Everything Is Better With Dragons
Book blogger, Autistic, Probably a Dragon
On Monday I reached 13,000 words. I sent it to my dissertation supervisor and this morning he replied. As expected, he doesn’t like it. Not enough sub-plot and the main character is two-dimensional and isn’t central enough. There’s too much talking and not enough pace.
I’ve got a long list of proofing errors to go through and I’m going to have to do a massive re-write.
I have been typing up everything I wrote in week one. I still have not finished getting the writing transferred, and I’m on 7194 words. I’ve probably got at least another 1000 words to type up. I have added a few bits, including a whole chapter at the beginning. That’s something that usually happens between drafts 1 and 2. I’m going to spend the coming week continuing to type up my remaining chapters and then go back to hand writing the rest of the story.
I’m writing this to keep myself on track. I had a good first few days, until Monday. I wrote about 7000 words between last Wednesday and this Monday, but now I appear to have ground to a halt.
7000 words isn’t bad, I suppose, for the first draft, and I keep thinking of things that need changing when I write the second draft on my laptop. The first draft is hand written, in my notebook. The notebook has a fairy on the cover that looks curiously like Liv Tyler, but they added wings to make her less Arwen-like; probably for copyright reasons.
Sorry, back to the topic in hand. My dissertation. The creative piece has to be 13,000 words of consecutive prose from a new piece of fiction, and the creative analysis part has to be 2000 words. For that I’ll be concentrating on three areas – the conventions of crime fiction, the use of real crimes, criminals and detectives as inspiration by crime writers, and regionalism in crime novels – especially in Britain.
At 7,000 words I’m half-way there on the creative piece. I have arranged to do my dissertation supervisions by email, so I don’t have to travel to Lincoln. I can’t afford to; the student loan has all been spent on fees, travel, food, council tax, other bills. Basically surviving while attempting to study. Once a month I have to type up what I’ve written and email it to my dissertation supervisor for detailed, substantial feedback. That should be helpful. I hope.
Just looked out the window and noticed the bin. It’s bin day tomorrow and I haven’t had the bin emptied for four weeks, so I suppose I’d better go and put it out. And tomorrow is also my Post-Diagnostic Support Session with the psychologist. I don’t actually have official confirmation of my diagnosis yet and she wouldn’t even hint at it in her emails last week.
I’m anxious. If I get the suspected diagnosis of ASC – Asperger’s Syndrome, there’s nothing they can do to help, I’ll be passed on to a charity that might possibly be able to provide some information and support. If they decide on a different diagnosis, I’m back to square one, trying to work out why my brain doesn’t work the same way as other people and feeling like the odd one out all the time, with no explanation for my anxiety and depression, or my limited social skills, my dislike of changes to routine or plans, my pacing, fidgeting and tapping, and on a really bad day, rocking back and forth in my chair (sorry! everyone at uni, can’t help myself.).
It’s not uncommon for autistic women to be misdiagnosed as OCD or BPD, or ignored completely, and I don’t know what the psychiatrist’s qualifications or experience is, so now I’m wondering if he’ll dismiss everything he’s seen, heard and read because he’s one of those that doesn’t believe autistic women exist. Maybe I’m unnecessarily torturing myself, but anxiety lies and so does depression, so I don’t know what to think and I’m probably not going to sleep much and be a horrible person tomorrow.
Anyway, time to get offline and do something else. I’ve noticed a distinct increase in my anxiety whenever I spend more than a few minutes online without purpose, and especially if I go on social media. I had to go out food shopping this afternoon so I didn’t get my nap either, so I’m frazzled and tired. Also, my spelling is atrocious right now. Considering going up to my bedroom to cuddle with the dogs and Wabby, and have an early night.
So today is symposium day. I’m nervous about the standing up and talking to people about my dissertation. I have notes for the ten minute talk but I’m not comfortable with it. I’m just going to look at the back of the room and talk to the wall, I think.
This week we looked at the work of Gertrude Stein, the U.S. born writer who spent most of her life in France and hung around with Picasso. Her work is weird, and not necessarily in a good way. It made not sense but sounded like it should. Much more amusing, and nonsensically sensible was the response by James Thurber to hearing the same piece of work.
We had a go at writing something in the style of Stein, but I don’t think I was very successful.
The chicken on the table, little feathery dinosaur on the table in the kitchen, wings aren’t flapping. The wings on the chicken on the table aren’t flapping. The chicken on the plate on the table, the blue and white plate, on the blue and white cloth on the table. The chicken on the blue and white plate on the blue and white cloth in the kitchen, the wings on the chicken on the blue and white plate on the blue and white cloth on the table in the kitchen aren’t flapping.
Flapping, flap, flap, chicken, fly away featherless chicken on the blue and white plate on the blue and white cloth on the table in the kitchen.
Hey, I remembered when I got in from university this evening that I haven’t done my weekly update since I started back at university. I started back last week. It’s a long day, even though I only have one two-hour seminar. Trains and such stretch the day out. I discovered tonight that it only costs £4 to get a taxi from the station to my house. Since I’m in stupid amounts of pain right now, I was willing to pay out the money to get home quickly. I’ve got pins and needles in my left foot right now, so this is going to be quick.
Week one was an introductory seminar, we made mock-ups of A5 pamphlets and discussed the process of publishing. I got to do colouring in.
Today we covered experimental writing and read some of Richard Brautigen’s Trout Fishing in America then attempted to write something in the same vein. I didn’t do very well, but I’ll share them with you.
Task: Write a piece in the style of Richard Brautigan about Brayford Wharf:
The swan and the pasta plate
As I sat out one midwinter evening eating pasta on the wharf, a swan came along to join me. I thought he might like a taste, so I threw the plate to him.
It sank without a taste.
The waiter brought another. I had to try again, as the swan paddled on, lost in the gloom.
I hit her head.
The table rocked when I climbed aboard, the swan barged the chair.
The waiter brought another plate.
“I prefer bread.” The swan said as she turned away.
He really didn’t like the taste.
Food and Lego
Across the river there waits a warm pub with plates of food just for the dragon and I. Long travelling had worn us out and we couldn’t find the donkeys to carry us. Perhaps they’d gone to the beach without me? Where shall I put my bucket and spade. There’s an island in the middle, we could go and play there. Dragon and I found the bricks. Someone had played here before us, some barge child, bored. A little house and farm. Trees and cows and sheep. Lego pigs in Lego pig shit. I don’t want to go to Denmark thanks.
See, I told you they weren’t very good. I think I’m a bit too literal to do the sort of whimsical, experimental writing some of the others could do well.
Right, going to bed now. Pain is getting a bit much.
Night.
That’s it, the term has finished. I should be relieved, it has been tiring and stressful at times, but I’m not. I’m anxious that I won’t see anything of the people I’ve met on the course now that it’s over. I’ve got half an assignment to finish writing and hand in on 26th, when I’ll see everyone again – we’re going for lunch. After that, who knows?
I’ll be back at uni in September to re-enrol, and then I have to wait until next January to start my final module before I do my dissertation. In the months between now and then I will be researching background information for my dissertation novel, and having a trial run at producing a booklet, which is the final assignment I’ll need to hand in, in a year from now before starting my dissertation.
Talking of assignments, I got 70% for my life-writing assignment. If I can get that or more for my ghost story, I’ll be very happy. I’m trying to get my assignment average results above 70%.
I’ve learnt some useful things this year. I’m better at prose than poetry, for a start. I have learnt to write reflexive essays, which were a complete mystery to me at the start. I have a vague understanding of how to write a script now. I got my highest mark in drama, although my 5000 word short story wasn’t far behind. Now it’s in third place after life-writing. I’ve had some useful feedback on my writing and I feel slightly more confident about it.
The next few months will be busy, as well as research for my dissertation, I will be finishing work on Hidden Fire, Fire Betrayed and Fire Awakened, and making progress on Fire Storm. I want to try to self-publish them. I made the decision based on a couple of things:
Probably not the best reasons but they are good enough for me. Right, there will be a book review, and three short stories later today, but first, it’s dinner time.
That’s right, it’s me. It’s another cold and the cough has returned. I wasn’t up to going in this morning; my anxiety was playing up as well. I really didn’t want to go to Lincoln for the day but I forced myself to get the bus to Grimsby and then get the train from there. It doubles my transport costs but I wouldn’t have managed the walk to Habrough station without an asthma attack or coughing fit. Continue reading “Uni week 4: Guess who’s sick!”
Everything Is Better With Dragons 