Wordsmithing: MG/TWEEN COUNTERS S:ET 8 by EAM Smith

Monday, 25 October 2010

IF IT'S GOOD ENOUGH FOR NEIL

“I love writing in longhand. Writing in longhand is a marvelous thing for a writer to do these days. If you have a notebook and a nice pen you can go off somewhere and write that’s solar powered. You can drop it or get it wet and pretty much all of your work will continue to be there. If you suddenly decide to look up a word or check a reference you will not look up four hours later, blinking, finding yourself somehow in the middle of an Ebay auction you never had any plans to be part of.” Neil Gaiman

Don't you love Neil's work set-up?!

What is it about MG/TWEEN that makes writing in a notebook so appropriate? The writing is focussed, brief and non-flowery. The plot is a little twisty but that is good. Ethan and Thursday are great foils, I love them both already. Working title: COUNTERS S:ET 8

The historical romance FIRESTONES is still blossoming. Deep in the mountain where healing is on everyone's minds, the first kiss was even more magical.

Now I am setting off on my round trip to Yorkshire and back via Manchester. By the time I see the Minnow I have to make sure my phrase, "No, I'll buy one." end with the full stop rather than the word "..maybe."

RETURN: YA Paranormal Romance

I was running late. But, it was nothing I couldn’t make up with a bit of effort. I shook my head. Confident and happy? I smiled. Increasing my stride, I pushed until the muscles in my legs burned. I kept up the pace even when the hill grew steeper.

Magpie Lane was hardly wider than a ribbon that edged the woods but that didn’t stop traffic using it to get to the motorway quicker. Large trucks and fast cars loved Magpie Lane. They sent vibrations running through me rising from the soles of my trainers. I felt the disturbance in the ground, even before the air pressure tried to knock me off balance. I hunched my shoulders as the cab hauling a container spat stones up at me.

Jogging on the spot, at the entrance to woodland, I ached to leave the road and go inside. My Mum was probably still asleep but I could hear her you-never-know-what might-be-in-there lecture buzzing on repeat inside my head. I should run safe. Not even I would argue that running through the woods on my own was the best definition of safe but I wanted to run-wild and the woodland offered me that. This early, I should be safe from axe murderers or perverts in the trees and besides, I was fast.

I jogged down the slope into the trees. From two paces in, I felt different. Freer. It felt so right. Running in the woods did great things for my style. Avoiding the roots and dodging branches forced my stride longer, I had to step higher. The woodland, The Weald, was only a sliver of ancient woodland that the developers forgot to build on but it felt like it could have been anywhere. Everywhere. At any time. The oaks and beech trees dominated the space and the skinny, silver-birches squeezed up beside them. I laughed. For a second, the woods reminded me of school and I needed to run a lot faster.

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Monday, 25 October 2010

IF IT'S GOOD ENOUGH FOR NEIL