Girl, you’ll be a woman soon

‘Cut my life into pieces’ Papa Roach – Last resort

So since I last wrote, what has happened? Honestly absolutely bugger all. Work is still ridiculously dull, but it has meant that I managed to get 4,000 words of my story written this week. I have had a replot and have basically had to start from scratch again. One or two bits for the original just need a slight re-write, but everything else is scrapped. Once I get back from town today I shall be typing it all up. With a bit of luck I should manage to get a good proportion of the book written before I leave my temp job (if not all of it). I have decided to enter a writing competition as well, which closes in March. They want a synopsis and 5,000 words (max). If it gets picked to be in the top 25 then I get six months to finish the entire thing before it is judged again – the winner getting their novel published. I don’t hold out any hope of winning really, but for those that don’t make it you get a free critique of the work, which is what I’m really after here. You lot may all be extremely complimentary about my writing, but let’s face it – you’re all slightly biased. (not that I’m complaining you understand!)

I know I’ve not written much, but I have been reading. The thing is that by the time I’m home from work these days I’m shattered & have, quite frankly, had enough of staring at a computer screen. Once my birthday is out of the way, I shall endeavour to write more – have to make the most of this place before it folds (I have way more to say on this – as you’d expect – so shall be writing more when I get back from town). I’m off out today to pick up the F1 tickets (there are no hotels left near Silverstone – for the first time in 7 years, I’m off camping this summer!!) and a vacuum cleaner – which I’m very, sadly, excited about. I’m getting old if I’m excited about domestic appliances.

And that’s what’s bugging me this week. Oh I know, it’s only my 25th birthday, but still, it’s depressing the hell out of me. I’ve had to tell Duncan to quit it with the cracks, which are bad enough from everyone else, but I’d like one person not to keep going on about it. Why are birthdays so depressing? I mean, really. It should be a huge celebration of life right? Only every year I just get depressed about life slipping away from me.

Tonight we are off out into town. I eventually decided on a few drinks at our favourite pub in West Jesmond before catching a metro to the arena, where they do a rock night two or three times a month. None of us have been there before, and of the two rock nights offered in Newcastle tonight we figured it would be the one least likely to be full of underage Slipknot fans (my theory on slipknot, as an aside, is that underneath those masks it’s really the Backstreet Boys and the failed Take That members. Come on you masked wimps – prove me wrong!!!!) Tomorrow will be spent nursing a hangover and doing mundane things like food shopping. On Monday we are having dinner with Mary, Tony & probably Kelly, and then on Tuesday, my actual birthday, me & Duncan are going out for dinner to a very nice Italian restaurant in Jesmond. Note that I shall not be watching Blackburn stuff Sheffield on my birthday (although I do kind of want to). Can’t decide if this is merely confidence that we will win, or maturity in some way.

Anyway, I’m off shopping. I shall be back later, as I have way more to say today.

Until there is a next time…

xx