The Sea, the Fox and the Coffee cup

No, I’m not writing a peculiar version of a Narnia novel, but I did threw together these characters from my novel in planning to create a title because it sounded cool and Narnian. ( I know that a coffee cup isn’t a character but Narnia had a wardrobe so I think I can get away with a cup).

I’m writing a story about the Sea, the North Sea to be specific. I think the North Sea is unintentionally turning out to be The Bad Guy. The one that takes, but can’t be taken. Not that my main character isn’t going to try. She is stealing water from the sea, capturing it in glass jars. And now the Sea is coming for her.

Or at least I think it’s going this way. 🙂

How fun it is to be a writer and have absolutely zero clue what you are doing.

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Hello Autumn

Autumn is here, bringing rain and dark mornings.

I feel a bit melancholic and am not entirely sure it’s because the time that was, the time that is or the time that’s yet to come. And I guess it doesn’t really matter.

Autumn’s here. I’m here. That’s all there is to it.

So what Am I Going to Do with this One precious Autumn in 2017?

I’m going to get back to writing and editing. There are stories to be told, stories to unfold and stories that need to change.

(I know I promised pictures in my previous post. But my computer at work is not cooperating so you’ll have to wait for those.

(sorry not sorry)

🙂

Back Home

My thirty day holiday flew by, leaving me with memories of sandy beaches, roaring waves and happy times. (Next post will contain pictures!)  I’ll try to cling to them while I’m being wrapped up in my day tot day life.

I often write about memories, not only actual ones but also the mechanism.

How memories are triggered by smell. How they get mixed up. How they blur, why they are forgotten and why they sometimes come back. It fascinates me.  I’m blessed with a decent memory, although I have a thing for remembering non-important facts: the striped socks I wore on my seventh birthday/phonenumbers from my childhood friends/ the shape of an island when I was on a holiday years ago (it was shaped like a turtle) .

Anyway I’m back home, getting back  in ‘normal’ mode. I’m starting a new job next month,  school starts again next week. I’ve got loads of writing to get back to. But I’m not going to push myself or put pressure on it. I’m going to (try to) enjoy it.

Because happy isn’t a goal to be reached, it’s a moment. And if you’re lucky it will become a long-lasting memory.

Magic is Real (or: I like wine)

Big Fish, Prince of Mist, The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake, The Shadow of the Wind are amongst my all time favorite reads.

The feel of the extraordinary captured within the frames of reality (or sometimes just outside its boundaries) is what I often try to achieve in my writing.

When brainstorming these stories or wondering about one of its characters  I’m in a particular mood. A mood wherein magic is more real, more tangible. If I was to describe this mood (and obviously I’m going to because I would be a pretty lousy writer if I didn’t try)

I would describe this like:

Having two glasses of wine on an empty stomach,  being happy on a superficial level and wondering what would happen if #insert-idea-that-could-be-real-if-a-little-magic-sipped-through-from-another-dimension

(what if: you could sell your dreams but the cost is nightmares/ your father is the sea/you can control insects/there’s a ghost living in the garden shed/the statue on the town square cries every evening at eleven).

 

Maybe I drink too much (wine: preferably temperanillo/rioja or a really cold  pinot grigio when the sun is shining).

🙂

Weird Process

I know you’re supposed to be in the possession of a highly polished version of your novel, before you start thinking about your query letter. Let alone write one.

BUT I JUST CAN’T HELP MYSELF.

It’s fun.

For me it’s something to work on when I get stuck editing or writing. And when a sentence captures the feel of my story, I copy/paste it in a separate document I keep to tinker with my query letter.  Appropriately named: Document 3, which is a pretty lame title if you consider making up titles is peering down at the top regions of my What-I-Love-About-Writing- List.

Anyway.. In earlier stages this process showed me how thin my plot was. Or that my plot was transparent (sounds better than invisible, don’t you agree?).

Maybe I’ve a weird process but it makes me understand my story better. I’m learning to write a more cohesive pitch and to be specific.

No dark forces that gather but three highly gifted sorcerers who feed on the pain of others meet and plan to kill all the people in an elderly home.

No more plan to kill but they inject all the residents with high dose insulin  (no magic needed. Told you they were highly gifted).

No tragic event but All residents, except one, die. A 93 year-old lady who stole and ate all the candy in the Home survived.

No worst nightmare but the Sematary from King’s Pet Sematary is real and they just sold the plot to create a burial place for children.

It works for me, and if it works I keep it 🙂 Weird or not.

Distraction 101

I discovered Twitter. And it’s the worst. Because it’s awesome. (Which means I have added another distraction to my already very big heap of distractions).

How is it possible that so many people can be funny in less than 140 characters? It’s impressive and intimidating at the same time and I like it A LOT.

Since I’m a postponing/procrastinating expert I thought it was time to provide you with a top ten things to do instead of writing 🙂

Behold a list!

  • Go to the gym (whahaha <- this is my evil laugh, but seriously: GO)
  • Make an artistic grocery list (I usually make drawings of the things to buy,  a very insufficient way to get your shopping done. Trust me).
  • Read books (this will keep you busy FOREVER and EVER).
  • Look at the blank screen and then read ALL THE THINGS the Internet has to offer. Which are many, think: Twitter, Blogs, Bored Panda.
  • Have kids, they will provide you with enough things to do for the next ten years (or more).
  • Make an Instagram account, you can look at other people’s pictures every day.
  • Pinterest! You can call it research if you like.
  • Your home is never clean enough.
  • Arrange your pencils by color.
  • Do the same with books

In which I become friends with my Muse (his name is Kip)

It’s July! And like I said in my post about Summer, I intend to write a lot this month.

But I’m slacking on the writing-blog-posts-part, so here it is: a July post 🙂

It’s nothing more than a short update on what I’m doing but still. I wrote it. (Maybe I can add the words to my daily nano count #cheaterthatIam)

I’m doing Campnano again. And having fun with a new story about a telepathic connection between a brother (who paints in only one color, either blue or red) and sister ( a barista who can make awesome Latte art but HATES milk, because the memory that clings to it rips her soul apart).

I guess the new story is also about coffee. Because I like coffee.

AND I am editing the previous story, which is turning into something that might actually be worth reading. I stumble upon sentences I don’t really remember writing and some are actually quite suprising. In a good way. Sometimes I feel almost proud of what I’ve written. And I’m not a person who finds it easy to be proud of her achievements. I’m terrible at writing descriptions, but some of them might work. Like this one:

The rain was washing away the remains of the day, clearing the city like an etch and sketch. The streets were shimmering and the air smelled like earth. Jenya loved this hour of night. Tourists were nowhere to be seen, the streets almost empty. The rain turned into a soft drizzle, making soft thudding sounds, indifferent of the surfaces it fell on. A couple hurried by, giggling and trying to balance an umbrella between the two of them. Jenya thought about rain, how it had made her feel warm and safe when she was younger, lying on her bed listening to it tapping the windows

The last six years she hadn’t felt safe at all, and when her window was tapped upon it was normally something that came straight from a nightmare.

I’m still really (really , really, really)  insecure. And a lot of times I tell myself not so optimistic things (why are you doing this/ this is not going to work/ why?/ all that time typing and stringing words together/ nobody is going to read or like your work/ etcetera). My inner editor (Pie is her name) still points out why things are not working, but hours go by where she’s just quiet. Maybe there is a muse and maybe he’s holding her hostage. Who knows?

I’m calling my muse Kip, because Kip is a cool name and sounds like a person who likes coffee. Kip and I are going to be friends.