Tuesday, March 22, 2005

Confession 19 Writing Group Litmus

No. of new fish in tank: 30
Celebdaq rating: 46,107

Woke up and wrote two words on piece of paper by bed:

scrap metal

Have no idea why.

It's a rainy day today and all I have to do is stay in and write. My favourite kind of a day.

Wrote a new chapter on Sunday morning, early, in bed, then typed it up and spent yesterday working on it. It's Chapter 3 and it introduces two new characters, the children of the protagonist.

Do I use real people I know? Whell I have, yes... Book 1 was based on the interplay between a group of females from very different backgrounds. I shamelessly took 2 from that group at the kick-off. But like the famous people or strangers, it's more of a way to get started. A cameraman who was writing a screenplay said to me once that anyone who made up characters was crazy when there were so many real ones to choose from. At the end of the day it's always you. By the end of writing Book 1 the four main women were all cartoon portraits of different parts of myself, my shy side, my snobbish side, my earth-mother side and my smug side. That's why I find it helps writing under a different name, getting at the truth can be painful.

I read the chapter out last night at my writing group. It's still early draft but it went down OK. L thought it could have more of the introspective descriptive writing, much of which I'd culled out. It's a sad subject and I'm finding it's too easy to go off on the literary tangent when I'm trying to keep it light and funny. Maybe a mistake, I don't know. Bizarrely the twist at the end of the chapter had actually happened to J in real life and she was wiping away a tear at the end. Her reading as always was beautiful. L didn't read but talked about her future plans and we heard the other L's latest news on her mega-agent who has called her to tell her he's about to release the buzz on her. Unbelievably exciting. J's signed up to go on an Arvon course http://www.arvonfoundation.org/pages/content/index.asp?PageID=52 and I banged on about how lucky authors are who can go to a country retreat and write for months on end. This set us talking about perhaps going away together for a weekend.

The guppys: no sooner had pere guppy The Prince of Whales gone to his grave in the rubbish bin than his lady-friend, Camilla, produces.

Bye bye, thanks for visiting, come again soon.

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