Thought For The Day

Novel writing is an occupation where success can be gauged by whether or not your work has been shelved.

Atonement

Recently I killed a Poinsettia. Now, to make atonement, I have brought this Basil plant back to life. It belongs to my room mate who is out of town at the moment and was looking pretty miserable. I took a chance and watered it and miraculously it seems to be recuperating. This is officially my first ever success with a living plant.

Procrastinate is Just a Fancy Word For Saying 'Mañana'

I'm a writer. I procrastinate. That's what writers do. We look for any way to put off the actual business of writing.
My favourite methods (in no particular order) are:

• Highly focalised internet research (that's a fancy way of saying wasting time on t'internet)
• Adherence to domestic engineering responsibilities (a fancy way of saying washing the dishes)
• Attendance to the amalgamation of complex harmonious and melodious vibrations for aural satisfaction (an obnoxious way of saying listening to music for fun)

As for procrastinate, this is a word of latin origin meaning 'deferred until tomorrow'.

Adiós hasta mañana folks.

This Week Has Been Murder

Earlier this week I killed a character in my book.

Now I have killed this innocent poinsettia. (Not purposefully I hasten to add). This is why people should not give me plants.

Killing My Darlings

It's not often that you can get away with killing someone, but sometimes as a writer you have to take that chance.

'Killing Your Darlings' is a phrase used in writerly circles to describe cutting out unnecessary elements of your work. This could be something small like a phrase, sentence or paragraph or it could be something larger, such as a chapter, sub-plot or character.

It's not an easy task for many writers. When you've spent several hours, days, weeks or even years on something, it's hard to cut something out - even when it's obvious that it doesn't belong.

Just before Christmas I started working on a novel. I had an idea that centred around two characters whose stories I really wanted to tell. Unfortunately I'm having trouble getting the story to work and now it's come to a standstill. I've tried all the usual fixes employed by artistes to summon their muse and aid the creative process. I spent many hours staring out of the window contemplating the passing of the clouds over Falmouth Harbour. I drank cheap wine and became maudlin. I made inappropriate passes at young gentlemen (until someone shouted 'Cut it out Grandma or I'll call the cops').

None of these things worked.

So after a huge amount of heartache (and a good chat with my tutor) I realised that in order to get back on track I need to 'kill my darling'. In short I have to axe one of my characters. This is hard to do and I am somewhat remorseful, but nevertheless, in the name of literary progress I will do it.

I'm also a reasonable person (and kind hearted too) so I felt it important to explain to my character what it is I am doing and why. So to illustrate the turmoil I feel about killing my character I have written another "Dear John' style open letter:

Dear Jack,

There's no easy way of saying this so I'll just come right out and say it. I have to kill you.

Sorry.

It's like this: whilst I think that you are a wonderful character, full of hidden depths and peppered with personality, you just don't fit into this story. Sure, you're a sensitive guy with a long and varied history, but frankly buddy, it just isn’t enough. Unfortunately for you, my 'other' character, Maggie, seems to have taken control of things. She's tenacious and passionate and she asserted herself whilst you hung around in the wings hoping for some action.

OK. I will admit that she is a pushy bitch, but what am I supposed to do? I'm just the author of this novel. How am I supposed to keep control of my characters? Next thing you know, folks will want me to have a handle on other aspects of my writing such as 'plot' and 'genre' and 'narrative point of view'.

It's as if, as an author, I'm supposed to be omnipotent or something. Jeez!

Please don't take it personally. You had a good run, but like all good things, your time has come.

Farewell old friend. Let me know how it is on the other side.

Love
Sarah

Farewell To a Lover

Dear Bronchitis,

When I woke this morning I realised you had left me. There was no note, no tearful farewell, not even a final kiss. All that remained of you was a faint tightness in my chest that passed quickly.

I suppose it was only a matter of time before things between us ended. Although our relationship was intense, I always knew it was never meant to last. The times we shared were memorable: the chronic cough, the dislocated ribs, the pain. But I will not miss you.

You see, I have moved on too. I've been trying to find the way to tell you for some time that I have met someone else. His name is Good Health and although you guys don't move in the same circles, he's kind of fun and I think you'd like him.

I hope that you won't take this personally but you were always going to be a temporary part of my life - a fling. It was fun - in a wheezy sort of way - but not substantial. I know we spent a lot of time in bed together, but let's be honest, we're not exactly compatible lovers are we? And yes. I've had better.

I hope that you meet someone special. You deserve to. You have an infectious personality and I know that it won't take you long to meet someone new.

You left a few things at my place - the inhalers, antibiotics, steroids and pain meds. Please come and collect them. I don't need them anymore.

Oh, one final thing. I think it's best if we don't see each other anymore. As much as I'd like us to remain friends, there is always the chance that we'd get drunk one night and end up in bed again - and you know what that usually leads to.

Love

Sarah

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