Month: September 2024

Excavating writing fossils

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A large rock on a stony beach contains a battered ammonite fossil

I’ve been clearing out my desk. Well, both my desks, actually: we’re all moving around at work so I’ve taken the opportunity to chuck quite a lot of stuff. But I meant my desk at home, the bottom drawer of which is full of exercise books containing longhand drafts of my three novels and quite a lot else besides.

It isn’t quite so full now. Having decided that the literary critics of the future are unlikely to care enough to compare my early drafts with the finished products, and that I need the space, I’ve started ripping out and recycling pages. I’ve been glancing through them as I go, though. I’ve noticed a few things: the mild shock when I come across a character with what is now the wrong name; the surprise when I find snippets from projects which I’d have said shared nothing with each other butted up on facing pages; the odd work-related note. I didn’t think I’d started A Spoke In The Wheel before I’d got Speak Its Name done and dusted, but there are Polly and Vicki just across the page from Peter and… who’s Gina? Oh, right, yes.

Then there’s this. It’s a sort of warm-up exercise, trying to get myself into the right frame of mind – that is, the character’s frame of mind – to write one of the trickier scenes in Speak Its Name. I can’t remember now whether I felt particularly stuck and needed to write something that wasn’t the scene to get myself going, or whether I just knew that it had to be good, but I knew immediately what this was all about.

Lydia is fed up with Colette because:

  • she doesn’t appreciate how easy she has it
  • she never washes up
  • she is pressurising [sic] her to come out
  • it was her idea to get Becky involved
  • it would never have happend if Will hadn’t found out, this whole house…
  • so scared of confrontation, so conflict averse, never talk about anything
  • unilateral decisions about the two of them
  • always cooks late
  • bigoted about science
  • thinks Lydia’s friends are stupid and lets it show
  • this house is not as much fun as she thought it was going to be
  • and she hates being beholden to people
  • in a way she’s responsible for Lydia having to think about any of it
  • Lydia still doesn’t quite believe a F/F relationship can be godly, blames Colette for getting her into it
  • she is just so noble and self-sacrificial it’s not true
  • why both, when they can’t be married?

That’s Colette who’s just so noble and self-sacrificial, as if you couldn’t guess. I do like the way that this is a mixture of the little day-to-day annoyances and the big existential incompatibilities. And I’m pleased that almost all these themes are still in play in The Real World, even though things have moved on. At least my characterisation’s consistent.

Then down the bottom of the page I’ve written:

give them something to laugh about

“coming out party”

The coming out party comes quite a bit later, in the finished work; apparently it was very much connected to this scene in my mind – but I’d forgotten: that’s what this row is about. I’m not sure about ‘give them something to laugh about’; it might be what turned into ‘He shall have his resignation’. Which really does come quite a bit later – and is very much connected to the ‘coming out party’.

Interestingly, the next thing I wrote wasn’t the row. It was the making up. Over the page:

Lydia stayed in bed until past ten eleven, until she could be sure that Colette would have left the house. She had been awake for hours, had watched the narrow line of pale December light creep across the ceiling, listened to the rain spitting pettily against the window…

Which isn’t all that different from what ended up in the finished book. Page 214 of the paperback, if you’re playing along at home:

Dawn broke and dulled to drizzle. Lydia stayed in bed until past eleven, until she could be sure that Colette would have left the house; she lay there watching the narrow line of light creep across the ceiling, listening to the rain spitting listlessly against the window…

Now I catch myself thinking about why I made those changes; if they were successful; whether I’d do the same thing again. Which wasn’t going to be the point of this blog post. Apologies, hypothetical literary critics of the future; that’s all you’re going to get. Most of this volume’s already gone for recycling, and that presumably included the actual row (now page 210-214).

Which was going to be my point: that little exercise worked, even if it wasn’t quite the way I was expecting, or indeed, remembered. I’ll try to remember, next time I’m stuck on or intimidated by a scene: write it down, write down everything that’s going on in the point of view character’s head, wind it up and wind it up, and then – let it go. Stand back and let the scene write itself. Even if it wasn’t the one you were expecting.

Equinox

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A bee rests on a lavender head, on which only a few flowers are still blooming

It felt rather appropriate to be sitting in the conservatory yesterday, looking out at the roses still just about blooming and ripe apples on the trees, drinking the tea that came with this season’s Ffern perfume, and embroidering a reindeer into a baby hat. Today we rotated the mattress. It’s not exactly a ritual; it’s just that we’re more likely to remember to do it if we link it with the solstices and equinoxes.

I tend to mark the changing of the seasons by the cross-quarter days (I find it less depressing that way) so for me, autumn began at Lammas, at the beginning of August. That doesn’t mean that the half-way point isn’t important, though. It still looks very green outside, but when I look a second time there are a few red and orange leaves, and tonight there’s a patter of rain on the conservatory roof, and the promise of more.

Week-end: seagoing paddle steamer

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Chalk cliffs, dwindling into three rocks, one with a lighthouse, seen from on board a steam boat with striking black, white and red funnels.

The good

A family trip around the Isle of Wight on the Waverley. I love to encounter venerable old craft still joyfully doing the job they were built to do, and Waverley is pretty much the epitome of that. It was a gorgeous day, too.

The difficult and perplexing

Several times it seemed that everything was dreadful, and it turned out I needed to have eaten something half an hour ago. You’d think I’d have learned by now, but no.

Also, two rail replacement buses in one journey seems excessive.

What’s working

Staying at whichever Premier Inn is most convenient for the trip. The staff always seem to love babies regardless of how much toast ends up on the floor, and if you tick the box requesting a cot, then lo and behold, a cot appears.

Reading

Consider Phlebas (Iain M. Banks). It is very White Bloke Science Fiction, but I am enjoying it very much. It feels extremely visual; cinematic, you might say. It’s big both in page count and in imagination.

When that all got a bit too exciting for four in the morning I returned to the Chalet School. I have got to The Chalet School Does It Again and slowed right down. Prunella annoys me, and also I find it a little disheartening because we have got to Switzerland, which feels like the beginning of the end, and yet there is still half the series to go. And even though it’s quite a while before the books start getting really bad (or really bonkers) Joey’s already become irritating.

I started The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel (Deborah Moggach, original title These Foolish Things) on the train south, but haven’t got very far with it. (I haven’t seen the film.)

Making

Finished: one pair of baby socks. Started: one baby hat (for all the good it will do). This will also be on four double-pointed needles, but at the moment I’m knitting earflaps on two.

Watching

I caught up on all of this season of Only Connect and finished Rob and Rylan’s Grand Tour, several months after I began it.

Looking at

Apart from all the edges of the Isle of Wight, an art exhibition examining the Russian propaganda machine in the Crypt at St Pancras new church. ‘Did you like it?’ the attendant asked me on the way out. I said that ‘like’ wasn’t exactly the word, but it was fascinating and thought-provoking.

Also the inhabitants of the extremely luxurious aviary/rabbit hutch in Victoria Park in Portsmouth. I was particularly taken with one very raffish looking bunny with lopsided ears and a furry face. It looked as if it ought to have a smoking cap and a hookah.

Noticing

Lots of wildlife from the train. Heron. Cormorant. Deer. And sunflowers.

In the garden

Trying to keep the wisteria within bounds.

Appreciating

My grandfather and the rest of the Paddle Steamer Preservation Society. All my family, actually.

Acquisitions

Another badge for the camp blanket. I don’t usually collect duplicates, but this is the third from the Waverley. When I’ve sewn it on (ha!) I intend to tell you about all three.

Line of the week

Consider Phlebas is, I think, effective in a cumulative kind of a way rather than in any one particular moment, but here’s a line from one of the most effective bits.

It was like the biggest wave in the universe, rendered in scrap metal, sculpted in grinding junk; and beyond and about it, over and through, cascades of flashing, glittering ice and snow swept down in great slow veils from the cliff of frozen water beyond.

This coming week

Nothing much. Time to draw breath.

Week-end: South Yorkshire edition

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Looking upwards into a church ceiling where wood and concrete form an eight-pointed star, with the gaps filled with blue, yellow, green and red stained glass

About time I did one of these again…

The good

A trip to Sheffield for the annual Ultreya GB. I missed last year’s, though I hadn’t intended to (in retrospect, my ideas of what would be possible with a small baby were somewhat unrealistic), and it was good to be back. It was quite a different experience: I was very tired (see below) and also I don’t usually spend the event climbing up and down all the available steps in the cathedral. But it all came together for me in the last hymn – a very lively Amazing Grace – with the banners lined up and the baby clapping along in delight.

Some delightful fellow passengers and some railway staff who may in fact have been angels.

The difficult and perplexing

A month’s worth of interrupted sleep has trashed my immune system, the nursery germs have pounced, and I was very wobbly earlier in the week. And I’m not a nice person when I’m ill and tired.

Two hours and forty minutes on a train, each way. The way back was more trying than the way out.

What’s working

Sloggi long pants. Do they make me feel about a hundred and two? Yes, particularly the beige ones. Is it worth it to make bare legs bearable in hot weather? Absolutely. (Yes, I am aware of the Snag ‘chub rub’ shorts. Quite apart from the hideousness of the name, I can’t see that synthetic material next the skin would help in any way, however much I like their tights.)

Reading

Quite a bit! Having read She Who Became The Sun earlier in the summer, I picked up He Who Drowned The World (Shelley Parker-Chan) when it was on offer a few weeks ago. Equally fun (in its extremely dark way); the magical realism has more of an active influence on the plot this time round. I wasn’t convinced it stuck the landing, but the overall experience was sufficiently enjoyable to render that largely irrelevant.

Also on offer recently was Sea of Tranquility (Emily St John Mandel). This was a bit of a disappointment. I read Station Eleven early in 2020 and was very struck by how vivid and alien the post-apocalyptic world was. Sea of Tranquility, by contrast, all seemed extremely twenty-first century in terms of the way that the characters thought and spoke, with the different settings just so much window-dressing. The time travel plot also didn’t work for me; I think the aim was to subvert the usual clichés, but it just felt like a cop-out.

And Kobo also suggested Consider Phlebas (Iain M. Banks) for 99p, so I decided it was probably time I tried the Culture series.

Yesterday I started One Pair of Feet (Monica Dickens) which is very entertaining so far.

Then today I picked up N or M (Agatha Christie) because it was on the floor. I am less fond of Tommy and Tuppence than I am of most of Christie’s other series detectives, so missed this one on last year’s epic re-read. But I breezed through it and then picked up Postern of Fate to remind myself what happened to the family afterwards.

Writing

Nothing to speak of, though I have been doing a little worldbuilding in my head.

Making

One ridiculously huge baby sock, and now most of one more sensible one. I also converted a little binder into an earring holder (I will try to remember to post pictures of this).

Watching

The Paralympics, on and off. I was pleased to catch Sarah Storey’s umpteenth win, as Channel 4 also showed a decent chunk of the race. (I have found both the BBC and Channel 4 very frustrating in their tendency to show fragments of an event that have a Great British Medal Hope and nothing else. But it’s probably just as well this year, because I’ve had very little telly time.)

Looking at

Ely Photographic Club’s exhibition at Babylon Arts. There were a few pieces there that made me smile, and several that were clearly very technically skilled even if not really my thing. Also, Sheffield cathedral.

Cooking

A very hot vegetable curry: the veg box contained a bag of Padrón peppers, every single one of which was the ‘really quite spicy’ variety, so unsuitable for serving as a main/side dish in the usual way. Not one of my most successful dishes, though I’m pleased with it as a creative response to a problem.

Eating

This year’s fancy Magnum flavours, an impulse buy when they were on offer in Co-op. I’m still not entirely convinced that ice cream and popping candy is a happy combination, but it’s different, I’ll give it that.

Moving

We continue our WalkRuns (being runs that are in fact mostly walks).

Noticing

Loads of dragonflies this year. Or possibly damselflies. They don’t stay still long enough for me to be able to tell the difference.

In the garden

Ripe apples. I’ve pruned all the apple trees bar one. The next job is to take out the dead box (or was it privet?) bushes that got eaten by beetles last year.

Appreciating

Cursillo. It’s totally bonkers, but there is space in there for people to be Christians and also themselves, and that is something I was missing for a long time and something for which I continue to be grateful.

And, needless to say, every night when I get to sleep before midnight and get to wake up after six.

Acquisitions

I found a little makers’ cooperative shop in Sheffield and picked up a fabric patch (to join the several I have still to sew on), a sticker, and a pair of teal stud earrings.

Line of the week

Monica Dickens, weighing up her options:

The Land Army? One saw oneself picking apples in a shady hat, or silhouetted against the skyline with a couple of plough horses, but a second look showed one tugging mangel-wurzels out of the frozen ground at five o’clock on a bitter February morning.

This coming week

The emerging routine is slightly disrupted by a committee meeting, and then at the weekend there’s an exciting sea voyage. And that’s the last excursion for a little while, and that’s probably just as well. I might even update this blog more.