Where Have I Been?

I know, I know, I’ve done it again.

Promised to be a good blogger and get my good old rambling in at least twice a month.

And as always, I’ve lasted a few posts then tootled off into the ether. Right at NaNoWriMo season too!

Well, I’ve got good reason. I’ve been using this blog to talk about good things, happy things. And to be honest, I’ve just not had the words to sit down and admit what’s been going on for the past couple of months. Properly sitting down and dissecting it has just seemed… exhausting. Time, to be honest, that if I was to find it at all, I wanted to spend writing other things, retreating into a proper fantasy world.

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NaNoWriMo Musings – WHAT ON EARTH AM I GOING TO WRITE?

Have a totally unedited ramble. I’m sitting in Starbucks waiting to go and see Marian Keyes talk about her new book, and get said new book signed. I am buzzing on far too many coffees, and the novelty of being out without a tiny Ted bouncing up and down in his pram trying to shout at passersby. If you’ve ever wondered what goes on in my head on a day-to-day basis, this is it.

RIGHT.

I am doing NaNoWriMo this November.

Correction. I am DOING NaNoWriMo.

I have failed a Camp and missed an actual NaNo because, you know, baby. I think of myself going into hospital on that final night, knowing that I realistically wouldn’t be leaving without a baby in my arms, packing a chunky notebook and some pens into my bag among the tiny hats and mittens. “I might be bored!” I thought, optimistically. “Surely I can at least get a few thousand words down while I’m waiting for my induction!”

(See Teddy’s birth story for the reasons why I found my notebook and pens three days later and laughed very darkly and bloodlessly to myself).

I tried to do Camp in April, but it was a bit of a disaster. I was far too unmotivated at the time – I started a whole new project as well as trying to finish some old ones, to deal with my current attention-span-of-a-gnat, but it didn’t help. I still didn’t get anywhere near 50,000 words.

But! November. November is coming closer, and I’ve got a good feeling about it.

Baby and childbirth and the like aside, November has always been a crazy month for me. It’s usually full of gigs, trips abroad, and work stuff. And yet I’ve never once failed a November NaNoWriMo, once I’ve started it. I’ve done 20k-days. I’ve done 10,000 words in three hours on November 30th. I’ve never failed. And I’m not about to start now.

And yes, it’s another crazy month. At least, the first bit of it will be. It’s Ted’s birthday on November 1st, and we’re going to be in Disneyland Paris for it. That’s the first few days of writing time essentially scuppered. Even though I haven’t got any gigs lined up for this year, there’s still going to be the usual Teddy routine of baby groups and play dates and walking round and round Chorlton in circles to get him to have a nap in the pram. He’s still going to be at the age where he needs constant supervision and entertainment: I’m not going to be able to sit in a soft play and let him run wild, or sit him down with some crayons while I type away on the laptop. Maybe next year. Realistically, that stage probably won’t come until the year after next. Or never: already I can’t quite see Ted being the kind of kid who will sit quietly with a colouring book!

It’s not going to stop me though. I’ve already booked in for my own private writing retreat: in other words, me and Ted are heading up to my mum’s house for a few days while Kev works. I’ll be throwing a delighted Ted in my delighted mum’s general direction while I scoot off to Durham to park myself in my old Caffe Nero haunt (without which I’d have never learned a single bit of German vocabulary, best working environment I’ve ever been in) and write like the wind. This will serve the dual purpose of getting me some writing time, and giving Mum and Ted some alone time. He already loves her, but I want them to get more time on their own together so they can build up to having Teddy and Grandma’s Excellent Adventures when he’s a bit bigger.

Then when we’re home there’s also the fact I’m back at work two days a week. You’d think that would be an impediment to writing time but it’s actually helpful: I can go into town a couple of hours before my shift, hole up in Starbucks, and crack out a couple of thousand words.

It’s all perfectly doable.

If. IF.

If I can think of something to write.

Oh my goodness, I’m so uninspired. I’ve got two giant projects that desperately need finishing – The Hummingbird and the Timepiece, my last successful NaNoWriMo project, is crying out to be finished, the main characters left in a limbo-esque loop of unrequited love. I’m 50,000 words into it and I still haven’t introduced one of the focal characters. Much writing and editing is waiting for me there.

My diary-type novel from the point of view of an uprooted French teenager is coming to its end after no less than nine years of being in some form of progress, but the main character has currently shut me out of her head and I can’t get back in. The new book I started for Camp, about a twenty-two-year-old unwilling to grow up and forget her obsession with Disney, is languishing somewhere on my hard-drive, the main character tossing her hair and pretending not to know me.

Throughout all my works-in-progress, there have been guest appearances from a metal band of my own creation: Karin Cluster. In some books they’re just mentioned in passing – say, a secondary character has a one night stand with the keyboard player and the main character has to watch them run past in their underwear in the morning, or even just that there’s poster of them on a character’s wall. In others, they provide a big plot point – a MAIN character sleeps with one of them and causes all kinds of repercussions. There’s a tiny voice in my head saying they deserve their own story.

Maybe this is the year for that.

Karin Cluster actually came about when I was trying to write something for my best friend: we’d just started our heavy metal jaunts around Europe, and I wanted to make up a funny little story about what could happen to us if certain coincidences happened to happen. All names changed, an entirely new band created, of course, that band being Karin Cluster.

Then, funnily enough, the events of the story I wrote… actually happened. Not everything, not every single detail. But enough that I was freaked out and shut down the project, a bit scared of what I could conjure up. It was just too creepy: my main characters (expys of me and my best friend, of course) were invited onto a tourbus by a roadie. The roadie even had the same name as the roadie who actually invited us onto a tourbus a few months later. That wasn’t the only similarity, but it was the weirdest.

Throughout my other projects, I’ve hinted enough about Karin Cluster that the bare bones of their backstory has formed in my brain, and I’m pretty sure I could get an actual novel out of it. One that’s not quite so autobiographical, at any rate. But can I put enough passion into it that I can get a full fifty thousand words out of it?

I think this calls for some planning.

And do you know what planning calls for?

NEW NOTEBOOKS!!

…I sense a trip to Paperchase in my future.

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A Week In The Life: Part 2

Ooh, look at me actually sticking to a blogging-resolution for a second week running!

First of all – massive congratulations to the new Mr and Mrs Buchberger! My dear friend Monica got married this week in a gorgeous fairytale German castle – I wish I could have been there but finances couldn’t stretch to it, sadly. It looks like they had an amazing day and I wish them the greatest of happily ever afters.

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Me and Monica in the German sunshine a year ago

Right, onto my life. Well… not a lot has gone on this week, to be honest.

Teddy and I are turning into a right pair of creatures of habit. Same pattern of baby groups, coffees (for me, not Ted, though he has a good go at getting the cup out of my hand), and tearing round the house on a mission to get every single cupboard bare by the end of the week (Ted, not me).

This past week marked the end of Camp NaNoWriMo for 2017. And, um, I failed.

I know. I failed a NaNoWriMo. First time for everything, I suppose. I’m not counting November 2016 – I never started. Bit busy having a baby on November 1st, you see. I was determined to make up for it by doing Camp, which I very rarely do. I thought “Oh, this’ll be fine. Ted naps. He sleeps through the night. Plenty of time to do some writing.”

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Look at that shameful stats graph.

I could make plenty of excuses. I’m not inspired while Ted’s asleep. I went back to work and that took a lot out of me. I have to use the time while Ted’s sleeping to clean the house and do other things.

All valid-ish, I suppose.

But in reality, I was just too lazy. When Ted’s asleep – like when I do most of my blogging, I wrote most of this post in my local Starbucks – I want to chill out. I started writing a new book; I was too lazy to put the effort into properly establishing the characters. I went back to an old one; I was too lazy to get back into my main character’s head and sort out her problems. I tried another old one; I was too lazy to deal with the two main characters and their romantic entanglements and unrequited love situation.

I only managed 15,494 words in the end. I’ve never dipped below the 50,000 word mark before, even in 2011 when I wrote over 10,000 words in about four hours on the last night.

Maybe by the time proper NaNoWriMo comes around in November I’ll be a bit more disciplined. Though I’m not going to count on it; we’re in Disneyland Paris for the first three days, for Ted’s birthday. Not exactly a NaNoWriMo-friendly environment!

Anyway, in other news, Ted turned nine months old – I’ve done a whole blog post about his various triumphs and increasing big-boy-ness. He really is speeding towards toddlerhood; he even did some standing unsupported the other day. Admittedly, he didn’t know he was doing it – he was very distracted by some singing at the Waterstones baby group. But I was very proud anyway.

He’s been doing a bit more ‘walking’, too. He’s been walking while holding things for ages, pretty much since he started crawling at about six months old. He used to like holding out his hands so I’d grab them, and he’d toddle along towards me. But since he decided he’s a fully independent grown-up baby, he’s refused to do that. If it wasn’t his precious VTech walker, he wouldn’t walk across the floor, only holding onto the sofa or shelves (or the wall, or the door, or a table…) but this week we hit some kind of breakthrough. He’ll walk holding my hands, or Kev’s hands… as long as he’s going away from us. Which leads to a very inelegant shuffle from me as he powers along on his little legs.

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Here’s a picture of my wonderfully daft child playing with a spoon and a candle. Because apparently they make the most beautiful music together. I would like to point out I did not give him either of those objects. Niffler.

Other than that… I shall freely admit that the high point of my week was Game of Thrones. Yes, every week I get up at two o’clock in the morning and watch it ‘live’, as it were – streamed at the same time as in the US at any rate. Don’t worry, I’m not going to start spoiling things all over the place, considering it’s literally just started its normal-time stream here in the UK but… wow. Just wow. It’s not really a Game of Thrones spoiler to say that there’s a battle scene, but it was a bloody immense battle scene. And one of my favourite characters (hint: not Robson) had a major part in it.

Oh, it was glorious.

Usually the big awe-inspiring moments of Game of Thrones tend to come in the penultimate episode of each season, with the last episode reserved for mopping up. I can’t wait to see what those episodes hold this season, if that was only episode four.

Anyway, that was my not-so-exciting week. Hopefully this coming week will be a bit more lively – we’ve got a few things planned, including – drumroll, please – Ted’s nine month check-up with the health visitor! Told you it was going to be thrilling. I bet you’re all on the edge of your seats.

Semi-Annual Life Update

Oh look, I’m back again!

God, I’m a terrible blogger. Two posts then off I go again.

I believe the last time I wrote I was six months pregnant, home from a lovely – if sweaty – trip to Germany for a pounding heavy metal festival. I was sunburnt, knackered, but excited for my impending maternity leave. And, obviously, my baby.

He’s here.

Obviously, he’s here. It’s been a year. A year!

Edward Albert Peter Robinson. Known as Teddy. My boy Ted.

He came into the world on November 1st, 2016 (somewhat reluctantly, but that’s a story for another time) and instantly turned all our lives upside down.

I know, I know, terrible cliché. But it’s so, so true.

In the space of a minute, my world refocussed on its axis. I don’t revolve around the sun anymore. I revolve around this tiny tornado of a little boy.

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Teddy at six months old – isn’t he a stunner?

Teddy is eight months old now – nearly nine months, actually – and I know, I know, I’m his mother, I’m biased, but isn’t he just the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen? He’s a proper sturdy little boy; when he was born he weighed nearly ten pounds, and he likes his food. He’s never been one to go in for weight loss, just like his mother.

He’s always been fabulous when it comes to anything physical – he rolled over before he turned four months old and was full on crawling just before six months. Now he pulls himself up on the furniture and scoots along on his feet, and can toddle along if he’s pushing something in front of him. He won’t hold my hands and do it, though – he’s somehow fiercely independent at the same time as being quite a clingy mama’s boy.

He’s a right little mischief already. He loves to climb, and sometimes when I’m sitting on the floor I think he’s come over for a lovely cuddle… Nope, he wants to use me as a ladder to get up onto the sofa and thus onto the desk to play with the computer mouse. Or onto the windowsill to try and knock the lamp onto my head. He’s worked out which button on the DVD player makes the tray come out and will stand in front of it for ages pressing it over and over again. If I let him, he’d spend half his life watching the toilet flush, chewing on some toilet roll at the same time, of course.

Doting mama, much? Of course I am.

How have I spent my maternity leave?

It’s been quite a blur, actually. Those hazy newborn days, where I was scared to sleep in case Ted stopped breathing in his Moses basket. They seem like so long ago, now. Years, not months. I got through the entire series of The Crown on Netflix before Ted was two weeks old, and I couldn’t tell you half of what happens.

Ted’s always been such a good baby, though – I couldn’t breastfeed, but he took to the bottle immediately, has been weaning gloriously, and has been mostly sleeping through the night since around six months – I really don’t have anything to complain about. Maternity leave, which has just come to an end, is going to be forever in my mind as a peaceful, happy time. I just wish it could have lasted forever!

Kev has been absolutely amazing, he’s an incredible dad. Right from when we got back from hospital and he cooked me a ridiculously expensive steak to keep my iron levels up after a haemorrhage and a blood transfusion, he’s been hands-on and fabulous. Teddy adores him and now I’m back at work two days a week, he’s over the moon to have his ‘boy days’.

I’ve been so well supported, and had such a good baby, I feel like I really should have been more productive on maternity leave. I’ve been writing, almost non-stop in fact. Ted’s never had a problem snoozing in his pram in coffee shops while I scribble away. In fact, that’s exactly what he’s doing now, while I type.

I went off onto my leave with the grandiose idea that I’d end it with at least one book finished. Well, I kind of achieved that. At least, I finally finished editing my Guernsey-based leap year story… but I’ve hit a massive block, trying to make the synopsis work before I send it out. My other two giant projects… I’ve delved into them from time to time, but the inspiration keeps running out and they both remain unfinished. I wrote pages and pages of notes for two new writing projects, only for the impetus to bugger off as soon as I actually started the writing process. I even tried vlogging for a while, but the pressure to look human enough to film was a bit much, especially with Ted’s napping time decreasing by the day.

All in all, though, I’m not hugely bothered by the fact I’ve not technically ‘done’ much on maternity leave. I’ve not finished a book; I’ve spammed everyone on Instagram with countless baby photos instead. These nine months might not have been productive, but they’ve been precious. I’ve got to know this adorable, daft, cuddly little human that Kev and I somehow managed to make, and it’s been the best nine months of my life.

So what about this blog? Am I going to write this and then trot merrily off into radio silence once again?

It’s entirely possible. But I have a whole massive list of things I’m dying to write about, and this is the place for them. Oh, I might be a baby spammer now, but I’m a chatty one. And, frankly, I think people are getting sick of me rambling out loud. So it might have to go on here; far easier to tune me out in print than in person!

I’m going to end this post with a couple of collages of Teddy-pictures. You know, just in case anyone reading this happens to have avoided my Instagram for the past eight months. You’re not escaping the baby spam that easily.

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52 Weeks, 52 Books

As I may have mentioned before, I’m not doing any of those New Year’s bullshit resolutions this year. I can’t remember what mine were last year, and I don’t particularly want to check, because I don’t fancy being confronted with my own failure.

I am the master of burying my head in the sand.

Seeing as the only concrete resolution I can come up with is to get a Tolkien-related tattoo at some point this year, I’ve decided to set myself the 52 Weeks, 52 Books challenge instead.

Obviously, it’s exactly what it says on the tin. I read 52 books in 52 weeks. Lots of people already do this challenge on Goodreads and Reddit and various other places, but I’m just setting my own rules on this one.

I’m running Sunday to Sunday on this, so I’m starting my first book today. I am obviously allowed to read more than 52 books, but once I’ve set myself a particular book (to be documented in The Notebook) it has to be finished within the week. At least one of the books each month has to be something completely new to me. Not necessarily new as in newly published, just something I’ve never personally read before. I can choose these books by trotting into Waterstones or just browsing on the Kindle store, and they can be expensive hardbacks or free eBooks, it doesn’t matter.

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The Notebook. Where many things shall be written.

The whole point of this challenge is to make me actually think about what I’m reading and not read the same books over and over again. I want to actually analyse what I’m reading, really get my old English Literature head on. My brain is starting to feel like it’s stagnating in a big puddle of coffee, and I need to fine-tune it. Well, give it a good whack with a wrench at any rate.

I’m really looking forward to this. I’ve always been a big reader, and I’m interested to see if I really do read as much as I think I do – or if it’s more. This challenge might turn out to be really easy. Or it might turn out to be cripplingly hard. I genuinely don’t know, and I’m excited to find out.

NaNoWriMo 2015: THE END

FINALLY.

50, 508 words.

Well, I couldn’t bear to get to November 30th without 50,000 words under my belt. It would feel wrong.

It did hit me sometime mid-afternoon yesterday that I still had 10,000 words left to write… and I was lying in a bath feeling like a freshly reanimated corpse, only one more day left with that wordcount bar merrily open.

Then I rallied. At about 2 o’clock this morning, to be perfectly honest.

I’ll come out and say it right away: I’ve done NaNoWriMo every year since 2008 and this was the hardest one yet.

Things that have joined forces to sabotage my NaNoWriMo 2015

1) Moving house – my husband and I now live in a beautiful flat, so beautiful I actually want to spend time cleaning it and keeping it nice. It’s oh so easy to use it to procrastinate. Tricky chapter to write? Nope, can’t, I need to polish the stainless steel bin.

2) The Third Person – Fuck the third person. Fuck it into exceedingly sore oblivion. Admittedly, I’ve done a lot better with it than I thought I would. Even with the other procrastination, this has been a constant rock around my ankle. Every time I’ve been stuck before, in my first person stories, I’ve just been able to peer into my characters’ head and see my way around thing with their eyes. Having to keep to just one character’s prospective at the time has been somewhat exhausting.

3) Apocalyptica and friends – my two lovely friends came to visit this weekend and we went so see Apocalyptica play live at the Manchester Academy. It was such a good night out (we went right from headbanging to semi-clothed cello players to bopping along to Cher within twenty minutes) but I certainly didn’t want to spend any of it wrestling with my stubborn protagonists.

4) The common cold – I haven’t had a damn cold all year. Yesterday morning, I woke up after the great night out and thought “This is a weird excuse for a hangover”. It wasn’t a hangover. It was a fucking cold. It meant I didn’t write a word yesterday – I was far too sick and drippy to want to go anywhere near the laptop. Though it didn’t remain such a procrastination point…

5) 30 Rock – I’ve only just got into it and I love it. I need to be physically prised away from Netflix.

Anyway, last night – well, the early hours of this morning – thanks to the cold of doom, I couldn’t sleep. I tried to snooze in bed, but my nose wouldn’t stop running and I thought I’d drive my husband mental with all the honking into toilet roll. There was some truly attractive snorting going on. I couldn’t prop myself high enough off the bed to clear my chest, so I just gave up and pottered out to the living room.

(Just a point: in my old house that would have been impossible without finding a nice squishy slug trail to stand on in your bare feet, or maybe even an even nicer bit of mouse poo.)

I sat on the sofa, propped up with every cushion and pillow in the house, grumbled to myself a fair bit, snorted and honked to my heart’s content, and wrote and wrote.

I got over 3000 words done before I drooped and fell asleep, for a little while at least (I was up at five for work).

In true NaNoWriMo tradition, I’ve spent all day with the novel firmly in my head, determinedly spewing out as many words as possible whenever I could. I wrote a relatively impressive 9848 words today – not anywhere near my record, but not half bad. Though it wasn’t a single marathon; it’s come out in bits and pieces since 2 o’clock in the morning. And now with less than five hours to go, it’s done!

…the 50,000 words are done, anyway.

This book is going to be a monster. I’m 50,000 words in and I’m not anywhere near halfway through. Remember how I’m writing a time travel story? How my time travellers were going to spend the most significant part of their story enmeshed in the complex, dirty underworld of Victorian London?

They are nowhere near bloody Victorian London. My two protagonists are, for some reason that I’m not one hundred percent sure of, getting drunk in Manchester’s gay village.

So what’s next for my writing?

I hate to say it… but I’m not going to be carrying this story on for a little while. I have NaNoWriMo fatigue, and if I have to write about bloody Watchmakers for another five bloody minutes, I will find a pocket watch from somewhere purely so I can stamp on it.

Oh, I still love the story and I love my characters.

But my other books are yelling for my attention. I have editing to do. First person editing. I have two books that are finally, finally almost ready to get out into the world, and another one that isn’t anywhere near finished but makes me really happy when I’m writing it.

I’ll be quite happy to say goodbye to The Hummingbird and the Timepiece for a little while. I’ll go back to it one day… but for now, it’s not the project for me.

Now how about a final look at my stats graph… traditionally batshit as always.

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*taking my final bow from NaNoWriMo 2015*

NaNoWriMo 2015: the first two days

Oh god.

Oh hell.

What have I done?

Christ on a bicycle.

Using the third person has crippled me. I thought it would give me more freedom; getting out of just the one character’s head and into as many heads as I so desire.

Ha.

I’m barely in my own head. My characters can, frankly, whistle if they expect me to go exploring their craniums (crania?) right now.

Oh, I’m being too hard on myself. It’s not that bad, honestly. I’m getting to grips with the third person malarkey now; it’s finally starting to flow. Yesterday, November 1st, was frankly terrible. I had two main sessions of writing, one at midnight for a couple of hours, and one in the evening when I got home from a somewhat stressful shift at work.

It’s only been in the past couple of hours that I’ve really found any kind of rhythm, an actual voice for this third person narrator beyond “This happened then this so this but this blah blah blah”.

But the fact remains: it’s been two days and I’ve only written 6055 words.

6055.

My first day was 3760 words. That’s my worst first day of NaNoWriMo since I was at uni, and far more preoccupied with going out and getting plastered on Halloween than staying up for a midnight writing headstart.

Saying that, once again I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. My best November 1st ever was a heady 22,000 words, and let’s face it, I’d need a miracle to reach a number like that in one day again. Maybe later in the month when I’m not spending my days fannying about with packing for moving house, changing bills over to the new place, arranging for my beloved keyboard to go to a new home.

I should probably write this week off full stop.

No! That’s not the NaNoWriMo way. It’s not my NaNoWriMo way, anyway. If I write something every day, even just a little bit, then I’ll have succeeded.

And my first two days of NaNo haven’t been all doom and gloom and whining about third person. The procrastination has started already! And it’s fabulous.

I haven’t even written the book yet, and I have a perfect cover for The Hummingbird and the Timepiece.

Thanks to my lovely friend Tash for her photography/modelling/dressmaking skills (seriously, she made that outfit, how awesome?) I know what this book will look like if it ever sees the light of day.

If that’s not inspiration to carry on writing, I don’t know what is.

The Hummingbird and the Timepiece