C’mon – motivate!

Where is Mr Motivator when you need him, huh? If I had had some dude in nasty Bermuda shorts and a bad baseball cap leap into my flat and tell me to start pumping that keyboard, then perhaps I might have got some work done this week, as well as a potential Crimewatch spot warning people of the ‘Bermuda Terror’. As it is, with no Mr Motivator, my motivation was at an all time low and I cannot quite explain it.

Was it because it really is, no word of a lie, blooming cold in here? Yes it is the heating’s fault, I try to negate it by turning on the piddly little heater and then practically hugging it all day, but this behaviour warns me that fingerless gloves and potentially looking like Steptoe’s niece could well be in my future, neither of which make me happy.

Was it because my other half was home sick for two days? Yes, it was, let me unfairly blame him, as that was a great excuse to ‘not do so much work, if any, at all’, and to instead eat chips at lunchtime and watch clever films, where I sit there and go ‘but what’s happening?’ every five minutes.

Was it because my project manager friend took me out for an end of the month pep talk and got me squiffy on wine? Yes, it was, as that meant I had to take off Thursday feeling poorly, which is no doubt the start of a nasty flu bug and not anything to do with the fact I had three glasses of red, of course not.

Or, was it because I got so bogged down searching for a 1948 song with lyrics that suit a particular bit of chapter, that I managed to spend all week pulling my hair out over it?

I think the main answer is D to be honest… still, I have gone with Frank Sinatra’s ‘My Heart Stood Still’, although it is still not quite right… I was also thinking of Doris Day’s (or Patti Page’s) Confess, You Call Everybody Darlin’ (Al Trace), Little White Lies (Dick Haymes), Rumours Are Flying (can’t remember) or Peggy Lee’s It’s A Good Day.

The only problem is none of these are quite right… maybe an earlier song… See, a scene is being played out in a garden, but music from the wireless (or gramophone) deadens the voices, so the music becomes like the soundtrack to the action… So it has to represent the scene, which is a suspected adultery on the part of the husband being spied on by the wife… Any ideas gratefully received!

Oh - and Blogger thinks I am German again for some reason... More biscuit crumbs dropped down an important keyboard somewhere?

More bloody details

I originally had my characters (Florence and Arthur) down to be from a small village in Cambridgeshire ‘Sussex’, when it is actually ‘Suffolk’ (Sussex being a fair distance away in the wrong direction). I originally wanted them to go to a London theatre for their honeymoon in 1941, only to discover that most of London was being blitzed up to May 1941 so why would any sane person go into town if they didn’t need to be there? And they could have got married later, but in the war why would you wait? And they couldn’t have got married sooner, as Florence only reached 18 in 1941. *headsdesk*

I have to remember this isn’t important – this is not a war story, and doesn’t need to be so involved on that part… oh hang on, later I want them to get a train in to London for the Coronation, so that means they live… *consults google map*. Pants. Big fat shiny pants, I think they will have to live closer in, but then, but then… *consults google map again*.

Sod this for a game of soldiers, I am going to go yoga and buy a ton of post-it notes, that should help me solve what is supposed to be going on around this story!

The devil’s in the details

How far back does a back story go?

The chapter I am writing is set mostly in 1948, and of course, I want it to be authentic, and my characters to be thinking, wearing, listening and eating things that are all from that period in the UK. That is research I expected to do. However, I have just spent four hours reading up about what my character’s husband would have worked as upon leaving school in 1934, when I am not even sure if I will actually touch upon this anywhere in the chapter, let alone in the main story. And the fact that her brother was killed in Dunkirk, when I don’t think I will be saying anywhere at all that she even had a brother! This is research madness! This is research Gone Wrong!

My problem is the Internet. There is so much information and none of it really answers my questions direct, so I end up clicking even deeper, getting more absorbed in rationing and cheese puddings, in the age people left school, and wartime posters. And I totally disappeared in the BBC’s People’s War website, which is a great resource but not the easiest way to find information. It would be much better if there were sub categories under the main headers, so you click on main header The Blitz, for example, and then get London, Regional, Occupations, Bombing etc. But no… that would no doubt mean you could find what you want within 10 minutes – this website wants you to stay forever!

I find myself longing for books, big weighty tomes that I could pull down off the shelf and flick through until I find what I want without having tons of internet windows open. I think it is having everything running on the same screen that drives me mad. But then again books would take just as long, maybe the real problem is I am not framing my questions accurately enough in google.

And... I do like it when my characters become real to me, as that means you can see them from all angles, so to speak, but sometimes they can take on a life of their own. An example is I wanted Florence’s husband to have been in the RAF (of course, me with my interest in war birds! Definitely RAF!), and to have done some sort of printing apprenticeship, which again follows my interests. But no, I just know if this character was real, he would have been in the Army, and done an engineering apprenticeship instead. Why is that?

Agatha Christie's famous male detective was Poirot, a Belgian. In the books, one of his friends is an author called Ariadne Oliver, who writes detective stories based on a man from Finland. In the books, Ariadne rues the day she ever made her detective a Finn, as she continually got letters from readers pointing out mistakes. Ever think this was Agatha's way of sounding off? I sort of can imagine how she feels...

Monday, Monday

Today I surprised myself and cracked on with Chapter four. Yes! Chapter four already – well, the timetable says I have to do a chapter a week from now until mid-Jan, so I have to get cracking – no room to slip! I have to say, this timetable malarkey is a fine thing, I also now have a giant whiteboard behind me with the timetable written on in shaky letters.

It is the sort of whiteboard you see in large boardroom meetings, those very official looking things that have company profits and graphs and weird HR acronyms scrawled upon them. But instead here it sits behind me, and is a constant reminder for me to Get Cracking and Stop Looking Up Old Music On Youtube!

I do try and resist youtube, although it is the source of all wonder. Today I only put in one song, Cry Me A River, sung by the lovely Julie London. We sang together, Julie and I, shocking that she was out of tune in one spot but luckily I was on hand to save her. I wonder how thick the walls are in this flat? And for your viewing pleasure, and to increase my knowledge about what I can do with blogs, without further ado, I present...

Julie London - Cry Me A River
(from the film The Girl Can't Help It, 1956)