It’s October and, if you’ve been in the writing community for more than approximately 24 hours, you’ll most likely know that it means November’s NaNoWriMo is on the horizon. Rendering this month “Preptober”.

Now, I’m not going to lie, as a pantser I generally don’t go in for too much preparation at any time but this year, having had the most difficult writing year since I began to take it and myself seriously in 2019, I’ve decided to jump right in.

And just how is this rookie planner aiming to use her prep month, I hear you ask? Will I be defining the project’s central themes, organising plot development and charting character arcs? No. I’ve chosen to begin by writing a writers statement.

Writer’s Statement

First of all, you might be wondering what a writer’s statement actually is.

Similar to an Artist’s Statement, a writer’s statement is a declaration of genre, thematic and stylistic intent. And probably not the first idea one might turn to prepare to write a novel.

But my choice is not quite as strange a place begin as it may first appear. I don’t want to bang on about it, but this year has been troublesome on the writing front: I’ve struggled to find both time and motivation to write and then there was my health (as I talked about in a previous post). And, as always, lack of writing leads me to question every aspect of my writing. The confidence crisis is real, folks.

What gave me the idea to write a statement? In order to adddress this slump I’ve been trying to reignite my creative spark by attending lessons on Daisie, one of which was about creating an Artist’s statement. And it got me thinking about how I could use it, or something similar, in my own creative life.

I researched writer’s statements and asked other writers about their experiences with them and it seems that, for the majority of writers, the statement is usually made as part of an application for an educational establishment or a grant etc and not used in quite the same way a visual artists would use it.

But I’m not going to let that deter me. It will, of course, need adapting but I like the idea and have a feeling it will prove useful for future me.

My idea is that a writer’s statement will help to return me to writing and to centre me. Stating, with confidence, how I want to be known, what I write (in literal, metaphorical, thematic terms), what that writing conveys and how that makes an audience feel will, with any luck, give me the foundation on which to build my writing in the future.

So far I’ve managed a garbled first draft. I know it’s a continual work in progress, changing and flowing with the changes and tides as my work develops, so whatever I settle on will only ever be a draft version. But still, it’s all over the place. Parts feel ridiculously banal, and parts super pretentious.

But it’s a start.

And I’ll continue to work on it. And obviously, share on my about page when it’s ready for new eyes,

Have you ever written an artist or writers statement? How did it work out for you? Are you going to try?

I sat down to write this after what feels like a ridiculous length of absence. I tried to write an update on my current work; about being creative in a time of crisis and war but none of it seemed the right way to return. And then I realised what I ought to be writing about: why I’ve been gone so long.

Although to be accurate, I haven’t been completely gone. I’ve haunted Twitter and occasionally joined in and I’ve written Letters from the Jazz Age (a little email updates-y list, in case you fancy joining) but I’ve not been involved in the daily presence and weekly posting in the way that I had been.

So what happened?

I hear you ask.

Well, actually, I don’t hear you, but I’m going to answer anyway. In short, I got poisoned.

Well, sort of. You could call it technically food poisoning but that wouldn’t be accurate.

Come back with me to November, if you will and I’ll fill you in. Now, I’ve been allergic/sensitive to dairy and soy for a long time, so I haven’t had a pizza in years. I mean like two decades. Last year I found a company that makes dairy free pizzas that are also soya free! I was overjoyed. No, I’m not exaggerating, I did a little dance when I found it. But there was a problem. There was a bit of an aftertaste. A little like disinfectant.

I thought it was odd. My mother thought it was odd. But we reasoned ourselves out of our concern: we said; I’m being fussy, I said; they’ve just been a little over zealous with the hand sanitiser, we said; it’s good they’re taking safety seriously in the Covid Days, we said. And it’s just a little cleanliness. It’s no big deal, right?

Wrong.

Within about 20 minutes I started to feel dodgy. I spent three days vomiting (sorry, tmi – that should probably have come first, shouldn’t it) and feeling rotten. I was exhausted and weak.

This was around the time we’re were just going back into lockdown in the uk. The third wave was spiking and I didn’t want to clog up our doctors or the hospital with something seemingly so little. It was a slice of pizza for goodness sake! So I decided to ride it out.

For a few weeks I felt bad and decided to skip NaNoWriMo and it wasn’t too long before all that was left was a bit of tiredness and some brain fog. But … oh the brain fog. Once it had descended I was useless. If you’ve ever had it, you’ll know but if you haven’t it’s as if a large part of your brain has gone on vacation without you. I couldn’t keep track of anything, let alone the complexities of what I’d written. I had to put pretty much everything except essential daily survival things on the back burner and sadly, writing became one of those things I jettisoned. I fell behind on so many goals and tasks.

And then in March, just as I was beginning to get back into the swing of things, I came down with the dreaded Covid, something I had been terrified of because of my CRPS and it was it’s own special kind of hell. Until it wasn’t. And I found, after about three weeks it had gone and I felt better. Whatever that disease is, it killed the chemicals/poison issue.

And that brings us back to the present.

Although I have been playing catch up for a couple of months, I’m feeling so much better now. I’m more on top of things; ready to start thinking about participating in Camp NaNoWriMo in July.

So anyway, that’s why I’ve been away. How have you been? Leave me a comment below.

Oh and if you’re wondering how Covid affected the CRPS, because information seemed scant when I searched, it spread up a section of one leg, hurt for five days and then seemingly went back to its normal.

I used to be able to devour a book a week without really even thinking about it. Back then, I was a carefree college student with absolutely no idea how lucky I was to have so much spare time or even an awareness of how much time I actually did have.

But things have changed. We’re in the Twenties now and life has filled much more of my time with essential tasks than I would like. Consequently, last year was not the greatest of years for my reading. Knowing this I set a modest goal of reading 20 books.

And I managed it.

But only just. I scraped in under the wire, finishing my last book with a few hours to go. Some great, some not so great — as always.

“But which were the great ones?” I hear you ask.

These are the top five picks of my reading year.

5. The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue

By V.E Schwab. Let’s start with this. Although since I started reading it at the end of 2020 does it still count? Enjoyable, well thought out read. It only hits at number five because it hasn’t stayed with me long term.

4. The Ivies

By one of my favourite YouTubers Alexa Donne, whose videos I’ve been watching for almost three years . I wanted this to be good so badly, and I’m so relieved to say I wasn’t disappointed. There were lines in this that were beautiful.

3. The Vinyl Detective

By Andrew Cartmel. The premise sounded intriguing … it does what it says on the tin and is someone who tracks down rare vinyl records but somehow always ends up on the trail of a murderer. Our hero goes everywhere, both in record history and around the world and yet the pacing still feels like a leisurely read. Love it. And I’m only half way through the series. Win.

2. Spinning Silver

By Naomi Novik. This was a present. It’s a retelling of Rumplestiltskin, which is not something I’m usually in to so it’s unlikely I would have picked this up if it hadn’t been. I’m so glad it was a gift. It’s utterly brilliant. Compelling, ingenious and beautifully written.

1. Berlin Stories

By Christopher Isherwood. This was terrifying. If you don’t know it, ‘Berlin Stories’ is Isherwood’s diaries of his time in Berlin in the early 1930s, documenting the rise of the Nazi Party from the perspective of both an outsider and not knowing what was to come.  There were so many things I recognised from todays world. Terrifying. Pure and simple.

What was the best book you read in 2021?

Note: I wrote this at the end of last year and completely forgot about it!  So here I am, posting it now in the spirit of ‘better late than never’.

 

After the year that was 2020, I’m not entirely sure that setting goals or intentions is the greatest idea. However, I’m feeling cavalier and going to go ahead anyway. I don’t think any of these are huge, ‘go big or go home’ goals, but hope they’re realistic targets.

The Hollywood Project

I’d like to hit the finish line again. I’ve been aiming for 80k but as it’s an historical novel, and they tend to be generally longer, my generous, revised goal is 100k. I’m currently sitting at the 62,000 mark, I wrote approximately 30k in 2020 so I reckon it’s a reasonable goal.

The Jazz Age Mysteries

I’d like to finish plotting and, The Hollywood Project allowing, write a few chapters of the first of my Jazz Age Mysteries. I have the victims, their families (mostly, one needs to be a little less of a floating person), the killer and their motivation. So I’ve got the bones, I just need to assemble them into a skeleton and then write the flesh. Hmm, well that was a nauseating analogy.

The Online Life Of Sasha Dane

As for my “author platform”, which frankly sound pretensious as hell when I say it, but I guess that’s technically what Twitter, IG and a website amount to (gulps loudly). I have a few things I’d like to see happen in 2021, but my main goal is around consistency.

Social Media
I want to show up on Twitter and Instagram with much more regularity to be part of the fabulous communities I had a small taste of in 2020. Yes, I would love for my ‘numbers’ to grow during the year too, does anyone not want that? However, I’d prefer a smaller ‘following’ (another term that sounds ‘off’, hello narcissism) that is engaged and where I know everyone.

Sasha-Dane.com
And I want to be consistent with blogging too. I have so many ideas for this site, that I hope I can translate into posts.

Letters from the Jazz Age

I’d like to be consistent with my newsletters. The last thing I want is to send an email and for the lovely person on the receiving end to not have the foggiest idea who it’s from. I want to provide value and for subscribers to look forward to it arriving. With that in mind, I’m probably going to drop back from my initial idea of monthly emails to every other month, hopefully that will help me level up the content quality. Oh, and it would be nice to grow that list too.

Looking at these goals, neatly laid out like this, there’s a pattern. All of my goals boil down to one: I want to be consistent.

This is the hardest part for me. My days, as well as my abilities to focus, are not consistent on a day to day basis which makes showing up regularly anywhere at a specified time and place difficult to do. Curse you chronic conditions! So while I can’t guarantee I’ll be doing these things every day, I can say I will most definitely be putting in my best effort and I hope, over the course of a year, those efforts will add up.

If you’d like to receive Letters from the Jazz Age and join me on my journey I’d love to have you with me. Just put your best email in the little form that follows and I’ll see you there. [mc4wp_form id=”187″]

 

 

This time last year, when I was setting my goals for the first year of the twenties, I didn’t have this site or even any social media and I didn’t write my goals down so I have no record of what I actually intended for the year. Although given what 2020 brought with it, they probably wouldn’t have meant a lot anyway.

Bearing that in mind, here’s a little review of what I recall aiming for and how it went.

My aim was to finish my book.

It didn’t happen. I made significant progress but I didn’t get to write that all important “The End”. Although it’s not unexpected. I’d have had to write more than 50k and I’ve never written that much in a year. True, I’ve never taken writing that seriously before this year but still. That’s a lot.

One of the reasons I didn’t make more progress was I got sidetracked. By Social Media (Twitter and Instagram) and building this ‘ere site. All excellent, necessary abe enjoyable parts of being a ‘writer’ online but not at the expense of doing the actual writing.

Fully plot out the first in my murder mystery series.

As a pantser this one filled me with dread, and that may indeed have contributed to my tardiness in this area, because as you’ve probably guessed, I didn’t manage that. I made some progress in plotting this one, and I found an overall arc, or sorts, for the whole series which is unexpected and happy-making. But as of writing this post, my Deco detective is languishing in the recesses of my mind.

Fall in love again with social media.

I absolute love spending time on Twitter and Instagram. I’m there every day (give or take a few here and there). But I suck at posting. I have a gazillion ideas and as soon as I open the apps, or my notes, I can’t seem to capture any of them. Maybe it’s the idea of being ‘seen’ that’s scaring them away; maybe I’m just anti social. I don’t know, either way I’m flaky as … Nope my analogy making brain cells have taken a break … flaky as a flaky thing

Build a website.

If you’re reading this, I think you can guess how this goal worked out ?

There were probably others, but since I didn’t write them down I can’t be certain. Overall, given the extreme circumstance we’ve all been under this year, I’m pretty happy with how I did.

What I learnt from 2020…

…is that I’m not alone. As someone who has a chronic health condition my life is often, and certain,y has been for the last few years, small and limited. There are no big parties, or get togothers with friends and family. I’m home almost all of the time and rarely, if ever, venture out. It’s a personal lockdown life. And it’s fine, it happens to goodness knows how many people and there are worse, many worse, things in the world. And then the rest of the world (seemingly) went into lockdown and joined me and for the first time people understood the life I have and I realised how lonely it had been surrounded by people who didn’t. Even though the majority haven’t given a second thought to the people for whom lockdown normal. I saw how hard people found it and realised that maybe I’m stronger than I’d thought because it had never affected me as badly, maybe that’s the upside of feeling ill, you don’t feel well enough to want to be out and about.
But what surprised me most about this year was how I felt when lockdown was lifted — slightly crushed. Because it didn’t lift for me. I can’t see how it will ever lift for me. And … and I feel I should have a conclusion to draw from that, some sort of lesson or resolution to take forward with positivity but I don’t. It’s messy. It just is what it is.

How about you?

Do you set goal? If so how did you do? And if not, how tell me how your year went?