Tag: aspiring writer

Categories
Adulthood fiction Stories Writing

Follow Me

“Don’t look back, stop being stupid,” Alana whispered to herself as if that would make the moment more reassuring. Except she was terrified. Utterly terrified.

Her steps were speeding up as were those of the tall, slim figure behind. She broke into an almost run and so did the silhouette following her.

“He’s not following me, it is just a coincidence,” she repeated aloud.

She knew that he was. She knew that this was not a moment of chance. Her gut was telling her so and since leaving her friend’s house, she had been watching the streets very closely.

He must have known she left at the same time each night. He must have researched her, worked out how regimental she was to routine. He must have waited for the clocks to go back before beginning his mission, whatever that was. To scare her? He was doing a good job of that. What did he want? How did she know that he was male?

She didn’t.

She edged her neck around realising that it would have looked less obvious if her movement had been faster, but she was too afraid for subtlety. The figure was still following her and speeding up accordingly to match her pace.

Her heart was racing and her legs felt numb. The cold air was biting the ends of her fingers and toes, but the rest of her body was overheating in fear. She wished she had taken her friend up on that drink she offered her. Maybe it would have relaxed her a bit, calmed her nerves.

Each time she reached a streetlight, which wasn’t often, she felt a bit safer. The figure vanished momentarily every time. She didn’t know where. Then, in the darkness, it reappeared as if it wasn’t actually there.

She knew that the alleyway would mark a long period of low glowing light so she hoped that the figure would change direction. Just before leaving the darkness it was so close to her that she could almost hear the breath. She picked up pace. She reached the light.

Scared to turn back she looked forward and ran. She ran until she reached the group of houses before hers. Feeling surrounded by safety, she built up some courage to turn. There it was. At the top of the road, standing. Still. Staring down at her, panting hard.

What was his intention. What did he want from her? If he really wanted to catch her then surely, he could have, she isn’t the fastest runner.

She turned her gaze forward again and stopped a moment to catch her breath. She didn’t want her mother to ask questions.

Feeling ready to resume her journey home she caught sight of the door to her house.

‘Hello, Katie. It’s been too long.’

The figure that had been so frightening behind her was terrifyingly in front.

She froze unable to consider what to do next.

Categories
Non-fiction Special moments Writing

My Publishing Journey: the first stages

There I was signed up, no going back and eager for all that the future held. I was thrilled at how my future was developing.

I sent off my manuscript ready for it to undergo the first stages of publishing. I had read a lot about it before but it was very exciting to see it done for myself and for my debut novel.

I have to say so far the communication between myself and my publishers has been sound. I couldn’t fault it. They are very quick to respond and thorough in their responses.

Firstly, I had to fill in a questionnaire which included lots of details about my novel as well as a cover design idea. I can’t draw nor am I very artistic in that sense at all so I had an image inside my mind and desperately tried to explain it as well as I could in words.

Two weeks later I was emailed what they had come up with and it is perfect.

Now awaiting the first proofs the pending excitement continues.

Good things to come… stay tuned xoxo

Categories
Non-fiction Writing

20 writing goals for 2020

  1. Enter 10 writing competitions
  2. Finish book 2
  3. Publish my debut novel
  4. Work hard
  5. Encourage others
  6. Finish my Writers Bureau Writing Course
  7. Attempt writing for radio
  8. Write more in different settings
  9. Write some happier fiction
  10. Keep it up with my blog (at least 2 posts a week)
  11. Earn some money from my writing(!)
  12. Attend literary events
  13. Embrace conversations when people are upbeat about my writing
  14. Read more brilliant work of others
  15. Read more around topics like social media, blogging and self-promo
  16. Take myself off to places to gain inspo and ideas
  17. Start another novel???????????????
  18. Read my writing magazine WHEN it shows up
  19. Stay positive and enthusiastic
  20. Keep going
Categories
Non-fiction Special moments Writing

My Publishing Journey: the decision

Shortly after receiving my publishing contract I returned to reality. I put a serious head on and I realised I needed to make a very important decision.

I researched my publishers online, I read about the different forms of publishing, I read and re-read the contract and then passed it onto my brother for advice.

I soon realised that this was a big decision to make. Nowadays there are so many options within the publishing industry and so many success stories within each route taken that it opens up so many opportunities to consider.

Reading through the industry jargon hurt my head which is why it was also great to get people who know about contracts to translate to me in layman’s terms.

I contacted people who have worked in publishing for years. I considered advice from the society of authors. I emailed my long list of questions to the publishers directly. I weighed up the pros and cons.

I had more sleepless nights worrying, fretting, wondering, learning. I discovered how clueless I am and how everything will be a valuable lesson. I asked for the opinions of those closest to me.

I SIGNED.

Categories
Non-fiction Special moments Writing

My Publishing Journey: the initial reaction

Some time earlier this year amid the mass of submissions I sent out, I sent off a submission to my (now) publishers, never thinking for a minute but forever hopeful that they would accept my work. One of the few publishers who accept unsolicited material.

I had undertaken a lot of research regarding the publishing process and sent most of my submissions out to agents hoping for the best. My most useful resources during this time was my writing course which I do from home and the Writers’ and Artists’ Yearbook 2019.

My writing course helped me construct my submission to a professional level as well as aiding my writing process while the Writers’ and Artists’ Yearbook 2019 gave me all the information about agents, publishers and what to do to become a published novelist.

Some time in July I heard that my manuscript was being passed to the board of Editors who were to review it and get back to me.

Some weeks passed.

On Tuesday 17th September 2019 I recieved a publishing contract in the post. I was beside myself.

Excitedly I text family and friends delighted to tell them my news. I shared champagne celebrations that evening with some friends. I couldn’t sleep that night because I was sleeping on clouds. I couldn’t quite believe it.

MY FIRST NOVEL WAS GOING TO BE PUBLISHED!!!!

I dreamed of the book signings, the interviews, the launch party. I kept holding my contract to certify its reality.

I was telling people at work and each time it felt surreal to be talking about me and my novel. I received gifts and cards in the post. I was eligible to sign up to the society of authors. It all felt pretty darn cool.

Categories
Non-fiction Observations Writing

My Writing Season

I could say that my favourite writing season is in the spring with the dawn of a new year and the happiness of new life everywhere. Springlike scenes of snowdrops and lambs, the sound of young birds chirping at their mothers, asking to be fed.

I could say that my favourite writing season is the summer time bringing the warm outdoors and one of my preferred places in which to write. Content in my outside setup feeling the sun on my face and having lots of energy throughout the day. Longer days so I don’t feel so tired but rather inspired to write more with more ideas and a greater flow.

I could say that my favourite writing season is autumn, the colours on the trees bringing beautiful scenes to write about and describe. The darkening days and much more rain so there is plenty of time to sit inside and write.

I could say that my favourite writing season is winter with darkness filling the space so there is nothing to do but write. Though tiredness presents itself, when better to think up ideas but while falling asleep at night or waking up in the morning? Especially when outside is so black and the days aren’t very welcoming, encouraging you to stay in bed rather than get out of it.

Instead though, I’ll say that I have no favourite writing season but I certainly have times when I write best. The morning. The sunshine. High energy days. Low energy days. Days when I need to escape. Days when I must tell the world everything.

During the process of writing my first novel I initially planned to write a few chapters a week. Of course I did, I started in the spring! A month down the line and that plan had changed. Sometimes a chapter, occasionally two and sometimes not even half.

Writing inspiration appears in the most random ways, there is no structure at all. That is being a creative I suppose!

You never know when it’ll happen but when it does embrace it and write and write and write!

Categories
fiction Stories Writing

Flight (part 3)

One more visit to the hospice before my flight and I know this will be the hardest visit yet. I am borrowing our neighbour’s car because mine is back in England and we sold Mammy’s once she got too poorly to drive. It was an impulse decision which we clearly hadn’t thought about properly because it would have been very useful to have over the past month, a lot more useful than the two thousand euros that we got for it.

I load my gigantic backpack into the boot ready for Mary to take me to the airport after my visit and mentally prepare myself for one of the hardest goodbyes to date. Not one bit of me is feeling excited in this current moment. In fact, every bit of me is questioning whether this is the correct thing to be doing at such a helpless time. Then I hear Mammy in my ear telling me to go, spread my wings, find whatever it is I need in life and come back with lots of stories. I stop everything and smile for a minute.

I have done the journey to the hospice so many times that I don’t have to concentrate on the directions because I know the route off by heart. In fact, it scares me once I arrive in the car park and turn off the engine that I can’t remember half the journey as I was totally spaced out and unaware of my surroundings – my mind was elsewhere.

I carefully place my chip in my pocket and choke at the two-euro charge to park in a place where everybody is visiting somebody who is dying. It’s a lot better than the extortionate rates that they charge on the hospital side. I suppose you’re unaware in that case how long your relative will live so they may as well rinse you for as much as they possible can. It makes sense.

Mammy’s room is on the ground floor with a beautiful view of the bright yellow Wicklow gorse all in bloom outside in the courtyard. When she has fallen asleep during visits I have taking every pleasure in watching people walking around this space, savouring the last precious moments with one another. Be it husbands and wives, fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, they all look content in a beautiful final scene.

I walk down the long corridor to room seven where Mammy is. A nurse squeezes out of the door quickly before I can get in. She must be new because otherwise she would have greeted me. We all know each other now because I have spent so many hours in here lately.

I look over to Mammy’s bed and see a sight I have been imagining but hoping would never actually happen. The whole room stops for a moment and all goes quiet inside my head. Perhaps Mammy has been moved to a different room.

I gasp in shock though it is the inevitable. It is real. A nurse runs to me in attempt to comfort me with a hug, but I want to go over to her. To touch her. To give her one last kiss and say my final goodbyes. Real goodbyes not temporary.

The staff respect my privacy and leave the room telling me to take my time and call them if there is anything that I need. I sit on the bed next to Mammy in a space that is as if she had planned my visit and left for me. I lean over to kiss her cheek and see Jenna’s body out cold on the floor, a needle in her wrist and marks on her neck – dead.  

Categories
Adulthood Non-fiction Observations

To anybody struggling…

To anybody struggling – you’ll have a lovely Christmas

To anybody finding things difficult – there are good days to come

To anybody wanting more – the best day of your life may not have happened yet

To anybody feeling anxious – one day your confidence will overrule

To anybody suffering – the rain will pass you by

To anybody worrying – it may not matter in the future of yours

To anybody fighting – you are stronger than you think

To anybody comparing – you don’t see the bad parts

To anybody not smiling – you have so much in life to smile about

To anybody hurting – it will get better

To anybody over doing it – take some time for you

To anybody fretting – weigh up what’s important

To anybody feeling empty – notice everything around you, appreciate

To anybody struggling – you have got this.

Categories
fiction Stories Writing

Flight (part 2)

That was the great thing about this happening to a person like my Mam. She is such a strong lady that she made her cancer some sort of joke. A joke for her anyway. She’d constantly go on about how much we’d all miss her because she is possibly the greatest person to walk this earth.

Of course, she was exaggerating, she didn’t love herself like most politicians out there or celebrities who have been born into fame and constantly told by people around them how perfect they are. The hilarious thing about these situations was how everyone around her would be hysterically crying, genuinely sad tears and she would just laugh it off and tell everyone to man up. That was easy for her to say. She was the one that was going to die.

My mother’s dealing with her stage four diagnosis was what made the horrific scenes at the hospital easier. The tubes going in and out of each and every vein. The photos Daddy sent me after her first few rounds of chemo and the news that it wasn’t working. The more upbeat photos of her sat with a large gin and tonic in the hospice more recently. It was all of this that encouraged me to book my flight to Paris on September 4th. Today.

However, today is different. I’m not feeling as cocky in my ability to handle the loss of my mother which will inevitably happen. Initially I thought that exploring Europe would set me free from the pain that is about to come but then I feel the pain will creep up on me sooner and I’m not ready to handle it alone.

I have had such an intensely beautiful month spent in Dublin with my family, visiting Mammy every day and making memories that I am going to hold on so tightly. The same way a toddler would squeeze onto their Mum out of jealousy while she was breastfeeding their new born brother. So many memories yet not enough. I am not ready to go.

As I sit and pack the last of my survival kit into a bag that already looks too big to lug around station after station and up numerous sets of hostel steps, I stare at the photo of Mammy and I from graduation. The proudest moment of my life so far and one of hers. I look to the right of me at Jenna and consider where it all went wrong. I wonder what she is doing right this minute and a part of me wants to speak to her. Though it was her decision to leave, to allow her life to go off track, she still may silently need her older sister.

Categories
Adulthood Non-fiction Writing

10 Things that help me distract my creative brain

As a creative with an overactive imagination, sometimes I find it getting the better of me. I feel overwhelmed by thoughts and sometimes even scared, especially when I dream.

I find certain things in life distract this chaos and help me masses when trying to relax without thinking up a new plot line for a novel or a horrific scene in my head for the next short story competition. Here are a few things that help me distract my creative brain:

Reading

Something I don’t do enough and miss it when I haven’t made time to read, but it is something that helps me lose myself in this busy world and escape into another one.

The radio

Even if I’m not actually listening to it, I find that simply by having the radio on in the background soothes me. I also have a theory that the wisdom from shows on radio 4 subconsciously sinks in, thus upping my intelligence, but that’s just a theory!

Podcasts

Much like the radio, I find listening to podcasts very relaxing and a way to gain an insight into various topical discussions and learn new things away from my writing. I am also more likely to be consciously listening to a podcast which is always a good sign!

Music

Whether it’s on my walk to work, whilst getting ready for work or on a car journey in between, music is essential to my life. I struggle to go a whole day without it. It is my saviour.

Walking

Walking is another essential to the structure of my days and a nice break from my writing. Sometimes if writers block is looming, a nice stroll will soon sort it out.

Socialising

Being with those closest to me is an obvious candidate for distracting my creative brain and exchanging scary story lines for happy thoughts. If simply being doesn’t work instantly which it usually does, then I find talking about ideas I’ve had or dreams that are bothering me helps.

Being by the sea

The sea is amazing in both chilling me out down to the core and springing up new ideas within my creative side. I wrote a lot of my first novel by the sea and loved what I wrote.

Travelling and car journeys

With company or alone, I find car journeys (train or any other method of transport) a happy space in which to stop, to contemplate and to live in the moment. All of the activities in this list are about living in the moment and focusing on that to take a breath away from the chaos that is life, especially that of a creative, and travelling certainly does that.

Meditation

I tend to dip in and out of mediation and yoga but I find them both very useful. If I have had a particularly busy or mind boggling shift at the stores, when I come home to write, I meditate for five minutes before doing any work. This helps me to make the shift between different types of work and puts me in the correct zone to write.

Puzzles

Sudoku or jigsaws, without sounding like a grandma, are great in losing myself in the moment. They require focus so my brain can’t be bombarded with other stuff but not too much that they put stress on it.