Writing project – Page 37 – Marie Alice Writes & Reads

Diary of a writing project. Day 87-88: Looking back

Word count goal for this week: 62 500 words
Word count so far: 45 204 words

We’re far still from New Year’s Eve. But not so far that I’m not tempted to look back on the writing year that as yet come to past.

Talking about the writing feels a bit like… boasting.

Although… the YA Contemporary novel I wrote last winter was rejected.
I abandoned a Middle-Grade novel at 30 000 words or so.
And I’m struggling to get over the 50 000 words mark on the current YA paranormal project, even I really, really enjoyed it, and the middle is all figured out, and the end is brainstormed like crazy.

Not much room to be boasting about anything after all, now, is there, hee hee hee!

Continuer la lecture

Diary of a writing project. Day 83-84-85: Christmas mood

Word count goal this week: still 62 500 words
Word count so far: 44 731 words

Snow.

Lights.

Decorations, food, playing outside until our cheeks are all red with the cold, our heads fill with joys, our tummies rumbling for some hot chocolate.

A whole month of cozy and warm, baking cookies and cracking open that « Coureur des bois » bottle, a creamy maple sirupy liquor that goes down like melted ice cream.

And reading books and watching movies and listening to kiddo singing Christmas songs!

In December, I stay from many things. The news, the noisy social media monsters, the malls.
And if I could, believe you me, stay away from the all the fudgeonsofticecream family-friends gatherings without causing a year-long scandal, oh man, I would.

Anyway, I simply choose to not dwell on the grown-ups responsibilities too much and simply enjoy our little family time… while my kiddo can still bare the thoughts of us, the parents.
Only too soon, kiddo might feel the same way I do about having to crawl on icy roads among crazy stress out drivers, then spend hours avoiding every possible topics that might cause a big drama… ergo, spend hours talking about the weather….

I’m not dwelling, I’m just… acknowledging… things…

Huh, is this a writing blog or what?

The manuscript is happening, slowly but surely.

So many to do these. All my energy is dedicated to get everything ready so… I can write more.

No matters how many to-do’s list I go through, there’s always a new thing, or a old thing I forgot on the previous list.
Therefore, I am left with less time in the evenings to write.
Less time and way, way less motivation and energy.

Example: one day, I had to go out three times before finally buying the dish soap I went out to buy in the first place.
By that time, the kitchen had become a nightmare of smelly dirty dishes, pots and glasses. A nightmare I could not possibly leave there.

And there’s also the Christmas mood.

I feel like reading by candlelight all night, sipping tea, wrapped in a soft blanket.
Or, like tonight, listening to the wind storm out there while writing my diary before getting back to a videogame, and pray we don’t lose power. It supposed to get down to -27Celsius tonight out here. To think that yesterday only, it was +3 Celsius and raining non-stop…

Dear writer friends, I do hope everything is going good with your manuscript, and your motivation, and life.
Thanks for tagging along.

Until next time!

Diary of a writing project. Day 82: Writer Blues

Tomorrow will be just as yesterday, and the day before.

A simple day.

Watch some kid shows before dawn, go to daycare, get back in my pj’s and work.

Many years ago, on a day like tomorrow, I went to a funeral.

My grand-mother’s funeral.

Now, I remember parts of it. Hot chicken broth served in plastic cups.
A woman telling I had beautiful children (I was a young teenager back then!).
The empty kitchen, in the old house that didn’t smell the same no more, and never will anymore.

Souvenirs will come and go all day, and before I know it, tomorrow will be yesterday.

Grief is a funny thing, really. True grief never truly go away. It lives alongside your every move and suddenly, an image, a sound, a date on a calendar. And voilà, Grief rings’ its clear silver bell on those beautiful moments, some getting foggier as time goes by.

I will remember the way she roll her thumbs during mass forever.

Tomorrow will be like yesterday.

Just a bit sad around the edges.

Just a bit.