SAND, or: Summer, Assuming Nothing (Dis)Improves. This is what I am calling my intended summer; assuming nothing gets worse for me, and assuming nothing drastically improves very suddenly, I have a set plan for my summer months. It involves organised chaos, time and words. Lots of words.
These are all fairly well linked attributes of my three and a half months off; organised chaos is interwoven with time, and is part of the process of creating words. Time is vital to achieve words. Words are the offspring of organised chaos and time, and can actually create different worms of them. Yeah... I'm a bit weird that way.
Okay, the plan for the summer. I know you're all dying to know this. Let's take this as one big plan, with smaller sub-plans that interrupt other plans (organised chaos in practice!). There will be, in the social way of looking at things, a trip to the zoo, about a dozen trips to the cinema, four poetry nights, far too many nights out (the sort of things that will make my bank account angry), and more than a few trips into town to meet more than a few people, though not all at the same time. Ever.
That's one sub-plan. Another is writing. Writing a lot. James told me not to. He said, "Well don't spend all your time doing it." No, I will. Well, in accordance with the plan. The plan that insists on my writing being interrupted by friends. Damn them. Damn them to their happy little place that I wish I could stay in for longer than I do. Damn them there twice! (hey cool, I typed that without even looking at the screen, let alone the keyboard!)
The writing will consist of a number of things; it has sub-categories of its own! There will be the editing of Meet Sam, en masse until it's completion. During this time, there will also be the planning and writing of two novels: Dignity and Love, Sam. About two people know about Dignity (the aforementioned James, and Liam, because it was his Facebook status and his hilarious stories that inspired the idea of the book!). About one person knows about Love, Sam. That's Monica. I told her because she insisted on a sequel to Meet Sam, and then suddenly there was one. And another one. I don't know how that happened. There might also be the writing of a third novel, written entirely in letter and diary format, with another author. She's a very good friend of mine, so it could be very interesting! And then there's all the poetry I might write, because poems attack my brain spontaneously. And the plays I might write. And the short stories. And the auto-biography I've had in my head (a letter to my younger self), that, if I complete it, will be sold online.
And, believe it or not, there's more. I plan on trying to learn the ukulele. I have one, just sitting there like a beaten puppy, begging not to be hit by the door again as I open it. I know, what a cruel analogy!
And that's my summer. My whole summer in its entirety. I'll have to take a leaf from Liam's book and keep a record of everything I do during the summer. Every little detail, every little anecdote. Everything that can be fictionalised and used in Dignity or The Sam Richards Trilogy. This is SAND. As it is written, so it shall be. (and due to the nature in which in what written, just about anything can happen!)