All posts tagged: writer

Weekend Coffee Share

If we were having coffee I’d tell you how I’ve spent the last four hours trying to write a chapter and I’ve managed 1,500 words in that time. It’s not my best and right now I’m stuck, really stuck and part of me worries that nothing I’ve written before this point makes a whole lot of sense. I’ve got just over 20,000 words of the second draft written and more keeps coming, but I don’t know if it’s all the same story… If we were having coffee I’d also let you in on the fact that I’m trying to write a few pieces for competition entries but having just as much luck on that as I am with the novel. It feels weird taking time off from one to work on the other and when I do I spend more time staring at blank screens then I do actually putting words down on paper. I feel like I’m plateauing and I’m note entirely sure what to do about it. I can’t work out if I …

Weekend Coffee Share

If we were having coffee I’d tell how I didn’t get as much done this Christmas as I wanted, but then again I never do. However, that doesn’t mean I haven’t managed to achieve a few things or pick up a few threads that I’m hoping to carry into 2016. If we were having coffee I’d brush past New Year’s Eve since there’s not much to say about it. The Big Fat Quiz of the Year and slouching on the settee in pyjamas was about exciting as my night got but it was still nice. It didn’t matter that the fiancée fell asleep halfway through the show and New Year’s Day I awoke to a snuffly nose and scratchy throat. If we were having coffee I’d tell you that the book’s still going fine, a few more words here and there. Yesterday I managed a 5,000 word chapter but today I’m back to fighting the words onto the page in the hopes of creating something legible to work with. Kat’s character’s growing the more I …

New Year

I thought I’d see in the new year with a couple of Tanka and a few Haikus: Haikus 1. These years pass quicker than the ones I remember dimmed in memory. 2. I resolve to write more, better, with passion just like every year. 3. I have failed some goals yet exceeded in some ways my expectations. 4. Approaching New Year… I’ve high hopes for you and me, not resolutions. Tankas 1. Here, it is raining heavy against the window. Close your eyes, listen. This sound does not change with time, this year, last and next… constant. 2. This year brought changes, graduation, moving out, engagement and mortgage plans. This year I have dived straight in. You, have kept me on my feet.

Earworm – The Daily Post Daily Prompt

Write. Just write. That’s the quote that’s been stuck in my head this week and pretty much every week since I heard it. I’m not even sure where I heard it to begin with, it’s just there now, bouncing around in the dusty corners of my brain like a demented bouncy ball that won’t leave me alone. I’ve been working on Darkened Daughter in its many forms since secondary school. I’ve been trying to write it for roughly eight years and it has only been in the last six months that I’ve managed to sit down and hammer out an actual draft and an actual plot-line. I suppose in some ways Darkened Daughter became an Earworm for me. It burrowed into my brain and stayed there. Characters decided to pop out of the synapses and jitterbug across my frontal lobe until I paid them attention and put them onto the page instead. No matter what other story ideas came my way, Darkened Daughter was always there, lurking in the grey matter. In the last six …

Farmhouse Christmas

The crumpled paper and tinsel meant that she’d just missed him. Checking the back kitchen she found the coat hooks empty and the dog missing too. He was out on the farm then., trudging through the snow to check on the sheep before lunch. She tossed the wrapping into the bin alongside the cardboard and plastic tie from his new gloves. He’d left a note next to the rayburn. Turkey on. Called Thomas about lame ewe – coming about nine. Gloves good. Thank you. x She tacked it to the noticeboard and checked the clock. Ten to. Better brew the tea.

Strangers At The Breakfast Bar

Unexpected? No I don’t supposed they were unexpected as such, we had forewarning after all just not very much. The blue beetle with orange stripes parked diagonally across the neighbours precious, three cm cut lawn was a sort-of hint, but we weren’t certain until we walked in and saw them with my mother’s Victoria sponge half-way gone between them. She called him Sue and he called her Samuel. The other half asked them if perhaps they’d got themselves a little muddled, as if that was all an appropriate thing to ask guests when they’re sat at your kitchen table. I apologised and offered to put the kettle on. ‘Coffee? Tea?’ I asked. Sue looked at me, eyes going up and down as a slow grin spread across his face. ‘Yeah love, sure thing.’ I caught sight of Samuel’s manicured hand swatting out at him, her hushed hissed telling him not to embarrass the host. ‘Remember the last place,’ she said. ‘Let’s not have that again.’ ‘The last place?’ My other half looked for the couple, …

Novel Update

This week has not been easy for me and I would like to open this post by thanking everyone who commented on Tuesday night’s post. Your condolences and thoughts meant a lot and it was wonderful to receive such a level of support. Moving on from my personal issues, let’s talk about Darkened Daughter and my utter uselessness at keeping up with Deadlines. I was going to attempt Nanowrimo this month to see if that would encourage me to get the second draft completely written by the end of November but clearly that plan fell through the floor. Simply put, I’ve barely written all month. It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just that I don’t know what I’m supposed to be writing. Anyway, I’m trying to be proactive and this evening I’m working on the first chunk of the book which is Tara’s infiltration of Turnkay’s Keep in the Witch Moors. At the moment the main aspect missing from Darkened Daughter is character development so that is what I’m trying to resolve. In …

All This Fence Sitting Is Giving Me Splinters

I woke up this morning not feeling utterly destroyed, as I rightly should have seeing as my partner’s sister in law and I demolished three bottles of wine between us last night, so I’m counting today as a win. Today is also the start of Nanowrimo, a competition that I adore and try to take part in most years. This year however, I’m not so sure. Darkened Daughter is currently lurking around the 53,000 word mark. Now I could decided to partake in Nanowrimo and write another 50,000 words to go on top, giving me 100,000 to play around with later. Or I could ignore the event all together and just write the rest of Darkened Daughter or as is the current case, leave it sitting on my desk where it glares at me in neatly spaces lines demanding to be given attention. I’m on the fence. Nanowrimo is great for giving writers that push to get stuff down on paper, but can I really go into it knowing that most of the book is …

Magic

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Do you Believe in Magic?.” The caravan was small, moving down the southern roads from Hareth towards the open planes of the Burnt Desert. I joined them mostly by mistake, a misunderstanding in some backwards tavern far off the road to nowhere and very decidedly unhappy to see me traipsing through their doorway. What actually happened in that tavern was something of a blur. Next thing I knew my horse is tied to the back of a cart, my hands are bound to the saddle and a Hedge Witch is trying to poke my eyes out with her glare. ‘Don’t even try it,’ she hissed. ‘I know a warlock when I smell one.’ A friend of mine once said that ‘magic is just science we haven’t quite worked out yet’. I thought it was a fantastic way of looking at the world and I sort of clung onto the idea from there on out. It made sense to me. As a writer magic can be an important tool. …

Location Unknown

‘Tell me something.’ Olivia’s eyebrows furrowed together as she stared at the computer screen. ‘How, am I meant to work on this?’ She flicked the centre of the computer screen, sat back in her chair and scowled at the library. Ferris didn’t look up from his book but she saw his fingers curl inwards. ‘Just hurry up,’ he hissed. ‘I can’t. This piece of junk won’t move any faster.’ Olivia flicked the screen again and the machine emitted two high pitched bleeps before the screen flashed blue. Ferris’ head shot up, his face panicked. ‘Now that’s much better,’ Olivia grinned.