So, it’s been a little while, two weeks I think since I last graced this digital notation with a word.*cough cough* It’s gotten dusty in here; I haven’t written, either because I’ve been tied up in writing projects, or because I’ve been downing chocolate by the barrel full because I’ve been tied up with writing projects. Hopefully, I’ll be able to maintain some blog posting over the course of summer during which time a novel will finally get produced alongside a host of short-stories which beg everyday for my attention, but which are neglected for one reason or another. That may also be down to the chocolate, however this is yet uncertain.For a couple of weeks I’ve been preparing for the annual SuWriMos challenge taking place on Gaia. I wasn’t sure whether I was actually going to undertake the task this year, because I worried stress would cause accomplishing my word-count to become more important than writing quality. Instead, I lowered the word-count to a manageable size, decided not to take on editing duties this year (sorry fellow participants; if things go well early on, I may change this later), and chose to include any blog-posts I write in the total word-count. This way the blog receives the attention I like to give it, although haven’t been of late, and I have wiggle room when considering whether or not to trash large segments of fiction, which, unfortunately, I do much of the time. Quality doesn’t suffer for quantity, and, hopefully, a novel draft gets written in the space of three months.
After another creative breakdown, just a small one this time which I decided not to document, I’ve shredded parts of the plot again, combed through what survived and reconstructed ideas with the remains. SuWriMos with consist of constructing a novel in 92 days (90 now actually) with this newly formulated plot line, the third of its kind. Remembering what I said before about large segments of story being deleted at whim, you’ll understand this is quite a difficult goal for me to achieve. I imagine somewhere down the line some critical element will derail, but such is the curse of the writer, and where stories fall apart it is our task to pull them together again. I know others simply relish pushing forward with what they have and deciding later to alter mistakes and redirect based on the overall performance of their piece; while it’s a skill I admire, it’s one I’ve never managed – ah! Sorry, I had a small insect attempting to scale the heights of my leg there – to fully grasp. Writer’s write in different ways, some, like me, slowly tackle the mountain ledge by ledge retreating back down when necessary and carefully, perhaps too carefully, plotting the next step, and others blaze forward to the top ignoring the bears that await their decent. It’s one of the great beauties of the craft, that each has their own route. Mine is just a lot more hassle driven than most, I think. Perhaps I am simply too dramatic.
Summer has appeared as if my magic. During the bank-holiday weekend the weather took a turn for the worse, with rain and gales not unlike late autumnal storms. However, with the entrance of June the sun has taken to beaming, and the air has become warm with its touch. Wind has calmed to a breeze shaking greenery of the garden with a playful urgency. Yet, I live in the dampest region of the UK and that makes me contemplate how long such cliché conditions will last. Most of the time of course I’ll be indoors punching strings of sentences onto a screen as I am doing now, but hopefully I’ll also get to go out and enjoy the summer. In August I turn 23, and while most of my close friends are away, I would like to spend the day doing something enjoyable with someone pleasant. Having not been to a beach in nearing three years I wouldn’t mind spending a day by the sea, and undertaking other summertime activities. Picnics, theme-parks, nature walks, BBQ’s, those sorts of endeavors. Primarily I will be writing.
A novel by September? I’ll do my best.