Writuals

This interesting article examines the daily routines - writuals - of some of Ireland's writers.

L'Gueuleton and The Science Gallery

Lunch at L'Gueuleton was delicious - we both had the plat du jour of cod with young vegetables, rocket salad and sauce vierge. At 15 euro with a glass of white wine thrown it was excellent value. We shared a cheese board for dessert which was thankfully more to The Ours' taste than mine as I was already bursting at that stage!

We then made our way to the Science Gallery to view the Pills exhibit. All the pieces were impressive.

I especially liked Under Wraps, where the 4000 pills used to treat menstrual problems and HRT lined the inside of a cape.

This was part of Table Talk, where pictures and narratives about HIV and AIDS were printed on napkins and placemats and set for guests who have been impacted by the disease. The message on the screen is chilling by itself, but when The Ours pointed out the patient's age at the top right corner of the screen, I welled up.

The last day of the exhibition is today so if you're interested get yourself down there!

Tonight it's Daisy's 30th, ahem 25th birthday party. God help my liver.

Long Weekend

The Ours surprised me yesterday by taking today and tomorrow off work! Today we're taking it easy, but tomorrow we're planning to have lunch at L' Gueuleton and then onto the Pills exhibit at the Science Gallery.

I'm just so happy to spend some extra time with him, seems like weekends just aren't enough. (I'm still planning to get some writing done but probably when The Ours is out gyming it.)

Brainwaves

I finished the paper edit/rewrite of my second story yesterday - changed quite a few things, but haven't cut everything thankfully.

So now to the laptop part. This takes much longer as I often just note directions on paper rather than the specific wording. Also as I work through the hard copy I'll often have a brainwave about a character or a scene that needs to come before, so I'll go back scribble a note like: "Andrew has OCD!!!" or "Eamon needs to mention something to Andrew here to stop him from telling Sophia" which often scraps what I'd already written previously.

But it's all good. I'm happy that I've eroded the plot holes at this stage (at least the ones I've spotted) and have improved the story and the flow. God bless Sol Stein. I made notes when I read Solutions for Writers and I go over them again before each edit. His advice is slowly but surely invading my fuzzy, bubble-wrapped brain.

Scribblers Corner

I made a deal with myself - if I edited eight pages this morning I'd go to Scribbler's Corner.

Eight pages later I was running around the flat for my notepad and pen. Making myself as presentable as possible I dawdled up the hill, gulping at the semi-fresh air of Dublin city centre and gave my nerves a lecture.

At the Writer's Centre I was met by Simon who ran the group, and he was so friendly and helpful that I got my breath back. Many in the group were newcomers and we exchanged nervous glances. The first topic that we were to freewrite about for twenty minutes was 'The Flag'. I came up with this:

The flag unfurled in the light wind, the material rippling. The three men attached it to the flag pole. They stood in ceremony, dressed in heavy black coats with deep pockets for shelter from the winter's day. All eyes on the fluttering material as it strained and tore against their grasp.

The flag is fixed now, and the dark haired man handled the rope with a practised accuracy. The tricolour screeched as it inched up the chipped metal. Satisfied, the men stepped back to bow their heads, fingers pressed together in prayer. The only sound was the creaking of the metal.

The wind died. The flag swooned to the floor; the men rushed forward to protect it from the muddy ground. But something distracted the blond haired man, the glint of sunlight against a flack jacket. Two Guards* are running towards the Garden.

The white haired man grabbed the rope and pulled sharply. The flag tore a quarter of the way up. They swapped glances as the guards bore down on them and they nodded. A match was put to the cloth. It burst into flame.

Simon gave me lots of advice about publishing in Ireland after the meeting, and he told me not to be nervous about reading my writing - because it was there already, and it would just get better with practice.

I'm so glad that I went now.

*The Gardai are the Irish policeforce.

Grown Up

Whoo what a weekend so far! The Ours and I drowned our sorrows at Aussie Dan's leaving party on Friday night. He's been living in Ireland for nearly nine years. Until his flight to Australia this evening that is. We'll miss him - he's a great friend, funny, kind and intelligent. Safe home Dan.

Chapter One is ten minutes walk from our flat but until Saturday night we'd never set foot in the place; their pre-theatre menu is incredibly popular. The restaurant was awarded its first Michelin star last year and I had to book two months in advance to see what the fuss was about.

And it lived up to the hype! The food was delicious and the relaxed, friendly atmosphere was a refreshing change to the traditional stuffiness that is often served up with food of this standard. If you happen to know what you're doing two months in advance, I'd recommend a visit!

After our meal we headed down to the Gate Theatre to see The Glass Menagerie by Tennessee Williams. We enjoyed the experience so much that we've decided to see every play at the Gate this year.

Then we went home and enjoyed a great bottle of red. How grown up of us.

What I Learned The Hard Way

Half-way through my paper edit and I think I've got the hang of this editing/re-writing lark. Editing the first story was a baptism of fire - this is what I've taken from it:

I immediately banish those self-critical thoughts that sometimes pop up before I sit down to work in the morning and when I go to bed at night.

And if the FEAR takes hold, I focus on something else rather than picking away at it until I'm reduced to a puddle of anxiety.

I sit down at the same time every day and set a target. If I'm feeling positive the target is ambitious - if I'm nervous about the part I'm editing the target is more modest.

I set a timer to 120 minutes and won't take a break until it beeps...

...but I avoid getting hung up about how many hours I'm working. As long as I hit my target I've had a good day, regardless of how I got there.

I aim to work at least one day of the weekend, but make sure to socialise and relax too.