I feel fat and horrible after, but I don't care.

Christ, another week gone by. Where does the time go? I can't believe it's December tomorrow. Scary.

Anyway, this week has been kind of good. I've been getting myself back into work mode after last week's hectic graduation weekend. I had such a great time with Ian and my family down, but it took a couple of days to recover. It didn't help doing life modelling on Tuesday when the last thing I wanted to do was stand naked in front of a room full of people. Admittedly, it's not often the first thing I ever want to do, but Tuesday was hard bloody work, and I agreed to do two sessions next Tuesday. Why?! One is a two and a half-hour pose, which makes me feel a bit wobbly just thinking about. Still, I'm just thinking of the money and, besides, I'm not here much longer so I should embrace all my Falmouth experiences.

So, yeah, graduation weekend went well. The ceremony itself was actually really nice. The guest speaker was Jill Murray who wrote The Worst Witch books. She was very encouraging and motivational and by the time she finished, I was like, 'Yezh, whoop! Let me back at my novel.' A few hours later, however, I was slurring my words and telling everyone, 'I'm very easy on the eye.' This has become something of a habit of mine when I'm drunk, but a friend had the best response, which was, 'Yes, you are easy on the eye, but you're not easy on the ears.' Cheers, Sara!

Oh, I had an uncomfortable moment the other afternoon. I popped out to get some Baked Beans (let's be specific here) and was waiting in the queue when a woman came up carrying two (large) turkey drumsticks. I'm quite keen on talking to people in queues and things, so said, 'It's busy, isn't it?' So, we got chatting, and she held up aforementioned (large) turkey drumsticks and said, 'These are gorgeous, these are. You a vegetarian?' I shook my head. 'Ooh, they're gorgeous. What I do is I stuff 'em with stuffing and then eat 'em. There's enough for two really, but I eat 'em all myself. I feel fat and horrible after, but I don't care.'

I don't know why this made me feel a bit sad, but it did. It was kind of like she know what she was doing wasn't making her feel good, but she couldn't stop anyway. I was tempted to snatch one of the frozen things from her and clonk her on the head, 'Stop,' but decided that I was next in the queue and didn't want to be lugged out by security. Who wants that on a Tuesday afternoon? No, no. Not me.

So, the week has actually been pretty productive. Kath has gone back to Cardiff for a week, so I'm cat-sitting and have learnt this evening that cats can be very, very loud when they're fighting. I was sitting down reading just now and heard two cats knocking hells bells out of each other, so I opened the door and called, 'Larios, Larios,' (the cat's name). All went silent. Sat back down again, and then, 'Yolwwwl, yoooooowlllll.' It was horrible. I had visions of him walking back into the house with no eyes or something, but he came back about half an hour absolutely soaked but with all limbs attached, thank God.

But, I was saying, productivity-wise, I have got quite a lot done and aim to have 40,000 words by next Thursday. If I don't, I will eat a hair sandwich. And that is that. I don't know why, but I kind of think I wnat to get that much done before sending it out to agents. Some might call this procrastination, but I prefer to think of it as 'effective time management.' I just think I only get one chance to make an impression with an agent, and I don't want to bugger it up. The more I write, the more my beginning changes and the more foreshadowing I am doing. It's a really interesting part of the process and I can see why people finish their work before sending it off. During the course, we were encouraged to send only the first three chapters, which I think is fine in terms of drawing attention to my writing and the story, butm as a first-timer, they need to know I have the longevity to finish a works of that length. And so I want to get to 40,000 words because that's near enough half way. I figure if I can get to half way one side, I'll be able to get the other half done too. If that makes sense. I think it does. I'm confident, anyway, whatever. Saying that, I'd quite like to get it out before I turn 25 in January. We'll see.

Right, I'm off. I have a great book I'm reading at the moment, 'Me Talk Pretty One Day' by David Sedaris. It's so funny, I've almost wet myself twice already. I say 'almost' in the loosest sense of the word.

xx

Rightly or wrongly, I'm wracked with guilt. My novel and I have had the weekend apart and I feel as if I've done nothing for weeks not days. I have a good excuse though since I graduated on Saturday and had everyone down to visit: my parents, sister, nan, and Ian. It was such a nice weekend, and so good to see everyone from the course too, hearing what everyone is up to post Falmouth. Everyone was on good form and the ceremony was really well done. The guest of honour was Jill Murphy who wrote The Worst Witch books. She was really encouraging about the whole writing thing, about ignoring anyone who tries to stop you and about pursuing a passion. By the time she'd finished her speech, I was all fired up. A few hours later in the Tap Room, though I was not fired up. I was practically lying down. I blame the gin.

I bet I'll have dreams of having my head fried in a chip pan tonight.

My washing smells of chips. Why does my washing smell of chips? I haven't eaten chips for about three weeks, there were no chips in the washing machine or the tumble drier as far as I saw. There were no chips in the pockets of jeans I put in, nor were there any in my duvet cover or pillow cases. So why does my washing smell of chips? I bet I'll have dreams of having my head fried in a chip pan tonight. Horrible.

So, other than this hoo-hah, today has been a really productive one. I carried on my re-read, cut loads and am now under 30,000 words again. Boo. Still, quality rather than quality, and it's getting better with each edit.

My keyboard and I had a falling out earlier (pre chip-gate, so you can see I've had a hard day). I don't know I thought a battery operated keyboard would be a good idea. It's not. Sure, you don't have the wires running all over the place, but you do run the risk of it suddenly conking out, mid flow. It's a real game, I tell you! Oh, what a laugh I had running down to Tesco in the teeming rain to get new batteries! Sick.

I've spent most of the evening frowning at the monitor while working on my website, which is now so much better than it was. I was having a real quandary about what to do about my CV and toyed with getting rid of the link all together as it had so much 'irrelevant' information on it. Since the website is mainly for agents and writing jobs I'm going to apply for, a lot of my work history is pretty unhelpful. So I decided to keep only my last employee, then a paragraph saying that since graduating in 2004 I have worked in a variety of temp roles and am now dedicating myself to writing. I'm a lot happier with it, which is good, and also updated work on my non-fiction section. I really thought doing all of this would be really difficult, but it was actually okay. Fiddly, but okay. I won't apply for any web design jobs yet though...

So, that was today. Looking forward to tomorrow. Jen is coming down from London for graduation, and Ryan and maybe a couple of others too, so will go out for a cheeky drink in celebration! Whoopo!

Right, the chippy bed calls.Salt and vinegar?

:(

xx

I don't think it's very good form to be rude to the only nude on the room.

So I'm back from another nudey Tuesday evening and, because I've done it a few time now, I think I might have gone through my whole repertoire of poses: hands on hips, hands behind head, sitting, kneeling, arms folded, arms by sides. I spent the whole time worrying that I'd hear and angry voice from behind me, 'YOU DID THAT ONE LAST TIME,' but no one said anything and, to be honest, I don't think it's very good form to be rude to the only nude on the room. That's my view, anyway.

Oh, while I'm on the subject of nudity, why do I go to the washroom to get changed afterwards? Doesn't that seem completely backwards? I spend two and a half hours naked in front of these people, and then excuse myself to put my clothes on. Silly Skullers.

Anyway, for the rest of the day during which I was mainly clothed, I have been pretty productive and have finished a mammoth Chapter Seven that's teetering at 8000 words. I need to start cutting it down but, because I've spent the last couple of days on it, need a bit of distance and have started re-reading from the very beginning. It's amazing what stands out on each read. So many passive sentences, so many parts that can be embellished, and a dog that I keep forgetting exists. I'm starting to think the dog might have to go. Apart from a nice little metaphor about letting sleeping dogs lie, dog isn't contributing much at all. She is not pulling her weight, just settling at people's feet when I remember her, and probably languishing in a corner when I don’t. I feel it's time to kill another darling before she dies from literary neglect.

Right, so that's that. I have to get into bed RIGHT NOW before I fall asleep on the keyboard and wake up with indents on my forehead. Never a good look. No, no.

xx

Other than stinging eyes and married men, things are good.

My eyes sting. I went to bed early last night at about midnight, which is good going for me at the moment, and lay there for ages, tossing and turning. When I checked the time again, it was 2.30. 2.30! Isn't that sick? Two and a half hours pressing my head into the pillow wondering if I should get up and try and do something with the sleepless time or 'lie it out' like some sadistic game of sleeping lions. I chose the latter, getting up today at 8am for novel meeting and feeling as though I'd tried to gouge my own eyes out with a spoon. Not recommended. No, no.

Anyway, novel meeting went well. I took along scenes from Chapter Seven and got in a bit of a flap (again) about my married man character, which is always a nice thing to go through in a Monday morning. Still, the hysteria and wondering if I should 'just change the whole thing around' has passed. For now. I've spent most of this evening working on the scenes I took along and am feeling really good about things once again.

This process could be the death of me, mind. It's so bloody painful. One day I'm feeling so positive about all the work that I've done, and the next I read it and think I should just start again. Recently though, it's been less of the second and much more of the first. Thank God.

So, this is brief, but there you have it. Other than stinging eyes and married men, things are good.

Isn't that always the way?

xx

I don't think I've ever said or written the word 'balloon' so many times.

So, I've decided that my time in Cornwall has come to an end and the decision feels like a weight has been lifted.

I had been thinking that I wanted to stay down here to get on with my novel, get a job and avoid any distractions since I don't know as many people down here as I did when the course was in full swing. And, for a couple of months, I've done exactly that, getting on with work while looking for a job to tide me over financially. Then writer's block kicked in last week and I think something snapped inside me, so I fled back to Bristol. Coming back to Falmouth, I've realised there's not much keeping me here and have decided that I'll move back. I know it means I'll have to be more self-disciplined with my novel, but that's fine. I think I need more of a balanced life.

Anyway, that's that. This week has been pretty good. I've practically finished Chapter Seven now, and I'm really pleased in how both the story and characters are developing. I now have about 30,000 words that I'm happy with after correcting things like passive sentences and incorrect usage of colons (the punctuation, not body part). I've been delaying a scene I know will be a sod to write, but am going to bite the bullet and start it tonight. I think I'm just worried about it because it's the first time the three main characters are together in the same place and I don't know yet whose point of view I will favour. I guess I'll just take a deep breath and get on with it and just see what happens. Whoop!

Other than that, my week has been pretty non-eventful. I had a great time back in Bristol and went out last night to an Amnesty International 'do' with David and Toni, which was more fun that it sounds. It was all done to raise awareness of prisoners of conscience and the recent Burma protests. It was pretty enlightening.

Oh, and there was a buffet there and it made me think that there are probably etiquette rules to such things. Whenever I go along somewhere where there's a buffet, I always feel really anxious that someone's watching me and thinking, 'He's had four lots of Doritos' or whatever. I think I try and overcompensate for this by making sure I take some celery sticks or something healthy to balance out the amount of junk I've eaten. I wonder as well, how many trips to the food table is too many? And is anyone in charge of it? Ugh, that would be horrible to be gripped by the wrist on your seventh visit and be told, 'I think you've had more than your fair share.'

Also, a definite no-no in buffet etiquette has to be taking the bowl/plate of whatever and sitting with it in your lap, denying anyone else access. I think that's guaranteed to piss people off.

Right, I'm digressing, I was going to write about the Amnesty event. So, I was talking to this guy who had an origami lotus flower in his hand and asked what it was all about. He told me about this form of meditation in China that became so powerful that the government had the man who created it executed. I probably wasn't listening properly, because I said, 'For making those flowers?' The guy looked at me like I was a knob and said, 'No, for the meditation.' 'Oh.' Then I shuffled over to the information stall and picked up a leaflet.

Since I went over with David and Toni, Kumali, their three year old, came too and she's so cute. She had this big yellow balloon that she was playing with the whole time and at one point I was sitting beside her while she swung it about. It kept hitting people and so I said, 'I wouldn't swing it around so much, Kumali.' Then fibbed a bit and said, 'It might burst.' No sooner had the words left my mouth than BANG and she looked at it for a mournful moment before smiling at me. Sadist. That poor balloon had a rough ride.

I remember I was at a guy that I used to work with's leaving do last year and my friend's son was doing that really annoying thing of rubbbing his fingers up and down a ballon so it made a horrible noise. This was when he wasn't hitting me on the head with it. Anyway, my friend said to him, 'Stop worrying that balloon,' which seemed a really bizarre way of wording it. I can't imagine the balloon was happy, but worried? Surely not. It didn't burst anyway, so that's something. That was probably it's main concern all along.

I just read what I've written and I don't think I've ever said or written the word 'balloon' so many times. And I never will again. Who knows?

Right, on that note, I'm going to eat something. Something that's not in a party ring or sausage roll.

xx

She must have opened it and thought I let a chimp at the keyboard.

So, I did the life modelling again the other night and had a run in with one of the people in the class. During the break, I wandered around and looked at people's work and got talking to a woman who asked, 'And are you an artist?' Whern I said, no, that I was working on a novel, she asked what it was about and, when I told her, asked, 'And how old are you?' '24.' 'You're very young to be writing about things like that.'

What a rude thing to say! I said that I didn't think you need to experience something firsthand to have an idea how it feels, and that I've shown my work to many people who are older than me and have had positive feedback. Then I pushed her easel over. Just to amplify how mature I am. I'm joking. In part.

Anyway, other than that, my week has been a bit hit and miss. I don't seem to have been able to get into moving on with my novel as I'm worried sick about not having a job, not knowing how long I'm going to be in Cornwall, when to send my first agent's package out, etc. And so I'm going back to Bristol for the weekend to get some distance from everything. I was thinking about sending out my first package tomorrow, but I think I might be rushing it in order to do so. As happy as I am with the first three/six chapters, I still feel there needs to be more information about the three main characters brought in as soon as possible. We'll see. I'm going to get onto it in a minute.

Oh, a low of the week was realising that I had sent a rough, rough, rough draft of a review to the editor of a website. She must have opened it and thought I let a chimp at the keyboard. Loads of the sentences were underlined by Word as not making sense, and there were several double spaces where they should have been. I'm so embarrassed. I emailed her, but she's not in the office again until Monday, so I'll see what happens then. Horrible.

Anwyay, I'm off to get on with filtering my first three chapters.

xx

Bloody Sunday Express.

I can't believe what I just saw on TV. Kath and I were watching X Factor when the commercial breaks came on and, in between an advert for Argos and Orange mobile phones, there was an advert for the Sunday Express blasting out a cheery, 'New Maddie Suspect.' How bad is that?

A second before we were being told how cheap Argos were doing a combi-TV and DVD player for this Christmas, then being sold the sensationalism of the Madeline McCann story in a way just as blatant. It was horrible. I know that the whole thing has been a massive news story since it broke in May, but it's gone beyond that and now it's become a misery marketing commodity for newspapers that have no interest in the people or truth involved.

I understand that a newspaper is a profit making business just like any other, but the advert I saw tonight just made me feel a bit sick.

Anyway, that's the entirety of this blog entry. And that is that.

xx