Still waiting and it's torture...

This week I played my part in the torture and subsequent demise of our fifteen year old cherry tree....

 

I instigated this murder, encouraging my husband to hack at its thick trunk while I wrapped cord around a wart-ridden sprouting, below the neck.

 

From the corner of my twitchy eye I saw our neighbours peering through their nets or cowering behind fences. All were too afraid to mock. Very probably they were in awe of our strength and sheer determination. We were unfazed by the heat, wiping sweat from our brows, yanking and sawing at the cursed tree, refusing to give up. It dug in its roots, putting up a good fight, but we had weapons that we were not afraid to use. I stood back as my accomplice sliced through the torso with a circular saw. Then, together we took hold of the noose and gave the good-for-nothing eyesore one final heave. It landed on the lawn with a thump, shaking the ground, sending a colony of ants into frenzy.

 

My husband stood proudly over our victim believing his task was done, but I had another job lined up. ‘Finish it off once and for all,” I egged him on. “Pour the root killer into its stump and make sure it chokes on the lot.”

 

All year, the tree’s off-springs have been shooting through our front lawn, but they are all wilting now, keeling over as the poison sets in. While I wait for the roots to die, I calmly take hold of Sarah Hall’s, ‘Carhullan Army’....now this is disturbing stuff....

 

....Wow! That’s what I call a good ending....

 

I wonder what my agent thinks of my denouement?  

 

She’s had Ghost Towns for three and a half weeks now. It feels like an eternity......

Waiting for news....

 

I attended the Harrogate Crime Festival last week and collected a fine array of business cards. As I handed back my name scribbled on pieces of scrap paper I realised the Lynne Blackwell/ Author brand didn’t look very professional. Therefore, I’ve finally got around to creating a Twitter and Facebook account, which I intend to add to my very own business card. The only problem is that I haven’t been able to put my mobile down ever since...

 

If something is habit forming, compulsive and obsessive then we can assume it is addictive and I can’t focus on anything else. Surely, I’m not an addict? I only take the odd glance, every few seconds or so, in every waking hour...

 

Maybe, I’m in denial, which is another sign of addiction. I’ve got to face up to the truth and wean myself off Twitter and Facebook. I’ve learnt to ignore distractions in the past. I can’t recall the last time I visited a horoscope website. So, it shouldn’t be too hard finding the will power to stop pressing like buttons... if only for a day....

 

I last looked, all of two minutes ago, which seems like an eternity. All sorts could have gone on in the world and I’m missing out! OMG! I can’t leave it alone. I find myself checking how many followers I’ve got, which is only a handful. Does that mean I’m boring? Oh surely not me! I’m so ‘with it’. I’ve become hip and trendy. I’m doing what all the young people do. Social media is the rage and I’m part of it....But, I’m still not published.

 

My agent has the first draft of Ghost Towns and I haven’t heard from her since it landed on her desk. Perhaps, she doesn’t like it? She’ll have noticed those once agains cropping up, over and over again. There might be other mistakes. I’m so nervous.

 

Am I the only unpublished author to get so tweety and twitchy after the hard work has been done? Perhaps I should share this thought with my Facebook friends? Maybe the twittering community will empathise.....or perhaps I should get out more.....?

Once again...again and again....

 

 

When my husband proof read Ghost Towns, he cried and laughed in all the right places, telling me it was a rollercoaster of emotions. But was he biased? Did he want to keep up my fading spirits? After all, we were due to go on holiday and it would be unbearable sharing a hotel room with a grumpy unpublished author. That’s when I decided to have another glance before sending it off to my agent and, obviously, I couldn’t help but make further improvements.

 

I emailed it onto my agent a week later, leaving only a few hours to pack the suitcases. Our plane was almost ready to take-off and I couldn’t find the energy or motivation to move a muscle. I found myself consumed by an overwhelming sense of relief that I’d sent off the first draft, which made me sink into a lethargic stupor. It was as if I’d been transported into a yoga class, absorbed by the sound of mating whales, allowing every inch of my body to go numb. My brain was shutting down, switching off. I could have easily closed my eyes and keeled over.

 

After six months of hard slog, the time had come to leave the parallel universe of Ghost Towns, escape from this other life and concentrate on the real world. We were going to seek out a sunnier climate. Viva Espania....well Mallorca actually. Soon, there’ll be plenty of time to relax, but not until we’re on the plane.

 

I hollered out instructions to the family, delegated tasks and surprisingly they all got on without complaint.  This obedience allowed me the time to consider having another look at the sent mail box. It was tempting to peek at the manuscript, which was on the agent’s desk, just a little peep, only the first few paragraphs. Then, I’d be able to go away in the knowledge that my agent was going to be so impressed. I’d be drinking pina coladas by the pool, confident that she’s in London securing a deal with a hefty advance. 

 

Then I remembered the many changes I’d made after my husband had proof read: little additions that were now in the hands of David Higham. The urge to check them took precedence over packing. I soon found the first stupid mistake. In page one of the prologue, I’d written once again...again....and again.

 

At the airport, I recalled those words once again, then again on the plane and once again after checking into the hotel. The all-inclusive beer helped take my mind off the mistake for a few hours until I woke up in a hot sweat, repeating those words, once again, all over again. I became preoccupied by this error throughout the holiday, believing that in all probability there must be more!

 

I’m home now, concerned that those once agains have spoiled the agent’s read and that my chances of getting published might be diminished, once again......

 

Ctrl F

14^th June, 2013

 

Okay, so I reached a point where superstitious malarkey is becoming nothing but a distraction. If I’m going to get Ghost Towns published I now need to fully concentrate and read through the first draft.  

 

I’ve stuck to the plan all week, remaining focused on the job at hand, completely oblivious to the number of magpies in my garden and not giving a damn about what my horoscopes have to say. The spell of hot weather is now over. It’s cold and wet outside. My lucky clover didn’t get me the NWA or a national lottery win. I’m through with distractions. My agent is waiting for the manuscript. There’s no time to waste.

 

I’m taking every interruption in my stride. The kids seem to have all sorts of things on at the moment from residential holidays to theatrical productions, sports days and parties, but I’ve got it all under control. My family are plagued by twenty-four hour bugs, the Norovirus, migraines, hay-fever and still I’ve managed to get to the half way point. So what could possibly go wrong? Technical issues - that’s what!

 

Every time, I switch on the computer, it decides to shut down for no obvious reason other than it’s got it in for me. I’m saving work every two seconds, paranoid that the manuscript I’ve been working on for the last six months might suddenly disappear into virtual cyberspace. Now a continuity issue has cropped up to put a spanner in the works. I’ve noticed that one of my characters is helping himself to an alcoholic drink in a pub after I’ve just sat him down in his car. And for some reason I keep adding an R to another character’s name, transforming Faye into a Fayre.

 

Thank you, ctrl F - without you, it would have taken me weeks to replace all those Aunt Fayres. Technology is a godsend after all......

 

 

WHAT'S LUCK GOT TO DO WITH IT?

2^nd June, 2013

 

Last week, I found a five leaf clover. Then, the very next day I came across a four leaf one. Thinking my luck was in I got a lucky dip on Wednesday, which came to nothing. I coppered up another pound and bought a ticket for the Saturday lottery only to get two matching numbers. My lucky clovers couldn’t even win me a tenner! I’ve tried not to get too disheartened. Maybe my luck will come in a different form?

 

I managed to manoeuvre around the growing numbers of people on their hands and knees looking for lucky clover on our lawn to go inside and check my emails. All sorts of news could be heading my way: maybe my first book has been sold or I’ve won the Northern Writers Award? This monetary award would allow me to go on courses, pay for workshops and continue writing until I get published. And of course the acclaim would enable me to finally hold my head up high....no I’m not published yet, but I’ve just won an award....No such luck! I have got more chance of winning the lottery.

 

All is not lost. I can still pin my hopes on the second book. After all, I have finished the denouement for Ghost Towns and it is pretty good. I’ll read through the draft and send it off to my agent. If she doesn’t like it I’m chucking those lucky charms into the compost heap or feeding them to the guinea pigs...

 

Before I sign off, I should congratulate the winners of the Northern Writers Award. I have to admit I’m very jealous. This is a great scheme, run by lovely people who seem to organise some fantastic conferences and loads of parties. [www.northernwritersawards.com].

 

Maybe some day I’ll be invited to a bit of a do, anything to get me away from this laptop. In the meantime, I remain an unpublished, un-awarded, poverty stricken, would-be author, but I’ll get there one day. I’m heading out now, walking under every ladder that happens to get in my way, making damned sure I step on all the cracks in the pavements and straining my fingers so wide apart that they can’t cross. Maybe, sheer determination is all I need to bring me luck in the end....?

 

 

 

The Killing Spree...

Friday 17^th May, 2013

 

I’ve killed so many lovely characters in the past seven days from little old ladies to numerous teens. I think it’s time my protagonist and I had a break from it all. She’s laid out several bodies and gone to far too many funerals. If only this had been a fairy tale, then I would have created a happily-ever-after. God knows she deserves some peace after starring in this book! I’m dying for my Friday night curry, and the obligatory bottle of wine is sure to settle my nerves. A celebration is in order now that I’ve completed the first draft. My killing spree is over.

 

However, I am a glutton for punishment. While flicking through this year’s Arvon programme, an event in Moniack Mhor (July 22) caught my eye. The rather aptly titled, ‘Killing People for Pleasure and Profit,’ will be led by the multi award winning author, Val McDermid. This week-long course will also investigate commercial considerations relating to selling crime. I’ve realised first hand that a crime novel will not be published if it wavers from that genre. So after working on my second novel for six months solid, I hope I’ve come up with the goods this time. Surely, all this death, blood and gore will appeal to the crime editors who rejected my last submission.

 

I’m thrilled to have reached my favourite element of the novel writing process. I look forward to taking my time editing the first draft of Ghost Towns. Firstly, I’ll double check the denouement. Perhaps, I’ll add extra snippets of information, but I need to be on the ball and not give too many clues away. Thank heaven for cut & paste and ctrl+f. The heart wrenching part in this stage of writing comes when there's a need to delete good work, because it is no longer relevant. Therefore, I’ll need to be prepared to make ruthless, but necessary decisions. Before I settle down for the night I’m off to kill a few ‘babies’. Someone’s got to do it. There’s no time to lose....

The Final Furlong - Novel Two

10^th May, 2013

 

I’m distracted again, this time not by horoscopes but a trail of splashes on the wall. I’ve deduced it is tomato pasta sauce, last eaten by my children, a day ago. It’s not coming off with water. In fact, my effort to wipe it clean has only gone and made it look worse. I’ll have to go over it with a lick of paint, as if I’ve not got enough to do.  Perhaps, I should investigate the case further. I’ll interview my kids individually, determine the truth and make the culprit do the painting. I’m getting visions of emulsion dollops on the floor and little white foot print trails from the kitchen to the lounge, all over the carpet. Second thoughts! 

 

I’d do it myself, but I am past the halfway mark on my second book. I really should be writing. The whiteboard is now a series of block headings, detailing my character’s activities during every month in the last year. It’s allowed me to figure out how they each fit into the denouement. There is light at the end of the tunnel. I must focus.

 

Our whining cat has just jumped on my lap and is padding for attention. I’ve read somewhere that they can live for days without food, so why is he so persistent? The claws are digging in, clicking at my Levis. Enough is enough. He’s heading north, straight out the door. I note various little gravelly stones on the floor, together with food crumbs and blobs of that bloody tomato sauce, but I will ignore it all. There’s a rotten cabbage smell coming from the overloaded kitchen bin, so I open a window and let in some fresh air. I’ve also decided to leave the clothes on our washing line, even though an overnight frost is forecast. Each item will stiffen to a board, but at some stage the sun will come out and defrost everything. It’s almost five. The kids can make their own tea – they only splash it over the walls instead of eating it, so it won’t matter if it tastes crap. Mummy is on roll – don’t stop me now......

 

I’m going to finish Ghost Towns. However, before I sign off I must make an important announcement. At no time whatsoever during the writing of this blog were any animals or children injured in anyway. Cheerio! I’m heading for the final furlong, just another few chapters to go. Don’t anyone disturb my concentration. I get the feeling I’m going to be writing all through the night. I hope it’s worth it. What if no one wants to publish the second book? What then? I wonder what my horoscope has to say for tomorrow........