate vicinity for my bike). This draft might actually be finished by Friday!

Getting Going (1) - Tea

For those, like me, who come home and want to flop on the bed rather than sit down at the desk and write...

Make your mum/dad/sibling/significant other refuse to bring you a cuppa before you've actually started writing. Tea is, I find, a powerful motivator!

Swim

Went for a swim this morning, at the unholy hour of 8am on a Saturday. I'm impressed by Dulwich Leisure Centre -- walked into the gym by mistake to begin with (I can get lost anywhere) and it's very very swish. As nice as the Fitness First one I go to in Brixton, and probably cheaper (as it's the council gym).

The pool was nice, very clean, a bit scruffy (but only in comparison to the gym, which I'm guessing has been recently refurbished.) I was surprised how busy it was from 8-9am; the rest of Saturday morning is swimming lessons, so I suppose all the members of the general public have to go early.

It was a good swim, though, the pool was fairly warm so I did slow, meditative lengths. I find swimming the most relaxing form of exercise and always mean to go more often ... it's good thinking time. I've been musing a bit more on characters for the next novel; things are starting to come together.

Managed to get 500-odd words done before going out this morning (I was up horrifically early!) and another 1,000 since getting back: all on the long short story. Might even manage to finish the second draft this weekend, if I can keep up the momentum. I'm enjoying it, as it's rather a different style from the other short pieces I've written, and 10,000ish words is quite a nice length -- short enough to read in a sitting, but long enough to develop several characters.

This month's Writing Magazine and Writers' News plopped through the post box half an hour ago (I managed somehow to resist ripping off the plastic wrapping, and kept on writing). Looking forward to reading those, but it's off into Nunhead now for some bread and fruit & veg...

Another 2,000

Got a thousand words on Wednesday, and a thousand yesterday. Harder going than on Tuesday, as I've hit the middle bit of the story which needs considerable revision -- I'm rewriting whole scenes, rather than whole sentences.

I took the evening off tonight, largely to indulge in such exciting activities as sitting on hold to Virgin Media for half an hour, trying to persuade them to let me set up a direct debit. They have finally changed the account name from the former owner (who moved out in February) to "Mr Alison Hale". I've decided that's close enough...

2,220

Just checked the wordcount to find I've written 2,220 words since I got in from work at ten to six.

I attribute this productivity to the power of caffine...

I'm now knocking off for the evening. Might do another 2 words first, though. ;-)

The Tate Britain

We went to the Tate Britain yesterday morning, since neither of us had ever been before.

I was impressed and moved by the 'State Britain' exhibit; a recreation of Brian Haw's peace camp, after the introduction of the 'Serious Organised Crime and Police Act' led to his banners and posters being seized. After we'd been round the Tate, we walked past Parliament Square on our way to Oxford Street, and passed Brian (and his much-reduced 3 meters of protest). It was an odd moment of seeing the artistic reconstruction before the reality.

We meandered through the sections of modernist and Victorian art (and left the contemporary art for another time -- neither of us are especial fans...)

I'm always struck by how much art is based upon literature; the painting of the Lady of Shalott by John William Waterhouse particularly grabbed me. To my enduring English-student shame, I've never read the Lady of Shalott (I struggled through some obligatory Tennyson for "Paper 4", but given paper 4 covered 1830-today, I chose to focus on other things). It's a gripping painting, though.

Some of the modernist images of London -- especially the ones produced around the time of the first World War -- were also thought-provoking. And there was an excellent collection of photographs taken during the Blitz years; I'm not usually so keen on photographs as on actual paintings, but there were some marvellous pieces. My favourite was the one of a chap collecting milk off his doorstep -- with the front door blown in. It seemed to sum up the British resolve of carrying determinedly (and humourfully) on in the face of all odds, so long as there's a cup of tea in the offing...

Short Stories - Going to Market

I spent the first half of this week rewriting a short story, Decorating Tabitha, which I wrote back at the end of December. It wasn't as bad as I remembered it being (this was my first attempt at a short story in several years, and took a painful amount of wheels-spinning and false starts as I got used to working at the length.)

I did spot some idiotic little mistakes that made me cringe; I sent it off to a competition with the phrase "dotted stylised flowers dotted around" in. Oh dear.

During the revision, I fleshed out one character, Tabitha's mother, considerably, and added in a couple of new scenes -- the plot had felt rushed when I first wrote it, but it had to be 1,700 ish for the competition. It clocks in at 3,100 now and I'm pretty happy.

The tricky business of deciding where to submit it now begins. I don't tend to read short stories in magazines, apart from the competition winners in Writers' News and Writing Magazine (who tend to be excellent.) I know the various "women's" magazines publish short stories, but it's not often I read them.

However, having a good twenty minutes to browse magazines in the local GP surgery waiting room earlier meant that I caught up a bit, perusing a couple of short stories in Good Housekeeping and Women's Weekly. The quality was higher than I'd expected, and a range of styles and genres seems acceptable -- the story in Good Housekeeping was a magical realism piece, and the Women's Weekly ones were light, humourous contempory tales.

I'm not sure where to place Decorating Tabitha -- it falls somewhere awkwardly between "lighthearted feelgood tale" and "biting social commentary about the gulf between the rich and the poor in London" (though I feel it comes considerably closer to the former!) But it can't hurt to give some of the major women's magazines a try.