Saturday, 5 December 2009

sleepy, grumpy, Saturday (or, Bijou = two of the seven dwarves and one day of the week)

Re-writing is hard. Its tricky keeping up the momentum when my writing isn't so "fly by the seat of my pants, I don't really care so long as I get it down on paper". When I actually have to think about what happens next, and I care about teeny little things like consistency. Even though it doesn't have to be perfect, I'm only too aware that that day will come, so the more I can do now, the easier it will be. I'm also starting to doubt myself. And I've been doing overtime, so I'm very tired (how I ever used to have two jobs I do not know, I've only done an extra eight and a half hours this week and feel like I'm on the brink of some sort of emotional collapse). But, I have been getting into work for seven, and using my first hour to write (oh, and Christmas shop, but hey ho) so I guess thats something. My friend Lucy suggested that I may be setting myself silly goals, and that perhaps I could re-write the thing a little slower...I don't know, I guess I just want to get it done. Boo! A tired and not as productive as she would have liked to have been Bijou is a sad Bijou.

The boyfriend and your man Bloom have gone to the match so I have the flat to myself, and after falling asleep on the couch during the Psychic Detectives (I love the Crime channels!!!) and then feeling grumpy so going to bed for an unsuccessful nap, I'm now drinking frothy coffee with a spoonful of actual coffee in it, and its not really working in th short term so I have a terrible feeling that I'm going to go super-hyper later. I've got 100 weekend rock albums on in the background, and I'm going to try and get two thousand words before I go out. I think I will feel better then. Tomorrow, we're going to Tynemouth flea market, which is good because I'll probably buy some books, and one of my characters lives in Tynemouth so I'm going to find her a house and take some photos of it, stalker-stylee.

Right, the words are not going to type themselves, I'd best get to it. In the meantime, have a poem. I've actually quite enjoyed putting some old stuff on here, I've decided I quite like it! Still no excuse for not writing new stuff, but that day will come. I'm currently working on two short stories and one piece of flash fiction, oh, and the big story. Busy, busy, busy.


ps is it just me, or has the spell check facility disappeared from the blog? I can't find it!?!

Save the Tigers

He stands there, unsmiling,

the sign on the back of his t-shirt
peppered with exclamation marks,
far more excited than he is
as he watches,

suits and briefcases swarm round him
racing to wherever they had to be
ten minutes ago!
Ignoring the empty tin
that he isn’t rattling
as he stares, unblinking
and he watches,

polished suits and pressed shirts
dancing round novelty ties
heading off to the city!
To secretaries, twelve hour days, ulcers,
paper work, sales reports and corner offices,
carpeted, with a view of the river.

And he just stands there. Redundant.
His premature grey hair messy
an unfortunate side-effect when in the long run
it wasn’t worth it. As he stands
saving tigers at the tube station.

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