Saturday, October 9, 2021


October 26th

Despite feeling below par today, I've actually managed to work on my novel.
So, yes, I'm making progress at last. Although I did have to delete as many words as I've written because one whole chapter was, on re-reading, puerile rubbish. 
It's still progress, good progress, a step in the right direction.
Strict self-editing, well, it may seem like a step back when a couple of hours of work end up in the recycle bin, but it's not.
Despite a lingering cold, sore arm from a winter flu gab and unexpected ten-minute nose-bleed, I'm back in the seat.
It's been a good day!

October 23rd

Well, I've written something every single day this week. Some good, some bad, some that needed deleting the following day, but it's getting into the rhythm that counts. I feel I'm back on board with the new mood of Autumn.
Even as a child, Autumn has been my favourite time of the year. Everything calms down, and I become creative.
You never know what winter has in store. Spring is the re-awakening, and Summer's all rather manic.
This week I decided to change the names of most of the characters and altered the personality of one character altogether, which was a mistake, so I changed it back again.
I had fun with dialogue and managed the marry up the newly inserted chapters with the main foundation of the story. For a while there, I didn't know what was going on!
Unfortunately, I feel a cold creeping over me.
I'm just registering its arrival... in my nose, head and chest.
How bad it will be, I don't yet know. Let's hope it's not Covid!
Anyway, my beloved cat Mitsy has just landed on my lap, and I'm going to call it a day.
Yes, I'm sorry, it's been an uneventful week. 
No one has done or said anything interesting and worthy of report. 
I'll be back when I have more to offer.
UPDATES on other stuff.
Fibromyalgia, not bad.
Thinning hair, not growing back.
Son's corneal transplant seems to be adhering.

October 17th

Travelling to and fro from Bristol Eye Hospital with M had taken its physical toll.
The Fibromyalgia's seen me spending most of my afternoons in bed dealing with a level of exhaustion that makes me feel physically sick.
I'm going to cut out all alcohol and see if that helps. Drinking definitely aggravates the condition, and although I was having no more than a couple of vodkas and tonic here and there, I think they're draining me dry.
My hair's looking better.
My sisters keep furtively glancing at the thinning patch on top of my scalp and insisting that there's sign of new growth. 
It's funny when people talk to you and think you haven't noted their true line of vision. 
I did go and see the latest Bond movie with my eldest son. 
Yes! He did ask me to go with him, which was nice and not an opportunity to be missed. Some moments in time need to take priority over everything else. The film itself is about two and a half hours long, but the pre-movie adverts and trailers must have lasted an hour, which is probably why word on the street is that it's too long.
I don't particularly like Bond films and haven't watched one in years. However, No Time to Die was excellent, truly epic, and I remained enthralled throughout. Every scene was incredibly well filmed and the acting was excellent. Again, I've never been much of a Daniel Craig fan either, but he really acted his pants off in this film... and managed to keep them on, most of the time. 
The moviemakers have gone out of their way to stamp out the unsavoury misogyny and sexism that sullied Bond's of a pre #metoo era.
Although I've not managed to add any word count to my new novel this week, the train journeys have provided a golden opportunity to spend several hours reading, and reading's very important if your writing. If you're enjoying a book and can't put it down, then it's a worthwhile exercise figuring out how the authors managed to, so skillfully, suck you in.
I'm currently reading the very brilliant Jonathan Franzen's book, Freedom. The first book I read by this author was The Corrections, which inspired some glowing literary reviews and I suspect the publishers might have then asked him to dig up any previous works in the hope of cashing in while the fire was hot. The second book, the title of which I don't recall, was nowhere near as good.
Anyway, big thumbs up for Freedom.
Next week nothing, but nothing is going to stand in the way of writing.
I have an appointment-free week and have made a pledge to be utterly selfish where others needs are concerned. 
There's going to be gallons of coffee going down and no more vodka, complimented with some gentle yin yoga and dogged determination.

October 9th

OK, I've just written several lines for this October the 9th journal entry and have now deleted them.
Why? Well, if I'm lapsing into a boredom-induced coma reading my own writing, what will any potential reader make of it.

I'll be back soon when I think I've got something worth saying.
Or, I could try for a job on the local paper, where writing about nothing having happened can fill several pages.
One of my favourite stories appeared in our local rag a few years back.
It was all about how (rumour had it), some kind of disturbance by a group of local ner-do-wells might have been planned for the previous weekend.
The police and their riot van were dispatched to round up any ner-do-wells that looked as if they might be loitering with intent, no one was loitering with any intent, and, apart from some tumble-weed blowing along the empty main street, nothing happened
I think the title was, ON FRIDAY NIGHT POLICE WERE DISPATCHED TO  such and such a town, BUT NOTHING HAPPENED.
Honestly, I kid you not, an entire paragraph had been given over to a non-story about how something might have happened, but didn't.
I used to send the best/worst clippings to one of my sisters upcountry and she'd glue them into her scrapbook. 
However, after the front page heading, BOLDER STOLEN FROM LOCAL BEACH, I just gave up. The fun was in finding the banalest article buried amongst all the others. It was game over.
So, I won't bore you with how nothing has happened.
Having said that, there's a lot to be said for living in a place where not much happens.

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