Stuck in the middle?

I'm a busy little bee at the moment. Revisions are in for my Valentine's story, and then I'm working on another book that has to be done and dusted by mid-July.

In the meantime, I'm blogging over at the Pink Heart Society today, talking about story structure and character arc - especially that sticky middle point.

Edna

My husband has a nickname for me. Every time he sees me reading he says, "Alright, Edna?" Edna being short for Edna Book. (If you're scratching your head and saying 'huh?', let me elaborate: if you say this with a broad London accent it could be translated as 'head in a book'.)

Since I've started writing as well as reading, however, I find I am two different kinds of Edna. There's the Edna who can't hear/see anything because she's absorbed by the story she's reading, and there's the Edna who is living so much in the fantasy world of her own book that real-life details starts to get fuzzy and all jumbled up.

I know I've turned into Edna 2 recently because I've started doing stupid things. There are a couple of incidents that have already drifted into the memory fog, but I clearly remember jumping up from my desk one afternoon in the middle of a writing session, and reminding myself out loud that I must not forget to pick my youngest up from school. (Guilty as charged on previous occasions, your honour.)

Like a good little mummy, I put on my coat, picked up my keys and dashed round the corner to the local primary school. It was only as I came to halt in the playground that I realised I no reason to be there. Yes, my daughter needed picking up - but not for another two hours, as she was attending an after-school club. See what I mean? Edna.

Now I've stumbled on another blip in the space-time-writing continuum. I wrote a blog post about book beginnings after attending a 'First 100 words challenge' workshop taken by Julie Cohen. Thought of a sequel just now, so I went back to look at the origninal post. Is it up on my blog? Is it heck! I have no idea what happened to it! Swallowed by a black hole probably. And not the one in my head.

Sigh. I know it's not going to get any better before deadline day, so the rest of you might as well just call me Edna too.

My secret weapon

Just glanced over to my bookshelf and was horrified to discover how many mugs have collected there in the last day or so. No wonder I can't find anything to drink out of downstairs (I have my desk and bookshelf in my bedroom - oh, for an office!).

Hate to think what might be mouldering at the bottom of some of those cups...

But it's obviously working! Progress is good on the book. So perhaps I should just stop mug-hoarding, wash up and boil the kettle once more.