[blog post] drawing counts as writing, right?

Camp NaNoWriMo July 2015 is underway and I … am already behind.

While I could whip up excuses about how I’m tired and it’s hard balancing a full-time job, an online store, an exercise routine and house work but the fact of the matter is I’m just not focused.

I’m in the middle of a long chapter. A long, important chapter at that. It introduces a key character who has otherwise been absent from the action (referenced, but not seen) and, despite his apparent significance to the story, remains woefully underdeveloped. That makes me a little apprehensive to write. And so, like all mature twenty-something-year-old’s I did what I do best: I procrastinated.

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[blog post] the countdown is on

One week until Camp NaNoWriMo July 2015 officially gets underway.

I’ve not had much luck with the NaNo experience, having quit partway through last year’s November haul. I made it to the 30k mark on a literary project specifically designed for the event only to label it a monumental piece of shite about two weeks in.

Since devising characters and a world for a fantasy project some thirteen years ago I’ve found it hard to forge attachment to any other story or characters while my original endeavour remains incomplete. I couldn’t make myself care about the characters I wrote for NaNo2014; I wasn’t interested in what they did or why. The whole thing seemed hollow and boring that, even for a first draft, there didn’t seem to be much worth pursuing. So I gave up.

Again.

This year, instead of try and squeeze a new novel out of nowhere, just because I think it has more literary credibility, I’m going to use Camp NaNo to focus on a story I’m actually passionate about. These characters have been with me longer than my oldest friends. I can’t give up on them.

Hopefully I’ll make it more than half way this time.

Fingers crossed.

[short story] a table for two

At a table set for two, tucked away in the corner of a restaurant whose name she couldn’t pronounce, Miss Williams slipped into the leather upholstered seat. A crystal pendant light hung low above the table, casting nightmarish shadows from the proud napkin-swans across the white tablecloth as she set down her clutch and keys.

            ‘Can I get the wine menu for you, Ma’am?’ The waiter asked. He was a tall slick man with not a hair out of place.

            ‘Actually,’ Miss Williams said with the faintest of smiles, ‘I think champagne might be in order.’

            ‘Very well, then. I shall bring you our best bottle.’

            ‘That will be delightful.’ Miss Williams shrugged off her lilac pashmina and draped it across the back of her chair. Her elbow brushed the back of the man sitting behind her. She apologised but the scowl on his face suggested she’d made him spill his drink. Turning back around, Miss Williams took a deep breath to calm the nerves swimming in her stomach.

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