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Downtime

freyathewriter 5 Comments

It’s hard to confess to others when you’re just not writing. It’s even harder when you have to confess it to yourself. (Point to note, I have been writing, I have been editing, but I have also been feeling guilty for those hours in the day when I haven’t been doing either of those things).

I suspect that this might just be me, or people like me, who struggle with this confession. And by people like me, I mean those of us who like to metaphorically self-flagellate, who feel guilt for no apparent reason, who pile pressure upon ourselves because, you know, life would be far, far too easy otherwise.

Also, I’m a workaholic. I have an addiction.

My lovely, patient partner pointed this out to me not so long ago, by sharing an article with me that she had read. She let me read it, absorb it, allowed the reality to sink in and then, very kindly, but firmly, said that she recognised these traits in me. I had no other choice but to agree.

Work addiction is hard, just like any other addiction. Don’t get me wrong, I can relax (kinda), but it’s always tempered by that vague feeling that unless I am actually achieving something with that relaxation (other forms of creativity, learning something, reading something, exercising and so on), I feel like I have wasted my time. Yes, I can binge-watch The Queen’s Gambit like anyone else (wasn’t that fantastic?!), but the undercurrent of ‘you should be…’ or ‘you ought to be…’ is always there. Coupled with anxiety, which is also a struggle of mine and voila, welcome to my frenetic world.

Add to the mix that I am working through editing Anti-Virus and the ‘should’ and ‘ought’ are amplified by an image of my protagonist, Callie, waiting at the place I last left her, arms folded with an eyebrow raised so high it makes my forehead hurt. She’s a member of the Security Services and whilst her life isn’t what it used to be when she was undercover back in the day, she’s a tough character. I don’t want to piss her off. The struggle is real, people.

One way I manage my addiction is by being very strict with myself. I know from experience that if I am not, things (the various aspects of the addiction) run away with me. So I set myself a specific time limit. I am going to write/edit between X o’clock and Y o’clock. Then I will go out for a walk. Then I will make my lunch. Then I will… you get the picture. It doesn’t stop the guilt for not continually writing, but it does mean I manage my mental health. I know what I am like at full pelt, giving into the nagging demon, the little liar that creates this false guilt, and it’s quite ugly, both for me and for my nearest and dearest.

In the fine tradition of twelve step groups, let me introduce myself. My name is Freya, and I’m a workaholic. But I haven’t got time to talk to you about it now because I just need to do this one thing first…

Stage fright

freyathewriter 3 Comments

Hmm, well, not stage fright exactly, but something akin to it.

Book fright?

Reader fright?

Imposter syndrome… yep, OK, it’s that. Here’s the thing. The road to writing, editing and publishing a book isn’t a straight line, no siree. It’s more of an all round the Wrekin* type of journey, with long, grinding inclines of painful slog, of false summits which turn out to be just the place you stop for a rest and break out the beef paste and HP sauce** sandwiches, ready salted crisps and a flask of hot, sweet tea. The downhill, free wheeling feet off the pedal moments are there, but you have to put the work in first.

Anywaaaaay… so here I am. I’ve put in a good chunk of editing this morning, checking and double checking consistency across several chapters and wondering what the hell I was thinking when I wrote this part of my novel a year ago. But I’ve battled through, I’ve sorted out the inconsistencies, I’ve changed the tone so it has the feel that I’m striving for. I feel good and have taken the fact that I’ve edited one of these chapters eight (yes EIGHT) times in the last few days as a badge of honour and perseverance. However, a tiny, whiny little voice keeps on nagging at me. She belongs to my absolute bitch of an alter-ego, who I’ve decided to name Constance (as she’s a constant pain the neck).

Essentially, she’s trying to tell me that my writing, the plot, the sub-plot, the jeopardy, the world that I’ve built is all a bit of a let-down. Compared to the hype I’ve created with the black and white noir-esque photos and the hints that I’ve been dropping over on Instagram, it’s a damp squib. Anti-Virus? More like Anti-Climax.

Yeah, thanks Constance. So. Very. Much. You are quite the bitch, aren’t you?

See, for all my joking, Constance is what we do to ourselves. That little voice is our fear, our hesitancy, our ‘you’re not good enough’ anti-mantra that swirls around inside everyone’s heads, to a greater or lesser degree, at some point in our lives (or all the time, if you’re really, really unlucky). That voice can be the life-saving note of caution (‘no, you won’t get across the road before the car hits you’) or it can be the destructive, soul-destroyer of your dreams.

My novel, once completed, might not live up to what I want it to be. There are no guarantees after all. On the other hand, it might surpass all my hopes and dreams. I’m putting the work in so that I have a better chance of achieving the latter. That’s all I can do.

As for the stage fright, it can go suck it. The show must go on, darlings, the show must go on.

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*The Wrekin is a hill in East Shropshire, in the UK. All round the Wrekin – a phrase common in Shropshire, Worcestershire, Staffordshire, Herefordshire, the Black Country and Birmingham to mean “the long way round”. “To all friends around the Wrekin”, meanwhile, is a toast traditionally used in Shropshire, especially at Christmas and New Year. I am from Birmingham, hence the phrase is well-known to me!

**HP sauce is a brown sauce originally produced by HP Foods in the United Kingdom and was named after London’s Houses of Parliament. Created in 1899, HP Sauce has a tomato base, blended with malt vinegar and spirit vinegar, sugars, dates, cornflour, rye flour, salt, spices and tamarind. It is used as a condiment with hot and cold savoury food, and as an ingredient in soups and stews. For me, it wins hands down against tomato ketchup. And the beef paste sandwiches reference is a memory of childhood car journeys in the summer holidays!

‘Research’

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This week’s editing journey has been a little disrupted.

I normally invest some time each weekday evening after my day job has finished, with the exception of Fridays, which is my evening off. On Saturdays, after my morning walk or cycle, I settle down for a few hours – this is my time to deal with the real nitty gritty things that have arisen during the week, and usually involves me hopping from chapter to chapter to iron things out. On Sundays you find me here, and also over on my Facebook page.

This week however, I found myself gritting my teeth through a couple of days of a constant, grinding headache that wouldn’t disappear. Since I can’t just halt my salaried job for a headache, no matter how bad, I had to put Anti-Virus to one side and give my eyes a breather. I’m glad that I did. Sometimes you need to rest, right?

Anyway, I was wondering what to write about this morning, and the answer revealed itself to me when I cranked open my laptop. All the tabs I had left open on my browser when verifying a few things yesterday proved to be very useful indeed.

To give you a flavour:

  • 1970s handheld tape recorder
  • Cassette recorder
  • Dead letter drop vs dead drop
  • Polaroid
  • Polaroid camera
  • Zippo lighter
  • Zippo lighter fuel
  • Cigarette lighter flame colour

In the midst of editing I am very disciplined indeed. I hop onto the internet, search, find the answer I am looking for and incorporate what I need into my manuscript. I leave the page open, but that’s it, I’m done. Back to editing.

The thing is… Having left those pages open my monkey mind continues to whirr away in the background, prodding and poking and generally creating new ‘things’ to occupy my mind with.

Here you go, this is what my brain did:

  • You can still get those handheld tape player/recorders on Ebay, why not have a look and see what they sell for? Although you can get a new one from Argos. But the new one doesn’t look so pretty and will probably last about 5 minutes (I don’t need a tape player/recorder. I don’t have any cassettes to play in it).
  • Remember how you used to like to play with the Zippo your friend had at university? It was so pleasing and weighty, and ohhh the click and clunk sound it made when it opened and closed… and they are windproof so could be useful (for what, I have absolutely no idea).
  • Those 1980s Polaroid cameras are ugly, but what about the Polaroid SX-70 Instant Camera that came out in 1972? That’s so sleek, has a lovely manual focus action and it folds up neatly. Just perfect! But ooh, properly refurbished ones are expensive. But then you know it will work, so it’s worth it (…).

Dear reader, it’s the last one that I’m stumbling on. You see… (cue shameless justification) the world of Anti-Virus is very much a world where censorship is a way of life and, due to a number of factors, people accept it. It is benign, it is for the common good, it is for society’s protection. However, what do you do if you find out that all is not as it seems, that something horrific is afoot? How do you go about recording all of the things that are hidden below the surface, behind walls, inside buildings, without being caught? Analogue technology is your friend.

I can hear you. ” But Freya, just because that’s your made up world doesn’t mean that you have to shell out on a camera, lovely though it may be! Get a grip!”

Yes, but… here’s the thing. One of my plans, alongside the actual novel, is to create artifacts that are part of, or linked to, the plot. There will be a book that is central to the story (very meta, a book within a book), there will be newspaper clippings, there will be tracking devices, there will be a gun (no, I’m not going to buy a real gun, I’m in the UK, but I will make a model of one), there will be a Zippo (OK, I might end up buying a Zippo, fair do’s), there will be Polaroid photos. See! There you are! And, as anyone who follows my Instagram account knows, photography is a ‘thing’ I use to keep the mood alive, create interest and so on, and I also really enjoy it. In my mind’s eye Callie (my main character) has one of those 1980s Polaroid cameras, but just because that’s the case doesn’t mean that I have to have one (I really, really don’t like them).

So, my novel will be surrounded by lots of other ‘stuff’. I want to create a tangible example of what’s inside my head. Who is it for? Mostly me. It’s an art project if you like. Creativity is what keeps me alive (oh OK, water and food also help) and my imagination going.

So, yeah. I’m still pondering about the Polaroid SX-70 Instant Camera…