NaNoWriMo update

Having been engulfed by NaNoWriMo fever over the last few weeks, my poor blog has been a little neglected, for which I can only apologise. A kind commenter has nudge me back into blog-mode (thank you, Anonymous!), so I will hang my head in shame and get on with telling you how it's going...

On day 6 I have got up to 5,127 words. This is a slightly lower total than I was hoping for at this point, but I must admit that I didn't entirely begin until Sunday evening, that traditional time for starting tasks you really should have got on with days ago. I got through 2000 words on that first day, and over 2000 more yesterday, so if I carry on at this rate, it should be fine. I'm actually enjoying myself, and finding that the knowledge that I just have to get on and do it, rather than pootle around with plots or stationery (my ongoing weakness...) has liberated my typing fingers, and lots and lots of words keep tumbling off the ends of them! Now, I have locked up my internal editor, and am only allowing myself to read back over what I have written if I need a piece of information ('What colour jumper did I say she's wearing?' etc). As seasoned NaNo-ers have pointed out, December 1st is for editing! This is my 'don't look down' draft, and I'm not even going to peep through my fingers unless I absolutely have to.

I also have a little more time than usual, especially in the mornings, having done something peculiar to my ankle at the gym, so I won't be going back there for a little while. Unfortunately this unexpected time bonus may just get eaten up by the huge amount of time it takes me to get anywhere now, especially if stairs are involved...

The Seventh Gate - Richard Zimler

My brothers always used to tell me that it was weird watching comedy on TV with me because I never laugh when it's funny. I laugh a lot in real life, but I've always found a disconnect between finding something funny on TV or in a book, and actually laughing out loud. I also find this applies to finding something sad in a book and it making me cry, but when reading this book, especially the last 100 pages or so, I was in floods of tears.

Having read 'The Last Kabbalist in Lisbon' and been a bit confused I wasn't sure at all what to expect. This is a very different sort of story, though there are similar themes in both books, such as the mysteries that are central to both tales and looking at being Jewish in a time when that could mean death. Sophie, an Aryan teenager in 1930's Berlin, wants to be Jewish, while having to protect her 'distant' (possibly autistic?) mute brother. The conflicts her family have in their journey from being Communists to paid-up members of the Nazi party intensify this desire, and she begins a relationship that breaks nearly every taboo of the time. While the story grows in unexpected ways, the heart-breaking inevitabilities that loom through every page are tackled in particularly poignant matter-of-fact descriptions, painting realistic pictures of the horrors that ended so many lives. The ending to such a story could never be happy, but it seems balanced and the culmination of Sophie's lover's internal quest gives an interesting slant to factual events. One day, I'll read this again to take in more of the intricate layers, but when I do I'll be armed with a gigantic box of tissues.

NaNoWriMo

My NaNoWriMo profile is all up and running - lazyperfectionista (come and make me your buddy!) - and I'm researching like crazy to have enough to write about to achieve my 50,000 words. I'm slightly apprehensive about how busy I'm going to be, with two of the four weekends already filled with non-writing activities, but I'll have to be really disciplined on the days when I don't have people visiting or plans down in London...

Eek!

Have signed up for NaNoWriMo! The rest of October is now fully dedicated to researching, noting, outlining and thinking. And November will be manic.

Yet again

Work has been totally crazy over the last couple of weeks, and I'm absolutely shattered. I've hardly written anything, hardly read anything (though am enjoying 'The Book Thief' by Markus Zusak) and just want to go to sleep in the corner. I am still around, and hope that this weekend I'll get enough time to catch up on my blogging and writing, but might be unconscious on the sofa for most of it!

The Meaning of Night - Michael Cox

The atmosphere of this book reminded me of 'The Historian' by Elizabeth Kostova, with hidden tales of a secret life revealed through books, letters and diaries, bringing new dangers and worries on every page. I was up until 12.50 last night, frantically trying to finish this, knowing that if I put it down I would never manage to go to sleep without know how it ended up. When I finally read the last page, I was pleased to note that while I had guessed a few key twists, the crucial surprises had really surprised me.

Although I'm not an expert, the vocabulary the author used seemed to match the period the book is set in, with lots of interesting nuggets of Victorian gold. The resulting primness is juxtaposed with the darkness at the heart of the tale; enormous loss, bitter secrets and violence leading through the murkier side of the mid-19th century to the climactic clash of the sworn enemies. This absorbing debut was nominated for the 2006 Costa First Novel Award, which was eventually won by 'The Tenderness of Wolves' by Stef Penney. I honestly don't know how they chose between them.

Contemplating coffee