Hello Everyone,
I'v been at my daughter's now for over ten weeks with still no hope in sight. I am working every hour I can fit into a day, seven days a week and it's still not enough. I went to view a property in Southborough last week, just a one bed flat, but it had a small patio garden AND they would accept my cats; I couldn't believe my luck. All was going well until the estate agent asked about my work. Yes I have a fulltime job; 36 hours a week, that's good the agent said, but its made up of 3 part time jobs, that could cause a problem, she said. You need to have a fulltime job by a single employer so we can reference you easily; needless to say I lost the flat.
Last Sunday I was at my lowest point ever. I'd missed out on the flat and my spirits were at rock bottom, I cried for three days. All I wanted was someone to talk to, but no one was listening, so I took all my tablets in a carrier bag to an unfamiliar graveyard and prepared to end it, but I was stopped by the affections of a small black and white cat.
As I sat there on the grass I knew my kids would be okay; both the girls have partners to look after them and I'm sure they could both keep an eye on my son, so no problems there, Opening the first box I looked at all the small, white tablets and began popping them out of their blister pack when a very loud miaow and a furry body began curling itself affectionately around me. I stroked it and then proceeded to pop out the pills but the cat was having none of it, it wanted attention and it wanted it now. It purred and rubbed itself against me, licking my hand and then climbed onto my lap.
It was then that I remembered my own two cats; who would look after them when I was gone? They would be alone; probably put to sleep. What was I thinking? How selfish was I being?
After a while I slid the tablets back into the box and continued to fuss the little cat with tears streaming down my face, whether it was coincidence or the cat knew, I don't know, but that cat, whoever it belonged to, saved my life that day.
Wednesday 16 September 2015
Saturday 22 August 2015
A Spark Of Hope
Hello everyone
It's been six weeks now, six weeks of hell. Thankfully my daughter and her partner have not thrown me out yet and I continue to sleep on her floor and in my car. My cats have kind of settled a bit, although Cobweb still refuses to set a single paw inside the house, but will sit, rather nervously on the garden table; taking his food alfresco. Missy will now come in for a little while providing the dog isn't around and is slowly getting used to the chickens, no longer running for her life when she sees them.
I have given up with the council and am trying to private rent, although even this route is proving difficult as I am only working part time, even though I have several part time jobs whose combined hours equal fulltime, but as they are not from one single employer, the estate agents are saying this will be a problem when it comes to credit and employment checks.
I went for a viewing today on a one bed flat, it is very tiny and quite gloomy but has a communal garden and will except pets, every property I have enquired about so far says no dss and no pets. I have been saving every penny and working every job I can get my hands on so that I do not have to rely on dss as this seems to be a no through road.
The estate agent said they will contact me on Monday, I am keep my fingers crossed although I'm not that hopeful as there were nine people ahead of me for a viewing and the estate agent said they have had five offers already.
This afternoon I sat in a field beneath the shade of a lovely big chestnut tree, took out my novel and after getting reacquainted, began to write. Either I am feeling better; I have shed enough tears to fill a bath over the last six weeks, or I have just become resigned to my fate. Hope seems to be my only companion lately and I cling to it possessively.
It's been six weeks now, six weeks of hell. Thankfully my daughter and her partner have not thrown me out yet and I continue to sleep on her floor and in my car. My cats have kind of settled a bit, although Cobweb still refuses to set a single paw inside the house, but will sit, rather nervously on the garden table; taking his food alfresco. Missy will now come in for a little while providing the dog isn't around and is slowly getting used to the chickens, no longer running for her life when she sees them.
I have given up with the council and am trying to private rent, although even this route is proving difficult as I am only working part time, even though I have several part time jobs whose combined hours equal fulltime, but as they are not from one single employer, the estate agents are saying this will be a problem when it comes to credit and employment checks.
I went for a viewing today on a one bed flat, it is very tiny and quite gloomy but has a communal garden and will except pets, every property I have enquired about so far says no dss and no pets. I have been saving every penny and working every job I can get my hands on so that I do not have to rely on dss as this seems to be a no through road.
The estate agent said they will contact me on Monday, I am keep my fingers crossed although I'm not that hopeful as there were nine people ahead of me for a viewing and the estate agent said they have had five offers already.
This afternoon I sat in a field beneath the shade of a lovely big chestnut tree, took out my novel and after getting reacquainted, began to write. Either I am feeling better; I have shed enough tears to fill a bath over the last six weeks, or I have just become resigned to my fate. Hope seems to be my only companion lately and I cling to it possessively.
Tuesday 7 July 2015
Times Up, You're Out.
Hello everyone
The flat has gone, I am homeless. My daughter and her partner have been kind enough to put us up for a while and I am very grateful, although a little stiff and achy from sleeping on the floor, or rather lying on the floor as sleep eludes me, nothing but a couple of hours a night.
One of my beloved cats ran away on the first day (we've been here six days now) and I've hardly seen him since. He didn't come back at all for three days, but turned up yesterday in the garden crying, managed to get him to eat a little before he vanished again and my other cat is terrified of everything, the dog, the chickens, the kids and the other cats; she refuses to eat and spends her days hiding under the hedge in the garden, only coming in at night when it's quiet.
I am desperately searching for a place to live but there seems to be nothing that will consider pets or dss; I don't know what to do, I have lost everything. I am living hand to mouth, the things I need daily I carry around in my backpack and a small carrier bag, my novel is one of them, although I have written nothing. I am writing this in my car parked up at the edge of a field; I had to get away.
The council have confirmed my homelessness with a brief letter and marked me as band B, but nothing changes. I have not seen or heard from Dan, although I didn't really expect to. I don't know where I will be next week, next month or even tomorrow. My life is spiralling out of control and there seems nothing I can do to stop it.
The flat has gone, I am homeless. My daughter and her partner have been kind enough to put us up for a while and I am very grateful, although a little stiff and achy from sleeping on the floor, or rather lying on the floor as sleep eludes me, nothing but a couple of hours a night.
One of my beloved cats ran away on the first day (we've been here six days now) and I've hardly seen him since. He didn't come back at all for three days, but turned up yesterday in the garden crying, managed to get him to eat a little before he vanished again and my other cat is terrified of everything, the dog, the chickens, the kids and the other cats; she refuses to eat and spends her days hiding under the hedge in the garden, only coming in at night when it's quiet.
I am desperately searching for a place to live but there seems to be nothing that will consider pets or dss; I don't know what to do, I have lost everything. I am living hand to mouth, the things I need daily I carry around in my backpack and a small carrier bag, my novel is one of them, although I have written nothing. I am writing this in my car parked up at the edge of a field; I had to get away.
The council have confirmed my homelessness with a brief letter and marked me as band B, but nothing changes. I have not seen or heard from Dan, although I didn't really expect to. I don't know where I will be next week, next month or even tomorrow. My life is spiralling out of control and there seems nothing I can do to stop it.
Monday 25 May 2015
Six Days And Counting
Hello everyone,
Just squeezing in a quick bite. After blind panic set in last time, I asked our landlord, no, begged him for one more month; to my amazement he agreed to let us stay until the end of May. Well the end of the month is almost here and still we have nowhere to go. I have searched every estate agent known to man but the cost of private rent for a two bed property is nearly £900 month and although I have bid on every property I can on the bidding system, we have not come within the top 20, even though we were told we are a priority, (I'm not sure what you have to do before priority counts for anything) dead maybe, at least then I'll get a nice quiet plot in a cemetery.
As for Dan, well, I have rang him eleven times in the past three weeks only to be told, he is still out of the office or otherwise unavailable. I have left messages for him but he hasn't bothered to get back to me, my next move is a sit in at the local council offices; well in six days time its not like I'll have anywhere else to go.
On the plus side, I have managed to get myself a part time job. It's only cleaning five nights a week for three hours a night, but it's better than nothing and gets me off job seekers. I was only on it for two weeks but the job centre is the most soul destroying place I've ever been to. They spoke to me as if I were a five year old, made me feel bad about myself (as if they could make me feel any worse than I already do) and asked me ridiculous questions like, can I use a computer, even though I had just put my CV on their site in front of them.
As I have a lot of time on my hands, (my job doesn't start until six in the evening) my novel is coming on very well, its finally taking on a proper shape, holds together nicely and is flowing, I think, better than ever, but the best thing about it is the fact that I am actually enjoying writing it and the end is in sight. I now look forward to picking up my pen and note pad and settling down to write, I actually get quite annoyed if something prevents me from doing it.
Well that's about it for now; I'm not sure what will happen by this time next week, maybe we'll get lucky and find the perfect home (I'm that desperate and scared I've even started praying) but wherever I am I will always be writing; after all this is over I may even get a good story out of it.
Just squeezing in a quick bite. After blind panic set in last time, I asked our landlord, no, begged him for one more month; to my amazement he agreed to let us stay until the end of May. Well the end of the month is almost here and still we have nowhere to go. I have searched every estate agent known to man but the cost of private rent for a two bed property is nearly £900 month and although I have bid on every property I can on the bidding system, we have not come within the top 20, even though we were told we are a priority, (I'm not sure what you have to do before priority counts for anything) dead maybe, at least then I'll get a nice quiet plot in a cemetery.
As for Dan, well, I have rang him eleven times in the past three weeks only to be told, he is still out of the office or otherwise unavailable. I have left messages for him but he hasn't bothered to get back to me, my next move is a sit in at the local council offices; well in six days time its not like I'll have anywhere else to go.
On the plus side, I have managed to get myself a part time job. It's only cleaning five nights a week for three hours a night, but it's better than nothing and gets me off job seekers. I was only on it for two weeks but the job centre is the most soul destroying place I've ever been to. They spoke to me as if I were a five year old, made me feel bad about myself (as if they could make me feel any worse than I already do) and asked me ridiculous questions like, can I use a computer, even though I had just put my CV on their site in front of them.
As I have a lot of time on my hands, (my job doesn't start until six in the evening) my novel is coming on very well, its finally taking on a proper shape, holds together nicely and is flowing, I think, better than ever, but the best thing about it is the fact that I am actually enjoying writing it and the end is in sight. I now look forward to picking up my pen and note pad and settling down to write, I actually get quite annoyed if something prevents me from doing it.
Well that's about it for now; I'm not sure what will happen by this time next week, maybe we'll get lucky and find the perfect home (I'm that desperate and scared I've even started praying) but wherever I am I will always be writing; after all this is over I may even get a good story out of it.
Thursday 16 April 2015
Happiness Is ....A Pencil And Paper.
Hello everyone
Life doesn't get any better. We now have only 14 days left before we are officially homeless. The council won't help us until we have seen Dan the housing officer. We were supposed to see him on 17th March but he never materialised and we've not seen or heard from him since. Every day we visit the council offices but the elusive Dan is either out, on holiday or off sick; I'm beginning to think he doesn't exist. We even tried to private rent as there are still no council properties to bid on, but they want six months rent plus fees, which equates to about £6000. We asked the council for help, but guess what? 'You need to see Dan.'
On the plus side, my novel is coming on in leaps and bounds. Nine CV'S later I still have no job, but I do have a lot of free time and I think it is keeping me sane. (It's the only thing in my life I have control over) So far it's undergone a through rewrite and is, I feel in much better shape. My characters usually bend to my will, although one has gone off on a tangent and it's nice to know, that even if Janet is a fictional character, she's having a worse time than me but at least I can help her.
It's strange how things change, that novel used to drive me to the edge of insanity, but now it's the only thing keeping me sane. In two weeks time I'm not sure where I'll be, hostel, bedsit, living in my car or a cardboard box on the common, but wherever I am you can be sure my novel will be with me.
Until nest time .... if there is one, I wish you all good luck with your writing and your life as you never know what's around the next corner.
Life doesn't get any better. We now have only 14 days left before we are officially homeless. The council won't help us until we have seen Dan the housing officer. We were supposed to see him on 17th March but he never materialised and we've not seen or heard from him since. Every day we visit the council offices but the elusive Dan is either out, on holiday or off sick; I'm beginning to think he doesn't exist. We even tried to private rent as there are still no council properties to bid on, but they want six months rent plus fees, which equates to about £6000. We asked the council for help, but guess what? 'You need to see Dan.'
On the plus side, my novel is coming on in leaps and bounds. Nine CV'S later I still have no job, but I do have a lot of free time and I think it is keeping me sane. (It's the only thing in my life I have control over) So far it's undergone a through rewrite and is, I feel in much better shape. My characters usually bend to my will, although one has gone off on a tangent and it's nice to know, that even if Janet is a fictional character, she's having a worse time than me but at least I can help her.
It's strange how things change, that novel used to drive me to the edge of insanity, but now it's the only thing keeping me sane. In two weeks time I'm not sure where I'll be, hostel, bedsit, living in my car or a cardboard box on the common, but wherever I am you can be sure my novel will be with me.
Until nest time .... if there is one, I wish you all good luck with your writing and your life as you never know what's around the next corner.
Sunday 22 March 2015
Its All Over.
Hello everyone
It's all over now, the home has closed its doors and my final shift has ended. It was quite sad, the last resident left with tears in her eyes and so did I. Although I moaned about it, after ten years the place had become a second home, better in a lot of ways than my own.
I now have to find another job (easier said than done) as well as somewhere else to live. My paperwork has finally been processed by the council after five weeks and I can now bid on two bedroom properties, great, or so I thought, except that when I went on their website, there weren't any. Plenty of over 55's and three bed properties but no two's.
If I were honest, I'd rather have a one bedroom flat, just me and my cats. My home life is awful, I'm stuck with a 32 year old bad tempered, moody, sulky (let's throw all the adjectives in there) son who hasn't spoken to me for days (God knows why) The atmosphere is horrendous; I'd rather pass into the next life than live like this and believe me, that thought is never far from my mind.
However, I am in the perfect frame of mind to work on my novel and while I was on nights last week, managed to get a lot done. My main character is 14 year old Janet who has been bullied and tormented for most of her life. Just lately I have felt a strong connection with her; I can empathize. Her home life is horrible, she has no friends, she is an outcast and a loner, but to me she has become a friend and is more like me than I care to admit.
Maybe this will be the one to launch my career, maybe it won't; I don't know, but in this made up character I have found a friend.
It's all over now, the home has closed its doors and my final shift has ended. It was quite sad, the last resident left with tears in her eyes and so did I. Although I moaned about it, after ten years the place had become a second home, better in a lot of ways than my own.
I now have to find another job (easier said than done) as well as somewhere else to live. My paperwork has finally been processed by the council after five weeks and I can now bid on two bedroom properties, great, or so I thought, except that when I went on their website, there weren't any. Plenty of over 55's and three bed properties but no two's.
If I were honest, I'd rather have a one bedroom flat, just me and my cats. My home life is awful, I'm stuck with a 32 year old bad tempered, moody, sulky (let's throw all the adjectives in there) son who hasn't spoken to me for days (God knows why) The atmosphere is horrendous; I'd rather pass into the next life than live like this and believe me, that thought is never far from my mind.
However, I am in the perfect frame of mind to work on my novel and while I was on nights last week, managed to get a lot done. My main character is 14 year old Janet who has been bullied and tormented for most of her life. Just lately I have felt a strong connection with her; I can empathize. Her home life is horrible, she has no friends, she is an outcast and a loner, but to me she has become a friend and is more like me than I care to admit.
Maybe this will be the one to launch my career, maybe it won't; I don't know, but in this made up character I have found a friend.
Tuesday 3 March 2015
The End Is nigh Or Closer Than You Think.
Hello everyone
I've always been fairly optimistic, you know, things can't get any worse, the glass is always half full. Well they can get worse and my glass, along with my spirit is broken. I appear as a swan, or so I'm told, calm and serene on the surface, but paddling away furiously beneath just to stay afloat.
Last time I told you I was given six months to vacate my flat, well, if only that were still true. Along with my redundancy letter, I was given a new short term lease for the flat. Scanning the page quickly (I was at work) my eyes fell on the third paragraph, written in bold letters was the date 30th April. My stomach fell to my boots, my heart leapt into my mouth and I felt sick. I read the line again. Termination of short term tenancy 30th April.
I couldn't believe what I was reading, surely this couldn't be true; if it was, I had seven weeks left. I spoke to the owner who informed me this was indeed the case, (sorry but I want you out, NOW)
With my head reeling and my coffee threatening to leave my stomach at any second, I carried on with my duties in a daze, drove home at the end of the shift (I'm sure my car has autopilot) as I don't even remember the journey, sat down, cried and then put pen to paper . . . and wrote (I think) the most amazing, emotionally soaked piece of writing I've ever done.
Although it didn't solve my problems, it did make me feel better, (there had to be an outlet for those all those feeling) and I had something at the end of it. So however hopeless a situation seems, try writing it all down in story form, it's amazing how those feelings flood the page, emotions you can't get to unless you are actually experiencing them.
I've always been fairly optimistic, you know, things can't get any worse, the glass is always half full. Well they can get worse and my glass, along with my spirit is broken. I appear as a swan, or so I'm told, calm and serene on the surface, but paddling away furiously beneath just to stay afloat.
Last time I told you I was given six months to vacate my flat, well, if only that were still true. Along with my redundancy letter, I was given a new short term lease for the flat. Scanning the page quickly (I was at work) my eyes fell on the third paragraph, written in bold letters was the date 30th April. My stomach fell to my boots, my heart leapt into my mouth and I felt sick. I read the line again. Termination of short term tenancy 30th April.
I couldn't believe what I was reading, surely this couldn't be true; if it was, I had seven weeks left. I spoke to the owner who informed me this was indeed the case, (sorry but I want you out, NOW)
With my head reeling and my coffee threatening to leave my stomach at any second, I carried on with my duties in a daze, drove home at the end of the shift (I'm sure my car has autopilot) as I don't even remember the journey, sat down, cried and then put pen to paper . . . and wrote (I think) the most amazing, emotionally soaked piece of writing I've ever done.
Although it didn't solve my problems, it did make me feel better, (there had to be an outlet for those all those feeling) and I had something at the end of it. So however hopeless a situation seems, try writing it all down in story form, it's amazing how those feelings flood the page, emotions you can't get to unless you are actually experiencing them.
Saturday 14 February 2015
The Best Laid Plans
Hello fellow scribblers
I received some very upsetting news the other day; after ten years with the same company, I am being made redundant, the care home where I work is closing down in six weeks time. But if that wasn't bad enough, (oh yes, it gets worse) I've also been given six months to vacate my home. The flat is rented from the same company as my job, so no job, no home.
I have spent the past week living under a black cloud, numb with shock. The announcement was a complete surprise to everyone, no-one knew it was coming, there were no whispers or comments, nothing.
Needless to say, my writing has taken a back seat, (I had such high hopes for this year) all I'm writing now are CV's and job applications and instead of scouring the web for writing opportunities, I'm desperately house hunting. I feel like a character in a story, my entire world has just come crashing down around me.
Today is valentines day and yes, my romantic interest surprised me with a beautiful silken gothic cushion depicting a raven, a huge box of chocs and a gorgeous card, (by the way, these are the first valentine gifts I have ever received) and while I was over whelmed by them, (I never realised he felt that way) the whole feeling of the day was overshadowed by recent events.
I don't know how things will turn out, my foreseeable future looks rather bleak, but you never know, a year from now I might get a story out of it.
Until next time, I wish you all good luck and ask that you appreciate what you have, as you never know when you could lose it.
I received some very upsetting news the other day; after ten years with the same company, I am being made redundant, the care home where I work is closing down in six weeks time. But if that wasn't bad enough, (oh yes, it gets worse) I've also been given six months to vacate my home. The flat is rented from the same company as my job, so no job, no home.
I have spent the past week living under a black cloud, numb with shock. The announcement was a complete surprise to everyone, no-one knew it was coming, there were no whispers or comments, nothing.
Needless to say, my writing has taken a back seat, (I had such high hopes for this year) all I'm writing now are CV's and job applications and instead of scouring the web for writing opportunities, I'm desperately house hunting. I feel like a character in a story, my entire world has just come crashing down around me.
Today is valentines day and yes, my romantic interest surprised me with a beautiful silken gothic cushion depicting a raven, a huge box of chocs and a gorgeous card, (by the way, these are the first valentine gifts I have ever received) and while I was over whelmed by them, (I never realised he felt that way) the whole feeling of the day was overshadowed by recent events.
I don't know how things will turn out, my foreseeable future looks rather bleak, but you never know, a year from now I might get a story out of it.
Until next time, I wish you all good luck and ask that you appreciate what you have, as you never know when you could lose it.
Thursday 29 January 2015
Write What You See.
Hello fellow scribblers,
I thought this time you might like to see where my inspiration for the story of the orphanage came from, so for the first time I'm including pictures, (at least I'm going to try) The building itself was called The Babies Castle and was an actual orphanage, before being turned into a care home and then a pile of rubble.
As I've said before, the building was amazing, so atmospheric, no wonder I was inspired. From the crumbling walls and wilderness garden full of forgotten little memories, to a cobweb decorated light switch, blackened bed linen and a long abandoned tinselled tree.
If you put all these ingredients together and have an imagination as weird as mine, you'll be surprised what you can come up with. My story is entitled 'The Last Christmas' and is a ghost story, although not a traditional one.
I am still writing every day,(I haven't missed a single one yet) and have almost finished the second and hopefully final draft of said story. I've also decided to try and write a complete short story every month and submit it, so I've been searching the web for small press and online publications. They don't pay much, sometimes only a contributors copy, but at least it gets my name out there.
My novel is still gathering dust, (the more I read of it, the more unhappy I am with it) Over half way through and I feel it needs, no, deserves a full re-write. I still like the story and find the subject matter interesting, but like my school work always said, 'could do better,' So pen in hand I scribble on. Its still January and I've already written more in three weeks than I did for half of last year and if I can do it, so can you. Happy scribbling.
I thought this time you might like to see where my inspiration for the story of the orphanage came from, so for the first time I'm including pictures, (at least I'm going to try) The building itself was called The Babies Castle and was an actual orphanage, before being turned into a care home and then a pile of rubble.
As I've said before, the building was amazing, so atmospheric, no wonder I was inspired. From the crumbling walls and wilderness garden full of forgotten little memories, to a cobweb decorated light switch, blackened bed linen and a long abandoned tinselled tree.
If you put all these ingredients together and have an imagination as weird as mine, you'll be surprised what you can come up with. My story is entitled 'The Last Christmas' and is a ghost story, although not a traditional one.
I am still writing every day,(I haven't missed a single one yet) and have almost finished the second and hopefully final draft of said story. I've also decided to try and write a complete short story every month and submit it, so I've been searching the web for small press and online publications. They don't pay much, sometimes only a contributors copy, but at least it gets my name out there.
My novel is still gathering dust, (the more I read of it, the more unhappy I am with it) Over half way through and I feel it needs, no, deserves a full re-write. I still like the story and find the subject matter interesting, but like my school work always said, 'could do better,' So pen in hand I scribble on. Its still January and I've already written more in three weeks than I did for half of last year and if I can do it, so can you. Happy scribbling.
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| the babies castle |
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| abandoned |
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| busy spiders |
Thursday 15 January 2015
Can't See The Wood For The Trees
Hello everyone,
Well, we're two weeks into the new year and so far I've kept my promise, (although it has been tough sometimes) I wrote six sentences the other night at 11.51pm, so determined was I to keep my promise.
Another thing that seems determined to keep me from writing is one of my cats. Whether I'm using a pen and notebook or tapping away on the laptop, she will come and sit on top of them and it's very hard to type with a cat on the keyboard, or chewing the end of your pen. Her ample brother on the other hand, can be much worse, if he sits on the laptop, I can't even see it.
But furry problems aside, I have almost finished the first draft of my orphanage story and finally settled on a title I'm happy with, (but forcing myself to work on only one thing at a time is hard) I've also decided to submit my short stories to writing competitions before they go into my collection as an anthology. So now I'm busy searching the web for any short story horror comps, (well you never know your luck)
I hope to finish the orphanage this week, but then comes another problem, (yes, I'm always looking for potential problems) what to start on next? I've started three other short stories, but which one do I choose? They are all vying for my attention, begging me to finish them.
As for my poor novel, (we've been apart for a long time) Well, I re-read half of it the other day and can already see some obvious flaws. They should be easily fixable, thank God, but maybe that just proves I needed a break from it. As I'd become so close to it, I couldn't see the problems anymore; poor writing, repeated sentences and no flow in some places. . . . .I was ashamed. I could do better, I can do better and I will. But it took the break to realise it.
So a note of warning to anyone who's writing a novel . . . have a break from it. Put it away for a few weeks and ignore it, write something else, just don't touch it and I guarantee that when you do go back to it, you'll see it with different eyes. Good Luck and happy scribbling.
Well, we're two weeks into the new year and so far I've kept my promise, (although it has been tough sometimes) I wrote six sentences the other night at 11.51pm, so determined was I to keep my promise.
Another thing that seems determined to keep me from writing is one of my cats. Whether I'm using a pen and notebook or tapping away on the laptop, she will come and sit on top of them and it's very hard to type with a cat on the keyboard, or chewing the end of your pen. Her ample brother on the other hand, can be much worse, if he sits on the laptop, I can't even see it.
But furry problems aside, I have almost finished the first draft of my orphanage story and finally settled on a title I'm happy with, (but forcing myself to work on only one thing at a time is hard) I've also decided to submit my short stories to writing competitions before they go into my collection as an anthology. So now I'm busy searching the web for any short story horror comps, (well you never know your luck)
I hope to finish the orphanage this week, but then comes another problem, (yes, I'm always looking for potential problems) what to start on next? I've started three other short stories, but which one do I choose? They are all vying for my attention, begging me to finish them.
As for my poor novel, (we've been apart for a long time) Well, I re-read half of it the other day and can already see some obvious flaws. They should be easily fixable, thank God, but maybe that just proves I needed a break from it. As I'd become so close to it, I couldn't see the problems anymore; poor writing, repeated sentences and no flow in some places. . . . .I was ashamed. I could do better, I can do better and I will. But it took the break to realise it.
So a note of warning to anyone who's writing a novel . . . have a break from it. Put it away for a few weeks and ignore it, write something else, just don't touch it and I guarantee that when you do go back to it, you'll see it with different eyes. Good Luck and happy scribbling.
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