Week 61


Not a spectacular week. I'll never understand how one day of writing goes well, some nice ideas have cropped up and you've made real progress with your story, and you feel great - and the next day, you're back to square one. Can't motivate yourself. Distracted by every little thing, from the bird outside your window to the non-existent demands of your bladder.

Internal voice: "I think I need the loo now? When did I last go? It must have been at least an hour ago."

And when writing doesn't come easily, I become attuned to the irritating tics in my style - for instance, the over-use of certain words.

I told a friend I felt physically sick every time I wrote "grinned" or any variant on "grin". He felt the same about "roar" - the roar of the crowd, the roar of the tube, a lion's roar (maybe).

For another friend it's (inexplicably) "cupping", and members of a writing forum I frequent (funny how people only "frequent" things of a dubious nature, isn't it? Prostitutes, massage parlours, internet forums...) replied saying they hated their use of words like "shard" and "nod". "Nod" does the same work as "grin" I think - it's born out of a neurosis that every exchange in dialogue must be responded to or at least punctuated.

"I'm not doing that," I said.

She grinned.


"She said what?" I exclaimed.

He nodded.

Ugh. Enough already. Come the revolution (redraft), it'll be those words that are first against the wall (subjected to a very thorough "Find and replace" function).

Word count this week: 1,400 First draft: 111,512