aymczard - Post a comment
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| I know it's been a while, but you know what I'm like. I'll start of with the reason I've decided to post here again: I'm sitting down at the computer in a sleeping bag, avoiding doing work for NaNo. It feels like NaNo is starting already, like a new chapter is opening in my life. Not an amazing chapter, not some kind of seminal, life-altering thing, but more of a well-worn chapter that feels snug and comfortable, like a favourite T-shirt. It's the kind of chapter I like to live through. It's like Episode III: we all know Anakin is going to go evil, but it's still exciting to see it and find out how it actually happens. I mean, if this year's NaNo turns out like Revenge of the Sith, I might as well just give up and go for a promotion at work. Anyone can turn out a mediocre piece of time-filler, if they make themselves sit down and watch it. No, it's got to be more like . . . like Dead Man's Chest. Yeah, that's it. Ahhhh . . . NaNo. I can feel it in the air. It's just around the corner. I'm looking forwards to it more than I'd have given myself credit for. It's the sleeping bag that's done it. I've done preparation for it this year. I've done research. Me! Research! I've been checking out graphic novels and comic collections from the library like they're becoming illegal. I've wandered around Bangor taking photographs, for goodness' sake! I know I know . . . hardly very Foxie, is it? I've got pages and pages of notes in Word, details and more details about characters and who they are and what they're doing there. Everyone so far has a reason to be there, and wants a different ending. I mean, I know how it's going to end, but not what the last scene is going to be. In retrospect, I enjoyed that about Ghosts. I enjoyed not knowing what was going to be said and who was going to do what until the words were staring me in the face. That's going to be one of the things I'm looking forwards to. Wander and Pace are going to be there, and I'm not sure who else will be, and I'm not sure what they're going to say or do before they leave. Yes, it's going to be good. I've finished Ghosts, by the way. MS Word tells me it was around the 26th September. That sound right? Probably, yeah. That's about right. Talking about the ending, I've got to share this with you, because it's one of my favourite lines in the whole book. Martin and Sion and Carrie and Red are all sitting around the table, and Martin is making his speech, having his moment, and he's talking about everyone that's left and how they're the only family he has left, and he comes out with: (gees . . . I've just read the last couple of pages over again, and already my eyes are wet . . . anyway): 'Red, Julia . . . whatever your name is, you’re . . . some cousin, I don’t see very much." He shrugged apologetically, looking at her for some sort of bridge or acceptance of something unspoken.' I mean, fantastic. I couldn't have written it better myself. The at the final stop, the count was a stonking 256,859. That leaves at least 100,000 words to slice out. After Butterflies, I'm going to need to re-read it and decide what sort of story I actually want from it. I mean, with that kind of wastage, you've got more of a blank canvass with a few sketched lines on it than a finished picture. Kind of intimidating, I suppose. Still, like I always say, you've got to push yourself. No point in spinning your wheels. I'm looking forwards to it, I suppose. Not in a masochistic kind of way. I like reading through my own work when it's good. It's the only validation I get. It's good for my confidence to read through something and be proud of having written it. I don't suppose that makes me especially unique. I'm hoping Butterflies will have a bit more humour than Ghosts did. Maybe I'll have to lighten Ghosts a little. Not in a 'bit with a dog' kind of way, just so there's some relief and engagement in there. I wouldn't want to read a 300 page suicide note, so I don't suppose anyone else would. Or, at least, no one I'd like to talk to. You've got to have some knowing smiles in there. I think you do, anyway. Gemma'd probably disagree with me, but we're different people. Nothing wrong in that. Butterflies has it's own playlist now, and everything. It's mainly Dylan. Graceland is in there, as well as Nerina Pallot and - of all things - The Cure. I wanted a playlist with the same feel as Workin' Man's Blues and Nattie Moore from 'Modern Times', but I'm failing in that. I'll just go with what I've got and see what I end up with. One last thing before I brew some more coffee and get down to some work: I've forgotten what I was going to say. Bugger. It must have been important, given what I've said about it. Ermmmm . . . . . . . Nope, it's gone. Ho-hum. It may come back. Ah, yes! That was it! Three wishes. What I'd wish for if I had three wishes. I was thinking about this, and I finally made my mind up. I'd wish to know the time, date and circumstances of my own death. I think I'd be able to relax a lot more if I knew that. I mean, I always prefer driving when I know where I'm going and I know the road in front of me, and I always prefer working when I know when I'm going home and when I'm getting my lunch, and I always prefer my days off when I know what I'm doing (not in a 'you must do this', kind of a way, but in a 'this is my day off and I want to do this' kind of way), so it makes sense that I'd prefer my life if I knew when I was going to go home, so to speak. The thing I tend to enjoy most about days out is knowing that I can come home to my own bed, so it makes sense. Anyways, more coffee, more moidering by Freak Show, and some work. Maybe :) |
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