Pound Store

Yesterday: finally started working on Pound Store, an idea I've had in one form or another for about five years. Back then it was part of a novel (a comic-fantasy that never got off the ground), but I think that I've now got a way of making it a short story. It's still got the comic elements, but from the first few paragraphs written yesterday it looks like it may end up a little darker than that. I wrote about 250 words (by hand), but I'll say correct the word count when I get around to typing it up.

Today: wrote another review for Mr. Barker's updated story, and one for a story on the Horror 'shop. Posted both of them. Worked a little on Thanks for Listening, getting myself ready to start the final confrontation.

Who the bloody hell do you think you are?

Student With No Razor's sent me another piece to look at. If you're reading this, SWNR, I'll get to it as soon as I can. I'll reply to your email as well. I've had a brief read of it, but other pieces are in the queue before you.

Later . . .

People can fake all sorts of stuff, can't they?

Another slow day, but today it's down to some developments in the career hunt, rather than me actually being lazy. After going in to sign on I got a phonecall inviting me to an assessment day at one of the first companies I applied to. Great, I thought, I only sent the form of six weeks ago. What I've been yearning for from these people is feedback; I want to get off to interviews. However, it turns out the assessment day is tomorrow morning, so I can't go. If I'd wanted to go, I'd have to get up at 4 in the morning. Damn. I can't help but think that someone at that company forgot to invite me.

So after all of that and preparing another couple of applications to send out tomorrow, I didn't have a lot of time to actually get any writing done. I wrote a review (only to discover that the piece I reviewed has already been revised, damn it, so now I'm going to have to take another look at it). And that was it.

Later . . .

Ain't got nothing to say

It's true, I'm afraid. I have been . . . not exactly lazy . . . more like over occupied this past few days.

Okay, I've been lazy, but only a little. Most of the weekend has been spent either enjoying myself or recovering from enjoying myself. Clubbing on Thursday, Cinema on Friday (watched Reign of Fire, which wasn't nearly as bad as I was expecting, although I had major issues with the female lead's ability to keep her appearance so well groomed), family barbecue on Saturday, Jen's barbecue yesterday (which was fun, although I think I drank too much), and a visit to the Cove of the Hopeless for Bank Holiday Monday (went as part of the village's annual weekend of festivities, which included such delights as grown men racing milk churns, a man singing American Pie in the club style and seeing one of Elydian's close friend's dressed as a horse).

Needless to say, far too much drink, too many burgers, sausages and burnt pieces of chicken, and too much exposure to the sun (seeing that I typically have the tolerance to the sun of a vampire) has meant that I have got very little writing done. I did manage to post a review (or was it two?), and I've given some more thought to some short stories--namely the Serendip Competition Piece. And that's about it. With any luck I'll have a bit more progress to report tomorrow.

Either that or some more excuses.

Later . . .

Evil Email

I hate chain mail. After much ranting and shouting, I thought that I'd finally made all of my friends realise the depths this. 'It's worse than junk mail,' I told them, 'because it's your friends filling your inbox with crap. Friends that should know better.' Most of my friends got the point, all but two of them. The first continues to forward the crap because he finds my reaction to them hilarious . . .

(when he sent me the one about Bill Gates giving you some money for everytime you forward the email on, I replied with a long rant detailing why every sentence in the mail was basically bullshit. It was a university lunchtime when I didn't have very much to do, and I'm since regretting doing it as it sparked off a load of 'let's see how he reacts to this' emails)

. . . the second now only forwards the guilt trip ones. You know the type. They're the ones that go along the lines of 'here are fifty reasons friends are great, next to some pictures of bears holding balloons that will take about an hour to download on your machine, and if you don't send them to everybody in your address book then you are an evil bastard who will never be loved'.

And I fall for it everytime. I open the emails because I naively think, ah, this might be worth reading, surely my friends know me well enough not to send me crap. I should know better. One of the emails was entitled 'Nice things' for fuck sake, as if that wasn't a big enough clue.

Okay, rant over. On with the writing journal.

Don't throw in the towel 'cos there's a place right down the block
Where you can drink your misery away

Wednesday: started a review, sunbathed (hey, it's summer, and I'm getting fed up sitting at my computer).

Thursday: finished one review, started another. Once I get this one done I'll have hit my month's tally.

Friday: nothing.

Later.

Planning

Today: finished Chapter 6 (don't be surprised--it was a very short chapter). Worked on a review, but didn't get very far as the piece I've chosen is a lot longer than the maximum word count allowed at the workshop (grrr). Played with some ideas for stories.

Later . . .

Boy racer
Boy racer, oh

More hardworking than ever today. Started chapter six of Dearest . . . and managed to add another 7oo words to the tally. And, they're all new, as opposed to the usual regurgitated or rewritten stuff. I also wrote another one of the reviews that I needed to return.

Not only that, but I've also managed to get some real work done . . . Unperturbed by my recent 'thanks, but no thanks', I sent off four CVs to some more consultancies. With any luck they'll be a bit more successful. I'm going to send off some more over the next few days, as someone has advised me in the benefits of bombarding potential employers.

Later . . .

More of the same

Unable to think about any one thing for long, I've spent the last couple of days trying to work out the magic system for my fantasy novel. You know . . . the one I won't even be starting until I finish Dearest . . . (in 2o1o). Why? I don't know, but I haven't really been up to writing or doing reviews.

Maybe tomorrow . . .

Jonathon and Erica

Brace yourselves . . . Yesterday I did some work towards Dearest . . .. Not only that, but I managed to write almost ten pages on Chapter 5. That's an extra 2300 words towards this month's word tally. As can be imagined, I'm quite pleased with myself.

Today, I managed to complete the chapter with another 1o5o words. I'm ready to start thinking about how Kiara's going to start playing with the journal, although I may take a break to work on something else for a bit. I don't know.

I've also thought about changing the name of Unknown, my tragic love story in progress. Have toyed with the idea of using Thanks for Listening, as it sounds better than the existing name. I think that it also gives a little something else to the sex scene. The reason I've been thinking about this is that I've been typing up what I handwrote at the end of July/beginning of August. Still don't feel ready to write the final bit.

Later . . .

You may be my evil half-brother, but there's no law against murdering the other half

Heard back from my interview yesterday, which is fairly impressive after only three working days. I didn't convince them well enough, it appears, but it's not a complete failure yet: they've passed my details onto another skills group within the company to see if there's an opportunity there. It's more structural work than the beach movement stuff that the first group were offering, which was where my interest really lies (I was under a misguided impression of what their Coastal Group did until I got to the interview).

This is my first job rejection. Whoop-dee-doo.

And they've rigged up the pinball so it's free all night

Today: finished another review. Finally finished my changes to the The Carrier, although I couldn't bring myself to read it again.

Later . . .

Thoughts on Mrs. Painter

There's something decidely creepy about old ladies. If you'd asked me yesterday, I honestly couldn't have told you where Mrs. Painter, the peculiar old lady from Curiosity, actually came from. I couldn't figure out what inspired her until I took a bus into Kings this morning.

The next village over from Limbo, let's call it the Dynamic Village, is where people go to die once they get here. They wait their time out in a collection of bungalows and the like at the end of the village. Twice a day or so the bus goes down there to pick them all up. They gather behind the bus stop--sometimes up to a dozen of them--as if they were huddling together for warmth. When it comes they rush forward, chittering. They all look the same--exactly as I described Mrs. Painter, except that I left out the coats they all wear, all-weather polyester creations in varying shades of blue and grey and biege. The chittering continues on the bus, like the insistent squawk of excited birds.

I began to think that maybe I was over-reacting--I mean, what kind of person thinks such things about sweet old ladies? And then a wasp somehow got on the bus, and I watched as one of the old ladies ruthlessly killed it. Without wasting any time she pulled one of those thick bus timetables from her bag, and administered to it the kind of beating that is normally reserved for tendering steak.

I moved back a few seats. The old lady returned the timetable to the bag and resumed her chittering.

I think I'm onto something.

You're a naughty child and that's concentrated evil coming out the back of you

Curiosity had some good reviews when I checked yesterday. Liked, but we had the usual comments: too much use of the passive voice; general need for tightening up.

Sunday: nothing much, although I've downloaded the stories I need to return the reviews I received.

Today: wrote one review and started another. Rebuilt the images website so that when I've got some images I can put it straight up.

Later . . .

Nailsea and Blackwell

I don't know whether it's down to nerves or not, but my dreams on Thursday night were incredibly vivid. Also--for a wonder--I can remember them. Another unusual thing: in the 24 hours preceding my interview I had no less than three new story ideas. My muses seem to be back.

On the surface this would appear to be a good thing, but I'm not entirely convinced. On my way to the interview I could think of nothing else. When I should have been trying to anticipate interview questions these stories had my brain in some kind of three-way tug of war.

One of the dreams came from one of the story ideas, I think. The idea came from a conversation with Elydian, about (for a change) women. It was essentially about siamese twins and the dream had elements of that in it.

The other dream became one of the story ideas. In one of those weird half awake, half dreaming moments I was convinced that someone, I don't know who, was in trouble. I thought I heard someone screaming my name and came instantly awake. I spent the next five minutes sat up in bed trying to hear it again. I think that I can do something with that.

The third idea is the one I'm less confident with. I heard something at breakfast that got me thinking about IVF babies and miscarriages. It's a novel-length idea if I can just work out all the details, but I've got a sneaking suspicion that it's been done before. I need to think about it some more.

Seriously, the last couple of days have been very weird. I've never been so inspired or had so little time to play with my ideas.

Weston-super-Mare

Thursday: wrote my first review in about five months (if you don't count the one I did for Student With No Razor).

Friday: interview.

Saturday: nothing.

Today: going to continue critting the other piece I downloaded, post the first review, and see if Curiosity has picked up any reviews of its own.

Teignmouth

I think that the interview went alright, but we shall see in a couple of weeks whether I convinced them or not.

Newton Abbot

Hours of fun:

They Fight Crime!

You know, it's the this sort of thing that really makes the internet worthwhile for me. Simple, but funny. I will write a story based on one of the results I got.

Totnes

Coming soon: what we did on fireworks night

Later . . .

Ow-Ow-Ow-I'm a Genius-Ow-Ow

Sometimes I feel like I'm really stupid. Sometimes I feel like I don't know anywhere near as much as the people around me. Two examples:

First. I posted a question to the Zoo as I was having trouble distinguishing between 'passed' and 'past' and the circumstances in which is was right to use each. When the proper meanings were explained to me, it became clear and I should be able to avoid the confusion again. I just can't help feeling that I should have known that already, that I should have been able to work it out for myself without having to appeal to the Listmind for help. I don't mind asking, and I appreciate the help that was given, but I still feel stupid. It's like sometimes I wonder what right I have to call myself a writer, to attempt to be one, when my education in the English Language only goes as far as GCSE. There are a load of people in the group who have degrees in English, or who are English teachers, and here's me who's never even been taught what a preposition is. I remember English lessons yet I can't remember ever doing anything so simple as circling the verbs in a sentence.

Second. I have a degree in civil engineering, yet I feel like I know nothing about the subject whatsoever. It sometimes seems that I can remember nothing from my four years of study, even though they only ended two months ago. When speaking to people about my subject I am unable to communicate what little I do remember and I have always had the impression that my mates from the course know a lot more than I do. With this job interview coming up, it's a worry.

Well, I feel stupid. I could probably give more/better examples, but then there'd be the danger of straying into whinging territory.

Like I've not been there already . . .

Jeep Full of Mutants

Today: made some changes to the Letter Story (though it still sucks); posted Curiosity to the Zoo, and downloaded a couple of stories to review.

Later . . .

Slow News Week

Perhaps I've not made it clear enough in the past, so I'll say it again. Dear Friends and Readers, THIS IS A WRITING JOURNAL! Okay, so maybe the clues weren't as apparent as I'd first imagined; the repeated inclusion of the words 'this is a writing journal', the repeated references to the art of writing, word counts, the titles of stories that I am currently working on . . .

I think that I'm going to give in, to an extent. It seems that the only people who read this anyway are friends hoping for a name drop, so I might as well cater to them. To that end I'm going to include the occasional 'Dear Diary, today I did this' style entry to keep Coops and Drewsy and the others happy. If any of you people don't want your names to appear in these pages, let me know and I can make up an elaborate and offensive nickname for you.

On Saturday night I went into Kings as is standard practice in these parts. It was quiet out; most of the locals had been out for the last two weekends and they don't like going out too often. Coops and Jenny were out however and it was here that Coops told me off. 'I read your entry about Drewsy's birthday,' he said, 'but you didn't mention me.' When I said that I could hardly mention everybody that was out that day (there were fifteen of us in total, and I don't particularly like listing names) I don't think he was convinced. It went along the lines of being more important than the others, but I got the impression that he wanted a name drop. Since then, I've tried to think of something notable that Coops said or did on Drewsy's birthday, but have come up short. If you can think of anything, Simon, then let me know and I'll give you your name drop.

Saturday night itself was fairly standard. We sat around and talked a load of bullshit. Didn't get particularly pissed and didn't go to Fusion Squared.

Sunday, it was the Rugby Club's beer festival. Eight real ales (no Badger's Bollock but there was some Badger Best), a tombola and some heavy rain in the evening. Coops demonstrated a skill in handing out quiz sheets that had been downloaded off the internet, and passing them off as his own. Later in the evening him and Drewsy went to do a shift behind the bar, where I'm sure they were just as skilled, but unfortunately I went home (you were right about that one). In all it was a good ol' day, although some of the real ales left a lot to be desired. Again, if something happened that you want mentioning drop me a line and I'll add it.

Is that better, Coops?

I Brought My Pogo Stick
Just to Show Her a Trick

Well, it's been a moderately busy weekend, what with all that I've mentioned above (as well as going to the cinema with four of the Mechanios, which I didn't mention--yes Asteroth lives!), so I've got very little writing done.

I dusted off what I had written for Unknown, my little tragic love story, and I've added another two scenes. Now I've just got the last scene to write, and it's the hardest one, as it's the one where all of the truth comes out. The last conversation between the two main characters is going to be a tough one to write, and I'm reluctant to do it. I know what's going to happen, I just don't know how. I'm also doubting my ability to do the emotion of the piece justice. I will wait a while before I take another run at it.

I have finally rejoined the Zoo, and am just waiting for my money to be processed before I can start submitting again.

Today, I have made a few changes to Curiosity, ready for submitting to the workshop in a couple of days.

Later . . .