I have a problem. It’s one I’ve faced before and I’m sure I’ll face it again. But I’ve never experienced it in such a debilitating way before. It may not seem like a problem to you, dear reader, but for me it is a cause of great concern.
Boy how I have missed it! For three long years even the thought of reading for fun was greeted with ‘what? Are you kidding?’ by both me and the people I spent most of my time with. But now I can. Except I haven’t been because work and life and every other distraction. Until now.
I have had four glorious days off work for no reason other than the fact I’ve been working a lot of overtime and it’s been peak season at the railway. So I treated myself on these golden days and downloaded some new titles and had the time of my life doing nothing but lying on the sofa devouring titles. And I’m going to share them with you now.
I am feeling good. I have nearly – and by nearly I mean there are less than 10,000 words left – nearly finished the first draft of my first full length novel. It is a project I have been working on since January and I love it very much but boy will I be relieved when I can print out the whole darn thing. Yes, I then have the very long and painful processing of rewriting and editing but that seems like a real breeze compared to getting the words out in the first place. So what am I doing? Not writing, no. Planning my next few projects.
More specifically, about train drivers. I work on a heritage steam railway in Cumbria and have buckets of fun every day, mainly because it’s a beautiful place and the people are lovely. Bank holiday weekend was particularly enjoyable thanks to a doube-header train each day. For those of you not up to scratch on your train lingo, that’s a train pulled by two engines. Like this:
So it’s been three months since I moved up north (blimey doesn’t time fly) and today, finally, the big day has arrived. The day I have waited for since seeing the house and realising it would be my home for the foreseeable future.
My office has furniture in!
I am literally afraid of my own words. For eight months now I have been writing a novel which I already love, which I believe in and which, every time I explain the premise, is met with expressions of ‘cool’ and ‘that sounds awesome’. I have already written over 40,000 words of said book. But now I am afraid.
I’m just going to leave this here.
E4 has been the channel of choice in my house for some time now. In the uni house it would be on for hours at a time thanks to The Big Bang Theory, How I Met Your Mother, and, towards the end of our degree, Rules of Engagement. We had the damn channel on so much we came to love programs we originally hated. I’m still not sure if thats a good thing or a bad thing.
Last week was the first episode of their newest series, The 100 (pronounced The Hundred). It’s the latest sci-if instalment from the states and the advertising push on it has been large and prominent on the channel since The Tomorrow People finished a few weeks back. The Bearded One and I presumed that this was the replacement series for that so were keen and eager to catch the first instalment.
University already feels like a distant memory but it was less than two months ago that I handed in my final piece of coursework. Since then I feel like a thousand things have happened to me and compared to the three manic years of studying I don’t feel like I’ve achieved very much. And I think I’ve figured out why.
Following on from my recent post about reading for fun, I completed the first book on the list some time ago but am only now getting around to writing about it. So is life! It was Kim Edward’s The Memory Keeper’s Daughter that was first on the pile and it was not my usual cup of tea.