I found myself wandering about with insomnia again last night; however knowing that I don’t have to get up at stupid-o’clock for work and can have a lie in helps take the edge off it. Last night was different from the usual thought train of worry, stress and more worry that tends to trundle through my brain at inappropriate hours. There were fragments of conversation that I needed to get out and into print format that had been building up over the past few days of non-writing activity. Rather frustratingly they aren’t remotely connected to what I am supposed to be writing about at the moment – but a throwback to an abandoned project from 2006 that I lost when the dog ate my laptop cable and I blew it up when I foolishly turned on the power…there’s an incident never to be repeated (and I now have the joys of Dropbox to back everything up to – lesson very much learned when you lose 20,000 words of a sci-fi novel).
Last night I managed to retrieve 7,000 words from the ethernet and was sat reading in bemusement wondering where the hell this stuff had come from. It was like I’d switched off my rational brain somewhere along the way and entered a parallel universe. Now I guess this is what writers are supposed to do, but I was in a dark place back in 2006 and it really shows. I’m a little wary of kickstarting this project off again, but I was surprised at the quality of the writing. I think at the time I was working in Lottery Towers, an insignificant battery in that particular farm and I literally resigned from that job a couple of months after writing this to move into the job I’ve just left, as well as signing on for my Creative Writing Masters (using this piece as part of my application portfolio along with some utterly appalling poetry).
It’s been a month now since I left work, and this is the first real piece of writing I have contributed to, other than polishing up a short story for the Room to Write short story comp (Sister Vampire, one of my faves but the jury is out amongst my family – the humour is a little bleak in this one!). I’m glad I’m writing again but I am a little concerned about the direction it’s going in – Shattered Orb is not a commercial piece in the slightest, the fragments I do have are disjointed and strangely abstract (much more like my short story style than my novel voice). I’m at a loss as to which way I should travel with the project.
Is this how all fledgling writers feel? It’s like taking baby steps in the dark. I’m not sure whether to go with my gut and spend time on something that mentally is not that great a place to be (but conversely may need to be gotten out of my system) or to concentrate on one of the 2 far more commercial novels I’ve been writing? It’s further complicated as Poison Prince is at a point where the main character’s father is about to die in a miserable protracted way from alcoholic liver disease (which I’ve always planned as a key plot point) – and given my own father’s recent passing, that’s another place that mentally I’m stepping away from.
So I am wittering and procrastinating here on my blog and thus avoiding doing anything constructive. I have booked myself into a session with a local creative writing tutor at the library next week (free! Bless you North Tyneside Library Service), which is being run to promote Story Tyne 2014. I won this comp in 2011, which led to my first ever publication. I’m hoping it helps focus my butterfly brain. I’m also off to do some voluntary work on Tuesday with a super charity who have asked me to engage my ‘work brain’ to help them out with a large funding bid. Given the paucity of my common sense right now I’m hoping I can actually help in a constructive manner.
Right, lets see where these errant fingers take me…
BTA is reading Den of Geek updates and Fortean Times, anticipating seeing Bad Pollyanna and Ayria tonight, listening to second hand Muse (Him Underfoot is working from home in the room next door and BLASTING THE MUSE!!!)