This book has been written for some time and the manuscript was sitting in a box with half a dozen others gathering dust and not quite as complete, so this month it is going to get the makeover, a first draft for the editor.
And so it begins…
…
A week is a long time…
…
As the title says, it is usually said that a week is a long time in politics.
But in the context of my little project, has it what.
But we’re not here to discuss politics, that’s boring stuff, we’re here to revel in the fact seven days have passed, and I’m still on track.
I know, I know, don’t start blowing my trumpet too soon, a lot can still go to hell in a handbasket from here, but at the moment I’m being optimistic.
I’ve written the chapter that was missing, and this, of course, had opened up another hole where I’ll need to add another chapter, but that’s under control. Those pale green post-it notes are looking good.
This book has been written for some time and the manuscript was sitting in a box with half a dozen others gathering dust and not quite as complete, so this month it is going to get the makeover, a first draft for the editor.
And so it begins…
…
You see, this commitment to revising so many words a day becomes a little like a pressure cooker.
Having a plan is one thing, getting it done is another, but to keep going, now, there’s the thing.
Like this morning, sitting in front of the computer, knowing only five minutes before sitting down what I wanted to write about. A new twist in the tale.
Then the phone rings.
Up from the table, over to the phone, answer it.
A nuisance call, someone saying I had an accident when I didn’t, a new group of scammers trying to leverage money out of me. On top of the telecommunication scammers, and the endless charities looking for donations.
This book has been written for some time and the manuscript was sitting in a box with half a dozen others gathering dust and not quite as complete, so this month it is going to get the makeover, a first draft for the editor.
And so it begins…
…
You see, this commitment to revising so many words a day becomes a little like a pressure cooker.
Having a plan is one thing, getting it done is another, but to keep going, now, there’s the thing.
Like this morning, sitting in front of the computer, knowing only five minutes before sitting down what I wanted to write about. A new twist in the tale.
Then the phone rings.
Up from the table, over to the phone, answer it.
A nuisance call, someone saying I had an accident when I didn’t, a new group of scammers trying to leverage money out of me. On top of the telecommunication scammers, and the endless charities looking for donations.
Instead of making a grand entrance, arriving in style and being greeted by important dignitaries, we are slinking in via an airplane, late at night. It’s hardly the entrance I’d envisaged. At 9:56 the plane touches down on the runway. Outside the plane, it is dark and gloomy and from what I could see, it had been raining. That could, of course, simply be condensation.
Once on the ground, everyone was frantically gathering together everything from seat pockets and sending pillows and blankets to the floor. A few were turning their mobile phones back on, and checking for a signal, and, perhaps, looking for messages sent to them during the last 12 hours. Or perhaps they were just suffering from mobile phone deprivation.
It took 10 minutes for the plane to arrive at the gate. That’s when everyone moves into overdrive, unbuckling belts, some before the seatbelt sign goes off, and are first out of their seats and into the overhead lockers. Most are not taking care that their luggage may have moved, but fortunately, no bags fall out onto someone’s head. The flight had been relatively turbulent free.
When as many people and bags have squeezed into that impossibly small aisle space, we wait for the door to open, and then the privileged few business and first-class passengers to depart before we can begin to leave. As we are somewhere near the middle of the plane, our wait will not be as long as it usually is. This time we avoided being at the back of the plane. Perhaps that privilege awaits us on the return trip.
Once off the plane, it is a matter of following the signs, some of which are not as clear as they could be. It’s why it took another 30 odd minutes to get through immigration, but that was not necessarily without a few hiccups along the way. We got sidetracked at the fingerprint machines, which seemed to have a problem if your fingers were not straight, not in the center of the glass, and then if it was generally cranky, which ours were, continue to tell you to try again, and again, and again, and again…That took 10 to 15 minutes before we joined an incredibly long queue of other arrivals,
A glance at the time, and suddenly it’s nearly an hour from the moment we left the plane.
And…
That’s when we got to the immigration officer, and it became apparent we were going to have to do the fingerprints yet again. Fortunately this time, it didn’t take as long. Once that done, we collected our bags, cleared customs by putting our bags through a huge x-ray machine, and it was off to find our tour guide.
We found several tour guides with their trip-a-deal flags waiting for us to come out of the arrivals hall. It wasn’t a difficult process in the end. We were in the blue group. Other people we had met on the plane were in the red group or the yellow group. The tour guide found, or as it turned out she found us, it was simply a matter of waiting for the rest of the group, of which there were eventually 28.Gathered together we were told we would be taking the bags to one place and then ourselves to the bus in another. A glance in the direction of the bus park, there were a lot of busses.
Here’s a thought, imagine being told your bus is the white one with blue writing on the side.
Yes, yours is, and 25 others because all of the tourist coaches are the same. An early reminder, so that you do not get lost, or, God forbid, get on the wrong bus, for the three days in Beijing, is to get the last five numbers of the bus registration plate and commit them to memory. It’s important. Failing that, the guide’s name is in the front passenger window.
Also, don’t be alarmed if your baggage goes in one direction, and you go in another. In a rather peculiar set up the bags are taken to the hotel by what the guide called the baggage porter. It is an opportunity to see how baggage handlers treat your luggage; much better than the airlines it appears.
That said, if you’re staying at the Beijing Friendship Hotel, be prepared for a long drive from the airport. It took us nearly an hour, and bear in mind that it was very late on a Sunday night.
Climbing out of the bus after what seemed a convoluted drive through a park with buildings, we arrive at the building that will be our hotel for the next three days. From the outside, it looks quite good, and once inside the foyer, that first impression is good. Lots of space, marble, and glass. If you are not already exhausted by the time you arrive, the next task is to get your room key, find your bags, get to your room, and try to get to be ready the next morning at a reasonable hour.
Sorry, that boat has sailed.
We were lucky, we were told, that our plane arrived on time, and we still arrived at the hotel at 12:52. Imagine if the incoming plane is late.
This was taken the following morning. It didn’t look half as bland late at night.
This is the back entrance to Building No 4 but is quite representative of the whole foyer, made completely of marble and glass. It all looked very impressive under the artificial lights, but not so much in the cold hard light of early morning.
This the foyer of the floor our room was on. Marble with interesting carpet designs. Those first impressions of it being a plush hotel were slowly dissipating as we got nearer and nearer to the room. From the elevator, it was a long, long walk.
So…Did I tell you about the bathroom in our room?
The shower and the toilet both share the same space with no divide and the shower curtain doesn’t reach to the floor. Water pressure is phenomenal. Having a shower floods the whole shower plus toilet area so when you go to the toilet you’re basically underwater.
Don’t leave your book or magazine on the floor or it will end up a watery mess.
And the water pressure is so hard that it could cut you in half. Only a small turn of the tap is required to get that tingling sensation going.
This book has been written for some time and the manuscript was sitting in a box with half a dozen others gathering dust and not quite as complete, so this month it is going to get the makeover, a first draft for the editor.
And so it begins…
…
It might be a little pedantic, but I have to pay more attention to the word count and make sure the revision is spaced correctly over the thirty days.
Today, day 5, the count is 1,862 words, making a total of 8,943 words so far.
What I have to be careful about is not to let the pressure get to me. I mean, I have to revise about 1,700 words a day to maintain the target. It seems a small amount, but remember this is supposed to produce a reasonably polished manuscript that an editor will not throw back at me.
If I miss a day, or the creative juices stop flowing…
OK, not something we need to think about.
Just a minor issue, though, I left a section out the first time around to be written, because I was not sure what I wanted to write. Perhaps what is coming may give some insight.
In the meantime, yet another yellow post-it note. Or I could just get it done.
People do do overtime don;t they?
I’m thinking of getting a new colour for the post-it notes, perhaps a more soothing pale green.
This book has been written for some time and the manuscript was sitting in a box with half a dozen others gathering dust and not quite as complete, so this month it is going to get the makeover, a first draft for the editor.
And so it begins…
…
It might be a little pedantic, but I have to pay more attention to the word count and make sure the revision is spaced correctly over the thirty days.
Today, day 5, the count is 1,862 words, making a total of 8,943 words so far.
What I have to be careful about is not to let the pressure get to me. I mean, I have to revise about 1,700 words a day to maintain the target. It seems a small amount, but remember this is supposed to produce a reasonably polished manuscript that an editor will not throw back at me.
If I miss a day, or the creative juices stop flowing…
OK, not something we need to think about.
Just a minor issue, though, I left a section out the first time around to be written, because I was not sure what I wanted to write. Perhaps what is coming may give some insight.
In the meantime, yet another yellow post-it note. Or I could just get it done.
People do do overtime don;t they?
I’m thinking of getting a new colour for the post-it notes, perhaps a more soothing pale green.
This book has been written for some time and the manuscript was sitting in a box with half a dozen others gathering dust and not quite as complete, so this month it is going to get the makeover, a first draft for the editor.
And so it begins…
…
Those pesky characters seem to be always getting in the way
…
And no matter how much you think you have that character down, they always find a new way to surprise you. But, here’s the thing…
In those heady moments when you are first writing the story and working with the characters, they don’t necessarily have those little annoying traits, to begin with.
Those traits come now, in the revision, where they cease to be two-dimensional.
Of course, these people are mostly an amalgam of characteristics that you’ve observed over a long period of time.
I used to sit at the railway station at busy times to observe people and filled a dozen notebooks with both characteristics and eccentricities.
A little backpedalling is required.
I know there isn’t a lot of time for revisions this early on, but there are ‘glaring’ mistakes, even for a first draft, even if it is not meant to be perfect.
Aren’t there more important things to do like writing?
I think reading the 101 things to do to establish your author brand is finally getting to me. I leave this to read the last thing before I go to bed and it’s beginning to give me nightmares.
So, for starters, I’ve created a twitter page but I’m not sure what to do with it. Yet.
Then I created a Facebook page but there is one for authors and I think l have created the wrong one. It’s very confusing.
And reading 10 things an author shouldn’t do, one of them was not to use Facebook. Who to believe?
Now I’m lingering at WordPress after googling writer blogs and got a choice of so many, some free, others quite expensive, and I’m not sure what half the stuff is they’re offering.
There’s also Site blog, and there’s collaborative blogging. Perhaps it’s time to get back to the easy stuff like plotting and writing my book!
That might have been easy if a little voice in my head wasn’t screaming ‘you need a website’.
Once again I’m googling my fingers to the bone trying to decide if I want a free one or pay. At least if I pay there might not be ghastly ads for porn sites. That’s one criticism I read that can be a problem.
I decided to pay a nominal amount but now I strike a new problem, I need to get a domain name such as ‘authorname.com’.
I put in my name and it is taken already so in order not to pay the person who snapped it up in the hope of making a million dollars, or perhaps because he has the same name as me and thought of it first, I have to accept one of the variations.
It then gives me the opportunity to buy right now that particular name because it is free, and I found myself working with a hyphen. It could be worse, I suppose.
It also offers a few extra web domains with different endings such as .com,.info, etc.
What the hell it’s only a few extra dollars and I’ll worry about what to do with them in two years’ time except for the .com which I’ll use now.
The website started and a month paid for, got a .com to link it to, and now all I have to do something with it. No, I’m not a web designer even after I picked a template that looked author like.
It can wait.
Social media investigated but looks like its going to suck up a lot of my time.
Better get back to the book and write my page, or 1000 words, or 2000 words for the day.
I look over at the rubbish bin and it is overflowing. It looks like a scene out of a bad movie, where the writer pretends he’s a pro basketball player who can’t shoot.
It’s just not flowing. I’m beginning to hate Bill as a name. Perhaps I’ll change it to Tarquin. No, that’s not quite a name that suits the character. It leads to a mental debate about what is an appropriate name for a character and sends me off into Google land again to see what various names mean.
The name is Bill until I find something better.
I guess that leads to some introspection on how I see, or what I want, the character to be. So far he’s been married, and divorced, not been much of a husband to his wife, or children, maybe because of what happened to him when he was in the army, something he knows about in a peripheral sense but is about to learn a whole lot more.
Being shot, ending up in a hospital, sparks a memory, in a dream, brought on by a particular type of painkiller, and he is about to remember who and what he was, stuff that he has previously not realized, or knew about. Those last traumatic events in the war zone caused his memory to be wiped.
It’s not the sort of memories certain people want to be brought into the open.
OK, finally something to work with.
I need to work on the dream or nightmare sequence.
This book has been written for some time and the manuscript was sitting in a box with half a dozen others gathering dust and not quite as complete, so this month it is going to get the makeover, a first draft for the editor.
And so it begins…
…
Those pesky characters seem to be always getting in the way
…
And no matter how much you think you have that character down, they always find a new way to surprise you. But, here’s the thing…
In those heady moments when you are first writing the story and working with the characters, they don’t necessarily have those little annoying traits, to begin with.
Those traits come now, in the revision, where they cease to be two-dimensional.
Of course, these people are mostly an amalgam of characteristics that you’ve observed over a long period of time.
I used to sit at the railway station at busy times to observe people and filled a dozen notebooks with both characteristics and eccentricities.
A little backpedalling is required.
I know there isn’t a lot of time for revisions this early on, but there are ‘glaring’ mistakes, even for a first draft, even if it is not meant to be perfect.
This book has been written for some time and the manuscript was sitting in a box with half a dozen others gathering dust and not quite as complete, so this month it is going to get the makeover, a first draft for the editor.
And so it begins…
…
So, finally, the plan is working
…
The story is progressing and I can see, for the moment, that the story is heading in the right direction.
Of course, in saying that, it might just jinx the project.
There was a small moment of hesitation though, one of those, perhaps this might be a ‘better way moment’ that caused a brief stoppage while I considered the consequences. Then of course I make that fatal change that will have consequences later on.
Then I just added another sticky note to the four hundred others lining the monitor and nearby shelves and went back to work.
Who needs a good memory when you’ve got a hundred pads of stick notes just waiting to be used.
Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance 