April 2010 Archives

... to focus the mind. I have spent most of today working my way through the manuscript prior to delivering to my agent tomorrow. Thank goodness for a beautiful, sunny day that managed to make hard work feel more like an exercise in idleness. Here is a photo of today's office, with some of a writer's important tools highlighted:

This being April, the Santa mug felt appropriate.

I had a hard copy of my manuscript printed out and gathered in a lovely folder, bought precisely for the task of a Final Read Through. (And thank you, Sara Grant, for teaching me about the important - nay, crucial! - link between pretty stationery and creativity.) I read a chapter or two at a time on hard copy, marked up my changes, went to my netbook and keyed them in. Back and forth, back and forth, in an easy rhythm with the occasional yelp when I realised that a scene demanded more than tweaking. Freddie, nextdoor's cat, came to gaze down his nose at me and Ian bobbed around me taking measurements of the garden for improvements. Frank, our nextdoor neighbour, chatted over the fence and I took a break to mow the lawn. People, this is called work!


Then I came back and carried on working into the evening, with a snatched break for dinner. The manuscript is off my desk now, stored in someone's Inbox. I have the heady delight (painful suspense?) of waiting for a response. I have no obligation to write a single word for the next who-knows-how-long. I feel giddy! I have so much planned: serious stacks of sewing, some DIY, visits to friends. Oh, a half marathon to run next weekend! Then, at some point, I'll hear back. Thumbs up or thumbs down? Whilst I await my gladiatorial fate, there's no point dwelling on things. There's too much to be getting on with. I have two visits planned to London Book Fair next week. With all flights over London cancelled, this year's international trade fair will be interesting. I've never seen a ghost town before...

This weekend I visited the Queen. Well, nearly. I caught the train from Paddington to Windsor to stay in this lovely hotel:

Surrounded by sunshine and blue sky, croquet lawns and afternoon teas I felt as though I should have been writing a version of 'The Go Between', 'The Great Gatsby' or any novel that's ever been adapted by Merchant-Ivory. Instead, I was describing teenagers battling for their lives.

I was on a writing retreat organised by the wonderful Sara O'Connor. My writer friends and I were all at very different stages of the creative process:

• One of us was setting out on her first draft. Those brave, remarkable steps where it's all brand new. I remember those.

• Two other of my friends were taking on board their editors' feedback.

• A fourth writer (that would be me!) was working on her fourth draft. Four and four: 'droopy drawers' in a bingo caller's lingo. Hmmm.

As well as writing, we had each organised a 30-minute presentation. I chose to talk about my previous publishing experiences, but my friends really blew me out of the water with their presentations. We covered the process of revising, the editor/writer relationship and the keys to writing fantasy fiction. There were hand outs! Graphs! Statistics and extracts! Anyone who peeked into my ringbound folder and saw all these documents would think, 'Cor. Karen really knows what she's doing.' I almost convinced myself this weekend.

What did I actually achieve in Windsor? I managed to revise my final chapters, despite an early wobble on Saturday morning. I may have punched the air at some point when I realised I'd completed my new ending - but I had enjoyed two Pimms and lemonade by that point (Come on! The sun was out!), so considered re-reading is definitely in order.


I managed to get a lot done: that was probably my biggest achievement. Sara asked if I would ever normally put in so many hours' work without the retreat. Like, um... NO!  Not working from home - too many distractions. Not even in the Royal Festival Hall - too many media lovies to watch. I needed someone to drag me out of my comfort zone, plant me in a cosy chair, point at my keyboard and demand 'WRITE!' The best type of friend someone like me could have.

So I worked hard. Then I stepped out into the gardens for a constitutional and oh dear. By the time I saw the sign, it was too late...




 

You're probably more than familiar with my writing visits to the Royal Festival Hall. Pop over to An Awfully Big Blog Adventure to read my blog thoughts about what venues mean for writing. Hope you had a good Easter!