I thought I might try that 'I Write Like' thingumajig that's doing the rounds with a passion right now. Plugging a little of my novel in and finding that I apparently write like Stephen King (which, lawks a lawdy, I don't, nothing like!) I found myself merrily sticking in random bits of fics wot I wrote and it seems, going on samples of Chasing Rainbows, Wind Whispering, A&O, I write like HP Lovecraft (cool, if unlikely). The Sentinel Affair and Angel Dust both threw up the unusual choice of Mark Twain (Angel Dust? Mark Twain?? What the...? O:!). A Child of God came up, like the novel, as Stephen King and Blue plus a random ASJ fic, Jumping Frog (which is named for and references a Mark Twain tale) apparently remind said meme of Chuck Palahniuk.

But best of all, I put in a random bit of typical blather from my LJ and got:






Personally, I think that meme's been drinking.



How are you all, btw? Long time, no whateveritiswedohere. I hope you are all happy and well.

...assail me this cold, damp morning.

I may have made a mistake when I decided - of all my many ideas - to choose to write Shed. I may have to rethink this. It's not really happening like I hoped, it needs more work, more prep, more thought and I think, maybe it'd be better to cut my losses and go with another idea that is happening in what I jokingly think of as my brane.

The other one is a plot I've had on my mind, off and on for years. I's better prepped and covers much of the same territory than Shed. The ideas I'm having seem better suited to the other (working title 'Window' - for reasons too strange to go into right now) and, well, I have lots of reasons for switching that I won't bore you with but the main one is, it just feels right. Shed, I think, will have to wait.

I find THIS highly illustrative of my thought process on the matter for the past several days. No matter how many times I see it, it makes me giggle.

Anyway, I have a father to feed and a house to clean. Life eh? So far from perfect yet what's the alternative? Answers on a postcard. In the meantime, I'll be the one rocking in the dark and dusty corner, sucking my thumb with spiral-eyes, like a cartoon.

ETA: And pausing to say, I've been working on the plot and already written more in an hour and a half than I have on Shed in the past 2 months. Kiss my face!

Tbh, I don't understand now, why I set myself the challenge of writing something entirely new when this story has been nestling in a cosy corner of my mind for at least 10 years, for as long - maybe longer - than Entanglement. There's no accounting for it, none at all but whatever strange and convolute reasons I had back in January when I embarked on the decision to write Shed first, they're lost to me now.

But oh, the relief! Like having a boil lanced or a splinter removed, only a whole lot less painful!  I feel quite jolly, justified in the decision and finally getting somewhere.

OK. Tea, and then on. I've got till 2pm to churn out some more plot before I have to shift myself and do less exciting things.

Plenty fell in the night, we were getting a proper frightening few inches building up out there when we went off to bed but it's pretty much all melted overnight which is - good, isn't it? When we need to go out tomorrow and the coalman's due and only a day's worth of fuel left in the bunker. So why do I feel so let down by the absence of the tedious cold stuff? What a complex, contrary and thoroughly precious little snowflake I am.

So, we are home (kneels and kisses slightly threadbare Persian rug)! The house is still decidedly chilly but the Aga's lit and after a pleasing log fire last night, warming slowly (though I'm still in my thermals).It's 9.30 and I'm still in my pjs, trying to gear myself up to the rigours of the day but getting the usual first-day-home, post-Dad crash in which I sit on the sofa and stare at the wall and/or ITV4 till teatime.

Hey ho, I must move myself and shower and make the bed and write something, there are novels and TS Fics of Teh Most MASSIVE! Angst to be written, not to mention Real Work (of the sort that pays the bills) to be accomplished.

Maybe mor coffee will help? It has achieved exactly nothing so far this icy morning but I feel it's worth a try. ::nods::

5 hours editing the novel - you know, the one I thought I'd finished which I printed out and started checking and... oh dear.

Anyway, the tree is up! We are about to embark on the lights. Please pray for us.

And tis the BIRTHDAY of the most-estimable LUICAT! May your year be as gorgeous, as delightful and delicious as your good self, kitten. XXX

46 chapters, 136,303 words, 95% complete.  Only 2 chapters, 8,000 words to finish . Dear god, whatever will I do when it's done? Suggestions on a postcard...

In other news, m'sister just took delivery of a Radio Times from 1st May 1969. So many ads for slimming-aids (and 50/50 featuring men as the dieters which is interesting) and just utterly fascinating. I cannot tear myself away!

Of Stephen Fry writing about writing.

And now I must go and be about some of the same. I have set myself the target of 15,000 words a day (These are rewrites, I need to add! Not actual writing, for which 15,000 words a day would be an insane target!) to complete this bloody thing in a week.

I am turning teh internets off. I am sitting down at my laptop with my serious intent face on. I may be gone some time.

Staring at the lappy in dazed confusion, one coffee already consumed, more in the offing I suspect. I'm not sleeping well I never really do when we're at Dad's, too much going on till the wee small hours, too much happening in my head. I tried Horlicks last night but all it did was make me need to get up and pee at 2.30am.

::scratches head::

Where was I? Oh, yeah. Entanglement. I'm 4 chapters from the end of my second draft and on a push to finish by the end of the weekend. Then it's on! with the third draft. In between drafts I'll be attempting to make myself work out a submission for literary agents, the bit I hate most.

Look at that, sun is shining! Oh, and potatoes need to be got from their pot too, also laundry, clean the kitchen and a work out. Oh yeah, it's all thrills, spills and dizzy excitements all the time round here.

OK. Enough with the yapping.

Although I'm still a few chapters from the end of my second draft, it's coming along steadily and without complications so I thought I'd take a little time over a cup of delightful Viennese coffee (Polish, Lidl, highly recc'd, yum) to research the agencies, see who might be right for this book and have a first crack at writing my submission and a synopsis of the plot.

It's not going well.

The plot is complicated and unusual  to say the very least. Every attempt to précis it so far has been a disaster.  I mean, looking at the latest attempt I see such gems as:

...has opened a crack in reality that’s been utilised by the Vicar of St Swithuns to part the living from their souls and unleashed bizarre and unusual terrors on Angel’s sleepy hometown.

and.

All Angel wants is to re-make a life with his wife from another life, now reincarnated as former DCI Matt Kershaw, who thinks Angel has murdered his sister.

Oh dear,  it sounds like the ravings of a mental. I see I must give this more thought. I think I'll go back to just re-writing the chapters for a bit. Much simpler, much less likely to up the BP I think.

Hey ho the nonny O, tis Thursday! and the weekend be nigh. I see Friday approaching off the starboard bow. Up with the moonrakers and cut a steady course to olives and freedom me hearties!

No embed. Here be linky.

It's FRIDAY! It is, isn't it? I'm still working on me book at the moment, just stopped for a reviving double-latte + chocolate (yes, I did need that much caffeine). Book's coming on, I'd like to finish chapter 17 before I crack open the cheese and olives and walnut bread and cock my snook at the rain.

As you were. We shall, no doubt, speak later.

Oooh. A blackbird just suddenly started singing. Has the rain stopped then? (answer, no)

Can we be returned to our regular weather now please?

Thank you.

Been to Matalan. Pjs and t shirts have been achieved (and OMG! pink!) also sweat pants for the necessary work out and other sundry unexciting things. Got a nice big coffee mug for £2. I like Matalan, it takes the misery out of clothes and household shopping ::nods::

So. Currently feeding and watering myself prior to tackling the new, shiny chapter ten of the novel and a chapter of  Decimated, the fic I'm writing with the everso nicely naughty fluterbev . I must press on, I have been terribly remiss on the writing front of late.

Have some midweek love you naughty doxies. XXX