All Write Now
Today's the day ... school's back in. And with both my kids in full-time education for the first time ever, I have six clear hours to write, each and every day, Monday to Friday.
Woo-hoo!
I've not actually written anything since the school holidays started in the last week of December (barring rewrites for an already commissioned piece that simply couldn't wait). It was a conscious decision, one that's let me rattle ideas around in my head without the pressure of having to get anything down on paper. It's a technique that's becoming known as Graham Linehan's Poo and it's worked brilliantly. Come 9am this morning I was good and ready for a story dump.
First off the blocks has been a short piece for entry into a competition. I'll spare you the details. One reason is that I've used it more as a warm-up for the rest of the week than anything else (my chances of winning are on a par with the proverbial infernal moggy). Another is that - barring vague details - I've got out of the habit of talking about what I'm writing.
Fellow writer and top mate Mondy has also picked up his writing again this week, and talks about how enthusing over his work to members of the public inevitably kills that enthusiasm - your man-in-the-street simply doesn't care. And Mondy's absolutely right. The number of glazed responses I've had over the years when I've mentioned a story, I might as well have been talking to doughnuts.
There are exceptions, of course. I rattle on here about projects simply because you choose to be here and must therefore have some interest. (Right? Right?) But even then the details tend to stay under wraps until the job's done and the publishers announce the story. I'll rarely, if ever, bang on about plot details ... because then it'd be doughnut time.
So if anything comes of the competition I'll spill the beans. If not, well it was an interesting exercise. Tomorrow, on to something that's actually been commissioned.
Woo-hoo!
I've not actually written anything since the school holidays started in the last week of December (barring rewrites for an already commissioned piece that simply couldn't wait). It was a conscious decision, one that's let me rattle ideas around in my head without the pressure of having to get anything down on paper. It's a technique that's becoming known as Graham Linehan's Poo and it's worked brilliantly. Come 9am this morning I was good and ready for a story dump.
First off the blocks has been a short piece for entry into a competition. I'll spare you the details. One reason is that I've used it more as a warm-up for the rest of the week than anything else (my chances of winning are on a par with the proverbial infernal moggy). Another is that - barring vague details - I've got out of the habit of talking about what I'm writing.
Fellow writer and top mate Mondy has also picked up his writing again this week, and talks about how enthusing over his work to members of the public inevitably kills that enthusiasm - your man-in-the-street simply doesn't care. And Mondy's absolutely right. The number of glazed responses I've had over the years when I've mentioned a story, I might as well have been talking to doughnuts.
There are exceptions, of course. I rattle on here about projects simply because you choose to be here and must therefore have some interest. (Right? Right?) But even then the details tend to stay under wraps until the job's done and the publishers announce the story. I'll rarely, if ever, bang on about plot details ... because then it'd be doughnut time.
So if anything comes of the competition I'll spill the beans. If not, well it was an interesting exercise. Tomorrow, on to something that's actually been commissioned.
posted by Pete Kempshall at 2:54 PM
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