I'm going to decipher my spider handwriting.

After nearly a week of feeling so stuck with my novel idea and wondering if I should just forget the whole thing, I finally got myself into the feel of things today and began making a character factfile for one of my protagonists.

I'd always dismissed things like that as being a waste of time, seeing the vast amounts of information that probably wouldn't be used as pointless. But now I've changed my mind. I think it's important to think about all these different things to create a character that's believeable and likeable. So have just listed 131 things about my main character from his breakfast to what book's on his bedside table. Some of it will be used, some of it will just stay in the back of my mind but will be good to think about from time to time.

I feel so much better today than I did even yesterday. I feel like I've been walking around with a frown on my face for ages now and am so glad that things are looking up a bit. And now I feel that I'm developing my characters more and more, I'm looking forward to getting on with the writing. I have the plot in mind, but without knowing the character's who are involved it all seemed a bit futile.

Right, now I'm going to decipher my spider handwriting and type up these 131 characteristics.

Hurrah!

xx

'Well, we tell them they're going to Hell.'

So last night I watched that documentary that was on earlier this month: Louis Theroux Meets America's Most Hated Family.

That was a treat.

The family was headed by Pastor Phelps who looked like a more fleshy, but equally frightening, Skeletor, and his daughter, Shelley.

Basically, they picket the funerals of American soldiers who died in Iraq. (As if there could be an acceptable one). Well, they didn't think soldiers should be fighting for a nation that is accepting of 'fags.'

The programme was pretty intense to watch and I don't know how Theroux managed to keep a straight face for some of it, particularly the picketing of a hardware store that sold Swedish vacuum cleaners. No, not because God hates the machines that make household cleaning easier, but because Sweden is a tolerant country in regards to sexuality. So, out came the 'GOD HATES FAGS', 'THANK GOD FOR 9/11', and 'GOD HATES YOU,' pickets. Nice.

I think the best part for me that I actually laughed out loud at, was when Theroux asked Shelley's teenage daughters of they had many friends at school:
'No, we don't have many friends. We have some acquaintances.'
'Why's that?'
'Well, we tell them they're going to Hell.'

Why wouldn't you want to be friends with that?

On a sombre note though, there was a part when the family are standing on the street with their signs and a passenger in a passing car throws a drink at one of the seven year old children (who is holding a sign that says something along the lines of 'GOD HATES YOU' - you get the drift). The carton cuts the little boys face and the family get really annoyed: 'How could someone do something like that to a child?'

I think the person that threw it was probably trying to hit one of the adult members of the family. And I can understand why.

But, to echo the question in regards to seven year old holding a sign that they don't understand the meaning of: 'How could someone do something like that to a child?' That child was hit in the face for something they had no say in, something they were born into and will probably always be involved.

It's so sad that the family message is, 'We're okay, but everyone else is going to Hell.'

Oh, and the woman said the word, 'Hon', after everything she said. As if you couldn't hate her enough already.

xx

You know you're in Cornwall when you're subject to a conversation like that.

Just when I thought I had my novel all planned out, something comes up and I realise it's not tied together as seamlessly as I'd thought. But I guess that's part of the writing process; things taking shape over time.

Anyway, it's Monday and the weekend crept by like a dying sloth with me finding it hard to get any inspiration to do anything but sit in the sun and panic about things. I seemed to have hit a brick wall that only now have I managed to climb over and drop down the other side of. Thank God. If I was still in that situation now, I think I would probably have eaten my own head in frustration. And no-one needs to see that.

On a different note, I've had some horrible dreams recently.

I always have the dream that I'm biting my own teeth out and the other night I dreamt that I had done that again and all my teeth were loose in my mouth. In the dream I was telling myself 'this isn't happening, this is just a dream.' But then, in the dream, I woke up and my mouth was toothless. Then I woke up properly in a cold sweat, teeth still in tact, but it was pretty distressing as you can imagine.

Then, the other night, I was an idiot and took Saw III out from the DVD place after I'd had a few drinks with some friends and a takeaway. Anyway, I got home and started watching the film. It was pretty gruesome and, although I've always been kind of okay with horror films, this was a bit too much. I think because I heard of the Virginia shooting the same day, it all felt a bit weird to be watching people be hurt and things on screen. If that makes sense?


Anyway, I fell asleep halfway through and was having a horrible nightmare that I was in a situation like that shooting with all my friends and family. Then I woke up to someone screaming, snapped my eyes open and the TV was still on and someone was getting tortured in the film. I nearly died. Ugh, what a trauma. I turned it off and went to bed feeling like a big old jelly, waking up on Wednesday and checking I still had all my teeth and limbs intact which, needless to say I did.

So there we go, those are the highlights of this week. Oh, and here's a highlight from Friday when I went to Miss Pea-Pods in Penryn with some friends. I was sitting down next to my friend Ryan, who's from Indiana, USA, when some random bloke bumped into me and then said:

'Are you gay?'
'Yes.'
Seriously, are you really gay?'
'Yes, seriously, I am gay.'
'Are you messing around?'
'No.'
(Then he turns to Ryan:)
'Is he really gay?'
'Yes, he's really gay.'
'Are you American?'

OH MY GOD! Painful! You know you're in Cornwall when you're subject to a conversation like that.

Right, anyway, I have to go and get some work done. I took a DVD out of the library to watch if and when I manage to get a lot done tonight - Louis Theroux Meets America's Most Hated Family.

What a treat.

xx

'REMEDIES. IT WAS GREAT. GOD, WE WERE ALL SO DRUNK.'

Just when I thought I'd suffered sitting opposite the most annoying person in the library, another irritant comes crawling out of the woodwork and tops the list.

This one is sat next to one of his friends and is talking to him as if a) he's deaf and b) in need of hearing the word 'drunk' in every sentence. Here's an example of the conversation being bellowed the other side of my monitor:

'I WAS SO DRUNK LAST NIGHT.'
'Were you?'
'YEAH, REALLY DRUNK. YOU KNOW WHAEN YOU'RE REALLY DRUNK AND PEOPLE KEEP SAYING TO YOU 'YOU'RE REALLY DRUNK' I WAS THAT DRUNK.'
'Where were you last night?'
'REMEDIES. IT WAS GREAT. GOD, WE WERE ALL SO DRUNK.'
'Was Alice drunk?'
'YEAH SHE WAS REALLY DRUNK, SHE WAS JUST REALLY, REALLY DRUNK. AND TOM WAS REALLY DRUNK TOO. WE WERE ALL REALLY DRUNK.'

Aaagh! Why do people like this exist? Why? I don't care if someone was drunk last night, I couldn't care less, but I hate hearing this kind of weird boasting so loud that I can't even ignore it.

Every so often I let out a sigh and glare, but it doesn't seem to do anything. But I know if I go to say something I'll snap and end up looking like a crazy. Which I'm not.

Anyway, that's that.

More later, maybe.

xx

What's its game?

Ugh, why does the library catalogue do this?

I just typed 'Anita Shreve' into the search field and it came up with 'no results found. Did you mean Anita Shrive?'

So then I clicked 'Anita Shrive' and still nothing came up. What's it playing at? What's its game?

WHY IS IT TORMENTING ME IN THIS WAY?

Unless I get touched (appropriately) by a miracle.

Back in Falmouth, how exciting! And my house is actually warm, yes, warm! Leaving the heating to come on auto over Easter paid off and I'm very smug that I wasn't blue with cold after twenty minutes in the house, like has been known to happen in the past.

Managed to get quite a bit of work done over the weekend and have made some progress on my novel, though am still nowhere near the 75 pages he wants for Tuesday, unless I get touched (appropriately) by a miracle, anyway.

So, not much else to report on really. This week should be pretty stressful since we have to hand in our websites and Industry Analysis by Friday, but (touch wood) I'm feeling kind of on top of things in that area. It's with novel and features I'm feeling a bit anxious.

Right, I'm going, it's going to take me a couple of days to swing back into the blogging thing. And these things can't be rushed.

xx

I'm stooped over like an old woman.

So there goes Easter for another year, and very nice it was too. I spent Friday in a park in Bath with my friend, Sophie, before going to Ian's to eat with a couple of his friends and playing a very complicated dice game - Perudo. Even though I'm the one that introduced him to the game, I still don't understand the rules and each time I play need to be taught as if I've never seen it before in my life. Which is always a chore.

Yesterday was great too; I went for a meal with my family in a Turkish restaurant in town. I swore that they had booked the table for 1pm, so arrived accordingly. Anyway, when I got there, they weren't there and the waiter told me the table was booked for half past. Then he said, 'You could go out and find some girls.' I kind of laughed awkwardly and said I might have a walk around and then come back. Then he said it again: 'Maybe you'll find some girls.' I don't know what he was getting at. It was all very strange, but the meal was really nice.

Then last night I went out for a friend's birthday and fell asleep in a club. You know it's a good night when that happens. Well, unless you get thrown out. Not so good then.

Anyway, I'm really uncomfortable. I'm at my parents and they have a very bizarre arrangement with their computer desk and the keyboard's too low so I'm stooped over like an old woman.

So, on that note, goodbye.

xx

After an hour and a half in the gym with The Hits on the TV, I have learnt that I hate Madness and Suggs more than I thought.

xx

:)

Panic on...panic off.

The memory stick has been retrieved. Thank God. I was on the phone to Jenny on Monday afternoon after I'd given up looking and resigned myself to the fact that it was gone. Anyway, while I was talking to her, she said: 'Have you looked everywhere? Just then, I picked up a newspaper on my desk and there was the memory stick. Hurrah! I was so happy. And still am. I still don't know how it got where it was though because it was under so much stuff that is only ever moved as a stack; you know, that pile of stuff that 'needs to be sorted out soon' and never is.

Anyway the lesson learnt is: make back-ups. Oh, and the staff in The Famous Barrel don't know what a memory stick is if you think you've lost one in there and will probably think you're a witch doctor.

Moving on...yesterday was a really productive day in that I managed to cut my first chapter down from twenty eight pages to seventeen, which was pretty good really I think. Then tidied up and cleaned the house and had friends round to eat in the evening. Lovely.

And today looks to be equally productive. I'm going to the gym in a minute, then home for lunch and then work for a few hours. Oh! And I need to pack because I'm going to Bristol for a week tomorrow. Hurrah! I'm really looking forward to seeing everyone when I get back and I'm not taking my computer with me, only some books and print-outs of my drafts so I can get some work done but won't be tied to a monitor.

Whoopo!

Right, the gym calls...

xx

:(

Today isn't going to be a good day.

Last night I couldn't find my data/memory stick and got in a real state about that as I have some work I don't have on my hard drive. Thought I would come into college and find it either in the library or the baseroom. It's not in either. Now I'm really frustrated about that and won't be able to concentrate on anything for the rest of the day. Oh, and emails I was expecting still haven't arrived which is crap too. Ugh.

I don't know what to do with myself.

xx