Onesie McSingleton

Having been off for a week and a half, I am really, really struggling to get back into my job. To be completely honest I hate it.

On the plus side I went ahead and applied for the £10,000 MMU short story competition. I hold out absolutely no hope that I could win; I did my degree there and I know they will choose a story that is weird for weird's sake. But still I feel like more of a real writer just because I've actually tried.

In other news, not sure if it's good or bad, I've had a sort of idea for a children's story. And I mean children children, like the tiger who came to tea level. 

I don't even like children, never mind think about writing for them. But then I was wallowing in my new single life and updated my status with 'Onesie McSingleton is going to Arta tonight'. Onesie McSingleton. I love the rhythm of it and that must be why it got stuck in my head, repeating over and over until I started to wonder what kind of person would be called Onesie McSingleton.

He's a wee boy in a tartan onesie, who's favourite phrase is "I can do it all by myself". There's also a girl called Tutu (I can't decide on her surname though), and another male character as yet unnamed.

It's strange to be thinking at this level, but at the same time it's nice to know my idea cylinders are still firing.

Inspiration

Last Sunday I took part in the Race for Life. It was incredibly hard and made me feel sick but it was worth it because I raised over £500 for Cancer Research.

It was also worth it because it gave me an idea for a story. Not like a competition brief where I ponder over the idea for days or weeks and then plod through writing the story. A proper, flash of light, couldn't write fast enough to keep up with my imagination, solid idea.

I cannot explain how amazing it felt to be writing like that again. It makes me feel like maybe I am a writer after all.

The inspiration and story both made me cry though. Hopefully next time I get a flash it won't be so personal or painful.

Sod's law

I was planning to enter a writing competition for which the brief was to write about someone who couldn't sleep. After too much thought I bashed out an attempt, which wasn't very good. Because the deadline was so close I decided to abandon the story as I wouldn't have time to properly proof and edit it even if I could fix it.

Deadline day arrived and I was feeling disappointed in myself. I had been so determined to finally enter a competition, but when it came down to it I just couldn't. Then while I was walking home from work I had a sudden flash of inspiration - I could make the story work! And the deadline was midnight so I could still submit in time!

I rushed home, turned my laptop on...and remembered that the story was only saved on my work computer.

Lesson learned: save your work EVERYWHERE.

What's in a name?

I suck at creating titles for my work. Occasionally it just jumps out at me, like it did for my assignment The Meaning of Freedom. But mostly I just sit with the story in front of me, staring at it as though I can force it to give me its name, before giving in and calling it something so unimaginative I'm almost ashamed of myself.

The story about 7-year-old Jack and his modern family is written, hooray! Now I have to name it, not so hooray.  I am starting to wonder if my poor titles affected my marks on my degree, and if they've ever stopped me winning a competition.

How do you even fix that? Is there a 'Title Writing' course out there? I wouldn't be surprised, actually. 

Well I've got at least a month to think about it so maybe something will come to me.

(Not really) a book review

I love any and all mythology. Greek, Norse, Celtic, whatever; I can never get enough of it.

Now, you may have noticed in my little side bar that I’m reading a book called Highland Folk Tales. It's quite a lengthy collection of myths, legends and tales from the Scottish Highlands. And I hate it.

Some of the stories aren’t even legends.  Take for example the story of Angie and the Calf, which I will now summarise in a few sentences.

Angie and his Dad own one cow and every year the Dad goes across the water to sell the calf so they can pay the rent for another year. One day Angie is trusted to take the calf and sell it. He does so but on the way home he drinks all the money. The next year his Dad says they’re not selling the calf; they’re going to eat it as Angie drank the last one.

That’s it.  It’s not even a good story.

The only positive thing I can say is that reading the book has been enlightening. I have learned what it is that I love so much about mythology. Put simply, it’s an escape. I love being immersed in a fantastical world where pretty much anything can (and will) happen.

And I know this because Highland Folk Tales is an attempt to be a sort of map book of myths. Chapters start off with phrases like ‘The road from Torridon leads to Kinlochewe, where it meets the A832 which runs north-west along the side of Loch Maree’ 

Instantly all suspension of disbelief is gone. I can’t imagine a story involving fairies with the A832 running through the middle of my brain! The juxtaposition of goblins and motorways is too jarring for me. I can’t escape into it so I’m not enjoying it. 

My only hope is that there will be just one story hidden in there which will spark my imagination the way mythology usually does.

Serendipity

I did not lose my job - hooray! Instead the other Admin girl and I have been cut down to 4 days per week instead of 5. 

Honestly, now I'm over the shock and relief of it all I'm actually quite looking forward to that spare day. After spending an hour with a calculator, two spreadsheets and my internet bank account I've worked out that I can still survive on 4 day's pay, so I don't need to spend that free day frantically applying for any and all jobs. I could write instead.

This might be the perfect opportunity for me to really make a go of a writing career. I would have one whole day every week with the flat to myself when my flatmate goes to her job; no work to go to, nobody to distract me (aside from myself) and not a great deal to do other than write.  

I've already set part of my brain to thinking up stories and articles I could write, and if I keep running out of jobs to do at work (highly likely) I could even begin writing some of them to get a headstart.


Perhaps this incredibly stressful job-at-risk period is actually one of the best things to happen to me.

Sparked

Well, it worked. Creating those characters seems to have given my writing mind a kick up the backside and now I can't stop. Yesterday I wrote a whole story, start to finish, for the first time in months. It's rubbish but at least I wrote it! Now to begin editing.

I may have more time for writing after today, as this afternoon I have a meeting in which I will find out if I'm being made redundant. Obviously I'd like to keep my job because I need money to live. But at the same time the thought of not having to cram my writing into the evenings is quite appealing.

We'll see what happens.