I think it’s a good habit for me to keep a writing diary, so that’s why I’m now trying to get an entry out every week.
(Yes, I know if you look back through these entries you’ll see that there’s a couple of weeks’ gap, but this is a new resolution. Not a New Year Resolution, but definitely a mid-May one.)
All going to plan it should help me put into context what I’ve done that week – how many of the writerly tasks I set out to do I succeeded in, how many others slipped away.
On good weeks, I should feel a little bit of pride in myself. Always I’m going to overload myself with too many tasks so I’ll never get time for all of them, but I will hope to have seen some progress made.
Other weeks (and there will hopefully be fewer of these) I will give myself a damn good kicking.
But at least I’ll do it publicly.
This week I have dug another four stories out of my trunk. Four shorter tales this time, all of them about people trapped in rooms and all of them clearly born from my deep-seated claustrophobia. I intend to have them published in one volume this autumn.
My main task though has been working through the story I wrote about last week – my tale of the gothic. The story of a pompous, bullying aristocrat who receives his comeuppance.
This is a tale I will publish this summer.
What’s really amusing me about it as I work my way through the manuscript is inserting in as many old, syllable-laden words as I can. There are already a great number in there, but I’m getting high satisfaction from cramming in more, poring through the dictionary and thesaurus in my head (as well as actual dictionaries and thesauruses) to see what I can find.
If I’ve already used the word ‘bacchanalian’ – what else is there? ‘Revel’, ‘debauch’, ‘den of licentiousness’. English is a great language with which to describe drunkenness and clearly that’s always been the case.