As we speak, I'm moments away from finishing chapter 22 (right now it's failing to give me a nice, logical "ending point." Ah well.) Do you know what this means?
Probably not. So let me tell you.
It means the end is not far off. Although I didn't plot the book precisely (remember, Stephen King said not to), my best guess is that there will be 27-ish chapters in total. Five more. Five more little chapters. That's about another 10 to 15,000 words above the 50,000 I have already.
After that comes the rewrite. The polish. The hasty filling in of gaps where the story makes no sense (it makes perfect sense in my head, of course). The tweeking of certain characters to make them more (or less) likeable. The removal of unnecessary adjectives.
And that's it. It will finally be done. I will have written a novel. All by myself.
Holy shit.
What will I do then?!
Apr 27, 2010
Apr 23, 2010
Dilectio Lex
Couldn't resist sharing this.
You missed it (sadly), but it turns out that April 13th was National Be Kind to Lawyers Day.
Seriously.
Among ways to celebrate the event, the website suggests taking your favourite lawyer out to lunch (or breakfast, although if you're doing that, you've probably been very nice to your favourite lawyer already), watching a courtroom drama, or peppering your conversation with "you're out of order!" or "strike that."
Since I only found out about this now, I would like to proclaim tomorrow, Saturday April 24, International Be Kind to Ex Lawyers and Ex Consultants Who Write Day. If you know anyone who fits that profile, be extra nice to them tomorrow. For example, you might send flowers, kidnap and donate an editor, sign yourself up as a blog "follower", or ship the lovely ex-ex-now a lifetime supply of Christian Louboutin shoes. Or tell her she's not fat.
It's up to you. Let your creativity run wild.
You missed it (sadly), but it turns out that April 13th was National Be Kind to Lawyers Day.
Seriously.
Among ways to celebrate the event, the website suggests taking your favourite lawyer out to lunch (or breakfast, although if you're doing that, you've probably been very nice to your favourite lawyer already), watching a courtroom drama, or peppering your conversation with "you're out of order!" or "strike that."
Since I only found out about this now, I would like to proclaim tomorrow, Saturday April 24, International Be Kind to Ex Lawyers and Ex Consultants Who Write Day. If you know anyone who fits that profile, be extra nice to them tomorrow. For example, you might send flowers, kidnap and donate an editor, sign yourself up as a blog "follower", or ship the lovely ex-ex-now a lifetime supply of Christian Louboutin shoes. Or tell her she's not fat.
It's up to you. Let your creativity run wild.
Apr 22, 2010
Judy Bloom Moment
I got called fat today. Twice.
First by the flab-removal head honcho at the beauty salon. Quote of the day: "you have to make a choice: pleasure or your figure?" Apparently that was a rhetorical question.
Second, by my physio, after my first session to try to fix my knee. Second quote of the day: "pain in your knees is often your body's way of telling you you've put on too much weight."
Wow.
It's like being an unpopular teen all over again.
So I had a salad for dinner. Needless to say, I'm hungry.
First by the flab-removal head honcho at the beauty salon. Quote of the day: "you have to make a choice: pleasure or your figure?" Apparently that was a rhetorical question.
Second, by my physio, after my first session to try to fix my knee. Second quote of the day: "pain in your knees is often your body's way of telling you you've put on too much weight."
Wow.
It's like being an unpopular teen all over again.
So I had a salad for dinner. Needless to say, I'm hungry.
Apr 21, 2010
The Big Clean
It's springtime. Wisteria's in bloom, girls are showing some leg, aviators abound, it's official.
And when spring comes, it's time to clean out the closet.
Not my actual closet. No, my actual closet is still as messy as ever, cashmere turtlenecks battling it out with the tanktops and boots embracing the flipflops.
I mean the other closet. The closet with my old demons in it. You know the ones: paranoïa, fear of failure, ex-boyfriends. Mine's a rickety old IKEA version I've been dragging around for far too long.
Cleaning out the demon closet is a tricky four-step operation, not to be undertaken lightly or unprepared. Here's how it's done.
One, open the closet. This is when you get hit with a giant wave of nostalgia, followed by fear, followed by an overwhelming feeling of inadequacy, before you finally settle into full-blown depression.
Two, exorcise the demons. This one is tough and generally requires the assistance of very good friends, potent medication and one (or two, depending on strength of demon) jar of nutella. Expect tears and hysterical outburts, as well as a few panic-fuelled calls to your mother.
Three, reel from the pain of having lost those damn demons. Because, as much as they were ruining your life, you had gotten pretty used to having them around, and they were yours. It wasn't much, but at least it was something. And now what do you have? Just a big empty closet.
Four, give yourself a good old kick in the derrière. Finish that damn chapter 20 (done) and go have a cocktail (done). Because you're worth it. And because you have a whole year ahead of you before you have to go through all that again.
Phew.
And when spring comes, it's time to clean out the closet.
Not my actual closet. No, my actual closet is still as messy as ever, cashmere turtlenecks battling it out with the tanktops and boots embracing the flipflops.
I mean the other closet. The closet with my old demons in it. You know the ones: paranoïa, fear of failure, ex-boyfriends. Mine's a rickety old IKEA version I've been dragging around for far too long.
Cleaning out the demon closet is a tricky four-step operation, not to be undertaken lightly or unprepared. Here's how it's done.
One, open the closet. This is when you get hit with a giant wave of nostalgia, followed by fear, followed by an overwhelming feeling of inadequacy, before you finally settle into full-blown depression.
Two, exorcise the demons. This one is tough and generally requires the assistance of very good friends, potent medication and one (or two, depending on strength of demon) jar of nutella. Expect tears and hysterical outburts, as well as a few panic-fuelled calls to your mother.
Three, reel from the pain of having lost those damn demons. Because, as much as they were ruining your life, you had gotten pretty used to having them around, and they were yours. It wasn't much, but at least it was something. And now what do you have? Just a big empty closet.
Four, give yourself a good old kick in the derrière. Finish that damn chapter 20 (done) and go have a cocktail (done). Because you're worth it. And because you have a whole year ahead of you before you have to go through all that again.
Phew.
Apr 17, 2010
Writing blue
It's time.
Time to leave this magical place and drive back to Paris tomorrow. Which may not be a bad thing as the magic seems to have deserted me. I got to the middle of Chapter 20 when the major crisis of confidence hit. That was three days ago. And since then, not a word. I don't even want to look at it anymore. It's only my supremely rational mind (or what's left of it) that keeps me from hitting the delete button.
So back north I go, towards the Icelandic ash, with a gorgeous tan and a still very much unfinished attempt at a novel.
I want my six months back.
Time to leave this magical place and drive back to Paris tomorrow. Which may not be a bad thing as the magic seems to have deserted me. I got to the middle of Chapter 20 when the major crisis of confidence hit. That was three days ago. And since then, not a word. I don't even want to look at it anymore. It's only my supremely rational mind (or what's left of it) that keeps me from hitting the delete button.
So back north I go, towards the Icelandic ash, with a gorgeous tan and a still very much unfinished attempt at a novel.
I want my six months back.
Apr 14, 2010
Un peu de légèreté
I've had violent mood swings all day. The nightmare very, very early this morning that had me screaming (seriously, screaming, out loud, good thing there's no one else in the house). Forgetting everything I wanted to write in chapter 19. Then when it came back. The giddiness when I realized that I would probably be done with the first draft in a few chapters. The fear when I realized that I would probably be done with the first draft in a few chapters. The sunshine. The clouds. Bla bla bla.
So enough.
Tonight I'm going to amuse you with something completely different.
Tonight, I'm going to make you laugh with the funniest key word searches that led people to my blogs. Because sometimes you need a little silly.
1. "pierre chandon ioana popescu married" : The INSEADers, former and present students of Mr Chandon and Ms Popescu will appreciate this one. And as far as I know, no they're not. Married, I mean.
2. "grumpy when it's sunny": I like to wonder about what someone might have been looking for when they searched for that. An excuse to be grumpy when it's sunny? A cure? A how-to? I love it.
3. "what defines me": Hey, I'm with you kid. Sometimes you need all the help you can get.
4. "run over a chameleon": What? Am I being read by crazy lizard haters now? Or PETA? It's not like I did it on purpose!
5. "demand curve of kit kat": Confectionary matters.
6. "i am a little piggie": I don't know what to say. I really don't. Sweetie, if you're reading this now (especially if you're the one who also searched for the kit kat demand curve), then stop, put down the chocolate, play your favourite girl power song on and dance! It's great for the hips.
That's it. Hope it made you smile. Now go back to whatever you were doing, it's probably more important.
So enough.
Tonight I'm going to amuse you with something completely different.
Tonight, I'm going to make you laugh with the funniest key word searches that led people to my blogs. Because sometimes you need a little silly.
1. "pierre chandon ioana popescu married" : The INSEADers, former and present students of Mr Chandon and Ms Popescu will appreciate this one. And as far as I know, no they're not. Married, I mean.
2. "grumpy when it's sunny": I like to wonder about what someone might have been looking for when they searched for that. An excuse to be grumpy when it's sunny? A cure? A how-to? I love it.
3. "what defines me": Hey, I'm with you kid. Sometimes you need all the help you can get.
4. "run over a chameleon": What? Am I being read by crazy lizard haters now? Or PETA? It's not like I did it on purpose!
5. "demand curve of kit kat": Confectionary matters.
6. "i am a little piggie": I don't know what to say. I really don't. Sweetie, if you're reading this now (especially if you're the one who also searched for the kit kat demand curve), then stop, put down the chocolate, play your favourite girl power song on and dance! It's great for the hips.
That's it. Hope it made you smile. Now go back to whatever you were doing, it's probably more important.
Apr 11, 2010
Like a Big Pizza Pie, That's Amore
I've been spending a lot of time thinking about love, lately. I guess it comes with the territory when you're writing a love story.
Haven't come to any conclusions, though, so don't get too excited.
But what I was thinking is that, considering how many times I've done it (fallen in love, that is) it's really a wonder I'm not better at it.
When I was little, I fell in love every day. With many, many boys (even ones that didn't exist - I had a particularly violent crush on Atreyu from the Neverending Story). As I grew older, I became more picky. Which didn't mean I wasn't always in love. I was, it's just that I would stay in love with the same person for longer - hello, teenage angst (we all have that one, don't we, that one boy in high school who ignored us and for whom we pined in vain, and still hold a soft spot for in our hearts even though he grew up to become a loser with a silly mustache.)
Of course there was my first kiss (worthy of many years of soul-crushing love), my first boyfriend (still a secret love to this day), the first boy I was a proper grownup "couple" with, and-so-on-and-so-forth. With certain notable exceptions (think love child of Voldemort and Kathy Bates in Misery - we have all had one of those as well, sadly) I still love every single one of them. Which means that as we speak, I probably "love", in some form or another, close to 100 men/boys/random fictional characters/figments of my imagination. Like a giant love sandwich.
So again, I ask you, given all this loving that I do on a regular basis, and the broad array of subject specimens, how is it that I still don't know what I'm doing? I can hardly even write a good love story, much less have one.
Sigh.
I think there's only one solution.
More practice.
Haven't come to any conclusions, though, so don't get too excited.
But what I was thinking is that, considering how many times I've done it (fallen in love, that is) it's really a wonder I'm not better at it.
When I was little, I fell in love every day. With many, many boys (even ones that didn't exist - I had a particularly violent crush on Atreyu from the Neverending Story). As I grew older, I became more picky. Which didn't mean I wasn't always in love. I was, it's just that I would stay in love with the same person for longer - hello, teenage angst (we all have that one, don't we, that one boy in high school who ignored us and for whom we pined in vain, and still hold a soft spot for in our hearts even though he grew up to become a loser with a silly mustache.)
Of course there was my first kiss (worthy of many years of soul-crushing love), my first boyfriend (still a secret love to this day), the first boy I was a proper grownup "couple" with, and-so-on-and-so-forth. With certain notable exceptions (think love child of Voldemort and Kathy Bates in Misery - we have all had one of those as well, sadly) I still love every single one of them. Which means that as we speak, I probably "love", in some form or another, close to 100 men/boys/random fictional characters/figments of my imagination. Like a giant love sandwich.
So again, I ask you, given all this loving that I do on a regular basis, and the broad array of subject specimens, how is it that I still don't know what I'm doing? I can hardly even write a good love story, much less have one.
Sigh.
I think there's only one solution.
More practice.
Apr 8, 2010
The Girls Blog It Forward
There's a new gang of female avengers in town.
Think Danny Wallace's Join Me.
Think Haley Joel Osment (acually, don't think about him too much, that kid kind of freaks me out.)
Think Ghandi, but in kitten-heeled Jimmy Choos.
Curious? Here's the deal. Thanks to Jill (aka The Duchess), female bloggers everywhere will soon be organized into a Worldwide Band of Sisters, performing "senseless" acts of kindness for strangers and then blogging about it. Which will be nice not only for all those strangers out there, but also for all you lovely people who get to read about how that little old lady in the Starbucks line wacked us over the head with her pocketbook because she thought we were trying to poison her with a venti chai latte.
It'll be a blast!
Want to know more? Interested in joining? Get the full icecreamalicious scoop on Jill's blog: THE DUCHESS GUIDE - Pay it Forward
Think Danny Wallace's Join Me.
Think Haley Joel Osment (acually, don't think about him too much, that kid kind of freaks me out.)
Think Ghandi, but in kitten-heeled Jimmy Choos.
Curious? Here's the deal. Thanks to Jill (aka The Duchess), female bloggers everywhere will soon be organized into a Worldwide Band of Sisters, performing "senseless" acts of kindness for strangers and then blogging about it. Which will be nice not only for all those strangers out there, but also for all you lovely people who get to read about how that little old lady in the Starbucks line wacked us over the head with her pocketbook because she thought we were trying to poison her with a venti chai latte.
It'll be a blast!
Want to know more? Interested in joining? Get the full icecreamalicious scoop on Jill's blog: THE DUCHESS GUIDE - Pay it Forward
Apr 7, 2010
Therapy
Perfect for when all your friends leave.
Perfect for when the sky is gray.
Perfect for when you have writer's block.
Perfect for when you have a boy problem (or two).
Nutella. What else?*
(* If problem persists, use a spoon.)
Apr 6, 2010
Chin Up
Elementary rules for good living:
1. No being grumpy at Easter (especially with this much chocolate).
2. No being grumpy when it's sunny and you're in the south of France and tanning by the pool.
3. No being grumpy when you're with your bestest girlfriend this side of Houston.
4. No being grumpy when you've somehow (indecently) managed to quit your job and spend time doing the one thing you've wanted to do since you were three apples tall.
So I'm not grumpy.
I am struggling with the writing. Except that's alright, because Alina is struggling too (the poor thing has a massive hangover and is stuck in a most uncomfortable love quadrangle). Cue evil laugh.
1. No being grumpy at Easter (especially with this much chocolate).
2. No being grumpy when it's sunny and you're in the south of France and tanning by the pool.
3. No being grumpy when you're with your bestest girlfriend this side of Houston.
4. No being grumpy when you've somehow (indecently) managed to quit your job and spend time doing the one thing you've wanted to do since you were three apples tall.
So I'm not grumpy.
I am struggling with the writing. Except that's alright, because Alina is struggling too (the poor thing has a massive hangover and is stuck in a most uncomfortable love quadrangle). Cue evil laugh.
Apr 5, 2010
Interrogations
This is the view from where I'm sitting right now.
Pastel blue sky. Dark green fronds of palm tree. Sunlit pink and orange houses nestled on a hillside. Red socked feet (mine).
Jealous?
And yet, all is not perfect in the world of Res.
I took four days off from the writing in order to entertain a close group of very good friends over Easter weekend. Tapenade, rosé, and a rather surreal game of charades all meant to refresh my mind and set me up to attack the next chapter (we're up to Chapter 16 now, if you've been following).
And nothing.
Blank.
Literally.
Why does it have to be this hard this often? Maybe this is a sign that I should abandon the ludicrous novel-writing idea, grow up and get a real job?
In other news - well, nothing really funny is happening, so I can't entertain you with that. And as for the purely personal stuff, that's purely personal. But let me just say it's also not helping with the writing! Should I stop having a personal life so I can focus on the writing? Or would my writing be better if my personal life was better?!
So many questions, so little energy to answer them.
Thank the blue heavens for HH (x2) and Supermom...
Pastel blue sky. Dark green fronds of palm tree. Sunlit pink and orange houses nestled on a hillside. Red socked feet (mine).
Jealous?
And yet, all is not perfect in the world of Res.
I took four days off from the writing in order to entertain a close group of very good friends over Easter weekend. Tapenade, rosé, and a rather surreal game of charades all meant to refresh my mind and set me up to attack the next chapter (we're up to Chapter 16 now, if you've been following).
And nothing.
Blank.
Literally.
Why does it have to be this hard this often? Maybe this is a sign that I should abandon the ludicrous novel-writing idea, grow up and get a real job?
In other news - well, nothing really funny is happening, so I can't entertain you with that. And as for the purely personal stuff, that's purely personal. But let me just say it's also not helping with the writing! Should I stop having a personal life so I can focus on the writing? Or would my writing be better if my personal life was better?!
So many questions, so little energy to answer them.
Thank the blue heavens for HH (x2) and Supermom...
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