Last night, I sat down and cut my 672 word story down to 500 words. It still has a bit of polishing to go, but I think by the end of Saturday it will be submittable.
And all I had to do was chain myself to the computer! :)
Friday, June 27, 2008
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Three days in, word count zero
Okay, so not as successful as I'd hoped.
But I've been working, and there's the housework to do, and netball to play, and TV to watch ...
I know, I know. Nothing but a whole heap of excuses.
I'll have finished something by the end of Saturday. Promise.
But I've been working, and there's the housework to do, and netball to play, and TV to watch ...
I know, I know. Nothing but a whole heap of excuses.
I'll have finished something by the end of Saturday. Promise.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Becoming serious about writing
I find myself lounging in front of the TV, or lying in bed, or sitting at work and thinking about how I'm going to do it. How I'm going to sit down every spare minute I have, and write. Write my novels, write my short stories, write my way into a career in writing.
But then I sit down to write and ... nothing. I might type a few snatches of dialogue, an idea that doesn't fit together with any of the other ideas I have stored away. As much as I want to write, no work gets done.
When I find myself in such a situation, I tell myself it's because I'm a bad writer. Untalented. I should stick to the day job.
Like many people, I've wanted to be a writer since I learnt what being a writer was. English was my favourite subject at school. I spent my Maths classes writing stories. And Chemistry classes. And any other class where I could get away with it.
At eleven, I was a finalist in the Nestle Write Around Australia Competition. My teacher entered the story, and I got a backpack full of chocolate and to meet Australian children's author Christine Harris as a result. I thought that was pretty good at the time.
At sixteen, I had to choose what I wanted to do with my life, so I could pick the right subjects in Year 11 and 12. There was no other choice. I wanted to be a writer. But Mum argued that writing doesn't pay well, and so I found myself at uni doing a Bachelor of Information Technology.
After uni, during the summer where I pretended to look for a job when all I wanted to do was dream up story ideas, I was a finalist in the Advertiser Summer Short Story Competition. The story I had written was very personal, as it was about a photo of my Nan when she was my age, and Nan had just passed away. My reward this time was publication.
For the past two and a half years, being published once was enough. At least I can say I've been published, I told myself.
But now, it's not enough. I want to see my name in print again, and have people read my stories. I want to take my writing seriously.
I am also in the middle of a comprehensive writing course. The assignments are getting done (I'm up to Assignment 17 out of 20), but the thing I'm having trouble with is that in order to complete the course, I have to submit twenty manuscripts to publishers. I've sent three.
So the aim of this blog is to help me take my writing seriously - to get those other seventeen submissions written. If you tell the world what you plan on doing, then you feel obligated not to let them down, and so that's what I'm going to do.
I only hope it works!
But then I sit down to write and ... nothing. I might type a few snatches of dialogue, an idea that doesn't fit together with any of the other ideas I have stored away. As much as I want to write, no work gets done.
When I find myself in such a situation, I tell myself it's because I'm a bad writer. Untalented. I should stick to the day job.
Like many people, I've wanted to be a writer since I learnt what being a writer was. English was my favourite subject at school. I spent my Maths classes writing stories. And Chemistry classes. And any other class where I could get away with it.
At eleven, I was a finalist in the Nestle Write Around Australia Competition. My teacher entered the story, and I got a backpack full of chocolate and to meet Australian children's author Christine Harris as a result. I thought that was pretty good at the time.
At sixteen, I had to choose what I wanted to do with my life, so I could pick the right subjects in Year 11 and 12. There was no other choice. I wanted to be a writer. But Mum argued that writing doesn't pay well, and so I found myself at uni doing a Bachelor of Information Technology.
After uni, during the summer where I pretended to look for a job when all I wanted to do was dream up story ideas, I was a finalist in the Advertiser Summer Short Story Competition. The story I had written was very personal, as it was about a photo of my Nan when she was my age, and Nan had just passed away. My reward this time was publication.
For the past two and a half years, being published once was enough. At least I can say I've been published, I told myself.
But now, it's not enough. I want to see my name in print again, and have people read my stories. I want to take my writing seriously.
I am also in the middle of a comprehensive writing course. The assignments are getting done (I'm up to Assignment 17 out of 20), but the thing I'm having trouble with is that in order to complete the course, I have to submit twenty manuscripts to publishers. I've sent three.
So the aim of this blog is to help me take my writing seriously - to get those other seventeen submissions written. If you tell the world what you plan on doing, then you feel obligated not to let them down, and so that's what I'm going to do.
I only hope it works!