Catching Up

August 20, 2012

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I’ve been offline for some time. Don’t worry, I’m back. The Internet may now resume. (The Internet stops when I’m offline, right?)

I was at a 21st on Saturday night. It was in Westmeath. For those of you who don’t know Irish geography, that’s some bit away from Dublin. Returning on the same night is not advised, unless someone remains sober to drive (yeah right!) or you have a pocket full of extra cash to get a cab. We’re students. We stayed the night.

Now, we didn’t exactly sleep on Saturday night. It was more like Sunday morning before people made their way to the tents. Me? I was in the kitchen at that point, where it was warm, and decided it was too much effort to go back outside. So I slept on an armchair. At this point, it was half seven in the morning.

I did not get a long sleep.

At nine, I was up and talking (barely) until breakfast at eleven. We left the house for the two o’clock bus, and when I arrived back home a couple of hours later, proceeded to shower (which was awesome) and then, when the dinner was on, watch Supernatural. I stayed watching television until eight, when I went upstairs. I think.

Evidently, I woke up at half three in the morning still fully dressed and lying on top of my duvet. I wasn’t comfortable. I got up, used the toilet, removed my tracksuit bottoms (classy bloke that I am) and got back into bed. I thought, I’ll probably just stay awake.

I woke up at eleven, dreary, and celebrated. “You can’t catch up on sleep.” Biology, I have conquered you. I managed to get two nights’ worth of sleep, having woken up in the middle of it all.

So, there you have it: I am awesome.

Right? Okay, maybe not. However, I can report more from that 21st. For a start, I got drunk. That’s always a plus, here in Ireland. I haven’t had occasion to drink all summer, so this was a chance for me at reacquaint myself with my good old friend Captain Morgan. We got along well, I must say, because not only did I not fall over, I didn’t get sick.

That’s a double-win. Even after the miscellany of alcohol finding its way to me (from Sex on the Beach to Vodka to Mickey Finns) I survived. I honestly expected to have some form of liver failure after drinking, properly, for the first time in that house.

A fun sidenote: it was the same house where I first tried alcohol. I won’t, for the sake of those involved, tell you what the drink was. I tell that story far too often as it is.

What can we conclude  from this post?

  1. Even after a weekend of sleeping and drinking, I can remember to write my weekly post.
  2. I can defy biology.
  3. The Irish can drink without falling all over the place.
  4. Westmeath is worth drinking in. Sometimes.
  5. It’s possible for an Irishman, even an Irish writer, to drink responsibly. Sometimes.

Next week, maybe I’ll have something to say that isn’t about drinking. But then, what more do you expect from we Irish?

PS I have a habit, usually forced, of telling people when I’m drunk. Just for good measure: I’m sober.

The Marathon, then the Sprint

August 13, 2012

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Last week, I had the fun experience of going on a blog tour. Of course, I didn’t take my own advice for it: I set out on the tour without having time to get everything written in advance of the day it was due online. This is, largely, because of my trip to Leap Castle on Tuesday. I didn’t sleep, and so when I sat down to write again, it was Wednesday night and I hadn’t slept. Such is life.

That tour was to mark the end of my Writing Olympics, with an event-by-event guide for others to do some of the same things I did. With the book out in the world, however, I needed something else to fill my time.

Let’s put my life into context. I took a week off to write Balor Reborn, including booking time off work. I had holiday hours owed to me, so it made sense to take them. The blog tour helped to pass another week of my life. However, I’m now faced with something else entirely: impending teaching practice. This isn’t, in itself, a bad thing. Nor are the lectures due to start in college afterwards. The problem with them is that they inhibit starting a longer project that I won’t have time to commit to.

With that, I’m going from a marathon of a project like a novella in a week to something new and exciting: flash fiction. What this means is that the sequel to Balor Reborn won’t be written for some time. I need to establish a schedule once college starts, and while I would, under normal circumstances, get that book written before lectures start, I have to prepare lessons for unknown age groups, while also working on a research paper.

Life is rather full, then, if I could only get myself focused.

I had planned to get to work at eight this morning. I didn’t bother myself getting out of bed until ten. Well, I suppose staying up to watch the closing ceremony of the Olympics had something to do with that. However, it’s a disruption I canny afford on a regular basis.

I have a lot of work to do, this month. An annoying amount of work. However, that’s why I’m writing flash fiction. I need to remain creative, and while I will be attempting some longer work in the month, I can’t focus on a novella. There’s too much work in the writing process. Flash fiction is new for me, though, and it’s letting me explore some of the stories that I want to tell but don’t know how to introduce. So far, the two stories I’ve written are suitable back stories to Modern Irish Myth books, while also serving as stand-alone pieces.

I need that. I need that sprint. The stories don’t last long, and I still get a rush from writing them. It’s not the same, but the idea of sticking to under one thousand words is so fresh to me that it’s exciting. I’m hoping to stockpile on them, to stick them up for Flash Friday every week for the foreseeable future. I figure it’ll be a fun way to write some Irish myth and ghost stories in a short space of time, that can be read by people in a short space of time.

So, best get sprinting.

What about you? Do you write flash fiction? Comment below and leave a link for me to read a story you wrote.

First I Was Afraid

August 6, 2012

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…then I was petrified. I spent a whole week on the camera without you by my side. Thought I’d always be alone, thought the book wouldn’t get done but I was wrong.

Actually, what’s wrong is that opening. Last week, I missed my spot. I said I would. I was tired, on the fifth day of putting together a book in a week. However, I managed to complete it. Balor Reborn is now published, after an exhausting week of writing, editing and whatnot.

You would think my summer activities would be complete after that, but no. I have a blog tour under-way this week with the other writing group I’m part of (yes, I’m two-timing the Den) and I’m in the midst of planning the sequels to Balor Reborn. Also, I’m getting ready to visit a haunted castle.

Actually, that’s non-specific. It’s actually the most haunted castle in the world, and I’m bringing brownies. You can tell that I’m clearly a professional paranormal investigator because I bring home-made brownies. We don’t expect to see much ghostly activity, but it should be fun, anyway. We also don’t expect to sleep. In fact, we’re banking on not sleeping. At all.

See how I managed to make that title specific to two things at once? Not bad for an outrageously tired writer. I’ve just come off three days’ working, almost two weeks’ writing and two hours baking. It’s close to midnight, and yes: I almost forgot to post today. These things do happen when life takes the turns it does.

Anyway, this is merely me writing for the sake of it. I have things going on, but I feel it’s always right to honour your obligations. Even if your eyeballs do hate you for it at the end of the day. Hopefully next week I’ll actually be able to do more than just spout out words.

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