Better late than never

Word by lazy word, my novel is coming back to me. My characters are starting to yawn and stretch out in my head. I'm re-visiting the problems, re-reading the parts which convinced me I was on to something better than my usual. I'm writing; a sentence here and there, erasing a comma, changing a name, a painful restoration of the flow.

I always tend to write more in the winter. It's darker, more magical. The cold and desire to stay indoors helps the fiction. So yes, I'm looking forward to the leaves dying and the frost taking over. Somehow I have started trying again, to mark out a path as a writer.

Tomorrow I'm at Gladfest, a small literature festival, on a novel planning session with an admired author - Francesca Haig.

Then it's the writing retreat at the Clockhouse for six days later this month. I'll have a ridiculous amount of time on my hands to make some headway with this stubborn book. My first commitment is to produce a blog on here at the end of every day, tracking my progress (or lack thereof).

Then October, the Chester Literature Festival, where my story will be read out as part of our Chester Writer's Gothic event - http://www.storyhouse.com/events/gothic-chester-writers/
Yes, that does mean that I actually finished a short story this year. I'm surprised too. I've even submitted it for a competition.

November sees another NaNoWriMo (Novel in a month challenge) where I have to decide if I'm going to find a way to write 50,000 words of this novel (perhaps branching out, exploring character and different plot lines) or take a break and create another beast. More than anything I'm excited for the Kick off party, the weekly lock ins, hysterical and tired in coffee shops. Chester is my home now and I'm excited to meet the writers (125 of them gave it a go last year).

My point is, that I'm trying. It's not something I do that often. Currently I'm trying to obsessively plan how to make the most of my six isolated days in the forest. Any ideas?

'Take your life in your own hands and what happens? A terrible thing: no one to blame.' - Erica Jong