I had a moment of discovery this morning, whilst trying desperately to tame this mop of wild red hair, I stepped on a plug, fell into my wardrobe and got hit in the head with a full can of hairspray, haha isn't that hilarious?
Well after I picked myself up off the floor and put the hairspray back I just happened to look up and saw a stack of paper peeking over the edge of my wardrobe. Well it turns out that stack of paper is a story I started about 2 years ago that I never finished and as far as I know it's the only copy.....
What's a girl to do?
I posted a very good, overly honest friend of mine my completed manuscript on Thursday, fingers crossed she likes it. I sent it to her because I know she will be honest with me because she loves me. She will spot all the spelling mistakes I have missed and will tell me if it's a load of crap because she wants me to succeed.
Waiting for her verdict is killing me, patience and I don't exactly go well together!
She's my biggest and best critic, but my biggest fans have always been and will alway be my grandparents, they have always pushed me and supported me and I love them for it. My Dad (grandad) has even gone so far to say that when I get published he wants the first copy that gets printed, as amazing as that would be I can't see that happening any time soon!
Mr Daley died last winter leaving Mrs Daley a widow, her children were all grown and had moved away to big cities, no longer content on a small dairy farm in the english country side.
She milked the cows by hand, refusing to go against tradition. At the end of a long day her hands were sore and her back ached but she went to bed happy in the knowledge that every pint of milk she sold at the farmers market had been milked by her own hands, a whole lot of love went into one glass of fresh Daley Farm milk.
A beam of light fell from the sky one cold November night, landing in the field the cows grazed in during the long hot summer days. The wind howled and the shutters on the windows slammed against the wooden walls of the old Daley farm house.
The silhouette of a creature was lowered slowly down by the tractor beam into the middle of a crop circle left by beam.
The light vanished and the field was dark once more, in the middle of the crop circle sat a Dwarf Hotot, a small rabbit with white fur, long ears and large bright eyes. He stood on his hind legs, ears pointing straight up, nose twitching as he examined his surroundings.
The invasion had begun.
The Dwarf Hotot Rabbit hopped silently through the field towards the Daley farm house, when a light flicked on in the kitchen stopping him in his tracks, he lay low to the ground the grass blowing in the breeze tickling his belly. He waited with bated breath his nose twitching, listening to the movement inside the house, shuffling of feet a fridge door opened, the bottles rattled inside and a woman yawned and the light went out.
Daris had escaped from his home world with a band of rebels, opposed to the Vulpini regime, a tribe of Foxes that had invaded his world many years ago, taking the strongest from each Hotot family to build their temples, those who refused were eaten, the invading armies had all but destroyed his planet and now Daris longed for a new world he and his people could call home, free from the rule of the Vulpini, where the threat of death if they did not comply with the new order no longer loomed over their heads.
And thats as far as I got, just an idea. Who knows if it will blossom into something more?
I had one of those dreams last night, that made me think Thats a great idea for a story, but in true dreamlike fashion the more I try to remember and write down the more it slips away and what I do remember just seems ridiculous!
I find that sometimes the ideas that do seem like they could hold someone's attention for longer than a few minutes, start to be second guessed because it feels like they been done before.
In world filled with thousands of books, how do you come up with something that's completely unique? How do you create something that will push to the front of the crowd and not fade in the background?
I found myself aimlessly flipping through the numerous tv channels that my rather overpriced Sky+ box and came across one of my favourite movies of all time, Misery.
Now I don't what it is about this movie but every time I watch it, I have the sudden urge to break out the laptop and start writing, it might be the idea of a crazed fan holding me hostage, I don't know. But what I do know is that sometimes the urge to write wins but then I end up spending the next hour either staring at a blank screen or typing out a few pages before the Gremlins that live in the far corners of my not so inspired mind start screaming "THIS MUST NEVER SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY! DELETE IT ALL!"
A little known fact about me that only a select few know is that I wrote a book about 4 years ago, it's never been published and probably never will be, I have considered writing a second draft of it but I have looked it over so many times that I just can't bring myself to put fingers to keys. I don't know if it's fear of failure or rejection, but I can't seem to get out of my own way. All I have wanted to do for the last 10 years is write. I always said even if only one person read and bought my book I would be happy.
Any suggestions on how I can get past the doubts and fears that have turned a passion into a chore?
I have come up with an answer to this age old question..... here goes......
Because neither of which really help you with your writing. I have a desk with my laptop on and it hasn't helped me collect my thoughts one little bit. I'm starting to think a Raven would give me more inspiration.
I am stuck 52 pages in with no clue what I was going to write in the next chapter this is what happens when I spend too much time away from my work and spend all my time with at the shop. I had a pretty decentish story writen down and now I can't remember where the plot was going to go, I think what makes it more frustrating is I have an ending I just have no idea how to get from A-Z I'm at like F if I'm lucky.
I have tried my usual tricks, going out and taking photographs of the world, losing the rest of the world with my iPod in and dancing around my kitchen, even writing an outline of my chaper and I thill can't seem to get it all down on paper, it's like I have a million hyperactive children running around in my head and I can't get any of them to sit still for more than a few seconds.
Writing just became very stressful, I wanted to do a rewrite but I actually think my first finished piece is starting to irritate me, and any other story I come up with gets irritating. Maybe I am just not in the right frame of mind to try and write anything, when did it start becoming so stressful and stop being fun?
I have had so many ides over the last few weeks and at the time they all seemed like great ideas but I keep hitting a wall and instead of getting over it it seems to get higher and higher and I am really short so climbing it keeps looking less and less likely.
I really dislike having holes in my stories I get so far then I have no idea how to get from B to C but I know where I want to end up, so what now? How to get back in the right frame of mind?
I find my creative juices flow better when I keep busy, it's the middle of the night so I grabbed my ipod from my room, put in my headphones, turned the music up and salsa danced (badly) around my kitchen. I was really into it, hips wiggling, feet moving, spinning having fun until there he was, my sisters boyfriend stood in the doorway, empty coffee cup in hand snickering.
*facepalm* the shame, every closet dancers worst nightmare.
He didn't mock me..... that much, but I have to say moving around and clearing my mind really helped me today I have gotten so much down on paper one of the hundreds of pens I swiped from has been begging me for a time out.
So I am curious when you guys get stuck what do you do?
Today like lighting inspiration struck, writing is no longer my punishment, when I least expected it inspiration, tucked in the the pages of my previous work, I began a rewrite which turned into a completely new story with new characters and a brand new plot. I have an insane urge to shout Eureka and wiggle my glasses triumphantly, sadly this plan was brought to a stand still by the fact I don't wear glasses.
Writing feels like it did two years ago, it doesn't feel like work anymore. It feels relaxing and freeing, I have even inspired my sister to pick up a pen, she's love's those heart wrenching biographies that get turned into made for television movies, so naturally she's writing a fictional story along similar lines.
Where as I am a fantasy fiction nut, so of course that what I write and thats what I hope will be my contribution to the world of fantasy. To be on a shelf along side the books that have kept me awake many nights, pulling those infamous words we have all said from my mouth, "just one more page, then I'll go to sleep, just one more page!"
And hopefully someone who isn't family would purchase a copy and either love it or hate it, either way it wouldn't matter because it would have been read by someone who hadn't be blackmailed into reading it by the phrase "You know how you love me?" and "You're family you have little choice"
I wish all of you with finished novels, poems, scripts and anything else you may have written all the luck in the world! I hope you make it and inspire future generations to write as, we were inspired by the the books we've read so many times we've broken the spine!
Celebrate any work you complete even if it never gets published remember every NO gets you one step closer the that Holy Grail of a YES!!
Good Luck my fellow creative nuts
While I was cleaning the pit aka my room I found a few first drafts of a finished manuscript and the note books containing all the characters that didn't quite make it into the book, all the directions the plot could have gone and even ideas for a sequel. I've been sat waiting for inspiration to strike turns out it was hiding under my bed this whole time not where I expected to find it,
I found myself sat watching a flashing cursor on a bright white screen today any word I typed got deleted.
I haven't put a singl word down on paper in months and I don't know if it's because I have writers block or I am just making excuses, maybe I'm afraid to write, worried that no matter what idea forms in my very odd mind it won't be good enough. I can't seem to form a plot the flows it feels forced.
The ramblings of the sober irish woman, I don't feel inspired maybe I need to get away for a few days, change of pace. Who knows maybe tonight inspiration will strike
Separate names with a comma.