NaNoWriMo Beckons!

Another year, another novel attempt. Of course, the difference with this year is that I am actually making a conscious effort to finish the attempt! The main problem I have with my writing (and my life in general too, I suppose) is that I over-analyse things and let myself get bogged down with all the little things that I should be letting go of, at least until December 1st. I just cannot keep my inner editor contained! But nonetheless I fully intend on this year being my year to reach the 50,000 word goal and claim the much coveted title of WINNER. You betcha.


What is my novel about you ask? Aha, good question and one that I still don't quite know how to answer. I mean I do have a rough outline and a title, but the characters and the main gist of the plot are pretty sketchy at the moment. I usually feel comfortable writing mainstream fiction with a pinch of romance and lashings of comedy but this year I'm going to tackle something a bit different. This year I'm going to be writing YA fiction. Oh dear. Y'see I've been wanting to write a novel that my younger sister could read for a while and now that she's thirteen I thought this would be the perfect time to try it. She reminds me a lot of myself when I was in high school in that we both just want everyone to like us and are willing to sacrifice ourselves and who we are in pursuit of this...

When I was in first year you couldn't pick me out of a crowd and I was one of those people that was friendly enough to merit conversation but not full inclusion. With my sister it's more that her friends take advantage of her more quiet nature and she's too nicey nice to stand up for herself. It's at this point that the similarities between us fades. In my case I became more determined to stand out and stand out I certainly did. Rainbow tights, hair to waist, black lipstick, white eyeshadow, anything to shock and I thought it was awesome. She on the other hand would never dream of making a statement like that and I struggle to give her advice because I don't want to push her to be someone she's not. She's not me after all, she's her own person. And that's why I need to write a novel for her.

I plan on it being a highschool age comedy set at a summer camp in Scotland called Camp Braveheart where there are neds and square-gos a plenty and ample opportunity to throw in some moral advice. My main character will be based loosely around my sister and I'm going to use this to explore a different way of offering her advice so that it doesn't sound like I'm lecturing or that I want her to be like me. I want her to know that it's okay to be quiet and to be friendly without having to lose herself in the process.

Hmm, this is going to a tough month eh?

                                                      Me in High School. Scary eh?


Morgan x

The Pretty Floral Bonnet

I was involved in the Creative Writing Society at my uni for all of about four months, and during that time I thought I would try my hand at poetry...

The Pretty Floral Bonnet (written January 2007, tweaked & edited a bit today)

There once was a woman

With an old-fashioned hat,

And a husband 

With an older cravat.

The cravat was of silk,

And the hat was of felt;

But both were unhappy

With the lots they'd been dealt.

Now the hat, she was pretty,

If you liked that sort of thing.

Though slightly high maintenance,

And she lacked a certain... zing.

With an eye for the ladies,

The cravat, he was suave.

He was bound to break the heart

Of every girl he'd ever have.

It was hard for the hat,

To appear beautiful every day;

Especially next to the bonnet

Of Miss Smith from across the way.

'What a pretty floral bonnet,'

The cravat would daily say,

'So young and so fresh,

And in such a natural way.'

'But what about me,

Your wife, you rock?

I cook, I clean, I love,

Every day around the clock.'

The cravat, he looked ashamed

And kissed her gently on the cheek.

But late that night as she lay asleep,

He went to the door and out he did sneak.

Upon waking in the morning,

On his pillow she found a note;

'I'm so terribly sorry,'

Was all that he wrote.

The hat, she just lay there,

Consumed by regret.
He'd said that he loved her,

How could she forget?

It was just past twelve

When the door creaked inward.

And there was her husband,

Smiling as he stepped forward.

He gave her a box with a floral design,

Containing a hat like none she'd ever seen.

'I thought you'd left me,' she cried,

'Tell me where have you been?'

'I wanted to show you just how much I care,

That I love you, my dear wife.

For me there's just no other,

With whom I'd spend my life.'

The wife, she took off her hat,

That plain little hat with no zing,

And placed on her head the new hat,

Though it really did not change a thing.

The hat was still pretty,

The cravat was still suave.

And this poem has a moral;

Love matters not on the looks that you have.

I'm not going to lie, I'm totally proud of this poem... Especially for a first attempt at poetry! It still makes me go, 'awwww'. Is that terribly sad?

Dystopia

When I was in first year of uni, before I got chucked off the English course for non-attendance, we did a class in English on Dystopia and were asked to pen a couple of paragraphs either on the topic of dystopia or actually write about a dystopian world. I chose the latter, forgot it was due and hurridly threw something together in the 20 minute drive from my friend's house to uni... and here's the outcome (oh, please ignore grammar etc as I hadn't time to plan it properly. Excuses, excuses!)

Dystopian World (written March 2007)

After centuries of squandering the Earth's natural resources the human race was left dying on an arid desert, empty of shelter from the sweltering rays of the sun. One meaningless war after another prompted the rise of the arms trade, it's factories fuelled first by coal then wood and finally anything that they could get their hands on. The water supply became quickly polluted and thick clouds of smog covered the sky for so long that the people forgot what it meant to gaze upon the stars. The people in power, concerned only with their war mongering need to expand their riches, did little to prevent the fall from grace of the once mighty human. After accepting their poor way of life; starving, parched and burnt, they began to look for an escape, for a remedy. There were rumours of moisture in the soil, a glimmmer of hope of a new world beneath the earth; a world devoid of the rank stench of polluted air and human guilt.

So it came to be that the bedraggled survivors of the ruined Earth took up home in the dense labyrinth of tunnels and caves beneath the soil. At first they rejoices and their knowing guilt, that the Earth could have been saved had they only cared about it, disappeared. But the reality sunk in that while they had a clean and fresh supply of water, and the air was bearably cool; the food shortage remained. It was at this rock bottom they realised the karma involved in the situation. While they had once feasted upon the meat of their fellow animals to the point of extinction, their only choice would be to now feast upon themselves.

Morbid, eh?

Love

I seem to have forgotten the purpose of this blog was to start writing again rather than the whinge-fest I've let it become. So here goes with some writing. When I was in 5th year we had to write a reflective piece on whatever we wanted. In my 16 year year old wisdom I chose 'love' and here's what happened:

Love (written Dec 2004)

There are millions of people out there and all of them are searching; for 'The One'. Their ideal partner. Their Greek Adonis or blushing English Rose. And the tragedy of it all is that ninety per cent of them will never stop searching.

There will always be those Hopeless Romantics. The sad yet sweet individuals who thrive on the good old traditional displays of affection and could spend whole days on end screening their romantic fantasies over in their minds. And their polar oppositions, their arch enemies, the only ones capable of demolishing their dreams - the Beautiful Go-getters. Always impeccable, never a hair out of place. They are confident and flirtatious with an acid tongue. These egoists are accustomed to getting what they want and wanting what is not theirs to want in the first place. The remaining population of The Satellite of Love are spread in various groups of lovesick fools ready to be administered a sharp dose of reality.

As for myself, its just me and a few other loners in the highly sensitive Liked Yet Never Loved category. We are loud and unabashed by nature, yet embarrassed by love. We will always find ourselves on the outside looking in, for every great tale needs an objective observer. And unfortunately my fellow commitment phobics and I drew the short straw.

I have always marvelled at how different to the harrowing tales of 'star crossed lovers' my love life appears to be. But generally I don't mind, I'm prone to vomitting at the crassness of the quaint, virginal maid finding herself being ravished by the handsome leading male anyway. That's not what love is, and as for 'Romeo and Juliet' that would be classed as a bad teenage love song by today's standards. I hate to be such a pessimist but Juliet was only fourteen, she wouldn't even know what love is. If their tale was set in this day and age Romeo would find himself in prison faster than you can say 'Shakespeare'. But if it was true love, as all Hopeless Romantice love to believe, then perhaps it was sweet that they died to be with one another. Well I don't mean to rain on their parade, but it is my job as the outside observer to bring my opinion forth; and I believe they were merely figments of William Shakespeare's overactive imagination. Those Hopeless Romantics should keep dreaming and desist from comparing those characters and various others from the pen of the Bronte sisters and other well known 'True Love' enthusiasts, to the cold, hard reality in which we live.

I wonder if perhaps my last sting comment left you wondering whether I am really just a spiteful old prude locking in a teenager's body. To be honest I would usually reply 'yes, yes you're correct'. But the more I think, the more I realise, there are so many types of love and yet everyone searches for the least accessable form. Why is there worldwide chaos as the race for love continues? Why can my fellow human beings not realise that never finding your true love is not the end of the world? It is not, as I once thought, the search for true love of the type of lover that makes us who we are. It is the relationships we experience and the love we obtain along the way that shapes our mental being.

Yes I want love, of course I need to be loved and its true, first impressions can be deceiving after all. Love is one of the most important factors needed to lead a full and happy life. True love is a welcomed addition. We need love, for the world does look more inviting through rose tinted glasses. As for myself? Love is to me as sun is to the flower. Neccessary for survival. After all, we are all believers in the end.

Now.

I would love to say that things have vastly improved for me... But they haven't. Sure I don't feel quite so teary anymore but I think that has more to do with the sunshine and warm weather cheering me up than anything else. Now instead of feeling empty I feel as though I'm tied in knots. My head is in a muddle and I can't think straight or concentrate on anything for very long. I can't decide what I want for me or how I want my life to go. I feel as though I'm trying to please everyone all at once and I think I'm losing  myself in the process.

I thought I would talk about something less depressing for a wee change. I've now gone half a year without facebook (looking at pictures of a night out via my mum's facebook doesn't count in my book) and I really don't miss it, in fact I savour it. I relish the anonymity I get without it. No more possibility of having my private life on display for prying eyes, mainly belonging to girls I went to high school with who want some gossip to keep their high school years alive. Why do I know this is true? Well, because I used to do it of course. My friends and even my parents don't understand me or why I've decided to boycott such an 'awesome' way of keeping in touch with people. But what can I say, I'm a traditionalist! Whatever happened to letters or phone calls or texts or even plain old email? I just don't think I'm cut out to be a member of the online generation. I suck at it.

Just like I suck at updating a blog.

Lost.

This past month, or months would probably be more accurate, I've begun to feel as though I'm not really living any more... Merely going through the motions. I don't know what's wrong with me, but I feel like I'm not there. Most of the time I just want to slump down and cry and cry and cry. I don't know what to say to anyone.

Ever since I left university I've had nothing to aim for anymore, nothing to look forward to. Nothing definite anyway. I feel lost, like a stick someone's thrown into a fast-flowing river. I'm drowning in my life and I don't know how to snap myself out of it.

I... don't know what to say.

I saw a rain dirty valley, you saw Brigadoon

There are things I want from my life that I'm scared I will never have the ability/chance/experience/balls to make happen for myself. I'm scared that I'll be depending on other people for the rest of my life without ever having done anything on my own. I'm scared I don't have the experience or education to propel myself further than a mediocre-wage, mediocre-life job. I'm scared that I'll spend forever in this place, this horrific black hole of a town. That I'll be sucked, kicking and screaming, into the bottomless pit that is here like everyone else with no hope of an escape. I'm scared that I will stay a procrastinator all my life and will never find the strength within myself to complete...well... anything really. Most of all however... I'm scared I won't have the balls to deal with these things whatever their outcome, good or horrible.

I'm a strange kind of person. Most of the time I'm bubbly, outgoing and occasionally annoying but deep down I'm quiet, withdrawn and prefer my own company. Doesn't make much sense does it? It's all a smoke screen, an act, all just to try and get people to like me. Take my workplace for example - I've worked there for a month now and already my team has split into two distinct little cliques. Which clique do I belong to? Neither. I float about inbetween, friendly enough to merit conversation but not inclusion. I don't know what I'm doing wrong. It's not just work, it was university as well, and high school before that. I just... don't fit in. I don't know how to interact in company in such a way that will gain me that coveted title of friend rather than acquaintance. Other people don't realise how lucky they are, I mean most of the time even the people who are 'individual' or 'different' have a group of friends or a strong inner circle of people they can trust. I have friends sure, but none I see or speak to on a proper regular basis.

Well there I go again. Whinging again. What the hell is my problem?! I've just been feeling so down lately and it feels like no one wants to know. Even my boyfriend who, I won't deny, does love me very much... He doesn't understand or rather he likes to keep things simple and so me going into the inner workings of a complex issue such as being down and not knowing what to do is just something he can't handle dealing with. I think it freaks him out a little. I don't particularly enjoy telling everyone about myself, for example if I'm upset I don't tell anyone and choose instead to let the feeling fester until it feels like there's a gaping hole where my heart is and... Well, you get the picture. I feel like I'm walking around on the brink of tears on a daily basis. And I think I've gone warbling off again on a rather tear-stained tangent that I shouldn't have gone on about.

On top of this my new job is in sales. I'm a history graduate, sales is not my forte. I'm feeling a little physically ill every day when I walk up to the building I work in knowing that I have targets to try and meet. I suppose you can guess that I've yet to make a single sale? I'm helpless and its my own silly fault for pursuing a degree in a subject I knew fine well wouldn't get me a job... We'll see what happens - as my mum always likes to say 'Tomorrow is another day'.

I'm sorry for the rambling whine-fest that is this entry, I'll try to write another soon hopefully on a happier note.