Since I decided that being a Writer is the work of my destiny (albeit unpaid) I have been putting in the hours, and then some. I’ve been getting up each day and preparing for a day at work like I did back in the teaching days. Sitting down at my desk at 8.30 sharp, taking an hour for lunch (different from my teaching days when we were allowed 17 and a half minutes, so an hour is BLISS and also excellent for the digestion), then finishing at 5 to start preparing the evening meal. And after dinner I’ve been going back to writerly activities such as background reading, research, idea development and editing.
Yesterday, after a considerable amount of editing and deleting and rootling through piles and files of writing I have started across the years and not finished, I have decided that a novel (currently in infancy at 18,000 words) featuring a character called Minerva Thing, is calling to be completed.
I am very fond of Minerva Thing. She was born in the café that is situated above the Waterstones in Canterbury - not literally, you understand, but from people-watching with my notebook and pen over a mozzarella, tomato and pesto panini. The surname ‘Thing’ is borrowed from one of my ancestors, Elizabeth Thing. It is a name that can trace its roots back to mediaeval times. It entertains me that I am descended from Things. Thus today I have been working on this novel, moving it along another 2,000 words and developing a record book of plot lines, characterisations, research points, all the things that hopefully will keep me on track with the saga and prevent me from writing myself into a tangle.
HOWEVER...
...today, I have also been fretting about this year’s (ssssshhhhhhhh!) Christmas Story. As you know, I’ve been entertaining you (ahahahahahahaha!) for many years now with a Christmas story which gallops its way through the 24 days of Advent (when I say ‘gallops’ I sometimes mean ‘drags’) culminating in a magnificent finale on Christmas Eve, much to the relief of everyone, especially me. But, dear reader, I fear I am running out of ideas for this year’s offering. I’ve done pantomime, Phantomime, A Christmas Carol, The Polar Express, The Nutcracker, missing puddings, stolen Christmases, kidnapped Santas, Scrooges, 12 Days of Christmas, cursed Advent calendars, The Night Before Christmas...blimey, what haven’t I done? And thereby stands the problem.
Writing research today has included squeezing the entire internet for Christmas stories that I could, á la Shakespeare-style, appropriate for my own creative use. It’s not been a productive exercise. Some of the ensuing ideas have, quite frankly, smacked of desperation. That’s why I’ve had to start thinking about it now, 52 days in advance, instead of my usual 2 days and wing it approach.
So, if you have any ideas, or requests even, of Christmassy type story stuff that I may have overlooked over the previous decade, please let me know. Please?
Yesterday, after a considerable amount of editing and deleting and rootling through piles and files of writing I have started across the years and not finished, I have decided that a novel (currently in infancy at 18,000 words) featuring a character called Minerva Thing, is calling to be completed.
I am very fond of Minerva Thing. She was born in the café that is situated above the Waterstones in Canterbury - not literally, you understand, but from people-watching with my notebook and pen over a mozzarella, tomato and pesto panini. The surname ‘Thing’ is borrowed from one of my ancestors, Elizabeth Thing. It is a name that can trace its roots back to mediaeval times. It entertains me that I am descended from Things. Thus today I have been working on this novel, moving it along another 2,000 words and developing a record book of plot lines, characterisations, research points, all the things that hopefully will keep me on track with the saga and prevent me from writing myself into a tangle.
HOWEVER...
...today, I have also been fretting about this year’s (ssssshhhhhhhh!) Christmas Story. As you know, I’ve been entertaining you (ahahahahahahaha!) for many years now with a Christmas story which gallops its way through the 24 days of Advent (when I say ‘gallops’ I sometimes mean ‘drags’) culminating in a magnificent finale on Christmas Eve, much to the relief of everyone, especially me. But, dear reader, I fear I am running out of ideas for this year’s offering. I’ve done pantomime, Phantomime, A Christmas Carol, The Polar Express, The Nutcracker, missing puddings, stolen Christmases, kidnapped Santas, Scrooges, 12 Days of Christmas, cursed Advent calendars, The Night Before Christmas...blimey, what haven’t I done? And thereby stands the problem.
Writing research today has included squeezing the entire internet for Christmas stories that I could, á la Shakespeare-style, appropriate for my own creative use. It’s not been a productive exercise. Some of the ensuing ideas have, quite frankly, smacked of desperation. That’s why I’ve had to start thinking about it now, 52 days in advance, instead of my usual 2 days and wing it approach.
So, if you have any ideas, or requests even, of Christmassy type story stuff that I may have overlooked over the previous decade, please let me know. Please?
Comments
KJ
I wish I could drop by with a chocolate cake or something similar and enjoy a cuppa with you and the cats and probably a chicken or two... and Andy too if he behaves... But a small detail of a non-starter like an ocean is in the way of this. Keep writing I really enjoy your stories.
KJ