Tag Editing

Murder your darlings

freyathewriter 1 Comment

Yep. Not just kill, but murder. Kill implies that maybe it was an accident, maybe you’ll get time off for good behaviour, maybe… Am I overthinking this?

Probably.

This week, I took stock of how far my dark, dystopian book child has progressed since the germ of the idea came to me in the dim and distant past. I won’t go into the details because you only have so much time to devote to me and my weekly novel-writing thoughts, but I started out wanting this novel to be a literary work, an homage to my dad who worked tirelessly for the environment. He earned an OBE for his services.

I have to say though, that was all a bit worthy and earnest, if not daunting. Maybe one day, when I’m not juggling all the things, maybe I’ll return to that idea. It could happen. However, I wanted to write a novel that I could complete before I become too old and addled in my brain to string a sentence together and remember what I am doing.

Where was I? Oh, yes.

Here is the current iteration of Anti-Virus. There are still threads of environmental concerns running through it, along with revelations of corruption and misdirection all set against a background of a moral and ethical wasteland. I have murdered the ‘worthy’ – may it rest in peace. It’s a dystopian thriller. Ain’t nothing too worthy going on in that genre!

I’ve also murdered a few other things. Like the point of view, the tense, the reason why we meet the main character in her small, small world, why her partner does what she does, why the antagonist does what he does and also the ending.

In short, the book is now very different to its oh so lofty (and yet humble) beginnings.

Hi. My name’s Freya, I murder my darlings and boy, does it feel good!

Adaptation, and a blast from the past

freyathewriter 1 Comment

Last week was my week back at work (ie, the work that pays the bills) after a week off. Boy, was it a shock to the system. Monday evening writing time went out of the window as I was mentally exhausted, the same for Tuesday, although I did write but it was pretty ugly stuff. Wednesday I knew I couldn’t write and that’s when the guilt set in, the guilt I discussed last week. I decided I had to approach things in a different way. I had to adapt.

Given that I’m strict with myself because of my aforementioned work addiction, adaptation is… a little tough. I have a routine, I have to keep to it (is that an addiction too? oh good grief…).

Uh, no Freya, you don’t.

What did I do? I got out my favourite biro and some paper and brainstormed, all the while telling myself that this was as good as, if not better than, writing. I wasn’t at my desk, I wasn’t staring at the computer screen, I was in a different environment and they do say, whoever ‘they’ are, that a change is as good as a rest.

It was. I unpicked a convoluted plot point that was looming at me like the poor old Groke and had the resolution all set out, in black and white, ready for when I could devote the less harried version of myself to actually editing my novel (early Saturday morning, in case you are interested in those details). I also adopted the same approach on Thursday evening and gave myself Friday evening off. (I know, go me!).

Adaptation. Is. A. Good. Thing.

Next topic, ie, ‘The Past’. One of my writer friends on Instagram asked for dark book recommendations and I was reminded of my participation in ‘Jessica’ (Helena Hann-Basquiat’s creation) along with authors from around the world. I decided to re-read my contribution, just for old time’s sake. It was quite the revelation. A dark, creepy, quite horrifying revelation. I’d forgotten how dark my imagination could be.

That might sound odd, given that I’m editing my dystopian novel, but this short story was a very different animal, leaning more towards horror, and set in a post-apocalyptic world. No zombies, no vampires, no dark magic, just people doing pretty horrifying things because of the world they inhabit.

It has inspired me to get back on the flash fiction/short story train, to get my horror on. I think I’ve been living in the world of Anti-Virus so much (of course), that I need to revisit worlds outside of that particular imagined reality. I expect it will add some more blackness to my second edit of the novel (I’m nearly at the end of my first full edit!). In my opinion, more blackness can only be good.

For anyone interested in Jessica (and really, you should be), here’s an unashamed link.

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…