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Another weekend over and another lagging behind on my target. At least I’m not letting this novel writing take over my life. Between a bit of a cold, a cutesy gig and other distractions I kind of lost out on two days of NaNoWriMo but it’ll all be good

It’s now two days past the half way point time wise and I have just reached twenty five thousand words. It’s definitely salvageable. It’s also a fantastic feeling. I’m not usually this focused nor have I ever been known for my sticking power. If I finish this project, before or after the deadline that will be the biggest achievement I could hope for going in.

While it hasn’t taken over my life it is certainly dominating my thoughts. I woke up from a dream on Friday night convinced that my subconscious had revealed a plot device that would catapult my script into the stratosphere. For twenty minutes I lay in bed trying to figure out how best to work it in. It was only at the end of this time did I remember my book had a modern day contemporary setting and any involvement my hero had with Vikings would seem a bit of a stretch in reality.

Regardless of my dream psyche trying to sabotage me, I have reached the mid way point both in word count and actual midpoint of the story. I’ve established my characters and the reasoning behind why the hero is the way he is. Going forward I will be dealing the changes he will go through and how it affects those around him. I’m excited.

Outside of Status Update (it’s still called that by the way, I’ve grown attached) this weekend started of really well. After the fantastic new of the Pulp reunion last week, I got to indulge another of my mid nineties Britpop pleasures on Saturday night. Once again thanks to my friends in the NCH I got to go along and see Cerys Matthews.

When I was in my early twenties I had an enormous crush on her and her laddish beer swilling rock and roll ways. These day the former lead singer of Catatonia has reinvented herself as something of an earth mother and exudes such charm on stage that I contemplated a stage invasion just so as I could give her a hug.

With an effusive smile a thick sexy Welsh accent, she carried off an incredibly organic first half of the show where she indulged her love of Celtic traditional songs (Irish and “Welsh) and American country. In the second half she was joined by an almost complete orchestra, which when she got accustomed to the bigger sound added to the offerings from her most recent solo work.

The warm fuzzy feeling was wrapped up with her encore. When she returned to the stage she was followed by her boyfriend who in honour of Dublin being the location of their first date, had chosen the stage of the National Concert Hall as the place to propose marriage to her.

She took, and jokingly said she would think about it but her rendition of Elvis’s “Love Me Tender” was directed solely at her suitor, left the audience in no doubt that it would be a yes. Overwhelmed by the emotion of the moment she then messed the lyric of her final song “Spancil Hill.” She blamed him for ruining her life time ambition to sing the ballad in front of an Irish audience.

A very understanding audience, who were more than happy to her another go at it. She knocked it out of the park this time.

Wordsmith

Writing is tough. I’ve basically spent the last eight days writing or thinking about at writing. I get up early and stay up late so that I can do it and squeeze in life.My brain is constantly working and I didn’t even have an episode of Glee that I could switch off with this week. I couldn’t be happier.

Since NaNoWriMo started last Monday its been hard to think of the last thing I’ve done that wasn’t related to the creative organisation of my vocabulary. I had planned that Thursday was going to be my day off. This was a day off where I worked the job that pays my bills. When I clocked off I went and enjoyed a delicious, laughter filled, Indian banquet with some friends. But when that was over I went home and did my homework for the Take Me There travel/blog writing workshop. Did I say a day off?

This is not me complaining, honestly. I’m just trying to give you an idea of what I’m doing. So far for the novel I have written just under 12000 words out of 50,000. Saturday night I was one thousand words ahead of schedule. Today I am 2k behind. In the space of two days. Its an interesting project and I’m loving the process.

For those of you who missed my shameless whoring on facebook and twitter, you will be pleased (or indifferent but definitely not enraged) to hear that someone else has thought my writing is good enough to stick on the internet. My first short story has been published in Wordlegs. A very proud moment. And judging by how I feel about the story now, I may actually make it as a temperamental artist yet.

In non writing good news, did you see Pulp have reformed. Generally I oppose to bands getting back together or doing reunion shows, but I will make an enormous exception in this case. Pulp have a catalogue of some of the most real songs you will ever hear. If you can listen to a Pulp song without actually seeing the evocative image they have painted in song, you need to switch of your TV and go and read some fucking books.

Lyrically they talk about sex and heartbreak, drugs and misspent youth, the futility and joy of life without ever resorting to cliché or condescension. You either get it or you don’t. If Jarvis Cocker where ever to write such a horrific lyric as “My Sex is on Fire” you can guaranteed it will from an encounter with Janice who works in the local bookies and he will be visiting a free clinic promptly

I’ve said here before that if I ever have a dog, I’d name him Jarvis as a tribute to Mr. Cocker. Unlike Michael Jackson’s 1996 performance at the Brits, I think he might appreciate the ridiculousness of that.