Revisions and The Raven Boys

My new workstation – the kids’ homework desk!

I finally managed to get back to some work today, having packed my almost-better children off to school and nursery. I felt guilty about it, because they probably should have been at home, but I needed the space and silence and absence of sick to start feeling human again.

It felt good to work on my manuscript for the first time in ten days, even though I failed at the numbers game. That’s the thing with revision: you write and write and cut and edit and, at the end of several hours, you have 200 words fewer than you started with.

It’s disheartening.

I’m editing and expanding with this novel, so there are still thousands of words to write to fill the gaps. It’s not uncommon for me. When I write my first drafts I tend to write the highlights; something like an extended synopsis. I write for the romantic ending, the big scenes, the turning points. Then, fifty thousand words later, I look through what I have written and think what?! How did I get from there to there? How did she go from hating to loving him? Why have I given all the secrets away in the first chapter? How much backstory? Then I have to go through and unpick the mess. Fill in the motivations, flesh out the hundred-word paragraphs that really should be two-thousand word chapters. It’s tiresome work, because I write to discover the ending. Once I’ve reached the end, I’m not that interested in filling in the spaces.

I read that way, too. I usually have to read a book twice because, the first time through, (if the book’s any good at story pace or suspense) I skim-read whole chapters to get to the essence, the plot point, the drama. I miss all the great language, the unfolding of characters and personalities, the subplots, the themes. I devour the book, barely tasting it, and then have to go back through and vacuum up the crumbs.

Revision leaves me feeling like this

I’m reading the sequel to The Raven Boys – The Dream Thieves – at the moment (despite my rant about the abrupt and unsatisfying ending of the first one) and I’m utterly hooked. Now that I know it’s a four-parter, I’m not worrying too much about story resolution (although I’m still skimming ahead for the drama, of which there is plenty). I feel that I’m reading the book in a language other than my native tongue, as if it’s in Old English or something, because the writing is dense and complex and poetically beautiful, but for some reason that’s okay.

But it hasn’t helped my revision. Because, when I put the book down and reluctantly get back to work, I read through my oh-so-obvious story line, with my two-dimensional, unintriguing characters, and I want to chuck the lot in the bin. My Alex and Rebecca are pale imitations (not imitations, because I wrote them before I read Maggie Stiefvater, but you know what I mean), pale shadows of Gansey and Ronan, Adam and Blue. And I want them to shine and live, like Maggie’s characters do. It’s exhausting.

No one says writing a novel is easy. Actually, writing it is the easy part. Making it make sense, making it shine: that’s the impossible task. Reading the words of a master is at once both inspiring and crushing. Never mind. I shall slog on, ignoring the expert sprinting past to the finish, and climb my own climb, one step at a time. It’s worked before. I have faith. I’ll see you at the summit!

Reblog: “All Retch and No Vomit”

Freedom: From the Alan Watts video

Things are still hanging on by a feverish thread here in the Martin household, with little man peeling away my last layers of patience with his fractious, “Mummy, but..” “Mummy, can we just…” “Mummy, I’m bored / tired / miss Daddy” and “Mummy, I’m hungry…” followed by a refusal to eat anything, on eternal loop.

I decided to look back twelve months to see if this is normal January/February stuff. It is. We need to holiday somewhere hot in the winter to avoid this annual decimation of the family health and happiness and to preserve my ongoing sanity.

In the meantime, as I have no words, I’ve decided to steal a post from back then, 9th February 2013 to be exact, to keep the blog alive in my absence. The title seemed very fitting, as it describes the coughing noise that’s become the soundtrack to my life! (Sorry, too much info!). Joking aside, the Alan Watts speech resonated with me back then and, listening to it again, now my daughter has started school, it has even more meaning now. This is the original post:

________

The Alan Watts video, What if Money Didn’t Matter?, came my way today via Facebook. It’s been around a while so I’m sure most people have seen it. If you haven’t, check it out on YouTube.

My favourite line (describing schooling and how we raise our kids to want the things we want) is

“it’s all retch and no vomit.”

You can’t beat that for an image with impact.

Actually the line that truly resonated was this:

“Better to have a short life that is full of what you like doing than a long life spent in a miserable way.”

What if Money Didn’t Matter?

Now I know if you have kids, responsibilities, mortgages and so forth, this is a difficult thing to fit into your life. Many of the less positive comments beneath the video are along the lines of “that’s all well and good but I’m a single mum / I have a mortgage / I have bills to pay, I can’t afford to do what I want.” Or my favourite, “what; do I tell my kids not to bother with their homework?”.

To me that has missed the point. It doesn’t have to be so black and white. We can knuckle down to hard work and try to direct that towards something we will love doing in the future. And if in some ways we are already caught in the trap, stuck in a career that’s more about money than happiness, it doesn’t mean we can’t try and pass a different ethos onto our children.

Yes kids still need to do their homework.

Having aspirations doesn’t mean it won’t take hard work to realise them. I think the message is to find something you love and put it nearer the centre of your career than the need to get rich.

When my husband first watched the video he realised he didn’t know what he would do if he didn’t have to earn money. That’s a sad realisation at forty. He’s given it some thought and come up with some answers but I think it’s important to know what you love doing even if it isn’t possible to do it.

I’m probably rambling making no sense: it’s been a long day on little sleep and too much coughing. I might revisit this topic when I’m feeling more lucid. In the meantime I love the first screenshot I captured, I think it encapsulates the journey Claire is on as she realises life is about more than earning enough money to buy the next must-have designer shoes.

P.S. Why did I never have Claire parascend into a cave? That would have been amazing! One for the sequel maybe…

Finding The Positives

Getting ready for school!

1. It’s not raining

2. Our house isn’t flooded

3. I have two wonderful, loving children

4. I can still get up and look after everyone

5. My daughter doesn’t have a temperature and can go to school

6. The doctor says my son’s cold hands and feet don’t automatically mean he has septicaemia

7. The kitchen is clean after my “I’m ill so I must do housework” blitz yesterday

8. I remembered to buy milk and found some tea bags in the back of the cupboard

9. I no longer have to worry about planning a party

10. I sold a copy of Dragon Wraiths

Waving From The Trenches

Slightly blurry party pics

Having survived my daughter’s birthday party weekend, despite illness and chaos, I thought I could finally breathe a sigh of relief and get a day to do some writing. Unfortunately the universe had other plans. As if to trump the coughs we’ve all had, our son decided to throw out a temperature of 39C last night, throwing up his party sweets and spending the night whimpering. I tried sleeping on his floor but he wanted to come in with us, so after hours spent checking his temperature, trying to keep him from cuddling up and getting too hot, and then a wide-awake daughter coming in at 5am wanting to play with her new gifts, I’m a bit spaced today.

I’m currently trying to figure out how to do the school run and the supermarket shop without spreading his germs around. Meanwhile he and his sister are playing guns with a new toy, happy as you like. Kids are amazing. I have no temperature at all and feel like the living dead and husband looks like willpower alone is keeping him walking. So, this is just a quick note to keep my daily blogging alive. I’d like to say normal service will resume soon but, quite frankly, the light at the end of the tunnel keeps being the London Express.

Author Interview: Pat Elliott – All In The Leaves

All In The Leaves by Pat Elliott

Today I am thrilled to welcome Pat Elliott, author of All In The Leaves, which tells the story of Anna, nearly thirty, living at home and single. When a chance bout of tears leads to a tea leaf reading she is shown a wonderful future: new career, new home, new husband. All by Christmas. All she has to do is get on and make the necessary changes to ensure it happens. When calamity strikes, the battle for happiness begins.

Pat spent eighteen years of her working life in a magazine company, before becoming self employed as a reflexologist. She has had factual pieces published on reflexology and on adopting a dog. All in the Leaves is her first novel, with a second, Leaves for Chloe, currently being written. She has also written a volume of short stories, called At Sanctuary’s Gate.

Pat was born in the Alexandra Palace area of London and currently resides in the Essex countryside, with her husband and adopted terrier. She has a great love for dogs, and is delighted when a rescue dog gets a second chance in life. She also loves to paint in watercolour. Her blog can be found here.

I asked Pat a few question about life, writing and All In The Leaves. I hope you enjoy learning more about her and her novel.

1. Tell us a little about yourself and how you decided to write fiction, after a life working in magazines?

I left the magazine world to set up my reflexology practice. I took up reflexology initially to help my husband, who had a back injury and suffered with subsequent depression. I feel that people who suffer injuries and depression are given short shrift in this world of ours – and if I can help them, I will. Living with injury and depression is not an easy road – either for the person suffering, or the one who tries to help. I see quite a few people who fall into this category. For the helper, it is paramount to maintain outside interests. With that in mind, I like to learn something new. I enrolled on an adult education course which attracted me – Creative Writing, Short Stories. This was such a fabulous course that I signed up for the follow up – Creative Writing, Novels. I was attracted to the fact that after initial instruction, you were out there on your own, getting on it with it. That fits my working life much better than something rigid.

It also means that I can be at home, yet still have an outside interest. The life of a writer can be one of any life they choose to write about. It’s a wonderful escape.

2. Your novel features dogs a great deal. Tell us about the dog(s) in your life

Pat and Missy

Yes, indeed. The love of dogs is a theme that runs in my novel. Anyone who owns a dog knows the unconditional love you get from these creatures. We are none of us so full of love, that we couldn’t do with a little extra.

My first dog was a jack russell, Spotty. She lived originally with my neighbours, but they were cruel to her. They’d split her head open by hitting her with a roofing tile – and then refused to take her to the vet. I took her. We spent our first night together under the duvet, on the sofa – after the vet had told us that her life hung in the balance. The first 24 hours were crucial. She lived, and stayed safe in our love for the next 16 years, until she passed, aged 18.

Once Spotty passed away, we went to Battersea Dogs and Cats Home to adopt another, where we met the wonderful Missy. Still a russell, but long legged and long haired – the opposite of Spotty. That was important to me, so that we’d never compare the two. Missy was in Battersea for almost two years, waiting for a home. I have nothing but admiration for the care that Battersea took over her. She was 8 years old when we adopted her. She’s 16 now and still a cheeky little minx – but I like that in a dog.

3. All in The Leaves is about tea leaf reading and has sections that are very spiritual. Are these drawn from your own experiences?

There are elements of my own experiences in the story. I did indeed have an Irish relative who could read tea leaves and was surprisingly accurate. Being the daughter of a Irishman, there is great Celtic lore and spirituality in my genes – and this shows in my writing. I like to weave some of that into my stories. I feel it adds another dimension.

4. The novel explores the beauty of Scotland, and Edinburgh in particular. As someone who lives in Essex, is there a secret yearning to live over the border? 🙂

I do live in Essex, yes! Originally my family were from Waterford, then Wexford, Eire. When the work situation forced some of the younger members of the family to spread their wings, some moved to London and some to Scotland. So I feel quite attached to both. Would I live there? I’d certainly consider it, should the opportunity present itself.

5. All in the Leaves is the first in a series of novels. Did you always intend to write a series?

No, originally, I didn’t. I started to write All in the Leaves as part of my novel writing course. When I spoke to other book reader friends, they asked would it be a series? I quite like each book to have an ending, so that’s what I did in Leaves, but I also saw the possibility that there could be other tea leaf readings and other books. Each complete to themselves. That’s when I decided to make a series.

6. The next book will be about Chloe. Tell us a little bit about it; is it set after All in the Leaves (and will we see more of horrid Howard and adorable Angus)?

Leaves for Chloe is set after All in the Leaves. It charts what happens to Chloe in the year after the end of the first book. Yes, horrid Howard does appear a fair bit in book two, like a bad penny, he always turns up! The adorable Angus also returns, patient and kind as ever. Some may say pushover, but he does have a core of steel.

7. You self-published your first novel. Was that something you intended from the start? How did you find the experience?

All In The Leaves – about tea leaf reading

Originally, I would have been thrilled to have an agent and a publisher. However, the more research I did, that route did not feel fine to me. The absolute decider was when I read about one poor man, who’d spent two years of his life writing his book, only to see it pulped after a few months on the bookshelves. It hadn’t performed as well and as quickly as the distributors wanted, so it was pulled.

I understand that they are a business, and shelf space is at a premium, but my heart went out to the man who’d lost his dream. I decided that if I self published, All in the Leaves could stay on the virtual shelves until it found its own market.

I chose to use ebook partners to convert and distribute my book. I couldn’t be happier with their service. I am not the person to spend hours over the computer, trying to work out how to format a book. Nor spend time dealing with different countries’ tax requirements. I much prefer to pay someone to do all that, so that I can concentrate on what I enjoy. Plus, they only take a fee. No percentage of your sales. That was a big plus to me, because it fit my idea of a professional service

8. You’re an artist and a reflexologist as well as an author; how do you manage your time? Do you find yourself torn between your different creative outlets?

No, I’m never torn. Reflexology is my bread and butter. That time comes first. In any spaces between clients, I balance the other two. As a writer yourself, you know there are times that you could bang your head on a wall, in frustration at not finding the right plot or device. In those times, I paint!

9. You have also published a collection of short stories, At Sanctuary’s Gate; how is writing short stories different to writing novels? Which do you prefer?

Short stories are for me quick insights. A novel is more of a slow, developmental burn. My short stories are more observational than dialogue filled, my novel is more about dialogue and personal interaction. I like them both. That’s not a cop-out – they both fulfil a different need in the writer me.

10. Finally, what advice would you give to someone just starting out in their writing career?

Firstly, write! If there’s a class available, get some instruction. A good tutor will encourage, instruct and inspire. If there’s no class, find the resources online or in your library. Help is there, if you look for it.

You can find out more about All in the Leaves and purchase a copy here. Thanks for reading.

Money and What Does It Mean to be Normal?

Playing Guess Who with my family

I’m feeling a bit bruised today. I feel as if this month, or more precisely these last few months, have been a real battle, mostly about money. It’s easy for money not to be an issue when you have enough.

Hubbie and I have fought hard to arrange our lives so that money isn’t an issue. We’ve made many choices that have put lifestyle over income and possessions. But some things, like Christmas, or birthdays, bedroom furniture and children’s parties, all fall under lifestyle rather than unnecessary expense.

And that’s fine and as it should be.

But when they all come at once, along with some other sources of income not happening when they should, it all leads to stress. And the biggest stress for me is that I don’t earn anything. For all the rationalisation that hubbie couldn’t do his job if I didn’t look after the house and kids, I still hate spending ‘his’ money.

I knew writing was not the lucrative financial choice. I used to make more in a day contracting than I made all last year selling books. And that’s okay. Right up to the point where I want to spend money on something other food and fuel and don’t feel like I can.

Concentrating hard!

I don’t want to give up writing, but I know hubbie is tired of me crying all time because I’m worried about money, because I feel worthless without an income. And I worry I’m risking friendships because I don’t want to spend money on a day out, night out, weekend away or other expensive thing. One short contract would make it all easier. I could pay for my daughter’s party, new bed and bike, and still have enough left over to proofread my next manuscript.

But I can’t even think where to start. Now my daughter’s at school I’d have to arrange childcare before and after school. Not to mention having to buy a whole new wardrobe of suits in my post-baby body size. And then I’d have to convince one of my old contacts that I still know anything about insurance and/or marketing. After five years out, I probably don’t. It’s a fast moving industry – new regulations, new channels; five years ago social media barely existed.

Even if I did find something, it wouldn’t be on my former salary. I’d probably not actually bring in much extra money, after we’d paid for childcare, not to mention the extra pressure on the family if mummy wasn’t at home cooking, cleaning, washing and ironing. There’s a meme going around facebook that says:

Normal is getting dressed in clothes that you buy for work and driving through traffic in a car that you’re still paying for – in order to get to the job you need to pay for the clothes and the car, and the house you leave vacant all day so you can afford to live in it ~ Ellen Goodman

Craziness. Do I really need to put my children in childcare and put us all under stress just so I can feel I have my own money to spend? Instead of doing what I love – walking the dog, taking care of my family and writing novels? Having time to play board games and cook dinner, with time over to learn how to bake cakes? Put like that it’s all a bit silly. But still, earning a few hundred pounds a month might be nice!

Not Running on Empty, Running On Sober: A Blogger Profile

A very inspirational profile on someone who seems a very inspirational blogger. I like the idea of collecting words like butterflies: I too used to collect lyrics when I was younger and pour over them for meaning.

WordPress.com News

We first met Christy after reading her post,My Grace is Gone (A Climb Out of Alcoholism). The sheer honesty and emotional intensity of the piece resonated with us — so much so — we not only bumped it to Freshly Pressed, we included it in our year-endEditors’ Picks — a collection of our favorite, most powerful posts from 2013. Christy sat down with us to tell us how she got started atRunning on Sober, what blogging has meant to her in recovery, and a little about some new blogging projects she recently started.

rosmasthead

Tell us the story of how you started your blog, runningonsober.com.

One of my best friends actually pissed me off, that’s how. It’s actually kind of funny. See, I had my last alcoholic drink in May 2011, just two months after my mom died. (No, that’s not the funny part.) But…

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Advice For Writing and Life

This is what I want to do today

Okay, I finally admit it. I’m ill. I went to bed at 8pm last night and slept until hubbie came to bed at midnight. Then I popped a pill to make sure I’d get back to sleep. And didn’t. There’s nothing worse than your body being asleep when your mind is wide awake and all around you the house is coughing like every occupant smokes 40 a day. (We don’t. We’re all ill.)

I would have written a post then, but I was drugged so could only lie awake and worry about life and fume that I’d had a fourth failed delivery from the crap company I had the utter misfortune to choose to deliver my daughter’s new bed.

So this morning I’m taking time to be ill. After the school run I’m heading back to bed. So I am utilising the blog network for today’s post. Here are five great articles to help with writing and life:

1. 10 Foundational Writing Practices – Charlotte Rains Dixon: the importance of getting the basics right. My favourite three are Move your Body; Calm your Mind; Stay Positive

2. The Simple Joy of Slogging Through to the End – Speak Happiness: an old post on the satisfaction of finishing a difficult task. I’m hoping I’ll feel like that when (if) my daughter’s bed finally arrives and I’ve managed not to break anything or anyone in my anger at the company’s sheer incompetence.

3. “Days are Lost Lamenting over Lost Days” – another from Speak Happiness: this explores a quote attributed to Goethe. A very interesting read. The full quote is:

Then indecision brings its own delays,
And days are lost lamenting over lost days.
Are you in earnest? Seize this very minute;
What you can do, or dream you can do, begin it;
Boldness has genius, power and magic in it.

4. Why Doing a Jigsaw Puzzle is a Bit Like Writing A Book – Debbie Young: looking at the ways assembling a jigsaw puzzle is like writing a book. As I’m in the difficult stage of redrafting Class Act, trying to make sure all the pieces fit together and the whole picture looks right, this struck a chord. Especially these points:

No matter how carefully you prepare the component parts – the corners, the edges, all the pieces with blue sky or Persian carpet or Delft tiles or pink flowers – the assembly of the puzzle never goes entirely according to plan.
When daunted by what seems like an insurmountably difficult section, you realise that if you only apply yourself, one piece at a time, you really can conquer the challenge.
Sometimes it works best if you switch your conscious mind off for a bit and let the subconscious take over.

5. In Defense of Pantsing – Jami Gold: because Pantsers can write novels too, as long as we remember to apply structure and story beats during redrafting. Enough said!

Right. Back to bed.

A Random Post of Random Thoughts

Feels like yesterday…

I’ve had several post ideas floating round my head today, as I rushed from place to place completing chores. Of course, now I’m curled up with my computer and the children are finally in bed, dinner cooked and eaten, dishes stacked, laundry done, dog walked, birthday tea party over and sick husband cared for, my mind is blank.

I should know, by now, to scribble the ideas down somewhere before they fly away. I seem to remember vaguely that one was about voice in writing, after listening to the fifteenth episode of Octonauts (a Cbeebies programme set under the sea) in the car, and loving all the different accents of the characters. Hmmm, don’t think I have the energy for that right now.

Another one was about the passing of time, as it’s my daughter’s fifth birthday today. This time five years ago, I was having an emergency c-section, after a 30-hour unproductive labour, delivering a baby three weeks before I planned to. Time is like the tardis: big and small at the same time. Every minute of every day of that five years felt looonnng, but whoosh, five years seems to have disappeared in the blink of an eye.

I’ve also spent much of the day fighting terrible broodiness. Maybe that’s also part of having your first born turn five. You face the idea of them growing up and think another baby is a good idea. I skipped a period last month (not unusual when I’m stressed) and I was more hopeful than horrified. When I finally came on today I actually felt sad. Despite the postnatal depression, the exhaustion, the shouting, the lost of self, the wondering how I can cope with two, the terrible labours, the increasingly early arrivals of said babies, the close friendship between my kids I wouldn’t want to break, the increased risk of health issues as I approach 40. Despite all those things, I felt sad. Damn you, hormones.

And whoosh, she’s all grown up!

Another topic that sits at the back of my mind is the way I have changed since I got married, with regards to chores round the house. When I lived on my own, I was quite capable of changing light bulbs, in the house and in the car, putting up a shelf, grouting the bath or painting and decorating. I even took the carbouretor off my car once, took it home in a bag for a friend to fix, before putting it back on. Me!

Since I got married, though, the household chores have been divided on gender lines. Hubbie does DIY and car, I do cooking and cleaning. But today, with hubbie sick in bed, I decided to change half a dozen light bulbs that have been annoying me for ages. It was liberating. Definitely a topic to explore, when my head isn’t aching fit to burst.

The final random thought I had today was about music. Listening to “Tracks of our years” on Radio 2 (with Ian Rankin this week – what a lovely guy he is, so inspiring) I was trying to figure out what tracks I would choose. Ten pieces of pop music that really mean something to me. It was tough. I didn’t get very far. It made me realise that your taste in music is pretty much fixed by the time you hit your twenties. And I wondered if that was true for books and reading too.

So many ideas. And, low and behold, I seem to have captured them all, more or less. I need to write some of them up into proper discussions. If I do, I’ll have my blog posts sorted for a whole week! Anyway, it’s definitely time for bed. Sorry for the random ramble. Hopefully I’ll find some inspiration before tomorrow! 🙂

Domestic Chaos or Learning to Learn

Flat Fairy Cakes

I am always having to tell my four year old daughter (five year old, by the time you read this in the morning. Eek!) that you can’t do anything on the first go. When she gets frustrated because she can’t skate, or read, or sew, I remind her it just takes practice and it wasn’t that long ago that she couldn’t write her name, scoot or draw people. It doesn’t end the tears and tantrums, but I hope it’s sinking in somewhere.

Seems, as in most things, I’m a hypocrite. All my life, I’ve avoided doing things I wasn’t naturally good at, because I hate being merely okay or, worse still, just plain awful at anything. Studying wasn’t hard, until I got to A Level Maths and, even then, I managed to cram and learn enough to get an A. I passed my driving test first time. I gave up the violin after grade five because there was no way I was going to pass musical theory, as I’m pretty tone deaf.

I’m not afraid of hard work, but I need motivation to continue and I’m driven by praise and good results. Which is probably why I hate to cook. Because I can’t. For as long as I can remember I’ve sucked at baking. My long-suffering family have consumed many a crunchy cake and cardboard biscuit, un-risen sponge or crumbling flapjack. And laughed. So in the end I gave up trying.

Burnt Flapjack

For some reason I’ve been on a baking spree this week, and mostly it’s been a disaster. Soggy banana bread, brick-like wholemeal loaf, flat fairy cakes and burnt flapjack. My birthday tea for my daughter tomorrow is likely to come courtesy of whichever supermarket I pass on the way home. The thing is, I’m sure I just need to practice. But this isn’t like learning piano. You don’t waste five quid of ingredients if piano practice doesn’t go right. You don’t get fat from eating all your mistakes that no one else will touch. You don’t get grimaces from the family. Actually, I do when I play the piano too, which is why my keyboard skills are about as good as my culinary skills!

I’ve been discussing my failures on Facebook and one friend said “Amanda you are one of the smartest people i know! I KNOW you can do this. If you can read, you can cook! Keep the faith!”

I think that’s the problem, though; it isn’t just about reading a recipe. The recipe I followed for the fairy cakes said nothing about the eggs and butter needing to be at room temperature (two of the reasons suggested for why my cakes didn’t rise.) I feel like Hermione in Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince when Harry is using the book with extra notes and making great potions, when hers don’t work. Baking is more science than art. Give me words or paint any day: much more forgiving of mistakes, more scope for being creative! Cooking is creative, but baking is all about precision; it’s chemistry and I was rubbish at science!

This time, though, I can’t give up. I can’t teach my children persistence and the importance of failure, if I won’t follow my own advice. I just have to find a few recipes to stick to, rather than blaming the recipe and trying a new one every time. And stop eating my failures! 🙂