May be in the Final of the Shorty Awards

Exhausted.  Three hours sleep last night.  I don't envy the politicians campaigning for votes for the next few months; it's only been a few weeks for me and I'm less animated than a non-possessed ventriloquist's dummy without its ventriloquist.

It looks as if I made it through to the final.  It will take them a couple of days to judge, so I may still have missed out.  If anyone ever nominates me for another award of this kind I'm not getting involved.  End of.  The foot is going down; it has hit the floor; the foot is down.  I have put my foot down.  No more contests.

Must sleep, then write, then sleep, then repeat until book is finished.

Goodnight,

Rebecca
blog.rebeccawoodhead.com

May be in the Final of the Shorty Awards

Only a Few Weeks Until my Deadline

Not long to go and I am in agony and completely exhausted.  My characters are not willing to play ball and my mind is so full of the business side of writing that my creative self is struggling for breath.  

At least I'm not 27.  Nearly a decade has passed by since then.  Today, I looked at a piece of writing recovered from the vaults of the internet that I wrote in that year.  By coincidence, I also stumbled onto the blog of another 27 year old.  I revisited that time: too old to be young and not old enough to be deemed wise with any sense of conviction, regardless of evidence to the contrary.  In many ways, I feel less old approaching my 37th birthday than I did approaching my 27th.  Many of the dreams I had a decade ago have been accomplished.  27 felt like running in traffic that someone else was controlling.  Now, I feel I am at the wheel of my own vehicle.  I know what it looks like and all the little idiosyncrasies with its controls and I'm happy to drive it.  I threw out the sat nav a long time back.  I prefer not to have my course dictated to me any more.  Wherever I end up, is down to me.  I'm enjoying the journey, and if my characters don't want to play ball?  Tough.  I have a novel to finish.

Only a Few Weeks Until my Deadline

Twelfth Night Deadline Fright

Only just over a month until I finish my first draft.  Stephen Fry has got The Fear and abandoned Twitter and the like for total writerly seclusion and his book's not due until April.  Okay, I don't have a publisher breathing down my neck but I've never missed my mid-Feb deadline and I don't plan to start now.  My New Year prediction is that I will disappear into Writer World until mid-Feb. 

Twelfth Night Deadline Fright

Not Yet at the Publishing Banquet but I can Smell the Turkey

Only a little while now until my next self-imposed deadline.  Another book must unleash itself from my brain by Valentine's Day.  Good old Valentine, saint of my first-draft deadlines. 

It is tougher this year.  For one thing, hypothermia is a constant threat to my continued existence and, to be honest, that is annoying enough to require an entirely new swear word.  For another thing, there is so much more to do.  I wished and worked for this 'platform' thing and envisioned about 800 to 1000 followers by this point, but it's somewhere between 4,000 and 5,000 now!  I can't organise a dinner party for four people, how the heck am I supposed to entertain that number?  Of course, much of it is Stephen Fry's fault and I will have stern words when next we meet.  He just threw followers at me with no thought for the work load at this end.  Did he ask if I had food and beds for that number?  No.  The manners on that man.  Honestly! 

It turns out that this 'platform' thing is just a bunch of readers, so I have thousands of people to talk books with.  It's like the biggest book group imaginable.  This is all fine and large but I like talking books and all things literary so I never leave.  It is catnip to the inner Word Nerd.  Twitter's the worst: within minutes you can hear about a book, speak to the writer, buy it and congratulate the publisher.  Is wordy wonderland.  Fortunately, that wordy wonderland has put me in touch with some agents and publishers who've asked for my work.  The last month in particular has been crazy.  I can almost smell the publishing deal!

Right, well, I'm off now.  Christmas to have. 

Thanks to everyone who's read my diary in the last few months.  If you pop across to my site, rebeccawoodhead.com  you can hear my radio debut.  If you want to help me to get published (such a fabulous Christmas gift) it will cost you nothing and require only a couple of clicks - http://tiny.cc/PublishRebecca

Thank you and Merry Christmas xxx

Rebecca

Not Yet at the Publishing Banquet but I can Smell the Turkey

November - a Month of non NaNo Compliancy and Huge Literary Steps

What a month!  Well, I have proved to myself - not that it needed proving - that I will never be NaNoWriMo compliant.  In fact, the few days that I forced myself to participate were torture.  I am no less in favour of it than before.  If anything I love it more.  It is not my thing at all but is such a great event for so many writers that I plan to support it next year.  If I suggest taking part, however, scream at me.

Why is it not my thing?  Too many reasons for one post.  In fact, whilst I always suspected I might lack compliance I thought I'd be able to give it a bash at least.  No.  Had an almost physical reaction to it.  The main reason?  I need privacy.  I'll wait for you to stop laughing..... Okay, I understand the irony of broadcasting my need for privacy in my online diary, and I know that as a Twitter native it may sound odd - but it is true.  This is why I am so glad that I tried - and failed - to be NaNo compliant.

NaNoWriMo showed me the difference between my writer self and my novelist self.  As a writer, I can tap out blogs, tweets, business reports, contracts, articles etc with the world watching and not give a hoot but as a novelist I cannot.  Writing fiction is sacred to me.  The people who exist in my books only ever exist while they are being written or read.  The outside world does not belong in my novels.  Yes, I research - I never stop researching.  The 'real' world is vital to my books but the actual day-to-day world does not belong in their world while they are being written.  My characters demand space that is just for them.  They demand that I tell their stories with emotional accuracy and they won't let me invite others into that process.  Once the first draft is done, it's a different.  For me, the creative process and the editing process are not the same.  I don't need someone telling me what they think of my story; daily word count etc while I write.  Not helpful.  I hit my deadline ALWAYS.  My deadline is 14th February.  My characters finish talking on the 14th February every year and that is that.  Suddenly deciding that this time around I will write a novel in a month is an exercise in daftness.  Unfortunately, when I suggested it, nobody slapped me.  As a consequence, every one of my characters has - and I am bruised.

No 'writing a novel in a month' for me then.  So, has November been a total waste?  Oh no!  In fact, I took advantage of the fact that most people are NaNo compliant to hunt in usually crowded territory.  November, for me, was about getting published.  My first manuscript is with both agents and publishers; I have written articles for two magazines - one in UK and the other in US - and I made my BBC radio debut (my bit is minute 47 onwards) Aside from that, I received three public endorsements from Stephen Fry for my writing.  Not a bad month!  The moral of the story?  Sometimes your answers come to you in an unexpected way.  The most obvious route is not always the best for everyone and life can surprise you or, to put it another way...

November - a Month of non NaNo Compliancy and Huge Literary Steps

Never Ask a Gift Horse for its Dental Records

What an odd week.  Robert Scoble - Google him if you don't know who he is - put me on his Tech Pundits list on Twitter!  Obviously, the cool move here would be for me to acknowledge that this is an entirely expected development on the road to global domination but it's not.  It's HUGE!  How the heck am I a 'tech pundit?'  I scribble eccentric nonsense about how different online gadgets and thingumies connect people.  All around me, giant kings and queens of tech and social media write highly technical jargon while I compare Twitter to a pub and thrash out the finer points of Dickens' A Christmas Carol for the digital age.  So, why have I been so honoured?  Goodness knows, but the expression 'never look a gift horse in the mouth' may apply.

Today, the oddness continued.  Again, this was from a most unlikely source.  I received a tweet:

I just read your bio, what an amazing story. You are an inspiration.

Regardless of where that tweet had come from, I would have been chuffed but you'll NEVER guess who sent it....  Go on, guess.  Give up?  Duncan Bannatyne!  Duncan - Dragons' Den - Bannatyne!!

Before the week gets any weirder, I feel the need to remind myself that a pat on the back is only ever inches from a kick in the butt, pack my ego in a tamper-proof safe and get writing.  I have 50,000 words to write before the end of this month and patting myself on the back won't get them written.

Rebecca

(It is cool though isn't it?)  OY - BACK TO WRITING (Oh, okay then.)     :) xxx

Never Ask a Gift Horse for its Dental Records

The Clocks have gone Back. Writing Time!

The moment has arrived.  The writing season.  For me, November to mid-February are the most productive writing months.  I choose a Yankee Candle, lock myself in a room and disappear into another world.  Only a few days now until NaNoWriMo and I'm reading my books.  Over the next month I will write another novel, but for now I am re-acquainting myself with old friends.  How did they all meet?  What did they first notice about each other?  How did their relationships develop?  As I sit, wrapped in my slanket, while my husband attempts to design a candle-powered radio in the other room, I am revising the world of my books.  When the first of the month arrives I will be ready, and so desperate, to dive back into that world again.  I cannot wait!

The Clocks have gone Back. Writing Time!