100 Days of Writing: Days 4-9

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Day 4 of #100daysofwriting and I am in a the midst of the old kitchen, which seems apt as I am writing about goose fat and its three uses.

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Day 5 of #100daysofwriting the B&B my story is set in owes much to a place I went past on the 617 bus for two years when I was 16-18. The ghost of a place called Plantation Gates, by the time I saw it, new houses had nearly eaten up but the memory of the place has stayed with me for 24 years. It just shows that writers never let anything go, all places I have retained, all people, all conversations and feelings.

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Day 6 of a #100daysofwriting and the bear has arrived.

Day 7 and I am 16 pages into my short story and realise the bear has been rooting around my subconscious for a long time. I do some research on bears in literature from Byron to Tom Waits.

NOTE: Do not point out typos or paragraph mistakes, I am just getting the story down.
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Day 8 of #100daysofwriting and I am struck by how comforted as a writer I am by forests. I grew up with one not far from my school. When I lived in cities I actively left them to find the forests that often surrounded them. There is something in forests that often creep into my stories, I am talking about something beyond Pagan, something that doesn’t fall into a horror cliche, something that is in my bones. Forests always return.
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Day 9 of #100daysofwriting and editing between having to get some late minute admin done for work.
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Day 9 of #100daysofwriting and after the admin for work, and going to bed I find myself not able to just nod off. I am opening my laptop and starting to edit the story. There is something I find universally satisfying about editing. It is the point for me that the voice needs to coalesce. That lines you love get the chop because frankly you love them too much and no one else will. They are just, clunky sex. They stick out like a sore thumb and every analogy therein. So, after an hour I have edited just over 3 pages, they were originally nearly 6 pages, so you see what can happen when you seek our the passive voice. On the plus side, living in the country means we sometimes get mice as unwelcome visitors and as the house is quiet I am listening to the little bastards fall on the traps — no Mother-in-law jokes needed.

Oh, and the bear in the picture, is in my story. I am a collector of strange images. So share any if you wish.

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