Houston, We Have Lift Off...

How do you write a book? No, really. I'm asking. I've done it twice now (three times if you count my first discarded attempt) and I still don't get the process. It just...happens. It feels confusing and messy and occasionally exhilarating, then at some point it's done. It's always a shock when a tangible product emerges. Somewhere within a fog of writer's block, demented typing, and swigs of cold tea, a story drags itself into existence.

For the past few months - whilst I've been planning for, and then experiencing, the longest skive known to woman - I've had a date firmly marked in my diary. Monday 17th June. That's the day I am due to start my next book. For the sharper-minded amongst you, it will be apparent that Monday 17th June has been and gone. And with it, I think I've got the next book-ball rolling. Or maybe I haven't. The fog has partially descended once again. I know I've done some typing, and I know I've got a planning folder of ideas, but what's the past week's output actually looked like? Am I in full flow again? Is this it? Answers on a postcard, it's too early to tell for me.

Enough of all these vague wonderings, though. Let's be analytical and systematic. Let's take a look at the evidence. 

Monday 17th June
It's finally here. The day to which I've been looking forward since mid-April. Over the weekend just gone, I've mentally prepared myself to be up with the Monday morning lark. It's a serious business being An Author. Note the capitalisation. This. Is. Important. Literary. Work. 

Evidence of Monday's achievements. 

Unfortunately, when the alarm went off this morning, a mixture of pre-menstrual aches and general apathy meant I spent much of the day distracting myself away from literary genius. I made a big pan of black bean daal. I listened to a two hour podcast involving a mate. Then I listened to another mate stand in for someone's radio show. This wasn't the most productive writing day. (The Supporting Friends and Creating Sustenance boxes got firmly ticked though.) Once I'd exhausted all other avenues of distraction - my Women's World Cup Wall Chart is now up to date - I got a grip. I opened the folder of planning files I'd collated over the past year. I read some of them. I made a timetable. I changed today's diary entry from Start Writing Book Three to Plan the Organisation of Writing Book Three. A subtle distinction, but it means I achieved something after all. Then I switched off for the evening with the intention of doing better tomorrow.

Tuesday 18th June
Now this is more like it. I was in front of my laptop by 10am. Unwashed, PJ-ed up to frig, and intent on avoiding all distracting temptations, I opened a new Word Doc. 

Typing Chapter One is an odd feeling. At this point, it's all so exciting. There's huge potential for greatness, with no pesky reality to burst the optimistic bubble. I've got all these ideas and plans, and I know in my head where this is going to lead. But also, my God, there's so much to write down before it's done. Whilst it's still a planning notebook, its potential isn't realised. It could be amazing. It could be the greatest novel ever written. It could be EPIC. I don't linger long on these thoughts. If I did, I'd have to consider the opposing position. It could be a pile of shite. Instead, I open my planning file on the Chapter One page, and remind myself of all the plot points, teasers, and bits of unexplained info, I want to drop in. And then I start.

The first line has to be brilliant. It has to grab the reader from the start. It should be enigmatic and cheeky and full of hints, without giving away anything beyond a whimsical clue of what's to come. Today, that's a bit too much to handle. I skip over the first line's significance, and put a place holder in. I'd be here all day if I didn't. The spectacular, attention-grabbing first line can be sorted later. The place holder I chose was, 'It had been a lovely day.' I know. LOLZ. (I'd have told a Year Four kid to have another go. How about using your ambitious vocabulary, Nicky? Is that really going to make people want to read on?) But by jumping into the flow two feet first, it meant I could hit the ground running. So I did.

The temptation to edit every single line as I write, is strong. But I've learnt that this hinders everything. I just have to write. I have to write everything down that I want to include. I have to get from the first to the last line of the chapter without stopping every five seconds to ponder a word-choice, or question whether a semi colon looks pretentious in that sentence. I just have to get it done.

Cheers Sefton Park. You are now
my post-writing walking place.

I wrote from 10-1. Then I ate crackers and tapenade. (Yeah. Tapendade. Handle it.) I carried on for a couple more hours and got to the end of the chapter. Not that it really matters at this stage, but I checked the word count. (The word count will differ greatly by the time it's whipped into shape later on.) For now, even if it's irrelevant, I still like checking. It's the tangible evidence that I've done some stuff. Today I wrote 1333 words. If I typed out the phone book for five hours, I would have a much bigger number. But today's five hours of writing included pondering, googling, deleting, rereading, and doubting. A thousand plus words will do me fine, ta.

I had a shower, drove to a park, and walked around for a bit. It was time for a stretch. 

Wednesday 19th June
Technically, Wednesdays are my day off. Except they aren't really. It's just the day I use when I have to do things mid-week. So after a cracking weight gain at WW, (damn you, you lovely French holiday!) a Costa tea, and a trip round Marksies, I was back at Chapter One. I read through it again. I won't be doing that much more until the whole thing is finished, but it was good to read yesterday's mad typing, and catch some typos and punctuation fails. I also did some researchy bits.

The book is mostly set in Aberystwyth. In Chapter One (I've now decided it's a prologue and not Chapter One) there's an eye-witness account of a potential dramatic incident, from a jobbing musician. I researched orchestras, events at the Aberystwyth bandstand, and musical references I could drop in that could provide a bit of backstory and setting. I looked at photos of the Aberystwyth sunset so I could fathom the best words to convey the mid-evening summer setting. I also booked a ticket for an open air cinema night showing Dirty Dancing at Aberystwyth castle in July. (It isn't at all necessary for the book but it looks like it'll be brilliant.)

Then I watched the England v Japan match with a beer and forgot about the Prologue. For the time being.

Thursday 20th June
Today was all about The Artist Formerly Known As Chapter Two, but is now called Chapter One. Yes, we've moved on! Are you keeping up? I like the ordered feeling of starting a new chapter every Monday morning, but I can get myself in the zone before then. I read over my notes for TAFKA Chapter Two, and worked out what my opening line was going to be. I visualised how I was going to get from the plot points I'd planned, and I wrote down a few more notes along the way. I'm now primed for Monday morning.

Friday 21st June
I wrote this blog, didn't I. YOU'RE WELCOME.

So there we are. A slightly delayed start to the week, but Book Three has begun. I'm a whole prologue down, with only thirty-six chapters more to write. (That number will defo increase as I get further into it. No worries about that.) But now it's the weekend. I've got a busy schedule of eating, slobbing, and mentally preparing myself for the task that follows. Before we all know it, it'll be March, and the first draft will be done. Bring it on! I AM UP FOR THE CHALLENGE. Probably. And even if I'm not, I've got an open-air cinema evening to look forward to. Hurrah.

Have a lovely week, folks.