All my little words…

Writing a novel has so far been an incredible experience.  However I’m now reaching the two toughest parts – detailed, tedious editing (as opposed to creative editing) & the challenge of getting published.

Anyroads, I shall allow here a little nostalgia.  In between working in bars, cafes & pubs, in between completing an art degree, in between deciding between rum & ginger or a nice pint of local ale, inbetween drinking more brews than is good for the brain or the bladder, inbetween over-egging the ‘inbetween’ pudding, I’ve managed to nail 200,000 words, most of which I’m proud of.  Writing, particularly about the murky depths of characters minds, has worked to keep me sane.  I can admit at times it’s done the opposite, I’ve accidentally fallen into the pond of ‘method writing’, which has left me worse for wear.  But whenever the mundanity of work, studying or friend/family politics has got me down, I’ve had a surefire escape.

Although I owe a great deal to my hometown of Nottingham, and all the amazing people & places I know here, in many ways the novel is a lovesong to the North (albeit a cynical, doom-riddled one, a bit a ‘ Magnetic Fields’ song, one title of which I stole for a blog heading).  I love the drinking holes, the atmosphere, the latent potential, the shabbyness next to the clumps of uber-shiny regeneration, the wild moors & drizzly inner cities, I love the importance of gumption & the overwhelming lack of it.  Yorkshire my love, when will you take me back?!  I know I don’t quite talk proper yet, but I’m working on it…

I digress, as is usual with memory fog & rum riddled bleating…

A typical armchair know-it-all recently asked me flippantly, “So, what writers have you ripped off?”  Truth be told, I’ve ripped off everything I’ve ever known that got under my skin.  The difference is that I chewed up & regurgitated it, and now hopefully it’s even prettier than West Street gutter, 3am Sunday morning.

And so, and so…back to the drizzle of grammar & layout, & this & that… wish me luck on the road to meek success or noble failure.

Over & owt.

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