My hands are poised over the keyboard, the first sentence already in my head — not a proper sentence, some might say, as it doesn’t contain a verb, and, nightmare upon nightmare, it’s a flashback told in second-person singular voice using the present tense. But this is the year for throwing the rulebook out of the window into the shrubbery at the bottom of my garden and going speculative.
You, in a glass case?
Possibly, those are the only five words I will disclose to anyone during the writing process — five words that will take at least 50,000 words to answer.
Are there any other NWW participants willing to share their trigger sentence, with the proviso that it need not stay as their opener in subsequent drafts.
We all have different approaches to writing. Some authors prepare detailed plot outlines prior to embarking on their novel. Others, like me, start with the characters, while only having a vague concept of the plot’s beginning, middle, and end.
The second approach is a more perilous path to follow as it risks the author walking into dead ends, but it can also prove a most exhilarating journey to place characters in situations of danger and conflict, and then allow them to take the lead and surprise you with their solutions.
Below, are a few pointers to help those participating in Novel Writing Winter to meet their goals.
once crowned with a star
it glittered in the firelight
last year’s Christmas tree
dumped forgotten and homeless
its chocolate coins melted
Anyone else out there with a seasonal tanka in them, bursting to get out, if only they understood a little more about this poetic form?
Here are the absolute basics: a tanka is a five-line poem of 31 syllables shared 5-7-5-7-7, so it’s just a longer version of a haiku, which is three lines of 17 syllables shared 5-7-5. Lines 1 and 2 of the tanka usually represent a moment or thought in concrete terms. Line 3 is the pivot. Lines 4 and 5 are your reflection upon that moment or thought.
Sometimes I punctuate my tanka, but the one above called for me to leave it as bare and unadorned as the dead and abandoned tree. There is no hard and fast rule about punctuation.
The rules of the award are to tell people 7 things about yourself, hitherto not mentioned on your blog.
Algebra is a complete mystery to me, meaning I failed my 11-plus, but I know my times tables back to front.
When I was sixteen, someone asked me out who went on to become a famous actor. I turned him down because he was shorter than me and I fancied his brother more. No names mentioned here.
I used to attend pop concerts with my mum. Sometimes we climbed on our seats and screamed, she in her white jeans and me in my miniskirt. We went to watch such legends as Jimmy Hendrix, Pink Floyd, and Genesis.
When a lorry wrote off my Cherokee jeep, my son and I climbed out of it without a scratch, and my old dog slept through the episode. She might have opened one eye as our vehicle was propelled down the road attached to the lorry’s bumper, but she’d already experienced fourteen years of my eccentric behaviour, so probably thought it was just a new game. I’ve been scared of lorries ever since.