This time last year

When I compare this summer to last summer, one thing is definitely clear: I am less crazy. Or more crazy and it just doesn't get to me as much. Definitely less bored, though.

This time last year, I was at my wit's end. It had nothing to do with my results going up online (or somebody telling me every minute that they were up, when they weren't!). It had nothing to do with anything, really, which was precisely the problem. I had nothing to do. At all.

This year... well, I've been writing Dignity, for a start, after several failed attempts to get anywhere in this story. The first attempt was terrible. Got barely anything done. The second attempt at it, I made my plan for the story (the plan in my head) slightly longer. The third time, even longer and I completely changed the perspective of where the reader was seeing all of the action from. This time around, I've gone back even further and I'm incorporating a lot more material from the alleged "real life" that has been led and doing something quite strange with it... I'm giving it a plot. Life doesn't have a plot. The things we do each day aren't a plot. If you wrote a novel detailing even three months of a character's life and having every day being interesting and worth reading, it'd be the most unrealistic three months ever. Or the most adventurous.

(Little secret, though: even grand road trips across America can be boring to do, because from the stories I've heard of them, most of the time there's nothing to do. That's why America has so many tourist attractions along the highway.)

Okay, so with Dignity well under way, it's even not enough to keep me interested all the time. Thankfully, I've been given a day extra work each week. Rather than just work the weekends, I work a mid-week day, too! It's very handy for making the weeks seem less boring. When you have breaks in the week of two days each, it feels like school used to before I started working, only with twice the weekends - school, weekend, school, weekend - only in this case instead of school it's working in a bookshop, and instead of a weekend it's Mondays and Tuesdays, and Thursdays and Fridays. The extra work is also great for having that little bit more money.

To fill the days I'm off, I've done a number of things. One of these was a road trip across the country, looping down south briefly before taking the N7 back to Maynooth, and a train home. This day was occupied with chats with the driver, the radio, rain in every county we drove through, rail-way superstitions, music from 1994 and the accompanying dance moves, a new love of The Saw Doctors, Supermacs in Galway (because we're fairly sure it's illegal to not have a Supermacs when you go to Galway) and a double-rainbow on the drive home. Other less adventurous things that have filled the days between shifts at work have been: trips to the cinema, a trip to Balbriggan to see a friend off to Switzerland for the summer, trips to the comic book shops and bookstores in Dublin and a gig, at which I saw The Shoos play, got their autographs and a photograph with them.

Between these miscellaneous adventures in Dublin and around the country and writing Dignity and working in the bookshop, I've been reading a bit. I've read children's books, books about writing, adult fiction (not erotica... I just mean the books that aren't children's books but are fiction) and comics (hence the trips to the comic book shops!) Of the comics I've been reading... well, they've all been X-Men. Because I'm that cool.

Last year... last year had some adventures of its own, the best being a 21st party, but it also had lots of boredom and a bit (understatement) of moaning down the phone at the same person who drove me around the country (and repeatedly called it a boring day). It was a truly unremarkable summer last year. I making up for it this year by writing the book I've been trying to write for over a year (and writing an ending to Meet Sam that I'm actually happy with!) and arranging different odds and sorts to occupy my time between working on the book and working with books (and people... there are people in the shop, too.)

Maybe, just maybe, this won't be as much a bad summer as last year. Maybe.

PS my favourite line I've written so far today:

The context: the main character is essentially referencing himself in the narration in third person, though he's not the narrator... that description makes it sounds weird... okay, it actually is weird, but the description is worse... I'll just give you the line.

"He was too good to be arrogant."

Writing Days

I have a very particular writing day; I've gotten myself into a habit, based on how tired I am at particular times of the day. I can't write too much at night, anymore, unless I'm still in the swing of things. I usually wake between seven and eight in the morning, so I'll shower by nine or shortly afterwards and get going for the day. I got over three thousand words done today. That's not my best, but I'd be more than happy to get that done every day.

Every day I write is the same, assuming I wasn't out the day before, and therefore extra tired. Admittedly, the tiredness can carry on for a few days. I've noticed two day gaps developing in my writing. Anyway, every day is the same if I'm not tired; I write after my shower (and my breakfast) until about one in the afternoon. At that point, I'll have lunch. I'll also have had about two or three cups of tea. I'm an addict at this stage. I'll get a cup at lunch, too, and one at hour later; by five or six, I'll have to stop to get dinner, and afterwards I'll be to tired to write anymore, as the day will have stretched on.

My writing day is also filled with music. I know some people can't write with music playing - I can't write poetry with music playing, for instance - but when it comes to fiction, I have to have music playing. I like my little writing montages. Many days it's the same songs, over and over again, a playlist on YouTube of songs recommended by Liam (he has the best and most varied taste in music out of anyone I know); unfortunately, the playlist is twelve songs long. So I switch between that, Alex Day's album on his website, and The Doors. Today, I did something special. I wrote along to The Beatles. I never listen to The Beatles. Ever. But I loved it. (It was Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts' Club) I also played Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon; I'm familiar with a few of the songs, but played as a whole... wow! The next step is to get my hands on a Bruce Springsteen album, more of The Beatles, a Bob Dylan album or two and something by Simon and Garfunkel. Apparently they're all awesome.

Writing along to music like this, I can get through a story in no time. It's my job, though I don't get paid. I just work throughout the day, getting lots written on my current work in progress, Love is a Remarkably Destructive Bitch. If I'm forgetting all about modesty, it's a pretty good book. I need to finish it within the next couple of weeks, though, because I have three more books I want to write before the summer's over, and I'd also like to get the second draft for Meet Sam written. I think that'll be next, so that when I've written the next of my books, The Great Leap, and probably Dignity, too, I'll be coming back to it nice and fresh. Once the edits on the second draft are done, I'll be working on a new idea, fresh off the press last night: The Masked Expellator. It's a parody superhero novel. I blame Fiona for it.

As you can tell, I'm a little bit busy, and still working weekends. Miley Cyrus might be getting a job soon, so my Adventureland days with her may soon be coming to an end... scratch that, they'll be coming to a pause. Adventureland doesn't end, it only takes a short break. We'll make sure to get more stuff done during the college year. It'll be awesome. The only upside for me (upside for her being money) is that I'll have lots of time to write in between the less frequent plans with other friends, so I should be able to get at least Love is a Remarkably Destructive Bitch written. Hopefully by the end of the month. I'd like to write The Great Leap and Dignity before I go back, but I'd have to have many days like today, or like June 25th - 9385 words that day! I'd be writing a novel a week if I wrote like that all the time!

But there you have it: my routine and my goals. My writing will slow down considerably once I go back to college, so I want to get as much done as possible within the next couple of months. The upside, of course, is that I have breaks of this length every year. For the rest of my life. (assuming I finish college and get a job as a teacher, and that I don't end up working as a writer full time, in which case I have a "break" like this for the rest of my life, during which I can write a dozen first drafts a year if I wanted to.)

Actually, I like that idea in the brackets. See, I don't just write novels. I write novellas too, now. They're shorter, but I still manage to get some depth into them. My trick is to limit the number of characters in them, so that there's not too much to have to do. I had two main characters in one I wrote recently called Stepping Forward, with a grand total of seven side characters, with only two of them having any narrative focus at all. And it's quite awesome, if I do say so myself. The only printed copy of it is in the possession of a friend for him to read before I can show anyone else.

Novellas are a wonderful thing, though. I mean, less publishers are likely to print them, but they're still fun to write, and if I actually become a successful, popular author, a publisher might take a chance with something like Stepping Forward, or it'd be published as a serial novella, or with two or three other books in one volume. Something cool like that.

Now I'm getting myself all caught up in hypothetics, again. As you can see, writing days leave me with lots of time to think too much. I've been told I do that too much, anyway. I'll leave this blog post here, before I write all about my plans for WORLD DOMINATION.

Strange Days

All throughout Sunday and Monday, I had a period of silence; I texted whomever texted me, and with the exception of a couple of texts on Monday, that was it. I didn't talk to anyone until they talked to me. This does make for a lonely time, of course, until someone says something to you. I was fortunate that on Sunday, I got a text from the lovely Miley Cyrus, and for seven hours we kept a conversation going about friends and stuff like that. At the same time, I was reading The Thin Executioner (review). It kept me going through the day. It was actually a pretty good day, after that. I remember going to bed happy.

The next day, I wasn't so happy. Having discovered I wouldn't be seeing a friend, whom I haven't seen in about three and a half weeks and hadn't heard from in a few days, either, I got myself a bit down. I didn't text anyone, then. I stopped replying to Miley to stop myself moaning to her the entire day and getting her down. Paper Towns (review) arrived at twelve. I read that, to keep me going. I got through the entire thing that day, in between a couple of texts to see what, exactly, I might be able to arrange with the ever-distant friend. In short: nothing. He didn't reply. I sent him a long, bitchy email about it. I finished Paper Towns, texted him again.

Three things: one, sorry for being such an arse earlier. Two, I've sent you an email that I still don't really understand but I know I still want you read. Three, I read the most amazing novel ever today, and I think I understand things a whole lot better now

I didn't get a reply, and I didn't expect one. I went to bed thinking about hunting down paper towns.

I awoke at three in the morning. I was tired. Very tired. Three hours sleep. That was all I'd gotten. I was awake until six, thinking about something. Just thinking and planning. Like Margo Roth Spiegelman. I love Margo Roth Spiegelman. So I planned, like Margo, to go somewhere. I knew my itinerary, once I knew when I was having dinner; I left my house early in the morning..ish. I got a quarter past eleven train with an Eason bag in my hand, containing a not-birthday present and a brown envelope filled with the necessary explanations of crazy, and my novella.

I walked to his workplace; I had my plan, but I didn't have a car to speed things up. I hurried around the industrial estate, looking desperately for where he worked so I could hurry back to the city centre for lunch. I eventually asked a man at a taxi place - because taxi drivers know where everything is - and found the place. Closed. Yeah, they'd just moved a few days ago.

That was it, I thought. I'd come all that way for nothing. Except... "Are you looking for [insert name of company here]?" It was one of the employees. He had the van behind him. He had a pony tail and a friendly face, and he explained that they'd moved, and where they'd moved to, and asked did I know how to get there. No, I told him. I didn't say I'd gotten the train, that I couldn't drive, and that I was in a big hurry. He gave me directions. I was still a little lost. Eventually, I just asked if he could deliver the Eason bag.

And he did. He took it from me and drove off. Sorted. I walked to the train station again. There was nobody else there. No staff, no commuters. It was silent. There was no info on when the next train was coming. I was in the middle of nowhere, the only back arse of Dublin, and I had no way of getting home. No one but Miley Cyrus and Pony-Tail Man knew I was in the area.

I waited. What else could do? I just waited, and waited, and waited. Eventually the train came. I was already late for lunch. I had already deferred the question of where I was and how long I'd be. I had no idea how long I'd be, when I first got the text. The train brought me back to the city. I finally had my lunch.

Then Miley texted. Could she meet up? Of course she could! We hung out. Adventureland Day 3. We headed towards Stephen's Green. I had just said to her to text our friend who I'd tried to visit, when the TARDIS began to call out. The TARDIS is my ringtone. I know, utterly nerdy. I didn't recognise the number, but I knew who it was.

The package had been delivered. I'd asked him to call when he'd gone through everything. It was in a letter of explanation in the brown envelope. I'd written it between half four and ten to five that morning, then rewrote it much neater writing, and with a fancy pen. He called me crazy, twice, in two different ways. He could write a book if he wanted if he can manage to not repeat himself in conversation. I was impressed, and laughing. He was stuffed away under a table. Literally under a table. He had three computers, two screens, over 100 ports and, if you'll excuse my French, a shit load of cables. He had to try figure out what went where. And he had no windows. Not the comptuer programme. He literally had no windows. He couldn't see what sort of day it was outside. He wasn't missing much. It was overcast.

I bought Strange Days, the album by The Doors, and a Jim Morrison poster. I was happy. I was estatic, actually. I'd gotten a phone call, and when I got home, I discovered that I'd also gotten a reply to my really long email. A really cool reply. I won't post it here. It's more fun keeping it to myself. My train had left the station four minutes before I received the reply, so I didn't get until later. That and the phone call and the meeting up with Miley - they made my day. It. Was. Amazing.

But I was still very tired. Sure, I now had the musical awesome that is Strange Days playing, and we got pizza in for dinner, but that didn't make up for the fact that I woke at three and fell asleep shortly after six, only to wake again shortly before eight. Even as I write this, after at least eight hours sleep, I'm tired. I'd let myself worry too much beforehand. Still, it's all turned out for the best. I think... Unless he really thinks I'm crazy. But he wouldn't have called if he didn't want to be friends. S'all good in the hood.

Yeah... that was three really strange days. Today is recovery day. I'm tweeting again, blogging again, responding to comments again, leaving things on Facebook again, texting again, not calling anyone unless I need to because I'm low on credit, but that's it. I'm back in touch with the world, after lots of silence and lots more craziness.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some tea to make and drink. I reckon five-seven cups today should help...

Oh My God It's Miley Cyrus!

So, yesterday was my second day of Adventureland with Miley Cyrus. It was rather epic. I went to Offaly, where she lives; we spent a large amount of time being children, in and out of her house. Her parents were lovely; her dad (or, daddy if you go by how she refers to them) was very smart and funny, and her mum kept trying to feed me. Her brothers were shocked that I didn't like football, but oddly didn't hold it against me. Once I said I had no interest in it, they left it at that. That's a first. Really, it is. Too many people start asking, things like, "But why? Would you not just watch it?" Eh, no.

We also watched Ferris Bueller's Day Off, and decided that one of our friends is pretty much like Ferris. Naturally, I texted him to express our opinions. "You. Are. Ferris. Bueller. FACT!" I don't know whether he was more amused or confused.

Aside from having a wee adventure to Tullamore, getting Animal Cookies, White Mice, jellies and hot chocolate, we pretty much just hung out and chatted. Good times were had. We also took a few photos, and recorded the above video. Photography was mainly consisting of us wearing 3D glasses. Let's face facts - 3D glasses are a waste unless they are actually worn, so we might as well take photos with them. I won't be posting them here... because really I'm too lazy. See, it takes a while to get to Offaly, so I travelled a bit yesterday... two 40-45 minutes train journeys, two 15-20 minute LUAS journeys, one 20-25 minute bus journey and four 15-20 minute car journeys. I got home after twelve at night, having left before nine in the morning.

It. Was. Awesome!

However, it has left me quite tired. I think I'll be resting up tonight and writing tomorrow, and hoping I'll have another day of Adventureland next week. Even if it does stop me writing, it's loads of fun! And that's what this summer is all about, for me. Writing is what eats away at the boredom between Adventureland, and what lets me explore the lives of a few people. Fun fun fun!