Rachel J Lewis

The following blogs were written as part of my participation in Nanowrimo 2011.  I’ve left them here for you to read, but I’m not adding to them.

Nanowrimo Progress update: 45,090

I’m going to finish and well ahead of the November 30th deadline for Nanowrimo, but unlike last year’s story which came out without problem, this one has been an effort.  Even though I extricated myself from as many things as I could, those things that remained needed me to take 2-3 day breaks from writing.That’s made it harder to pick up the thread again.  Other events going on have had an impact on me and stopped me writing at one point, because I couldn’t write and be dazed and confused at the same time. Dazed and confused won out.  My lack of preparation in some key areas showed and made it nigh on impossible to turn out the story when I had little information to go on.  All good lessons to learn for next time.

Today I want to highlight music.  After people, music is the second greatest influence on my writing.  I said earlier this month, that unlike many writers, I can’t write when there’s any noise around me.  The process of getting the text out of the creative part of my brain needs to be done in a silent environment.  I can happily work in the office to music, typing meeting minutes up etc; but whatever that creative channel is in my head, it works best when it’s not interfered with.

While I was up in Durham at the start of this month I sat in the Restaurant of the Premier Inn and did a Peter Laws (link to his website on the right), sat and wrote in a public place.  Not something I’d ordinarily do, but I wanted to write and my family were still asleep.  I set myself up in the corner, so no one could see what I was typing on the screen.  As I said before, fresh unedited text is like being naked in public.  Not something I want anyone to see! The radio was playing and I found it nigh on impossible to concentrate.  My brain wanted to focus on the lyrics of the songs and getting it to focus on what I was writing, was a job in itself.  I am convinced then that writing without distraction is ‘how I do it.’  There isn’t a more productive environment I could be in.

Although I can’t write to music, it is an incredible source of ideas, concepts and feelings.  I will be drawn into a melody and then focus on the lyrics.  If I get that magic combination of melody/meaningful lyrics, then the track will most likely find its way into my list of favourites.

I’m going to give you a couple of examples, both of which I used in the recent Twilight fanfiction I wrote, ‘Aurora’.  The first is the 1980′s XTC track ‘Making Plans for Nigel.’  The track’s on my iPod and one day back in the spring, it came up and my brain latched on to a line in it. ‘Nigel’s whole future is as good as sealed.’  The track is talking about the predictability and monotony of the lives that some people had back then – jobs for life, effectively (doesn’t happen anymore).  But I took that line and used it as source material to convey how helpless the character of Ness felt when she discovered that her entire future was planned out and she didn’t have a say in it. In the end I wrote the song into one scene to give voice to her anger with that situation.

Another more recent track inspired an entire scene of the story and was one of those times when the whole thing poured out in pretty much one sitting.  I could visualise the scene as clear as a bell, I knew what I wanted to say and I knew where I had to get to.  I wanted to give Ness some downtime and provide a lull before the arrival of someone else into her life. This track provided the catalyst for me.

This is the track: Yvonne Lyon’s ‘The Coffee Song’ and after it is an extract from the chapter from Aurora. Listen to the song and then read what I did with it.

Just a note on reading it.  If you know the original source material and know who Ness is, then you may be confused as to why she’s referring to Edward and Bella as Edward and Bella and not as who they are to her.  Her head’s a bit screwed up – see ‘Making Plans for Nigel’.

Yvonne Lyon | The Coffee Song

Aurora,
From Chapter 13 - Valentine

From the Cullen house, the cottage was only a few minutes run, but I was soaked by the time I reached the small, stone building in the forest glade.  There was an air of gentle neglect about the place, it now being six months since we had been here.  The climbing roses needed a prune and the plants in the pots could do with some attention.  It would have to wait for another day, gardening in driving wind and rain was not what I was here for.

I fitted the large key into the lock and turned it, it moved easily still and as I pushed open the door and went through I was hit by scents of both familiarity and dormancy. The heavy door thunked closed behind me.  Amongst the notes of dust and stone were the faintly lingering scents of the three of us. This was a happy, contented house; there was not a single bad memory here.  Why had I not come here sooner?  Of anywhere, this was a safe place from the world and I decided right then that I would use this as my sanctuary from now on.  When things got too much and I just wanted out, I would come here, be safe and more importantly feel safe.  Of all the unpleasantness that had transpired between Edward, Bella and me over the last few months; this place held none of that.  Here I had been loved and even the walls seemed to radiate that love back out at me.

A happy image from last summer sprang into my head. Bella sat on Edward’s lap on the sofa and me, seeing them and running over to tuck myself under Edward’s arm.  I’d slid one of my arms around him and had put my head on his right shoulder, putting my other arm around Bella, who was nestled up against his left shoulder. I’d hugged them both. There was the remembrance of Da… Edward’s kiss on my head.  That had been just before they’d gone off for a few days break over their wedding anniversary; back when things were good between us, back when I didn’t know what I knew now.  Would we ever see those days again? Part of me suddenly longed for them, missing them desperately and an ache started within me. But abandonment tapped me on the shoulder and the reality of them having left me when I needed them the most crashed back in; exchanging the happy sunny memory of the cottage for the dark unrelenting pain of Denali.

I shook myself back to the here and now and walked around the cottage bringing it back to life.  Flicking on the power and the water; filling the coffee maker and setting it going.  I pulled off my wet jacket and hung it up, walking down the hall to Edward and Bella’s room to where I knew I could get a change for my wet jeans.  I opened the door to their room and the lingering scent of them assaulted me, causing me actual pain.  The room was bare of their things and the furniture had been covered over with dust sheets, but this still felt very much their space. Another happy memory of coming in here first thing in the morning to say hello tried to play in my head, but I blocked it.

I walked over to the closet door and pulled it open.  Everything that remained of our things was stored in here.  I unlaced my boots, peeled off my wet jeans, opened a drawer, found a pair of Bella’s yoga pants and put them on, grabbing a pair of her ballet pumps at the same time. Yoga pants were exactly the sort of thing I needed for today’s activity.

Back out in the bedroom, I pulled the dust sheet off their bed before bringing out a quilt, a stack of pillows and creating a little nest for myself against the headboard.

I wandered over to the windows.  The other side of the gauze curtains the rain lashed against the glass and ran in never ending rivulets down the pane.  The wind was trying its best to blow the house down, but it wouldn’t get its way; this cottage was as solid as solid could be. I was safe in here, this was my personal space now and there were only two more elements needed to make my day perfect.

Down in the living area I went to the bookcase, scanning each shelf in turn and intending to pick out one or two books to read.  I’d read most of these over the last six years but some of them I hadn’t read since I was a baby, it would be good to re-read those.  I picked out Bella’s absolutely decimated copy of Wuthering Heights; her favourite book and it showed. But I wasn’t in a Wuthering Heights sort of a mood.  I wanted something that would take more than five minutes to read, something epic – I was in the mood for something epic. I pulled out one I hadn’t seen before The Pillars of the Earth and read the back of it.  Cathedral building in twelfth century England; that would be nicely removed from squabbling parental-types in twenty first century America.  It was a good thick book, over one thousand pages long and if I read slowly, I could make that last all afternoon.

I poured myself a large mug of coffee and padded back down to their bedroom with the book tucked under my arm. I placed the book and coffee on Edward’s bedside table, kicked off my shoes, climbed onto the big white bed and into nest I’d made.  I draped the quilt around me and made myself extraordinarily comfortable.  When the rain and wind were doing battle outside and your life wasn’t going exactly the way you’d planned, there really was no finer thing, than to shut yourself away from it all with a hot cup of coffee and a good book in your hand.  I’d happily stay here forever if they’d let me.  It was a good indication of just how unknowingly tired I was; that within an hour I’d fallen asleep.

It was someone knocking on the door that woke me. I was instantly bolt upright, every facet of me alert for danger.  The knocking came again and I sprang off the bed and was by the front door in an instant. I listened and through the noise of the rain, came the familiar sound of wolves gently breathing.  I relaxed and opened the door.

Jake stood there in his human form, dressed in soaking wet cut-off black denims. Behind him were Seth and Quil in wolf form, their coats sopping wet and dripping with the still relentless rain.

“Come in.” I stood back to let them in but Jake shook his head.

“We’re ok, thank you.”  Jake was formal and his expression was one of concern.

“What’s the matter?”

“We’ve had more activity in the north east of Forks overnight and this morning we picked up a fresh trail and followed it in.  We caught up with the vampire that’s been in that area. ”

“Oh, ok. Good. You took care of it?”

“No, that’s the problem, she pleaded for mercy and demanded to speak to you, said you were the only one who could help her.”

“She?” I hadn’t a clue who it could be. A vampire, pleading for my help?  This I had to see. “Where is she?”

Jake looked over to his left and gestured with his head to someone out of sight.  Embry padded into view, closely guarding a small bedraggled figure who walked in front of him.  Hair plastered to her head, wet jeans and a filthy red t-shirt clung to the tiny body of someone able to strike fear into the heart of any vampire who knew what this girl was capable of…

Nanowrimo progress update:  42,620 words

It looks good doesn’t it, over 42,000 words in the bag and all I have to do is get to 50,000.  But that doesn’t tell you the whole story.  It’s all ground to a bit of a sorry creative halt.  What I thought was a good story, has proved to be harder to successfully execute than I thought it would do.

The main problem is style.  By nature I am happiest writing comedy or description; but give me something serious to write and it seems I slip into a bit of a hole.  My brain has been actively shying away from writing something that was sad, unless it could pepper the text with witticisms and other inappropriate stuff.  My brain cannot be serious for very long.  Also, I haven’t done my research nearly well enough to be able to convey successfully the process by which someone with a life-limiting illness, goes from being well, to well… being dead. Obviously, there’s no textbook answer to that, everybody dies differently, but there are things of a general nature that I could include.

It isn’t something that’s easy to ask people: “Please can I talk about your experience of watching someone die?”  It’s hardly up there with showing me your holiday snaps.  I have some information at my disposal, so if I’m going to go back and make that section work, I am going to have to keep drafting it out until I get a coherent structure off which to hang the prose.

It is galling, because I was hoping that this was a sufficiently good story to take me through the 50K barrier with ease.  As it is, I think I’ll struggle to manage that without going back and adding in the difficult section, even if it is in skeleton form.  I don’t know if I have enough story left to get another 8000 words out.  I’ll keep going and see.

The basic story hasn’t changed from my plot, but a couple of minor changes have crept in along the way.  If it’s to go anywhere in the future, I will have to start from scratch and have a razor-sharp idea of who my main characters are; even going so far to construct profile sheets for them.  What do they physically look like? What are their ethics, passions and foibles? How do they dress, what do they read and listen to?  That would help me to give them a level of integrity and believe-ability that they don’t currently have.  They’re far too flat to have substance right now.

My lead female has more of a voice than the lead male, but the story is from his point of view so he needs to have much more definition instead of swanning around in the daze he does at the moment.

It’s not all plain sailing out in real-life-land either.  We’re over half way into the month and things are really suffering in our house because of me doing this.  I knew they would, I warned everyone; but no one ever takes me seriously until the washing up’s not been done for a week and the house is a health hazard.  To make matters worse, things have been dealt a double blow by something else that’s happened, which has pushed the whole rest of the week out of kilter.   This week is all over the place – but that’s by the by.

I’m still mostly enjoying writing, if a little saddened that the story hasn’t manifested itself in the way I’d hoped it would.  However, maybe because I’m so unhappy with it, it will give me the impetus to come back to it in the New Year and re-research and re-write from the ground upwards.

In this case, getting to 50K will not be the end; it will be very much the beginning.

Nanowrimo Progress Update: 35,511
Day off yesterday.

Although there are lots of people publishing books, there are an even greater number just out there, in everyday life, writing a myriad of things.  Some are writing stories, others plays, songs, poems, works of non-fiction, screenplays, role play games and other things that need the skill of a writer to get them ‘out there’.

But, whether you’re the most celebrated and decorated author on the planet, or just like me – taking your first baby steps out in the writersphere; there is no getting away from it:

Writing can be a lonely old business at times.

Because, when it comes down to it, it’s just you and a screen; or you and a pen and a pad of paper.  No one else can get that stuff out of your head and into a more accessible form.

Admitting to myself and to the world that I was affected with a serious writing bug, this being the twenty-first century, it was only natural that I look around for a support group; to meet up with other people similarly affected by this odd condition. In short, I joined a Writer’s Group.

There were ones on the outer fringes of the universe (Gamlingay) and big important ones in Bedford; but not anything local to me.  But!  I was not alone, because two local authors, Diana Jackson and Adam Croft had the same idea and in the best time-honoured tradition, whatdaya know folks, we’ve got ourselves a group together!

And so I have fallen in with a diverse and wonderful group of people from a variety of backgrounds and at different points in their writing careers.  We all write, but very different things:

Diana is gearing up to publish her second historical novel, Adam is forging ahead having self-published his second story and working hard to get a third out before Christmas.  Colin writes plays, Ash writes Role Play Games, Mark writes non-fiction and works for the Times, Emma writes non-fiction titles and works as a book editor and Peter… Well we’re all hoping Peter’s book can find a home with a major publisher soon, it’s doing the rounds.  He’s also a film reviewer for the Fortean Times.

And then there’s me, sort of bringing up the rear and having diddly squat to her name, but hey, I’m working on that.  I’m the enthusiastic amateur with her face pressed up against the shop window, dreaming of a time when… Ehhh.

Stop dreaming Lewis, get writing!

Add to the mix a couple of other friends out of the area who are other bona fide authors with Amazon listings and stuff (Children’s author Amy Sparkes and the Queen of Costa Del Keynes herself – Carole Matthews) and I am surrounded by a wonderful array of writing talent, of people to inspire me and also to give me a kick up the bum when I need it.

In that regard I also have a good set of friends, I few of whom are not afraid to be a bit stern with me.  I’m sure you’re familiar with the abbreviation WWJD – What Would Jesus Do?  Well, it has another manifestation in my life it’s What Would Judi Do?  Judi is the type of person who, if I am prone to selling myself short – and I am – will  come round, slap me round the face with a wet fish and tell me not to be so defeatist.  There are other friends who are similarly gifted with a swift arse kick and at times I need it.  It was Alison who dragged me kicking and screaming off Livejournal and onto a ‘proper’ blogging platform, WordPress.  Apparently you can’t publish good stuff and hope to have it noticed, if you’re not going to meta tag it up! She knows these things. I just write and nod politely, she does all the techie stuff.

One look at the world of publishing is enough to make anyone scurry back under the duvet and refuse to come out.  Why the hell do I want to do this if it’s so hard to achieve?  But I’ve never really wanted anything before.  I’ve never been the most ambitious type.  But I have this thing that burns inside me and my fingers itch if I don’t allow it out.

Yesterday I said I was having a day off.  Haha!  No.  True, I didn’t work on my Nanowrimo story, but not given that to think about, my head started working on next month’s project and pulled out a synopsis and a little teaser bit.  So even on a ‘day off’ my brain will not stop trying to write things or wants to stop writing things.

Heaven knows where this is going, but with a bunch of people to inspire me and a similar number bolting the door to make sure I can’t escape,  only time will tell.

If you are in Ampthill or the surrounding area, write and would like to join Albion Writer’s.  We meet the first Wednesday of the month in the Albion pub in Ampthill. We’re the pasty-faced lot in the back room…

Or Like us on Facebook…

Or even, if you’re feeling really mad, Like ME on Facebook

See you tomorrow!

Nanowrimo Progress Update:

My word total stands at 26,750.  Yesterday’s excellent progress (I put on 6K) and making it through the half way mark, was tempered slightly by the knowledge of all the fun stuff having now been written.  The story is at the half way stage and from hereon in, the tale takes on (hopefully) more poignant qualities; although there will be flashes of funny.  I don’t want it all to be an essay in bleakness.

Although I am working hard to produce one story by the end of the month, there are others, who perhaps have more time to write or can type faster than I can, who don’t just stop at one entry.  I saw one woman on Twitter say that her first one this month (!) had come in at 78K and she was 1K into her second.  I asked if she ever got up from the keyboard.  78K in 11 days sounds to me like she never moves, although my husband’s cousin Marcus (also talking part in Seattle, WA), commented that to him, 78K doesn’t sound possible.

So this writing thing… All this blogging and more latterly storytelling, where’s it going? What’s my aim?

Right now, completely blue sky, if nothing stood in my way? It’s no secret I’d love to be paid to write full time.  I can think of no better job.  I’m not sure that I’d be all that bothered about what type of writing I was doing, whether it was fact-based or fiction, just that I was writing.  Sadly, the economics of our family mean that to keep a roof over our heads and food in our tummies I need to work; so jacking it all in on the hope of making a living as a writer is not going to be possible.

At the moment, you could class me as very much an amateur.  I do this is my spare time and I write because I love to write.  I do nothing for any financial benefit nor is my driving aim in life about money.  I have furrowed my brow at those – some of whom are close to me – who do bring it all back to money and don’t really see the point in what I’m doing if I’m not earning money from it.

I can’t see that anyone would pay for what I write because I don’t think I’m good enough  – there’s that phrase again.  I see myself as very much a writer in the raw.  I may have the ability to string a sentence together, but I have no clue at what point that sentence becomes good enough to have monetary value.  Will it be when I sort out my gratuitous use of commas?  Will it be when my vocabulary has reached a certain sapidity? (Oh I do love a Thesaurus!).  Or will it be via some freak Re-Tweet, where something of mine just happens to land in someone’s feed, at the right place, at the right time and with all the planets in alignment?

I am not under any illusions, this isn’t Britain’s Got Writing Talent, Strictly Come Writing-your-arse-off or Writing Idol.  There’s no Svengali out there looking for me, armed with a golden chequebook and a gold-plated top of the range computer to type my musings on.   That may exist in the mind of a 15 year old, but not someone with plenty of life’s hard knocks and a nice legacy of low self-esteem.

Although I am not certain what the future will bring and I don’t think for one minute that I’m going to end up being the next Caitlin Moran or the next Carole Matthews; but I have a plan and here it is:

Having thought about things good and hard, I’m going to be as good an amateur blogger as it’s possible to be.  I’m going to try and write engaging pieces and get myself to the point that people want to read what I write.  I will approach each blog entry as if I’m writing a newspaper column and give each one my absolute best.  I will try and master the art of making it look like it was what just fell out of my head, without resorting to opening my mouth and putting my foot in it (see yesterday’s blog entry and the resulting comment).

No, I’m not knocking the story writing on the head; but having thought about it and listened to people wiser and more experienced than me; it would seen the traditional route of get yourself an agent and get yourself a book deal model isn’t the only option and there is no shame in going down the self-publishing route, even if it’s just to have something available for people to finally judge whether you can cut it.

The story I’m currently writing for Nanowrimo is the one I hope to work on, edit and improve and get it to a place where I feel I can release it to the world as a download or as a print-on-demand book. Aren’t you excited!?  Rachel’s deluded herself into thinking anyone’s going to pay money for what she writes.  But if I don’t ever get it out there how will I ever know and how will I ever conquer my fear of allowing myself to be judged, by those in a place to decide whether I’m good enough?

Being awesome in my own head isn’t going to get me anywhere is it?  I’m never going to turn hopes and dreams into Kindle page turns if I sit on my arse pontificating about it all day.  If I don’t finally put something in your hand, ask you to read it and tell me how badly it stinks.

So onwards we go, skipping into the bright new reality of whatever the heck this is.

I read a blog piece this morning, a great piece by Liz Kessler about writer’s brain strain and the fact that she (we?) see plotlines everywhere.  I liked this paragraph in particular:

But it’s not our fault. Making huge leaps of imagination, upping the stakes, thinking of the most unlikely and unusual scenario – this is our day job! This is how our minds need to work in order to do our jobs properly. If we sat down and wrote about a girl who accidentally walked into some nettles and got a rash, no one would be interested. But give her a tropical disease and a mystery person who gave her the disease, and an exciting adventure that she has to go on to find a magical cure, and we are approaching the realm of a plot.

Now, you see, the way my brain works, I’d swap the girl for a very drunk woman and have her wake up, to discover the rash on her arm is the only indication of what’s happened…

Which, of course, has never happened to me, ever…

That’s probably the reason why Liz Kessler is very good at what she does and I’m… not.

Yet!

See you tomorrow!

More about my writing journey later, but first a Nanowrimo progress update:

We’re now 1/3rd of the way through the month and I’m getting to grips with my writing.  My word count stands at 21,710 which is above average (putting in the minimum each day would get you to 16.6K). At first, I didn’t think I’d have enough material to get to 50,000 words, but now I find that there’s a real possibility I won’t get the story told in a month, so I am going to have to take the editing scalpel to myself and make sure that certain chapters appear at certain points, just to make sure I don’t end up eternally stuck on Harlyn Beach, admiring the Aussie Lifeguards (not a bad way to spend eternity as you’d agree). I may take the option of writing the epilogue now just to make sure that it’s done and doesn’t get forgotten about.  I’m a ‘tie up most of the loose ends’ type of a person, so it’s important to me that books have sort of ends, even if the story doesn’t have an actual end.

One thing I’m really finding helpful is the concept being circulated on Twitter, of writing one thousand words in an hour (hashtag #1k1hr). To shut myself off from all forms of social networking for sixty minutes and just write, means that over the last few days I’ve made a good measure of progress and I can (usually) manage to pull out that amount of words in that time.  There’s also a wonderful sense of camaraderie amongst the Twitter Nanowrimo’s, although I will admit to lapsing into periods of word count envy.  But on we go, onwards and nose downwards to 50K!

My Writing Journey Part 2: From Fact to Fiction.

March 27th 2006 was a landmark day.  On the blank screen of a Livejournal account I typed the following words:

Ok fledgling blogger all set up and ready to go. Overcame last minute technical hitch (forgot password) Just need to have something to write about now…

But first, need a good nights sleep.

Rachel

Not perhaps up there with the greatest literary opening gambits, but as far as things went I was off and running.  The next days’ entry was even more riveting, it concerned our noisy central heating.  And so off I trundled, out into the great wide open of the blogosphere, collecting comments and condemnation in equal measure and learning, very quickly, never to be facetious about Liza Minnelli in an unlocked post.  If that shows up on Google Alerts you are dead meat. Hell hath no fury like a Minnelli fan incensed by the fact that you prefer Lorna Luft.

I still do, so comment away! I do have a delete key and IP logging.

Along the way there has been an awful lot of dross entries, but amongst them have been some true blogging nuggets of gold.  Suffering an ectopic pregnancy, nearly dying and having the resulting emergency surgery wasn’t fun; but it did yield lots of stuff to write about.

• The pain! (of watching Simon iron shirts when I was languishing with anaemia on the sofa),
• the horror! (of getting your first hit of morphine and finding yourself hallucinating about a green pepper being driven around Adlington as the Carnival Queen)
• and the navel-gazing boredom of recuperation.

Amusingly it was an odd sort of practical navel-gazing, where you try to match the exact shade of purple it’s gone to a Dulux colour chart.

And then there was Bunting-Gate, which, along with Pippa Middleton’s bottom is the kind of stuff Ampthill gets in the news for.  We’re that kind of place.  Other places get heroes and worthy things, we get Firefighters that can run into burning buildings… but can’t take the Gala Bunting down because ladders are dangerous – that sort of thing.

Sadly, I was the one responsible for bringing it to the world’s attention – or rather the Beds on Sunday’s (they watched the forum I used to post on) and from there, it went… well flipping everywhere. Oops!

Original post:  October 16th 2007

Ampthill… home of escaping cows in the news and now a local Fire Brigade that can put festival bunting up… but not take it down.  Oh dearie, dearie me.  Mark Smith, our District Councillor, Town Councillor and fellow committed blogger had brought to our attention some updates about local issues on his blog – which of course I then went a read… only to find this…

Ampthill Festival Bunting – The reason that the Festival Bunting is still up arises from the fact that due to local health and safety advice the local fire brigade are unable to take the bunting down. The Festival committee has always appreciated their assistance in the past and is working towards getting them down.

So what’s changed?  What ‘Health and Safety’ advice suddenly means that removing festival bunting is now a more dangerous occupation than running into a burning building?

If they need any help getting the bunting down, I have a ladder and a pair of scissors…

Within a very short space of time, (October 22nd) it was all over the place.

‘Bunting Gate’

I am sitting here, alternately feeling very guilty for dragging Councillor Mark Smith and Deputy Chief Fire Officer Graeme Hill through the media wringer today, then descending into paroxsyms of laughter over the coverage. The story ran in Bedfordshire on Sunday yesterday, and so far, we’ve clocked an article or mentions in the following publications / programmes:

The Sun
The Daily Mail
Telegraph
Times
Sarah Kennedy Programme BBC Radio 2
BBC Radio 2 news
Loose Women – ITV
BBC Radio FiveLive
BBC Online
ITV Anglia News (news crew have been in Waitrose car park.. get this , apparently a massive ‘row’ has broken out… where??)
BBC Look East
BBC Radio 4 (You and Yours)
BBC Three Counties Radio

Plus I’ve seen it come through on umpteen blogs via Google Alerts…

There have been countless other times that having a blog has been the gateway to recording some very funny stuff that happens to me and around me. Iit’s one of the joys of blogging, although I’m probably spreading myself too thinly to focus on the amusing commentry on everyday life that I started with.  I do miss that, so much knucklehead stuff comes my way that is perfect ‘blogfodder’, but there’s rarely the chance to post these days.  I could post from my BlackBerry, but nothing beats typing on a full size keyboard.

I’ve diversified, I now run focussed blogs on a couple of subjects which may, or may not be a good idea; but I figure that not everyone is going to want to read a post about Christianity, so I’d put that in a separate place.

I’ve always toyed with the idea of writing fiction but had never done anything about it.  I’d started lots of stories but never finished them.  However, in 2010 – and prompted by what, I don’t know -I signed up to do Nanowrimo.  It’s free and I have nothing to lose.

What I did lose was the sureity that I was a fact-based writer only.  Suddenly, over the course of 26 days out came 55,000 words of an actual start to finish, beginning-middle-and-end, story.  If there was any time I’ve had a what the…? moment in my life it was that.  Where the heck did that come from?

To this day I have no idea, but there appears to be plenty more where that came from. So if you’ll excuse me, I will get on with the earnest business of trying to get another 50,000 words out of my head during this November.

This time, the intention is to take what comes out and work on it for publication. Stories are meant to be shared and how will I ever know if I’m ‘good enough’ if I never let anyone read it?

But that’s something for another day.

See you tomorrow!

Nanowrimo Progress: 15,514 words
Made some good progress last night, finally feel like I’m getting somewhere with it.

Sadly – or thankfully – nothing now remains of my first forays into writing. But imagine, if you will, the scribblings of a girl recently dumped by her first boyfriend and you’ll get the general idea of what those early entries might have been about.  Then add a layer of ‘O’ Level stress (we are talking the educational dark ages here), predictable gripes with friends and I’m sure endless mutterings about wanting to kill my sister (we didn’t get on at home); and it’s all turning a bit EMO without all the need for black clothing and hiding behind your fringe.  I’d not discovered The Smiths yet, that came later.

The year was 1985.  It was a year of Paul Hardcastle’s ‘19‘, Frankie Goes to Hollywood’s Massive ‘Welcome to the Pleasuredome‘ album and the world was just waking up to the fact that a squeaky-voiced singer from Michigan wasn’t doing the decent thing and going away. So they gave her a Time magazine cover.  Madonna.  Whatever happened to her…

It was against this backdrop that I started my journalling, distilling my thoughts and emotions into words.  The diary-keeping wasn’t constant, there were times when I stopped, but I would always gravitate back to it after a while.

Onwards through 1986 (the summer of my O’Levels and leaving school), 1987 (first year at Runshaw and other things), 1988 (the summer of my A levels, passing my driving test and going to University in Cheltenham), 1989 (This is probably my ‘lost’ year.  I was mostly drunk, if someone could fill me as to where I was and what I was doing, I’d be grateful).  I think also 1989 was one of my most angst-ridden years so it’s probably a good thing that I’ve blanked most of it out. In 1990, September 26th to be exact, I met my (now) husband.  I probably came home and wrote something like this:

Sunday 26th September 1990
House is cold and frankly awful, how did I agree to rent this hovel for a year?  Wandered over to FCH bar and it being the first night back Andy needed some help, so rolled my sleeves up and got stuck in.  Lots of drunk Freshers on Nasty, always hilarious. Met two new members of Geography staff (they were brave, pitching up in FCH bar).  One was quite nice, the other was a scruffy oik and is David Holyoak’s replacement.  This will be the one Jude rang to tell me about.  Not promising.

2011 – Frankly reader, I married the scruffy oik and he turned out to be very promising. Just goes to show you can’t judge a book by its cover or a green army jacket and a beard.

The twentieth century turned into the twenty first and in 2001 I fell into (literally, platform boots are such a bugger to walk in), Fleetwood Mac Fandom.  Fleetwood Mac fans are mostly sane; if you annoy them they can (mostly) laugh it off.  I have since learned to my cost, that if you piss a Judy Garland fan off you need to employ the same level of security as Salman Rushdie once had to.  It’s all a bit too serious and frankly, over the top.  There are extremes of fan in every genre but by and large Fleetwood Mac fans are lovely.

… Especially the British ones
… and especially Fireflies UK

Because at that time Fleetwood Mac had not been anywhere near the UK since 1990, we’d about given up hope of every seeing the real thing, so it was our want to pitch up to see tribute bands and we found a most excellent one, in the shape of Fleetwood Bac.

The nights would take a predictable form, we’d have a great time, I’d go home, switch on my computer and spend into the wee small hours writing a gig review, posting it to the email list and then disappearing off to bed to wake (with a hangover the size of Jupiter) sometime hopefully around lunchtime.

I’ve never kept a copy of anything I’ve written, but, as luck would have it, you can find anything on Google, literally anything.  And there, tucked away on a redundant limb of the world wide web, is the forgotten about Fireflies site and some of my reviews are still there.

So this is vintage Fleetwood Bac review from June 29th 2002.  Here, is exactly what I was talking about yesterday.  I sometimes write more about the people I see in the crowd than I do about the band on stage.  The band are exceptional, that’s a given, now let’s write about the mad woman jigging about in front of me…

Well it’s past midnight and it’s Sunday morning.  Finally get to put my thoughts down on last nights Fleetwood Bac gig at ‘The Brook’ Southampton.  With any luck, writing this will get me through to 2am so I can watch FB on the Showcase thing.

If it’s incomprehensible please excuse me….I’ve had virtually no sleep for the last 48 hours and I’ve just finished 1/3rd bottle of neat Bombay Sapphire gin (hic!).

This isn’t intended to be a serious review – Pip’s done that job…..you don’t need me to tell you how fantastic they were…everything was spot on – AS ALWAYS.

Lisa cast her magic spell and is spending a worrying amount of time with Mike Fidler,  Lynn’s sexier than the real thing – according to some bloke in the audience who unwittingly addressed his remark to Lynn’s Dad (whoops!), Rick’s probably a better drummer than MF himself, Matt’s just bloody amazing and Paul really needs to ask his mother if she ever met some bloke named McVie.

It is my duty therefore to tell you about the mad-hatters in the audience…..

It was a very long drive to Southampton and at one point I thought we weren’t going to make it on time because of the volume of traffic.  Pip had invited two of her friends along and we spent the majority of the journey convincing them that Fleetwood Bac WERE worth crossing half the country, missing tea and sitting in traffic jams for.  After some pretty nifty navigating we screeched to a halt outside the venue, a gnats chuff before 9pm and piled inside.  The ladies virtually mainlined two bottles of Bacardi Breezer each and paid flying visits to the loo so as not to miss FB coming on stage.

You can imagine how gob-smacked we were when, after they didn’t show, Matt suddenly appeared in the midst of our group, not changed – just as if he’d just strolled down to his local to see who was playing live that evening.  Getting a bit anxious for my bac-fix I yelled “What the heck are you doing here, you’re supposed to be up there!”  at him… sorry Matt !  Anyway, turns out that they were on at 10pm instead.

So….more Bacardi Breezers….

At last they *finally* came on stage, and like a fine wine, the best is always worth waiting for.  Without further ado they launched into ‘Second Hand News’ and at that moment the world was fine, everything was rosy and the alcohol had just hit my brain!

The stage was really high – so high infact that it had a swimming pool ladder to get on and off it.  We were at the front with a really good view yes, but annoyingly for Pip it was the second time she’d been so close to the merchandise that she could see their nosehair-LMAO!

On my left I had Fred Astair and Ginger Rogers doing some weird stuff that I think they were calling dancing, well, whatever it was it’s left a few dents in my boots from them jumping on my toes! I was getting buffeted into Pip all the time as I tried in vain to keep out of their way.  I was going to yell ‘pack it in’ at them, but thought better of it when thinking back to Brierley Hill the words ‘pot, kettle and black’ all sprang to mind..lol! 

However, I think we may have found a winner in the ‘unknown member of the audience’ category in the Fireflies  dancing competition.  While Mike Bott has clearly taken the trophy for his wonderful gypsy twirling in the Membership category….get this…this woman behind Pip virtually limbo-danced her way through the entire 2 hours!

OMG I had to bite my lip to stop myself wetting myself laughing at this woman – which is really bad of me because I’m sure there was someone doing exactly the same to me and Mike at Brierley Hill.  But she didn’t care (and neither do we) and she’d even limbo’ed her way to the front by the end of it.

By the time Lisa was winding up for that almighty finish to Rhiannon (OMG I just turned over to Sky Men and Motors for the Showcase thing….hope you boys set your video’s early-LOL)….anyway back to Rhiannon.  By the time Lisa was giving it some I was actually starting to feel a bit faint from lack of food and a thumping beat in my head.  Even the timely application of some New Forest Spring Water wasn’t helping.  I was completely lost in Bac Land.

Actually got to speak to people after the show.  Pip sold some of FB’s merchandise for them, gave Paul a toilet-roll-long list of songs she wants them to do while demanding Matt that he do ‘Bleed to Love Her’ off the Dance Album.  I tell you this woman is not to be messed with!   We had some interesting news on stuff they are working on so keep your ears peeled folks!  Pip managed not only get her neighbours to come all the way to Southampton from Northampton for a gig, but also to part with money for the Bac Video CD-ROM and a T-shirt.

Result!

Rachel Lewis

OMG! There are no words to finish with after that. LOL!

See you tomorrow!

Since moving over to WordPress a few months ago, I’ve missed my ‘Livejournal’ icons, so I’m bringing them back!  I like to illustrate my posts with pictures, it helps to give them a little more prominence when I post the links elsewhere.

Today on my 30-day writing-themed blog, I’m going to look at what I write about.

In a nutshell… You!

I don’t think I have a talent for constructing an entirely imaginary world.  I’m no C S Lewis or J R R Tolkien,  I’m more of an observer than an inventor.  What I love to do is to take my observations of real life and people and shape them into words;  pulling together sights, sounds and even, in the case of Padstow’s litter bins – smells, to create prose that hopefully can produce a picture in someone’s mind.  That’s what I’m aiming to do, whether I can do it well enough for anyone to buy something I write remains to be seen.

People are an endless source of fascination to me. I’ve been to gigs and been far more intrigued by the audience than the artist performing on stage.  I did it at the weekend, taking up residence at the back of the room where a band were playing.  I listened to the band but I was watching people’s reactions.  I’ve never been much into artists who invest a lot in their stage presence, I can get enough pleasure from just listening to them.  However, give me someone who’s off their head down the front and I’ll be riveted all night. Pass me a notebook!

I’m not alone in this, author Carole Matthews, in an interview on High Heels and Book Deals, said: “I am a complete nightmare to go out with as I see plot lines everywhere!“  I completely agree and if you’re going to associate with me you’d be well to bear that in mind, as I do squirrel things away…

It’s not just other people, my own life provides a whole heap of inspiration, both factual – for my blogs – and for fiction.  Quite what I’m going to do with the experience of having Ken Kercheval (Cliff Barnes – Dallas) frantically waving at my friend and I because he’d saved us a table in an Edinburgh restaurant, I don’t know; but rest assured, if I can, I’ll give it a home somewhere. It was a definite WTF moment.  As for the lady below in the leather gilet – she’ll be getting her own book.

Ken Kercheval (second from left). Not very good at getting one over JR Ewing, but very good at bagging restaurant tables.

Inspiration for this year’s Nanowrimo entry came from Cornwall and I am so glad that I seized it and spent the entire week scribbling bits down for it.  It’s not possible for me to get back down there so to have half a notebook of sketches, notes and photographs to draw on is going to prove valuable through the month.

Although the setting (Padstow) is real, my characters are entirely fictional and that’s probably a blend I’m comfortable with.  There are elements of the two main characters in real people but it’s easier for me to imagine people than it is settings.  My lead male character is based physically on a real person but my lead female character isn’t; although her experience draws a lot on things that other people have been through.

The other thing that really inspires me is music.  So much so, that it’s going to get a blog post all of its own later this month.

See you tomorrow!

Nanowrimo Running Total:  13,310

After three days off I’ve finally managed to get over the 10K barrier.  I have a good few clear-ish days ahead of me which I hope I can use to pull ahead a bit and aim for that 25K half way point.

After a couple of bitty opening chapters, the real meat of the story is starting to unpack and I’m looking forward to giving my characters some emotional depth and putting in some gloriously over-the-top description.  Why use one word when ten will get you even closer to the 50K mark?

I think a lack of attention to my minor characters has meant that I haven’t really known what to give them to say. When I (hopefully) come back and re-work this for real, I’ll need to pay more attention to fleshing them out.

But so far in the story, the two main characters have just met up, the location has shifted to Padstow and will remain there for pretty much the rest of it -apart from the last chapter. This is going to be the happiest chapter to write and I hope the most colourful and exuberant.  This is the crest of the roller coaster as it were. The chapters from hereon in will see them hurtling downwards at a rate of knots.

This is the calm before the storm as it were…

Am I enjoying it?  Yes, although the three days enforced separation from my computer have caused me some anxiety; so I am hoping that I can put lots of words under my belt over the next few days to settle my nerves again.  I am worried that that first few chapters were a bit on the short side and this would mean that I’ll finish the story with short of the 50K needed.  I suppose if that happens, I’ll just go back and as some more padding   Not that this story is short on unnecessary padding, even at 13K.

I am, as expected, snarky.  Today I worked hard, announced my intention to disappear off to write, went upstairs, shut the door, opened my story, started writing and then daughter chooses that moment to wander in. Grrr!

I had a go at writing in a public place over the weekend and found it very difficult to do.  There was music playing and that, not the people, was the problem.  My brain was trying to decide on words and listen to Billy Joel at the same time and that didn’t make for an easy time of it.  As far as the privacy thing went, I sat with my back to a wall and so only the paintwork behind me saw my words.  It isn’t something that I feel is going to yield me a good writing result; it was very hard to get anything to come out, so solitary is still the way to go for me.

See you tomorrow!

Nanowrimo Running Total 9219
(Enforced day off)

There’s been no progress on my entry in the last 24 hours, as it’s been one of my enforced days off.  There is one more complete day to come and half of one the day after that.  I won’t lie, I’m feeling the stress of it. I don’t like to think that I’m slipping behind.  The Nanowrimo twitter feed is urging people over the 15K mark this weekend and as you can see, I’m some way from that. So come Sunday night when I get home it will be full steam ahead to make up some ground.

Today I want to mention my writing environment, it’s been a subject of discussion at my Writer’s Group recently – the very encouraging Albion Writers.  I am lucky to have fallen in with such a wonderful and diverse group of people and we all write differently.

Colin writes longhand before typing his manuscripts up.  Adam does every job in the universe before getting around to writing.  Peter goes and writes in places like the Cafe in IKEA and Starbucks, whereas Diana has to confine all her writing to Thursdays and not get tempted to ‘just put the washing on’ or potter out into the garden in the process.

Although I love music and listen to it endlessly, when it comes to getting words down onto a screen, I can’t.  I have write in absolute silence.  I can’t write if there’s a source of noise anywhere – music, talking, loud TVs etc, it seems to block the link between my brain and my fingers.  I write in solitary, with the door closed and if I hear so much as a squeak of Justin Bieber from the back room, I’m out asking her to turn it down.

I’m so sensitive to noise when I’m writing, that I can’t even leave my phone on charge next to me while I’m doing it, as even the small noise that makes is a source of distraction.

So getting up at 4am and having a quiet house for a few hours is probably my ideal writing environment.  I’m most definitely a morning person as some of you may know, from the tweets I send out at stupid o’clock.

Writing is not something I can do in public, or if I feel that someone’s watching me.  Fresh text is a very personal thing and until I stop and read it back, this is me in the raw so to speak and I don’t want to you see that bit.  It’s almost like letting a boy see your bits for the first time, that’s how personal it is!  Once I’ve read it through and checked it, it’s at least got a bathrobe on and can appear decent.  Do you get me?

I’m a bit like the Weeping Angels on Doctor Who, I freeze if there’s the slightest chance of anyone seeing me move my fingers across the keyboard.  Of course, shut the door and I can motor away at approximately 700-800 words an hour; which isn’t much, I’m not a ‘proper’ touch typist, but at least stories grow by a bit each day.

I’m curious to discover what would happen if I did take myself off to the IKEA Restaurant and tried to write in a completely different environment.  Would anything appear on the screen, or would I judge it akin to appearing stark naked in public?  Please be assured that I harbour no such desires, I like to keep my clothes firmly on!

I never used to understand why recording artists were so precious about their demo’s, they sounded fine to me.  But now I understand about things in their raw, unfinished state. Anything that leaves this screen unchecked and unreadthrough is leaving me in a similar raw state and you’re not seeing me at my best.  I don’t want you to see the raw ‘creating sausages and laws’ bit, I want you to see the glossy, polished end product.

Stephenie Meyer, the author of the massively popular Twilight series fell victim to unpublished work being circulated and took the bold step of posting it on her website for people to read.  I didn’t understand why she felt as angry as she did because I lapped up the fragment with glee, but twelve months later, I completely and utterly do.

Writing for me is and always has been, a deeply personal experience and in allowing something out of my hands for you to read, it’s almost at times as if I am exposing myself.  That I had the confidence to let Aurora go out to people AND post it on a fanfiction site, still amazes me.

My blogs are not as precious as my stories, it’s a case of open head and things fall out, it’s just my life.  Stories however are a product of me and my brain. Like all creative things, sometimes it’s art and sometimes it’s just a sad middle-aged woman flaunting more than she should in public.

What is the difference, exactly?

See you tomorrow!