Snow Day and holidays

Snow.
Less than two inches equals school closure? Only in England.
My last half day turned into a no-school snow day.
I was ready to hike to school in my arctic snow gear (the one and a half inches of snow looked chilly) when the text message made my phone buzz. School cancelled. Not so much with a bang as a whisper.
When I went whale watching in Tysfjord the snow was piled higher than my head. The last train couldn't run but the bus, with it's snowplough escort, had no problem getting there.
To quote the kids, who should have been at school on Friday morning, "I don't get it." Surely if the snow is lower than your ankles you should be able to go to school?

Oh, well ... more time for the re-edit: Staying Lost. I read Chapter one and two in its more polished format to the class on Thursday - the blood-thirsty crew were very - there - with Nerysa as she dealt with the ambush. Food for thought on chapter order. I keep reminding myself this is Jon's story.

I've also been making notes for Jess and Caleb - I saw a entire last chapter of one of the books being enacted in the snow yesterday so the non-whiteout was useful.

Now listening to JLS Beat Again - wish Amanda Jenssen was still playing her Christmas number - Spotify keeps showing me up ;)

Staying Lost ~ The happily before the ever after

Editing underway - phew

Now I just want to work out how to add images - not at the same thing as procrastination ;)




Tudor School was one of the most exclusive, private boarding schools in the south of England. It was the only educational facility that insisted prospective pupils had to be registered on the day of their birth. If parents, who could afford the kind of fees they charged, made two phone calls when their babies were born one of them was to the school’s Admission Secretary. It was the only way to guarantee that the child would be considered for a place. This was a school with a long history, a long waiting list and tradition.



Hoards of old Tudorians, in scarlet capes and soft Tudor hats, swelled the numbers who lined the pitch. Every ex-pupil for the last four hundred years had made it to the final game of the season, it seemed – except one. He promised he would get to the game no matter what came up at work but... well... Jon knew his Dad was a busy man.

Beefing up the bad guy

Abby Annis over on her blog asked about the bad guy. She is re-writing her WIP to introduce evil earlier in her work. She has been keeping the reasons for his less than caring nature under her hat. I started thinking about my two very different projects and the force of evil that affects the lives they meet.

Near Edgware

Evil is huge in the second installment of Jess and Caleb's lives. In Near Edgware it is the affects of psychotic evil that can be seen as first Jess and then Caleb and the pack are targeted. To use the spiked wolf collar showed his twisted genius for ironic torture.

"Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and others have greatness thrust upon them."

I don't think anyone is ever ~ truly ~ all black or all white, checkered pasts produce checkered futures.

Meanwhile, aren't I doing well with the editing of Staying Lost ? Um

Procrastination and Books 2009

Great.

Procrastination!

Me.

Not working - lots of that.

Not editing - just the newly finished SHINEY NaNoWriMo MG masterpiece awaiting polishing with a red-pen.

Not writing - apart from the haikus.

The ill-health-thing that my anti-biotics are busy blasting away is turning my brain to mush. What else could be getting in the way of any of the above or - God forbid - sleeping?

TWITTER and the multi faceted Bransford Blog.

I'm doomed!

I'm in charge of videoing the Y3/4 production of Hosanna Rock tomorrow - I can't even click the right button to make my Twitter link active apparently - can I claim it was black light problem?


Speaking of the Bransford Blog - I've only bought 3 books published in 2009 - MG all - :0 - the other hundred are older :s

Steve Feasey Changling - weretastic
Two from the Gladiator Boy series - which were... both from the Gladiator Boy series.

NaNo not writing - editing - STAYING LOST

Editing - taking words and polishing them until they paint a world

STAYING LOST

The crowds, who moments before had been shouting and dancing, froze. Then they began moving in unison; zombie-like they shuffled forward. Supporting the team. Supporting each other. A wall of black and red, the supporters leaned forward – closer – drawn towards the spot where he stood. Hands gripped at their scarves, imprisoning them so they could no longer whip around faces or away.
Jon smiled, it would take more than scarves to disturb him and spoil his aim. Nothing would be allowed to interrupt his preparations. He loosened his shoulders, swinging his arms. He began to pace backwards in a carefully controlled curve. Once he reached the place – the only square of grass that contained the exact spot to being his run up from – Jon held up his linked fists, and eyed the shot with care.
Along the line of his arms he saw the two men hurrying down from the castle keep – the main building of Tudor School. Jon recognised the Head Teacher, Mr Gray, even he was on his way to the rugby pitch. The second man was a little shorter than the headmaster. He looked vaguely familiar too. Jon couldn’t wait for either of them to get down to the field. Time was running out.
Jon blew out his breath, steady and controlled. Leaning into the heel of his back foot, he rocked a little as he prepared for his run up. His concentration was complete now. His eye was on the line, invisible to everyone else, that the ball must follow so he could make the kick successfully. Everything he had been taught to do was second nature. The seam on the ball was the most important thing in his universe at that moment.

Wrong shaped ball, but supporters are supporters no matter what the sport.
Football is my sport - I've been to over half the football grounds of England, Wales and Scotland. Maybe I should try to complete the list?

Go Man Utd - a good day for the Red Devils. I'm glad Scholes scored.

The new Harry Potter is worm called Annelid?

I love Come in Character <3 - it makes me think - it makes me think creatively!

I'm going to be obsessing over the perishing, little critter now...

In a hole in the ground there lived a....

pink, segmented worm who had taken streamlined to a place that was both streamy and liney - well, linear anyway. It had stripped down the kinds of extraneous, dangly pieces other life forms seemed to favour to the bare bones. (Pardon my worm humour I just thought you ought to know that Annelid was a highly evolved kind of critter.)

I could have some fun with this one.

Inspiration comes from

I've been thinking about inspiration rather than Muse (for a change) .

Last week, I wrote a haiku that I loved. It is one of the fastest poems ever written. It probably took less than two minutes from reading the #haikuchallenge word to posting it.

Why did the poem leap from brain to Twitter that quickly? I blame the buzz word *before. It cut through the thought processes to the place where inspiration lives and leapt out... Athene-style... fully formed.

LIFE IS NOT A GROUND HOG DAY

Can't we go back to
the before that was our now?
This time get it right?

There was a line in a play - written for TV - I think by John Godber and Jane Thornton.

It is haunting: Can we not have before again?

It's not a long line of dialogue, as these things go, but it is one of the most important to me.

Where do you find inspiration?