Writing again
Eleven years ago I started work on Wilting daffodils, a rite-of-passage novel set in Victorian Britain and France. Although I worked out the complete plot and structure, life got in the way and I have yet to finish it - maybe when I'm retired? It's going to be a big volume though: I've written around 40,000 words so far and that's not even halfway.
Sometime earlier this year I started thinking about writing something more detailed about my father's last days, initially planning on doing one-year-on posts on this blog, until I realised that it's too personal for this medium, not to mention the difficulties posed by fading memories. No time like the present, so I've been remaining up pretty late these last couple of nights working on what could be termed a short story if it weren't entirely factual.
That said, the creative writer in me still wanted to create something in a distinctive style, which in this case comes over in the narrative structure. It's anything but linear: what appears to be an account told in flashback soon starts jumping about a timeline covering about a month, forever going backwards and forwards in a reflection of the way a mind under stress reels from one thought to another.
The intensely private nature of these recollections means I won't be publishing them, at least not for some years. Who knows, Daffs (as I affectionately call my novel) could be completed sooner ...
On another note, I think it's very unlikely, at this stage, that I've got the SCO job. They said they'd let me know by the end of the week, and chances are it would have been in the form of a telephone call. The lack of any contact would suggest there'll be a rejection letter in tomorrow's post. At least I've got the EIF interview on Tuesday, not to mention the opportunity of looking into writing programme notes for the SCO, which might have been a bit dubious if I were working there.
Sometime earlier this year I started thinking about writing something more detailed about my father's last days, initially planning on doing one-year-on posts on this blog, until I realised that it's too personal for this medium, not to mention the difficulties posed by fading memories. No time like the present, so I've been remaining up pretty late these last couple of nights working on what could be termed a short story if it weren't entirely factual.
That said, the creative writer in me still wanted to create something in a distinctive style, which in this case comes over in the narrative structure. It's anything but linear: what appears to be an account told in flashback soon starts jumping about a timeline covering about a month, forever going backwards and forwards in a reflection of the way a mind under stress reels from one thought to another.
The intensely private nature of these recollections means I won't be publishing them, at least not for some years. Who knows, Daffs (as I affectionately call my novel) could be completed sooner ...
On another note, I think it's very unlikely, at this stage, that I've got the SCO job. They said they'd let me know by the end of the week, and chances are it would have been in the form of a telephone call. The lack of any contact would suggest there'll be a rejection letter in tomorrow's post. At least I've got the EIF interview on Tuesday, not to mention the opportunity of looking into writing programme notes for the SCO, which might have been a bit dubious if I were working there.
posted by Anthony at
01:23
3 Comments:
I was wondering what happened to Wilting Daffodils.
And now, Daffs also sounds like an exciting adventure... If I were you, I would complete this first because, as you said, otherwise you might forget details. And it's considerably shorter, I gather.
It is a matter of priorities. Life still getting in the way of Wilting Daffodils, no?
By
Anonymous, at 17/6/06 13:13
Sorry, I should have made it clearer: Daffs what I call Wilting daffodils, for short. What I've written about my father (which is complete, a mere 2000 words) doesn't have a title, at least for the moment.
By
Anthony, at 17/6/06 15:00
Of course. I should have realised.
Well. You know what I meant.
By
Anonymous, at 17/6/06 17:13
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