Thank you to Def Leppard for providing the title to today's blog post. It's in reference to the fact that at the moment I seem to be two steps behind the step forward I'd taken at last week's Fat Club.
I'm sending the llamas to Madrid for the weekend. It's the Euro 2012 final on Sunday and they're supporting Spain. They're all so excited it's been pandemonium round here, what with them flinging their sombreros in the air with jubilation, Enrique doing back flips all over the place, Ricardo getting busy making red and yellow leg warmers for the occasion and Miguel finally getting up from his sick bed to look for his passport. He's still only on three legs at the moment but the cast is due to come off next week, and he can start training again in a couple of weeks.
You know what that means, of course, and they're so busy celebrating the fact that they're going on holiday that they've failed to notice that there will be no fiesta this week. They only get upset when I don't lose weight, and have you ever seen an unhappy llama face? It'd melt a heart of lead, I'm telling you. Look:
Imagine twenty of those. I simply couldn't do it to them.
After a week of hard slog, self-deprivation, a will of cast iron and Synning like a Puritan in an attempt to lose half a goddam sodding pound - I somehow inexplicably managed to put ON half a pound!!
I was gutted. And really really narked. Those blooming scales haven't been on my side since Andrea the Consultant bought them!!
So, I felt the only thing to do under the circumstances was to come home, pour out a few large glasses of something interesting and have my first pizza of the year. Let's face it, if I put half a pound on by being majorly strict, I may as well eat yummy food and have a good time putting weight on!!
Of course, I'm back on it today. I do think having nights where you think "Soddit!" is an important part of the whole process. I'm not going to put 3 1/2 stone back on by eating half a pizza and a enjoying a couple of drinks while I'm watching the football once in six months. So long as it's just ONE night of forgetting about it out of seven or fourteen or thirty or however often you officially come to the end of your tether, rather than every night, it's not going to do you any harm and it does keep you going on the straight and narrow for a lot longer. Constantly saying 'no' to food and drink that you're dying to say 'yes' to just depresses you, especially when you feel like you're constantly saying 'no' and not seeing any results from it. Like me, at the moment.
Although I was genuinely buoyed when one of the ladies at Fat Club who hadn't been for the last couple of weeks turned to me and said, "Bloomin' 'eck, you haven't half gone skinny! You can really see it in your face! You're doing brilliant!" I mean, I was so pleased that I didn't even think about correcting her grammar!!
I know half a pound isn't the end of the world, but it's just so annoying. I honestly feel at the moment that I will never ever get there. Ever. So I'm not going to think about it for the next few days, it's just too depressing.
Besides, I've started reading again. You know the biggest tip writers get? READ. As much as you can. Just give it a whirl. Get reading. Open a book, sit down for an hour and let your eyes dance across the pages. Not literally. I have to say, when I was younger I was known to (my friend Emily will testify to this) read at least two books in one night. Of late, I've totally got out of the habit of reading. It's sheer laziness. I've had the best of intentions of reading and just never got round to actually doing it in ages and ages. Not properly. Not in that 'I am actually so into this book that I have utterly lost my grip on reality' manner that made me fall in love with books and reading and writing in the first place type fashion. Until yesterday when I started reading The Prisoner of Zenda. I have a feeling that even though I've only read the first three chapters, if anyone wants me for the next week or so, I'll be in Ruritania.
The reason I'm telling you this is because I think I've discovered the real cause of my writer's block. I vaguely realised it yesterday afternoon when I read a snippet of Suzie Tullet's current work in progress, and couldn't stop thinking about all the different directions the story could have come from and might go to. The realisation was cemented when I started reading Zenda. I haven't read anything - and so it naturally follows that I can't write anything.
I don't even know how this works. It's some sort of magic. I had worried for a while that writing after reading would be viewed by others as a type of plaigarism. This, however, is a stupid line of reasoning because - as everyone knows - there are only seven stories, therefore there are no original ideas, there are only variations on themes. But reading actually doesn't have the effect of making someone write a carbon copy of what they've read. It does more than that. It somehow manages to realign your brain into thinking creatively, so that you can form your own plots and subplots and tangents from what you're writing - no story ever really finishes because everyone can add to it or put their own spin on it. It brings characters and worlds to life and it shows you the way you need to construct sentences, paragraphs and dialogue in order to do it. They're How-To manuals for the Muse. It makes the Muse think 'hang on a minute, I can do better than that!' and then before you know it you've written something, most of the time completely different to the thing you've been reading. I simply haven't had anything to work from. That's my problem.
I really wish I'd made this glaringly obvious discovery a lot sooner. I might need to go off-grid while I get some heavy duty reading done over the next few weeks. I have ideas and hopefully this will help me to realise them.
So, all in all, the utter devastation I felt last night has somewhat dissipated (I think the pizza and brandy helped massively, in fairness) and I'm really rather looking forward to the weekend. Hopefully I'll get a lot of reading and some other rather important things done and when I report back on Monday I can tell you all about The Prisoner of Zenda and what happened to Rudolf Rassendyll at the coronation... I hope that Michael fella keeps out of it. Never trust a fictional character who has been played onscreen by James Mason - that's my advice!!
Whatever you're up to this weekend, have a lovely time, and thank you so much for sitting through this torturously long blog entry!!
Ah, it's Friday! It means most of us in dear old Blighty will be looking forward to four whole days off work - with pay! However, it turns out I've got to work tomorrow, so I'll have three whole days off work, which is almost as good. And the weather has sorted itself out just in time for an epic bank holiday. Yes, that's right - gone are the sizzling tropical temperatures, the humid air, the old men traipsing round town just wearing a little pair of shorts and socks with sandals (why oh why?!) and the threat of a nice barbecue in the back garden. The air has regained the usual summertime nippiness we're used to, the skies are a sort of charcoal grey colour and the weather has been, as they call it in Spain (Joanna reliably tells me this, and she's very good at Spanish, so she should know) "El Pissi Downio". Ah, yes. British Summertime. It's back, and I love it.
So, things are going very well. I'd like to thank Anonymous for their lovely and very encouraging comment from Wednesday's blog. It turns out that my block lifted quite substantially after that lovely advice and some equally kind and helpful tips from Mr L. Although I've still not really got a plot together yet, I have indeed made a start on the Western (tentatively entitled The Western With No Name). Turns out it had no intention of ever being a book, it wanted to be a screenplay all along. Which in some ways is slightly easier, I'm much better with dialogue than narrative, but even though you only really need minimal narrative for a screenplay I still don't think I have enough. But I'll come back to it later when I've figured out more of a structure to the story. My biggest problem is that I want it to be instantly perfect, rather than just acknowledging that the first three or four rewrites are going to be ropey at best before I get it close to being right and writing it anyway. I bet Joss Whedon didn't write The Avengers perfectly on his first run-through!!
I know what you're thinking. 'She's avoiding the weight-loss topic'. Well, yes. I am.
I put half a pound on. I have no idea how. I was doing really well, I'd been dead good, I hadn't cheated (there's no point in cheating because the only person who suffers is me) - I was at least hoping for a couple of pounds' loss. Maybe even three. But putting half a pound on?! What the -?!?!!
Baffled. Stumped. Bamboozled. Flabbergasted. Discombobulated. Narked. All appropriate adjectives to describe my reaction to the number on the scales yesterday.
Enrique was quite relieved I'd put weight on. He's still convinced he has athlete's hoof from when I sent them swimming last Friday and has taken to his bed with bandages from hoof to fetlock on all four of his little legs. The rest of the llamas were delighted to have another week off and have all gone on a coach holiday to Blackpool for the weekend. If you're in the Blackpool area and come across a collective of llamas in gold lamee leg warmers, go and join them, they're a great bunch of lads!!
I mean, things aren't all bad news. I'm getting smaller. If I'm honest with myself about my original starting size (i.e. Beyond Huge. If there was a dress size that could be renamed "AY CHIHUAHA!!" that'd probably be where I was!), I've actually lost three dress sizes already and I'm probably only another stone away from hitting the fourth. So actually I've not done at all badly. It's just one of those things. Maybe it was just the way I held my gob when I stood on the scales. Who knows. I'm lots thinner than I was, and that's a fact. I just need to be... you know. Thinner than this. And I will be. This time in three months I might've lost another two sizes and then I'll be very nearly almost there.
You know what it'll involve, of course. I've been threatening it and then putting it off since January, but I am actually going to have to... I can't even bring myself to say it. You know, though. And I know. It's got to be done, there's truly nothing else for it. I have plans and extremely good intentions, I just have no willpower!! I hate running, walking round an industrial estate is no fun, and I'm just not disciplined enough to attempt any form of E***cise at home!! Gah!! That blasted E word. Why is it never fun?! If I could do the E word and not notice I was doing it, that'd be brilliant!
Ho hum.
Join me next Wednesday, if you don't mind. I'll be taking Monday off due to the Bank Holiday and I'll probably still be in a very dark state of depression following my birthday on Sunday. I get SO depressed on my birthday, there's literally no point in even acknowledging my existence, you'll only end up similarly suicidal! I don't want to be old! Don't make me!! Nooooo!!! PETER PAN NEVER HAD TO DO IT!!!
I dread to even think how I'll cope next year when I hit the big Three-Oh...!! *shudder*
It's driving me IN-FLIPPIN'-SANE!!
For anyone who's had any contact with me over the last few weeks and I've seemed a little distracted and non-conversational, or you've wondered where my three hundred word text messages had gone to and why I haven't spoken to anyone unless it's been completely necessary - I CAN'T WRITE!! My brain can't even process enough thought to hold a proper conversation at the moment, let alone actually write anything. This may seem like a really trivial thing to you, and I apologise if you're bored already - especially because I can't even explain why it's so important that I do write. That's not a pretentious, pseudo-artistic 'if you don't write, you wouldn't understand' type excuse, it's true. I can articulate most things, but just not why I need to write.
It isn't that I haven't got any ideas at all. I've got vague thoughts for stories, books, scripts, sketches - you name it - in spades. But I don't have full ideas. I don't have enough of any one idea to be able to write one word. The floodgates of the imagination are simply groaning with the effort of keeping the plethora of sentences that are stored up in my brain - if only I could hold onto ONE sentence long enough for it to blossom into a fully formed idea, rather than simply remaining stagnant as the beginning of a maybe.
ARGH!!! It's the most frustrating thing ever.
Having ideas, being able to write, writing itself is probably one of the most liberating things ever. That really irritating moment (everyone who writes must have gone through this at some stage) of waking up at two o'clock in the morning and HAVING to get all those ideas down before your brain explodes under the weight of them - yes, it's a pain when your body needs sleep but your brain won't stop whirring into overdrive. Still, nothing makes me feel more alive than my fingertips flying across the keyboard, the eyes almost glazed over as the old imagination completely takes over body and soul, and before I know it I've actually created something, a person, a world and an adventure and I look back at it and think, "Woah, when did I write that?!"
When I read it back again in the morning, I might wince and think "Oh dear, when did I write that?!" but the fact is, I wrote something and the idea got out into the open.
It's like part of my brain has totally switched off. This year started out so creatively, I wrote loads in The Phantom Winger, Adam and I wrote Slim Chance (hey, top 10% out of over 800 entrants is no mean feat!), I've written the liner notes for Nathan's album (released officially on 4th June, physical copies are already in circulation and are available at the album launch on 2nd June). But then it's all sort of stopped.
There are things I really want to write, but I can't. I want to write more in The Phantom Winger - Alex's adventure hasn't even begun yet and I'm only about five paragraphs away from breaking the block on it!! I want to rewrite Slim Chance but I know that's pretty much on hold till Mr Leslie comes back from his sojourn to the colonies - which is fine because it's probably still a bit too fresh in my mind for me to be objective enough for a rewrite just yet.
I really want to write a Western. I've wanted to write one for years, for my Dad. We've always watched Westerns together and he loves stories about cowboys and I thought it would really make him happy if I wrote him a story - but it's taken me forever to get an idea. Now, I've sort of almost got a plot together, I've got an idea about what I might call my main character, and I've got a basic theme for the story... but that's it, I've not got anything definite, I've not had that light-bulb flash, Eureka style moment to spur me on (no pun intended) to write something that'd make Big Aitch proud. I know Westerns are probably the most difficult things to write because there are so many rules with a Western, and they require years of detailed research before you even settle down to writing anything in it. All of those obstacles, coupled with the fact I've grown up in Central Lancashire and as much as I turn into a pile of mush at the very thought of a Southern State accent, I simply don't know if I would ever be fluent enough in the Southern vernacular to make my dialogue convincing. I don't think I'm cut out to write it - but that's the thing my brain keeps telling me needs to be written. Even though I still haven't got enough of anything to start writing it yet.
You know what I need? I need a month or two in Texas. On an entirely academic, research-driven basis, and not just because I've been desperate to go to Texas since forever. Certainly not because it's the home of barbecue sauce. Or because it's filled with the sounds of the most incredible accent ever. Gosh, no. Whatever'd give you that idea?!
Basically, all my ideas are just too vague to even think about formulating a sentence with - let alone trying to eke them out into a story/script/whatever.
I'm sorry this has turned into such a big rant. I know people have real problems out there and that I shouldn't really whinge so much about it - but it's seriously doing my head in. Perhaps ranting about it will help it shift. I flippin' hope so.
Please join me on Friday, when I'll give you a report from Fat Club and take an excited look towards four whole days off work for the Jubilee weekend. Wasn't it nice of Her Majesty to know that I'd be so depressed about my birthday on Sunday that I wouldn't want to do any work for a couple of days - and subsequently arrange her Jubilee celebrations accordingly?!
Hello, hello, hello!!
I'm sorry I failed on the blogging front last week. Last week was horrible. Please can we pretend it didn't happen? That would totally work for me. I know the whole purpose of the blog was to be some sort of personal therapy when times got tough as well as the chroncling of joys and euphoria when times were good - but there are reasonable limits to everything. My head is feeling really rather screwed up at the moment. Life with the Wainwrights just hasn't been the kind of thing anyone would want to blog about for the last seven days.
Aside from the stuff you don't want to know about, on Thursday's weigh-in it turned out that I had put half a pound on. The llamas were extremely disappointed. I didn't pack them off to Magaluf again this week, but Enrique did say that if I have a good result this week he'd choreograph an extra special fiesta for me. What more incentive do I need?!
My slimming mojo seems to have vanished since the Debacle of the Scales. It's ridiculous. I know it's only a little thing but it's really just thrown me off-balance - no pun intended. Just when I'd finally started to think I could really do this and I could finally start looking like a person rather than an orb with feet, it was a huge knock I wasn't prepared for. Andrea the Consultant has got a lot to answer for. I am seriously lacking in confidence now, and being slimmer now feels more like a pipe dream again than the achievable goal it had started to become.
I'm not going to get my target of reaching my half-way point by my birthday. Or at least, if I do, it'll be a miracle. I know that now, and I suppose knowing that has taken a bit of pressure off, but the best I can do is to try and get as close to it as possible by then. I've still got three weigh-ins to go. Who knows. It might happen. I'm being really tough this week. I've got 3 1/2 lbs to go before I get my 3 stone boxed off and if I don't do it this week - or certainly the week after, I'll be completely gutted.
On the plus side, everyone buy my best friend Nathan's album when it comes out in a couple of weeks. Not only is he incredibly talented, makes amazing music and is, indeed, my favourite man since creation - I wrote the liner notes!!! Wahoo! I knew I'd see my name in print somewhere this year. Now I just need to get rid of this fershlugginer Writer's Block on The Phantom Winger. I've been advised to write the end first. I don't know how I feel about this, I think it might be a bad idea. Although I might start from mid-way in the third chapter, I'm only about five or six paragraphs away from breaking the block.
Actually, you know what, first of all I think I just want the world to stop spinning so flipping quickly for five minutes and let me get my head together before I go any further with anything...!!
You know, you'd be surprised at how many people were outraged by Andrea the Consultant's idiocy last Thursday. I know I am. There's been uproar. Who knows what to believe now?!
I suppose that the scales are entirely the wrong thing to concentrate on. I mean, yes, it was very disappointing when they said something I didn't like - but at the moment they give me a number I don't like every week. The number that I saw last Thursday was nowhere near as big as the number I saw on 5 January - in fact if I'd seen that number on 5 January I probably would have done a little jig of happiness. In fact... I can't actually remember what the scales said last Thursday. I'm now all confused with the numbers. It doesn't take much to confuse me in a numerical fashion. I think darts players have supercomputers hardwired into their brains for their incredible mathematical dexterity. How do they always know how count backwards from 501 to finish on a double?! It's a gift. Apparently the meaning of life is 42 - and I'm not mathematically qualified enough to provide any sort of argument to the contrary. I think it's a fluke that I passed my Maths GCSE the first time of asking!
The fact is, my clothes are even more baggy on me than they were a couple of weeks ago. That's got to be the main thing. I don't think it'll take a great deal more weight loss until I've dropped three dress sizes. I think I'm sort of between two and three dress sizes smaller, so obviously nothing fits at all at the moment and I look like a bit of a tramp, but it'll all be all right in the end.
Slimming World does work. I mean - it clearly works. Whether the scales say the right thing or not doesn't really matter - because they're not supposed to say the right thing until you're finished losing weight, that's the whole point.
So, then. Come on. Let's do this. If I was American I may even be tempted to say something motivational, grammatically questionable and a little urban like, "Bring it." But I'm not, so I won't. The fact is, I'm never going to get there if I curl up into a podgy ball and give up at my first real knockback. People put on weight all the time. I've been doing it for years. Even though I know I didn't actually put weight on last week - the only numbers I'm really interested in are the numbers on the labels in my clothes.
In other news, I discovered that my boss doesn't want me to work Saturdays any more. This was extremely annoying on two counts. Firstly, nobody had bothered to mention to me that my services weren't required on Saturdays before I turned up for work on Saturday, when they looked shocked and asked what I was doing there. Secondly, this officially means that I have to get a new job. I keep threatening it but unfortunately I really need to think about moving on now. I don't want to because I hate job hunting and being the newbie and getting to know another new set of people - but sometimes a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. And despite the fact there's a lot less of me now - I still gotta eat.
In other *other* news, I am researching like nobody's business in the hope of getting inspired to continue in The Phantom Winger (I heard someone say at Slimming World the other week that they'd been to the Phantom Winger, and it did take me a few moments to work out what they were talking about! I was all ready to say "Hey, I wrote that! What did you think of it?!" but then I remembered that a) it's a pub and b) I haven't written it yet! It's got a good ending, though. Or at least it will do.) - and by 'research', I basically mean I've been watching a lot of spy films. I think it's helping. Not that I condone or indulge in plaigarism, it's just that those sorts of films do help you to get in the right mindset for a good old spy romp. I'm hoping to make a bit of a start on Chapter Three next week, as soon as I work out exactly where to start it. I had such high hopes for being nearly halfway through the first draft by now, but alas - a writer's lot isn't always a productive one.
So, after a bit of a wobbly start to my weekend, I think things are starting to even out a bit. I'm not really looking forward to the weigh-in tomorrow, because who knows what the crazy scales will tell me this week - and I'm still feeling a bit guilty after Thursday's KFC!! However, whatever happens I will update you on my progress in Friday's blog. The llamas will be back by then, all relaxed and refreshed, and hopefully ready for a good old fiesta!! Get your maracas at the ready... you might well need 'em!!
...They would be held aloft right now, like Sir Paul McCartney in llamaesque form, jubilantly declaring a silent victory in one of the many battles in my war with weight.
Ah, but llamas don't have thumbs. They have hooves. What are hooves for, Ricardo?
"Son para bailar, señora!"
Eh?
"He says, 'They're for dancing, lady!'"
(Thank goodness for my half-English llama, Steve!)
Right!! Hit it!!!
*shakes maracas as if possessed by the spirit of Davy Jones himself*
3 1/2 lbs off!! Who'd've thought? I certainly wouldn't. In fact I told the weigh-in lady that I was convinced I'd put weight on. I explained that it wasn't that I'd been naughty, I'd just not really eaten very much and done practically no exercise. So, when I got on the scales and it said that, we were all shocked - even Andrea the Consultant!
I'm now 3lbs off my 2 stone award and 6lbs off my Club 10 target. I mean, it's going well, isn't it?! It's all happening. The chart thingy on the Slimming World website thinks I'll have achieved my final target by mid-September. I can cope with that. That's only six months away.
I'll be skinny. Well. Thinner. Sooner than I think. I don't know, it still seems impossible. But if I keep doing it then it might just happen. One day. Maybe.
Briefly, in other news - the script is finished and going in the post this afternoon. I'm really proud of it. Don't think I've ever really been proud of anything I've written before, I can always see improvements and things that I should've done better. And I know I wouldn't have got it done - and it definitely wouldn't have been so funny - if it hadn't been for my lovely writing partner. The man is a legend. Wainwright & Leslie. Almost as catchy as Galton & Simpson. Watch out, we'll be taking over television before you know it. I can tell. He'll get his own panel show and I'll just take advantage of the free booze at the awards ceremonies before clumsily trying it on with David Mitchell... High life - we're ready for you!
This weekend will basically consist of doing boring things like packing and cleaning before the sister and I go on our French adventures. I'm very excited about it now. Not only will I get to see my other big sister who I haven't seen in over a year, I'll also get to spend a few brief minutes with my best pal, Nathan, during my fleeting stop in London. Just about time for a hug and a hi - but totally worth it, and hooray for him for making it possible!!
Join me again on Monday for the penultimate English blog entry of the month, when I'll be looking forward to speaking French again - or not, and probably panicking ever so slightly about remembering my passport...
Welcome, one and all, to the final Wednesday blog of the month!!
I'm travelling to France next Wednesday for a family shindig - and yes, it will take all day. We're going by train, so it'll take between ten and eleven hours. Sheesh. The following Wednesday, I will be travelling home. I will probably be able to update the blog while I'm in France, maybe, possibly - but after Monday's blog I can't guarantee much on the updating front until 30 March.
So, as it is the last Wednesday blog of the month, I suppose I'd best find something monumental to tell you.
Erm.
........ Umm.........
... Nah, I got nuthin'.
Good progress has been made on the script. Which is quite fortunate considering that the deadline is a week today. Luckily I have a genius and all-round good egg looking over it and contributing greatly to the content and layout - so I think between us we will make a writing team as strong as Spike Milligan and Eric Sykes, or Terry Jones and Michael Palin, or Caroline Quentin and.... that other fella... Don't worry, folks, when we're famous, we'll still remember you. Whoever you are.
I'm feeling much more chipper today - I thought I would do. I think a large part of it is to do with the fact I did manage to complete my first re-write of the script. I think after hearing about Davy Jones, stupid as it sounds, my head was a bit screwed up. Not in an 'I need therapy' type way or anything nearly so drastic, just in a 'Oh. Right. Well. I don't know if I remember how to be funny, now' type way. Just, y'know. Well. It came as a shock to everyone, didn't it? But I did have visions of the deadline passing me by and me just beating myself up endlessly over it. Even though the Beeb are always on the lookout for unsolicited sitcom scripts and I could feasibly have sent it to them any time - I think the Dawn French factor in this particular competition really made me want to make an extra effort. So, even though I know it isn't finished yet, I'm a lot more confident that it will be finished by the deadline and we can still enter the competition together. It feels like an achievement already.
Dieting is still going the same way as before. I haven't done much walking this week, partly because I got a bit put off the idea on Sunday and partly because I'm just shattered this week, it's been ungodly stressful at work and my head's a bit mashed - the last thing I feel like I've got the energy for is a 7a.m. stroll to and from the little Tesco at the bottom of the hill!! I'll work something out, though. I'll get back on it. I don't feel remotely thinner this week and I feel as though I might've put a little weight on but I know why and I'm not too worried. I'm not going to fat club next week so I've got two weeks to sort myself out and hopefully get even closer to my 2 stone certificate and my Club 10 certificate, which are only 3lbs apart. I want it to be Shiny Stickers A Go-Go when I get back into that slimming club!!!
Join me again on Friday, when hopefully the llamas will be out in full force and having a good old boogie in celebration of me losing some sort of weight... but don't hold your breath - I certainly won't be!!
Oh, you don't even know - you can't possibly have any idea exactly how excited I am about the forthcoming Avengers film. You just can't. 52 sleeps till it's out at the pictures! I do love this time of year, when all the buzz about the forthcoming summer films first starts. I know I'm mostly a retro vintage silver screen type girl (my favourite film of all time is City Lights by Charlie Chaplin. Watch it. You'll never regret it!), but I'm a sucker for a film containing big explosions, reeeeally evil baddies and slightly anti-heroic good guys, preferably ones with superpowers.
I'll try and calm down in order to blog like a human being rather than, if I really did just type out my train of thought, simply typing out 100,000 lines of "OMFG!" Acronyms should be used sparingly, after all. There's never really much to say of a Wednesday, truth be told - it's not like anyone's particularly interested in how much I hate my job at the moment (lots, incidentally) and how much I'm looking forward to Masterchef tonight (SQUEEE!). I suppose, then, the Wednesday blog is my most self-indulgent update of the week - which is likely why I always feel so apologetic about them!!
I have no news on the writing front. I'm actually blocked on everything. Which is rubbish. I have no proper computer access and the deadline for the competition is in two weeks. I just wish everything would come to me in a dream (rather than the weird psycho killer dream I had last night which just scared me into consciousness every time I nodded off) and then I could have a day off to write and everything would be peachy. Ho hum. The book is on the back burner for now and probably will stay there until late spring/early summer, but I did have another read of it and I surprised myself with how much I didn't hate it.
I do have one exciting thing to mention on the weight loss front. Okay, you may not find it exciting, but I did allow myself a little whoop of joy. I own a black, woollen coat that I inherited from my late cousin, which is of a peculiar size - it says 18 but I have a feeling the top of it is much bigger than that as I've been able to squeeze into it for some time and I'm definitely not that size yet. Anyway, for a considerable time I could only fasten two of the four buttons, and then for about a month I've been able to fasten three. Imagine my excitement, if you will, when I actually fastened all four buttons yesterday!! We're talking actual progress now, folks. Real, visible, in-yer-face progress. I'm shrinking before my very eyes. Well. Not quite, obviously, because that'd be impossible. But you know what I mean.
For the first time since January, then, I'm feeling slightly confident about tomorrow. Naturally, I understand that losing 5lbs every week is impossible, impractical and not particularly healthy. But I know I've been even more motivated than usual, I'm getting my walk on every day - and even I can see that I'm getting littler, so hopefully all of that positivity will be reflected in the scales. Really hope so, anyway.
Join me again on Friday, when hopefully you'll meet more of my llamas if I have a good result tomorrow, and I'll have a bit of a look forward to an exciting weekend. Hope you're all having a fabulous week - and if you get chance, watch the trailer to the new Avengers film. Two words. AWE. SOME. (winking smiley)
Getting my 90s boyband on, there...
Caught in the middle? Yep - the middle of the week, of course!! May I take this opportunity to wish one and all a very happy Wednesday. Only 48 hours to go until the joyous occasion I like to call Firman Friday, so it's all good news. I'm very much looking forward to the end of the week.
I had an anxiety dream the night before last that I'd put on 2 1/2 lbs at Fat Club and they kicked me out for not being committed enough. I don't think that'll happen this week, though. If anything, I actually feel a little bit thinner - which is always a good sign. Perhaps I've lost a couple of lbs this week. I hope so, anyway. I've been so good since Saturday. And I've exercised more. That's got to be worth something at least, right?! And I've changed my breakfasting habits. I've discovered Ready Brek. Oooh!! It's like getting a little cuddle on the inside every morning!! I love it. Good job too, really - two boiled eggs and two pieces of fruit every morning was getting way too expensive, and I refuse to buy eggs from caged hens - it's pointless on all levels. Firstly, the poor hens have traumatic and miserable lives and the people who organise, run and condone the treatment of hens kept in such conditions should be forced to live in similar ones themselves, see how they like it. Secondly, because the poor hens have such horrible lives, the resulting eggs are horrible and tasteless.
I like to think of myself as a rather conscientious omnivore. It's all about fighting the small battles!!
I've made a start on Episode 2 of Diary of a Fat Girl: The Sitcom (which is now henceforth to be known as Slim Chance. I did think about naming all of the episodes after lyrics/titles from Slim Chance songs but there are probably way too many copyright issues with that!!). I'm quite happy with it so far. I decided it'd be a good slant to have the slimming consultant be male, mostly because there seemed to be far too many women in it. So I named him Simon, which seems a bit of an odd choice. I don't think I know anyone called Simon - and if I do, they're obviously so boring I can't remember them. However, he has quickly evolved into being an absolute tyrant. If ever this show gets picked up by anyone, I would like to categorically state that slimming consultants are not all quite so mean! I mean, I don't think anyone would get away with telling someone to not worry about taking a seat because they've been reinforced in real life!!
The competition closes in just under a month. I really need to get my re-writing head on and come up with plans for the next four episodes. And compose my covering letter. And write a synopsis. Gah. So much to do!! My poor brain!!
Join me on Friday, when I'll be able to give you a full update on all the gossip from tomorrow's adventures at Fat Club and, I will warn you in advance, look forward with a certain degree of teenybopperish hysteria to an evening with Pete Firman in Blackburn!!
Yes - THAT Hump! It's the Midweek Hump known as Wednesday, everyone! Happy Hump Day to you all!!
As it were.
So, The Phantom Winger is officially on hold while I await one of three things:
- A great start to Chapter Three hits me
- I stop panicking at the fact I haven't written anything in over two weeks
- I wrestle with the logistics of attempting to turn Diary of a Fat Girl into a sitcom.
There's a BBC competition, being judged by one of my heroes, the lovely Dawn French, to come up with the first episode of a new sitcom and plotlines for subsequent episodes in a series. This is really where my heart has always been. As you probably know, one of the most often dished-out pieces of advice to budding writers is 'write what you know' - and I know few things better than my own journey through weight loss. Also, from all the top tips I've read from various screenwriters and comedy legends - sitcoms are not about the setting, they are about the characters. I don't know many characters better than I know me!
I've really given it quite a bit of thought. But I'm still not sure. I think it might work. But I seriously don't know. Part of me really wants to keep this blog as a distraction rather than my work - I don't want to make it too complicated. But then maybe if it comes naturally it might work better. Who knows.
So, enough of all that writing business. I appreciate that it's not a very interesting thing to talk about, it's just me doing a bit of stream-of-conscious, thinking-out-loud (or at least thinking on screen) type exercise.
As I'm sure all of you will be delighted to know, I am more or less completely cured of my cold. I can breathe and everything. This is great news.
I've also been keeping on the straightest and narrowest of paths this week. I've decided to cut my Syns down slightly from between 10-12 to between 7-10 for the next couple of weeks. I will lose that 2 1/2 lbs this week. I will. I may have already lost it, who knows. I'm not feeling drastically thinner but I am feeling ever so slightly smaller all the time. The strange thing that I'm noticing is that it's not taking nearly so much food to fill me up. I mean - I don't go back for seconds after tea. There generally isn't anything else to have, like, but I'm full. I think I'm starting to learn that not feeling painfully full doesn't necessarily mean that you've not eaten enough. I have breakfast, lunch and tea every day and I can honestly say that since my first loss, I've not had a snack between meals. I've never even felt particularly supper-ish when I'm watching Marvel cartoons at half eleven after Jo's gone to bed. It's all progress.
I can't wait for the day I can see my cheekbones again. I used to have them, y'know. Years ago. Back when I was thinner and certain people thought I looked like a young Nerys Hughes. It'll happen. Soon. Ish. Certainly by August. By my weigh in on 1st March I hope to have lost another half stone (after my 2 1/2 lb loss tomorrow, of course). Which is only slightly over 2lbs a week. So it's do-able.
Join me again on Friday when I will give you the full low-down from Fat Club. I really hope those llamas will be up and dancing again - I'll be dusting off their sombreros just in case!!
With my Skip-It, of course!!
¯¯"Don't - stop - me - noooowwwww!!!!!" ¯¯
Yes. It actually arrived on Monday, except I was at work so I couldn't take delivery of it. So Dad picked it up for me yesterday, but I haven't actually seen him since Sunday... so... although it is in the ownership of yours truly, it still has yet to be acquainted with my right ankle. That'll all change this afternoon, of course. My little feet will be skipping about like nobody's business. You won't even see them, they'll be a blur. I'll make Michael Flatley look sedentary. I'll soon be in talks with various film studios to make my own Skip-It fitness video. Move over, Natalie Cassidy, there's a new former fat girl on the block!!!
Won't be long now. I'll be so skinny I'll vanish when I turn sideways.
I'm feeling really positive this week. About pretty much everything. I've started feeling thinner again, which is a good thing. Hopefully some weight's come off. I mean, I can see that I'm getting thinner, I just hope that the scales agree with me. I saw about a minute of The Simpsons the other night. Homer went into the bathroom to weigh himself and said "Okay, scales, you don't like me, and I don't like you. But I've been real good all week, so you better treat me right!"
Hands up everyone who knows that feeling!!! *raises both hands and a leg*
I was completely hardcore last night. I mean. Hardcore in the extreme. My sister was feeling poorly and not in the mood for healthy eating - so I went to Morrisons to get tea in for her. I bought and cooked her a stuffed crust cheese pizza *wibble* and bought myself some cooked chicken and a salad - and I threw the skin away!! I didn't cave for a second! I was strong - like She-Ra only less manly!! And as an extra special reward, I got to see Everton beat Manchester City 1-0. Hashtag See Oh Why Bee. Woop woop!!
The writer's block has come upon me again, I think I'm feeling a bit too cheerful to write about dead bodies and Russian spies. Well. Dead bodies, anyway, I'm always up for a Russian spy. As it were. I might undertake another writing project. If only a cracking premise would hit me, I could fulfil my main ambition and write a sitcom. I can't turn The Phantom Winger into a sitcom, before you ask. It's not that kind of a story. If only there was a distinct lack of flippant and irreverant sitcoms in Britain.
I suppose I could write a sitcom about a struggling writer trying to lose weight... Diary of a Fat Girl - The Sitcom!!
Join me again on Friday, when I will give you a full update on what happened at Fat Club, including any news on my weight fluctuation. Wish me luck, folks - I think I'm gonna need it!!
Happy Monday, everyone!!
I know, I know, what's so happy about it? Good question. I'm in a bizarrely unprovoked great mood today and I don't think anything can bring me down. That may have been something to do with the chuff-off coffee I had at Costa this morning. For those of you who are panicking at the idea of a person on a diet going into Costa, it's fine - no rules were broken or bent. Slimming World totally understands the importance of caffeine in the human psyche.
I think the important thing about the weekend, for me, is that I didn't really overeat. Although I probably had about a trillion Syns on Saturday when (purely out of politeness, you understand... *removes tongue from cheek*) I had a spoonful of homemade blackberry ice-cream. Oh Emm Eff Gee, it was literally the most amazing thing I've ever had in my life - it was *just* cream and blackberry juice! Just the memory of it will keep me going for the next couple of months, I'm quite sure! Still, I really reined it all in yesterday and am detemined to continue in the same vein during the week. I will drop my first stone by the end of next week, dammit. I've only got 5 1/2 lbs to go. I lost that in my first week at Slimming World!
My absolute highlight of the weekend was going to visit my pal, Rachael. We got a free meal in the pub, we tried to watch The Green Hornet but ended up watching itsjustsomerandomguy videos on YouTube instead (*sings* "I'm a Marvel, he's a DC, but you're the only one who's ever been insiiiide of meeeeeee........... as a characterrr....!"). Honestly, if you have any love for any superheroey type stuff, check out his YouTube channel. The man is a legend and one of my absolute comedy idols.
Before we went to the pub, we had a great laugh with Rachael's twenty-month-old daughter, Erin. Those of you who know me are well aware of my aversion and fear of children, but Erin is one of the few exceptions. She's a genius, and already has the most contagious laugh ever. She just gets more adorable and hilarious the older she gets. My black, granite heart is no match for her overwhelming fabulousness.
So, anyway, it's been a little while since I updated about the progress of The Phantom Winger. This is mostly because I've had writer's block, and also because I realise that if I go on too much about the story it'll ruin the whole thing for everyone, and none of us want that - least of all me!
I've polished up the Prologue, added a couple of bits to make it a bit more page-turny, completely finished Chapter One and am almost done with Chapter Two. I should be on Chapter Three by the end of the week. I feel as though I'm falling into my other usual trap of not being descriptive enough in my narrative, or indeed just not having enough narrative - there's a *lot* of dialogue so far in Chapter Two. I think I just managed to balance it out in Chapter One and I'm hoping I can bring it all together by the end of Chapter Two. If anyone wants to read what I've got so far, please drop me a line or leave me a comment and I'll send it over. All feedback is welcome and appreciated.
I've had quite a few comments from people who think that this very blog should be published. I'm really not sure how I feel about this. For a start, I put literally no thought or effort into updating this. I won't lie to you. It's just a stream of consciousness thing to keep me on the straight and narrow on the writing and weight loss front. Also - aside from my friends and family, who is going to care about my weight loss adventure?! It'd take a lot of adapting and would by its very nature need to be a lot more contrived than it already is. However, I'm really quite surprised by how popular this blog is - believe it or not, I've had nearly 1,000 hits so far, even from places as random as Romania and Indonesia!! Not only that - look at Bridget Jones and Adrian Mole. They kept quite successful diaries, didn't they?! I guess if I can make a couple of bob from my blog then it might help me to concentrate even more on my spy books, which is the main thing. I'm not sure if Slimming World Magazine might be interested in taking it on in a serial format or something. It's definitely something to bear in mind - but for the moment at least, I just want to focus on losing weight and getting my story written. Again, any thoughts or advice on this particular subject will be greatly appreciated.
I'm feeling really far too happy at the moment to be funny. Everything really seems to be great at the moment. I'm feeling positive about everything and in all fairness I'm even starting to freak myself out. I'm too cheerful for my own good. It'll all end in tears!!!
Join me on Wednesday, when the midweek slump will have occurred and I'll be back to my normal self, and generally more grumpy and acid-tongued (or fingertipped, as the case may be!) than Paul O'Grady at a party.
So anyway, guess what I found out today? I'm not Synning as much as I thought I was!! Apparently, a 70ml double measure of [insert favourite spirit here] [snigger at use of the word 'insert'] [and again!] is 8 Syns. Whereas I have unwittingly only been having 45ml and thinking *that* was a double!! This is glorious news. I can either have *more* Bacardi and Coke Zero before bed, or I can have more of other things instead!! Fabulous. As soon as I work out Syns properly, I think I'm really going to start having a damn good time on this new way of eating.
Anyway, enough of all that. I'm taking a break from the endless piles of pasta, rice, vegetables, lean meat and fish to get back into the real world. Well, of course, not the real world - my real imaginary world of The Phantom Winger.
Allow me to bore you senseless as I discuss the idea of planning a story - and how I have discovered that you can plan as much as you chuffing well like; but when it comes to actually writing the damn thing, you will invariably write the exact opposite.
I had intended to try and make it an action/drama piece with a flavour of comedy but it turns out that I'm writing more of a comedy piece with a flavour of action/drama. I personally have no qualms with this - although I totally realise that by doing so I have made the job infinitely more difficult. Let me explain.
Although, by and large, the inhabitants of the Earth are always quite ready for a good laugh - if you analyse it, people do seem to be a bit scared of comedy. This is because comedy is actually blasted difficult to write. Everyone thinks it's dead easy to make people laugh, but it really isn't. It isn't just about the right situation, it's about choosing the right combination of the right words in the right situation. You either get it spot on, or you fail. There's no in-between level of mild amusement, or any "that was very nearly funny - okay, we'll give you a chance" attitude. If it isn't funny, then it has failed completely and nobody is interested. That's why comedy writers are usually so self-deprecating, paranoid and prone to huge bouts of depression. Being funny is truly no laughing matter.
Basically - we can't all be geniuseseses like Charlie Chaplin, who maintained that all he needed for a good comedy was "a park, a policeman and a pretty girl." I mean, it helps if you're naturally a funny person, but if you make people laugh without really thinking about it and then suddenly find yourself sat in front of a computer screen with the basic premise of 'Write Something Funny', then it's a completely different kettle of fish altogether.
Which brings me nicely back to the story and a request for a bit of feedback if you don't mind. I was all set to have a great boy/girl partnership of Alex Charnley, the cheeky Northern chappie, and Natasha Petrovna, the deadly teenage Russian spy. It would totally have worked. But then DC Jon Bailey (aka Tiny) came along and basically just wrote himself - and, oh, EVERYONE loves a bromance!! Look at the great bromances through the ages. Illya Kuryakin and Napoleon Solo, Jeff Randall and Marty Hopkirk, Jack Regan and George Carter, Tony DiNozzo and Timothy McGee, Morse and Lewis (the lovely John Thaw has had quite a few bromances in his time, hasn't he?!), Ant and Dec, Fred Flintstone and Barney Rubble, Chandler and Joey, Barnaby and Troy, Batman and Robin, Richard Barrett and Craig Stirling - although, there again, they did have Sharron Macready to balance their bromance out... That's a good point. Also, look at John Steed and Emma Peel/Cathy Gale/Tara King. The boy/girl partnership could work, quite feasibly. I suppose it has more to do with the way you write the woman rather than the existing bromance betwen the men.
Natasha could still work her way in. My plans don't necessarily have to change. However, if I do stick to my original plan and bring her in, do you think that will bring in too many main characters? We were introduced to two in the Prologue and then another two main characters and three minor characters in Chapter One. Chapter Two will finish with the introduction of the Russian contingent of characters, which will be expanded on in Chapter three - and Natasha won't appear until Chapter Four. By that time, do you think that all possible relationships will be too firmly established and there just won't be any room for her? It's a very real problem. The story would probably work without her and stand up as a comedy/action book - but the story with her might just be enough to add a darker edge to the story.
Seriously, if you've got any thoughts on this at all, I'd love to hear them, as I'm in something of a quandry about it.
Tomorrow sees my second weigh-in at Slimming World. With all the fruit and veg I'm ploughing through, not to mention the crisps (after this Christmas I am still of the view that if I never eat another crisp again it will be too soon!), chocolate (I don't quite have the same feeling towards chocolate that I do towards crisps, I must admit) and alcohol (I will never view that in the same way as the crisp) I've cut down on, I'm hoping for at least some weight loss this week. I shall make a full report on Friday. If I've put any weight on this week it will be a very sad and depressing blog - but expect dancing llamas in sombreros singing La Cucarace if I've lost any weight at all...!
Aha!! I knew if I pestered the Muse long enough, she'd come round!!
I do have a Muse. A lot of people are sceptical about the existence of Muses, but there it is. I have a Muse. Her name is Irene - after Miss Adler, 'The Woman' of Sherlock Holmes fame who had loose morals and the brain of a genius, rather than after Mrs Roberts, the recovering alcoholic of Home and Away fame. "Strewth, dahl, I've been off the grog for years now, cobber!" - etc. Yer flamin' galah.
Anyway. Irene is a very skittish Muse. Sometimes she'll knuckle down and let me write like a thing possessed. Frequently, however, she will throw a strop, pack her bags and jet off to the Bahamas for wild nights of cocktails by the pool and lascivious carryings-on with random nameless waiters. This leaves me right in the lurch and the result has been the complete abandonment of a myriad stories through the ages.
Yes. Yes, I have created a blame character for times when the Writer's Block is upon me. What of it?! Anyway, she's got her business head on now (she's like the Muse version of Worzel Gummidge), so we're good to go.
As I reported on Wednesday, I was having trouble in linking bits of my story together. I have had much success now and have even finished the chapter! Yes! Good old Irene!! More amendments and general tweakings will be made later on tonight, and first drafts will be emailed over the weekend to anyone who wants to read it - requests to the usual address, please, all feedback is most welcome.
Some writers hate their main characters. Ian Fleming couldn't stand James Bond (fair point there, though), Arthur Conan Doyle couldn't stand Sherlock Holmes and reportedly did a little jig of delight when Sherlock and Moriarty plunged to their death during a proper man-fight. I don't think any self-respecting fan of The Goon Show would read about Moriarty falling off a cliff and *not* instantly think "You've got to go 'oooowwww'!!"
I, however, really like my main character. I do. He's a good guy. I've developed a best friend for him, as well. I was going to have him as a loner and a bit of a grump-bag, but he's got a pal now, and he's much more cheerful. The best friend is named Jonathan Bailey, but is nicknamed Tiny, due to the fact that he's six foot six. They have a lovely little bromance going on. They're going on a date at the local pub in Chapter Two, right after Alex meets Tracey.
Incredibly, there has been a bit of interest already about the will-they-won't-they nature of Alex and Tracey's relationship. I am not, have never been, and have no intention of being a romance writer. I can't be doing with all that stuff and nonsense. It irritates me. Why can't people be more like "Look. How about it?" "Yes, that'd be spiffing, thank you." "Right. Okay then!" and then just get on with it, rather than all of this moping about with faces like slapped arses and saying ridiculous things about moonlight in eyes?!?
No, I don't have a romantic fibre in my being. Having said all of that, though, it seems as though people are already rooting for them, and if there's one thing I have no objections to, it's writing to please my audience!! Giving the public what they want, that's what I'm all about!! In your *face*, poets!! So. I'm not promising the romance of the century, but there may be a moment here and there to keep my chick-flick rom-com loving pals happy. Maybe. You'll have to read it.
Keen readers of this four-day-old blog may remember me promising on Wednesday that I might post a sneak preview of Chapter One here. Well. After a great deal of deliberation, I decided that it might be best if I posted a bit of dialogue. After all, I can tell you everything about Alex Charnley and Robert McAllister, and tell you just how much they hate each other, but it might not work quite as well as if you read their first conversation:
"Alex Charnley," he said, sounding far more cheerful than he felt.
"Charnley!"
Alex would have known the Scottish snarl anywhere.
"Bobby!" he answered, grinning broadly, as though he was addressing an old friend rather than his former boss. He felt an overwhelming sense of smug satisfaction, knowing exactly how much his cheery disposition was infuriating the man on the other end of the phone. It came as no suprise at all to Alex when his greeting initially only received a growl in reply.
"Detective Inspector McAllister to you, sonny Jim!"
"You don't sound your usual chipper self this morning. Is Mrs McAllister not giving you your porridge of a morning these days?" Alex asked, his eyes glinting mischievously. He could practically see McAllister's purple face, almost ready to explode with anger.
"That reminds me. How is Helen?" McAllister asked, a sinister smile in his voice. Alex raised his left eyebrow in derision. He had already had more than enough of his ex-wife that day.
"Oh, never mind Lady Deathstrike - what can I do for you?"
"Get to the station immediately," McAllister demanded.
"You do miss me! I knew it!"
"Be quiet, Charnley. I've no time or patience to get involved with your idiocy for longer than I need to!"
"Is it a social visit, or shall I wear a tie?" Alex asked, knowing exactly what McAllister's response would be.
"Social? You? Don't make me laugh!" he answered derisively.
"I wouldn't. I couldn't! Is it possible?"
"Charnley," McAllister said, his voice low and menacing. "If you aren't in my office in fifteen minutes, I will have you arrested. Do I make myself quite clear?"
"Arrested? For what?"
"Murder."
Alex's jaw dropped. That was a pretty big accusation, even for McAllister.
"Give me half an hour," he answered, sounding serious for the first time that day.
I know it isn't much, but hopefully it'll give you some sort of an idea of the type of chaps they are. I hope you like Alex and have a great time hating McAllister. I'll be making a start on Chapter Two over the weekend.
My next blog will probably be on Monday, I've got a busy weekend coming up and I don't want to bore you all with my incessant ramblings. I'll be telling you how I got on trying to stick to Slimming World while at an Indian restaurant. Distressingly, in the Slimming World book, there was no mention of the amount of Syns involved in a Chicken Tikka Korai. Bhuna it is, then...!!
So I've decided, rather than write about my epic salad making abilities and my torturous attempts to lure the Muse into creating a masterpiece all in the same blog, I'll write about the two main topics of my Plans alternately. I know, I could have two separate blogs for this purpose, but to be completely honest, I've not got the time for all that messing about. This will be good for both of us. It'll be good for me because it'll force me to concentrate on one thing at a time. It'll be good for you because you won't have as much to read. Okay, maybe that's not strictly true. Technically, you'll actually have twice as much to read, but at least it'll be broken down into easy-to-manage sections, rather than five thousand word epics.
My plan tonight will be to get my head down and get Chapter One boxed off. I had hoped to get more writing done during the Christmas break and be working towards finishing Chapter Two off, but that just didn't happen. I'd quote that wise piece of advice about "plans of mice and men" but I can't remember it and I don't think it ever made any sense to me anyway. The point is - I had planned to, but as it turned out, I didn't. So I'm going to have a go at sorting out the mess I'm making of Chapter One and getting it into a vaguely readable format tonight before pulling it to pieces and editing it to death on Friday. Never let it be said that I don't know how to live it up.
I have fallen into my usual trap of writing scenes and not knowing how to link them together. You know how it goes. Sometimes there's just a lot of words you skim through while you're reading because you're so keen on getting to the action, or the acerbic exchanges of wit, or (as will never be the case in anything I write - and that's a promise!) the soppy stuff. Well, I get like that with my stories - the only problem being that I'm actually trying to write the blasted thing and I have no bits to skim through, just the action and acerbic exchanges of wit - but obviously no soppy stuff. This is quite a problem. I'll never get 100,000 words written at this rate (even though I'm only aiming for 80,000 - I'm planning on a sequel!)!
I have four or five scenes written out, some need some quite blatant reworking, some can wait till my first read-through. That's all, though. I mean, I do need to link them together somehow. I really ought to work on patience (it's a virtue, apparently) and being a more methodical sort of writer, I'm sure I'm making far more work for myself than I need to. I'm sure I'm not being particularly efficient with my time.
There again, I don't know how much notice should really be taken of how long it takes to get something done. Shakespeare usually took about three days to write one of his plays. By way of contrast, however, apparently James Joyce was known to take all day to write one sentence on occasion, so maybe I'm not doing too badly in comparison. I'll get there evenutally, anyway. It's all progress.
I shall update you with the progress of Chapter One on Friday - I may *even* tantalise you with a sneak preview!! Tomorrow, however, sees the real Step One of the main mission. My first meeting at Da Club (which is likely what I'd call it if I were 'street'. No, don't worry, I shan't try that again). I have never been to one of these places before, so I'm completely unsure of what to expect, aside from the usual in-built prejudices and urban myths surrounding this sort of process. I am feeling a little trepidatious but no doubt everyone there will be very kind, and varying degrees of cuddly - and hopefully there will be very few skinny people lamenting at how they put on three pounds over Christmas and are finding it a struggle to get into their size eight jeans. Expect a full report of that tomorrow night.
It's been ages since I had a blog. I know, I know, I need to get more fibre in my diet.
That's kind of why I've started this blog. Erm. Nothing to do with the internal workings of my digestive system, you understand. Oh, no. Allow me to elucidate (me and my hobbies...!).
It's 2012. Which is ridiculous. Last time I checked it was 2002 and I was an 18 year old brat with an attitude that would make Kevin the Teenager wince. Somehow, without me noticing, ten years have slipped by and I am now staring the big Three-Oh right in the face. In less than eighteen months, I will be thirty. I admit to being a touch unnerved freaked out *completely petrified* by this fact. What happened to the last decade?! Was it so boring and inconsequential that I failed to realise how quickly time has passed me by?!
You probably aren't as big a fan of Christian Slater as I was when I was 14. But in one of his films, Kuffs, there is a very poignant line: "You're 21 years old. 30 comes along awful fast." When you're 14 that sounds like an absolute nonsense. Now that I'm twice that age I can completely testify to the truth in that statement.
There is a point. I will get to it.
I don't really hold a great deal of store by the concept of the New Year Resolution, but I did promise myself two things this year. Those two things are thus:
- I will not be a morbidly obese 30-year-old.
- I will do something positive and constructive with regard to pursuing my dream of having a book published.
Here then (at last!) are the reasons for me starting up this blog. Firstly, I would like to make a diary of my progress through the year with regard to losing some serious weight. I've decided to join Slimming World. Heaven only knows how much I weigh so I don't know how many stones I want to lose, but I know I definitely want to lose five dress sizes. I have no desire to look like a skeleton with hair. My aim is to have curves rather than to be a continuous curve, i.e. a sphere with feet.
I paint such a picture, don't I?!
I've made a start today. I had breakfast and everything. My plan is, not necessarily to document what I've eaten (although I'd like to take this opportunity to mention that I made epic salad boxes for myself and my big sister this morning! I cannot wait till lunchtime!), but to just keep a track of how things are going. It's all very well and good being full of the best of intentions on 3rd January, but if I get a bit stressed out and fancy trying to consume my body weight in chocolate by, say 26th February, I have a feeling it might be a bit of a healthier outlet to write a big rant rather than nosh for England and then feel rubbishy. Twelve months. Five dress sizes. Not an impossible ask. If Dawn French can drop six stone, so can I. I'm quite sure I have all that and then some to get rid of!
My second reason for starting a blog is that I've started writing my first novel. It's a spy romp/murder mystery type thing, provisionally called The Phantom Winger. Quite a few up and coming novelists have blogs about their books and things, so I thought I'd give it a go. Perhaps it will be a good idea, if I have the dreaded Writer's Block, to write a blog entry, rather than writing nothing at all and being annoyed at myself for not being dedicated enough. I may occasionally share excerpts and ideas from my story, just so you all know how it's coming along - any feedback at all will be gratefully received.
My main character is an ex-copper turned private investigator named Alex Charnley. He's 30 years old, is 5'8" and has red hair (think more Andre Villas-Boas than Chris Evans, though). He lives in Deepdale and supports Preston North End. He has a four-year-old son named Harry who lives with his ex-wife, Helen (aka Lady Deathstrike/Medusa/Cruella de Vil/whichever name comes to Alex's mind at the time of insult) and her idiot boyfriend, Scott, who is, in Alex's words, "a sort of human version of Action Man - all rippling muscles, perfect hair and no genitalia." He gets caught up in a police investigation surrounding the mysterious murder of a man who is found decapitated in the Preston docklands. I'm quite excited about just getting on and writing it.
That's it for now, I reckon. I've bored you enough. The majority of my blog entries will likely be similarly lengthy and rambly. My advice is to only start reading once you're settled down with a cup of tea and a biscuit!!
