A write old challenge

Uh oh. Two of my writing buddies and I have made a pact to have submitted our work to agents by the end of this year. Eek. 

Since my novel is currently undergoing it's third rewrite, I know it should be ready but I keep rewriting the first chapter in a bid to make it as good as possible. It needs to be perfect. It needs to be engaging and captivating and enticing enough to make a very busy agent want to read the second page. Which, obviously, 

needs to be even better than the first page so that the hugely busy agent reads another page. And so on. 

It's a terrifying prospect. But although the fear of rejection is one reason I am procrastinating so much, the thing I most dread is the endless waiting for a reply. I know it might be weeks and months before an envelope lands on the floor, probably A4 sized and heavy with the returned first three chapters of my novel. I also know that that won't stop me from impatiently waiting for the mailman all day every day (sometimes we don't get our post until half three in the afternoon - that's a lot of staring at the door for one day). 

However, I think it is time. Time to start sending out chapters, time to start a new novel and definitely time to start pinning those rejections on the wall so that I can proudly say that I am trying to get published rather than hiding behind my laptop making just one more adjustment to page one and, oh, just adding one more line of dialogue on page five and changing that last sentence of chapter two.

Incidentally, Lady M is pushing me to read less and write more too. She emptied out my wallet at the old people's house the other day and my library card got left behind. So, there is no teetering pile of library books demanding to be read in three weeks time. Of course, there are at least twenty bought books waiting to be opened but the majority of those have been waiting about three years so another month or so won't hurt. 

One more reading by aforementioned writing buddies and the three chapters are being sent. It's been decided. End of this month. Four submissions. New novel started. Done (in the words of Gordon Ramsay.)

Muddy boots, aching back and Brian May!

So, I went to Reading Festival over the weekend courtesy of the high street chain Warehouse. And it's all thanks to Lady M. You see, if it wasn't for her christening, I wouldn't have bought a dress from Warehouse and got a store card (paid off in full btw, I'm not silly) and been sent emails from them. One of which was about a competition to win tickets to one of the summer festivals. I chose Reading and then forgot all about it UNTIL I received a phone call to tell me I had won tickets. I very rarely win anything, not even bars of Dairy Milk on village fete tombolas so I didn't fully believe it until they scanned the tickets on Friday and let me and the Rock through.

We couldn't go on the Saturday (no babysitters - doting Grandparents were off at a family wedding) but we did manage to go on the Sunday as well as the Friday which was worth it just to see Tim Minchin who is a Musical Comedy genius. I heart him. We did stay to see Muse but, to be perfectly honest, we got a bit bored. As did lots of people judging from the rapidly thinning crowd. I am a huge fan of live music but I do like to know the words to at least the choruses of some of the songs so, sadly, a rendition of the entire 'Origin of Symmetry' 2001 album wasn't for me and I did think they were being slightly self indulgent.

Friday was genuinely epic though (see, spending the weekend with school leavers has broadened my knowledge of contemporary slang) - 30stm, Patrick Wolf, Deftones, A Genuine Freakshow and, of course, My Chemical Romance. Awesomeness rose to a new level when Brian May came back onstage with MCR and they covered 'We Will Rock You' followed by 'Welcome to the Black Parade.' I was a very happy, tired, muddy competition winner (even the scantily dressed children couldn't ruin my festival buzz on Friday.) One thing though, Lady M is NOT camping at a festival ever. She can go but she will be collected every night by me or the Rock. As much as I want to be a relaxed mum, there is no way she will be camping overnight. Walking through one if the campsites and looking around at all the teenagers in various states of inebriation and (un)dress, I thought this is the ninth circle of hell for any mother whose teenager is here. No, no, no. Unless I can fit Lady M with a teeny tiny camera so that I know what she's doing every second, just no. 

So, now to the other end of the lifestyle spectrum, a weekend at the Olds sans the Rock who is currently cycling around Scotland in the rain. Crazy. Lady M will be subjected to endless rounds of Pat-a-cake whilst I try to rein in my relief of being allowed to be 'off-duty' for a few days. Because, you know, it is amazing to have someone else change the nappies and cook the meals and clean the floor three times a day and entertain a tiny person for a while. Lady M is amazing and funny and gorgeous but sometimes it all gets a little bit tedious and, whisper this next word, dull. So, a long weekend away can be just the right thing to alleviate that feeling and then, next week, we start back at all the classes and playgroups, etc. I'll be aiming for one a weekday and I've already got Tuesdays and Fridays sorted out...