Okay, It's Time,

I'm currently sat with a glass of zero alcohol prosecco, under a blanket on the sofa watching something on Netflix, because I don't know what else to do at the moment. A lot of people will tell you that you'll know when it's time to go to the hospital, but honestly, I think once you've had a few false alarms, eventually you have to be right, don't you? It's not that we've had a false alarm for labour yet, but I'm sure it will happen before he eventually arrives.

One of the things I find really frustrating is the number of things which supposedly help to induce labour, but it's all anecdotal evidence, and for the most part when you read up on them, people seem to deny any of them work, and it's frustrating when you reach that stage where your body just feels too large and too lumbering and even though you know that the baby is safe on the inside, the promise of that first cuddle, and being able to walk without waddling and all the other glorious bits of no longer being pregnant are calling. 

Don't get me wrong, I am not pushing to have a medical induction any time soon, and I really hope that we don't get to the point where we need to consider that, because none of the procedures or methods sound particularly appealing, but the promise of things like raspberry leaf tea helping, or a particular kind of curry (as long as it was vegetarian) all seem more like a nudge in the right direction without being something that seems like forcing your body into being ready for something which it might not quite have been ready for. I know some people will stick by the idea that babies will come when they are ready, but some get past the point where it is safe to be on the inside and are still showing no signs of moving.

The problem is that you can feel ready and not ready emotionally, physically, mentally so much so that it almost feels like Schrodinger's pregnancy, or Schrodinger's mama.

There are still quite a few things we want to get done in the house before our little man arrives, but some of them are things that aren't really that important. Yes, it would be cute to be able to have his nursery ready, with the walls painted, all of the furniture in and everything completely ready for him, but he won't be sleeping in there for a good few months anyway, so his room is probably just going to be a place where we store his clothes and where I'm feeding him when we have guests over. There are other things that are a lot more important to get done - and no I don't mean getting on top of the garden, or even getting all of the prominent prickly stuff out of there.

Maybe the nesting instinct has gone off of me, and so I should be expecting the little guy to sit tight until at least his due date, if not beyond then, and I don't know that it counts the same if I try and convince myself to be doing things like stripping the wallpaper and getting other bits of his room ready, but I guess the upshot is that I am ready for him to be here already and it seems like he wants to be taking his time.

Prepping for Pantsing,

Every year, during NaNoWriMo, I proudly pronounce myself Team Pantser, and that's still the case. I am so proud to wear my knickers like Superman and fly by the seat of my pants through NaNo (metaphorically, of course), but that is only with respect to planning the novel. When it comes to Preptober - trust me, I am a prepper. 

When I finished NaNoWriMo as a winner for the first time, it was my second attempt. I wrote at college, I wrote on the bus, I wrote at home and for the first three days I had no idea what I was writing. Some of it was utter garbage, it was a stream of consciousness, but I was writing, and I was doing it at speed. The novel that was born in that competition was eventually dedicated to my toaster, my kettle, and my mum. I've proved since then that I don't need to be living with my mum (and relying on her for cooking dinners and making brews) to finish as a winner, but right at that point, I needed her as much as I needed to win. 

Over the next few years, I have gotten faster and faster with writing and I've also gotten better and better at preparing myself. October 31st tends to be a day where I nap after work and I get myself a pizza and from midnight, I eat pizza and write a couple of thousand words, but I know it's not just that. I have an idea of the number of events I will be going to, I have an idea of what I'm going to be writing with - typewriter, pen, and paper, something electrical... - and I have a plan for keeping myself healthy for at least the first week. I shop cook and freeze what I can and make sure I have bananas. There's plenty that I think about and make decisions on practical planning for NaNoWriMo. 

As such, the @londonnano Instagram page is running a #preptober series of practical things to think about ahead of 31st October. Feel free to follow us, like, comment or message. I'll be writing some blogs on the subjects that are posted up there, too! 

Oh, Balls,

Is November really that close? Already? Are you quite sure? Oh dear, oh dear, oh balls. 

I was ready 2 days ago, but this always happens. I feel like I'm hitting the peak too soon and I am ready for NaNoWriMo to start early and then, this happens. This being the craziness of feeling like the world is about to crumble, catch fire and ultimately end because Jesus H. Christ why am I doing this to myself all over again? WHY? 

I'll tell you why - I thrive on the madness. 

Every year I tell myself I will be a good girl and prepare myself for the impending craziness, like stretching when you want to exercise. I will prepare myself for what's about to happen to me and then every bloody year I go, nah, sack that and pants it like Superman. It is never a very good plan. 

This time around feels no different, though having cool news digs is making it feel slightly more sane, I don't have a freezer big enough to store all of the pizza I could possibly need to last the duration of this month, which is less than brilliant. I also did a potentially silly thing and joined a gym. Unlike most people, if I'm paying to be a member of the gym, I will attend it, but the problem I have there is that I naturally won't be able to write whilst doing so (maybe with my phone on the treadmill or the bike, but I am pretty sure that would factor into a list of weirdest places to write in so maybe not) so it is either going to cut into my writing time or my sleeping time and my sleeping time already takes a hit during NaNo. Oh this is just going to go wonderfully, isn't it? 

I'm really looking forward to this now...

Catch you later

Oh, Bums,

Bums, what chapter were we up to? Had the protagonist moved into her stylish new apartment in town? I think she had. In fact, I think she was on her "holiday" back to her childhood home to look after Prince Pupperington...Well children, in tonight's chapter...

Okay, I don't think that voice suits me. 

Since writing last I have regained residence in my lovely flat, had my mother visit for the weekend, then the following weekend had both my parents visit, however that did lead to the acquisition of some glorious furniture and probably an extra couple of pounds of tummy flubber due to the Wetherspoon's breakfast. Ah, 'spoons.... 

The great thing about that is that I actually started feeling like this is nothing like student digs, and it is instead becoming an actual, adult apartment. Clearly, we can't be having that, so I got a pet.

This year has raced by, and quite frankly, I haven't cared really. Roll on the bit where I get to turn 25 - I hate even numbers. (Yes, I know, it's weird, but it's a thing.) However, I am not quite ready for NaNo to roll on quite so quickly.

Last year, my novel became my catharsis. My new job exposed me to a lot that I didn't know how to cope with and to say that I did cope with it would be a lie. I struggled, and it was because of that struggle that I was so glad to get my current role because part of it is to address that kind of struggle. (That was cryptic and vague, but I can't really say anything more.) As is often the case, I explored how I felt about some things in that novel and was able to express myself more capably in fiction than in any other form. The problem is that it does come at a cost. Last December I was really proud to have participated in my seventh NaNoWriMo, winning my sixth. Like the previous year, it was only one day early, which was such a distance behind on Day 19 in 2013, but things had changed. I wasn't a student anymore and last year I was MLing, working in one of the two best jobs of my career so far and also trying to write one of the hardest novels I have ever tackled. 

Clearly, I am insane because I am going to do it again. 

This year I am going to be just under a month into a new job (better than one day in, but not by much), will be MLing for a massive region that is also taking on new challenges (read the Facebook or the NaNo Forums) and will be taking on the continued challenge of that stupid book that part of me really regrets ever starting. It's quite a small part though. 

The problem with it is that it felt like several things I have been wanting to write for a very long time finally coming together in a bit of a series and that's difficult because it would be really nice to have something I could just crack out in 30 days and then pretty much forget about if I really wanted to, but no. This isn't going to be that task or book or series or whatever I want to call it. 

Joy to the world, I have created another mountain to climb. NaNo is coming, look busy. Catch you later. 

Hello Sunday,

I'm well aware of the fact that I had said I was going to take this year as it comes and three days in I am still committed to doing that, but I'm also committing myself to a couple of other things. Thankfully it's too late for me to commit to dry January, but I've realised recently that the amount I drink is not really a problem; I just need to remember train times when I'm out and that, when I don't drink for a while,  have a very low tolerance for alcohol, but that's not too much of a big deal. I'm not the sort of person who has to drink to have fun or to relax, I am by no means a person who comes home and opens a bottle of whatever before they unwind for the evening, I just really really like cocktails, and I figure that in the grand scheme of things, it's not such a bad thing.

The big one I'm committing to is I'm going to be submitting chapters to a publisher this year. I have already started them, I know where I'm going with them and I'm just trying to plod along and get it done. It's kind of terrifying because I don't have any clue as to whether or not they will be accepted, and I don't know how I will take it if they're not, but I don't try I'm never going to know. I don't want to spend the next few years thinking about how things could be if I actually did it, so I'm going to try and just do it. It's a terrifying thought, though. 

The second biggest one is I'm committing myself to one blog a week, every week, until the start of 2017. I'm going to aim for doing on a Sunday, and I'm not putting a word limit on it, but I know from experience that the act of sitting down and focusing my mind on writing something is a good thing. It is what National Novel Writing Month teaches me every year, and yet every year I seem to be able to kid myself into thinking that there's a Writing Fairy who hibernates for 11 months and then pops out in November, screams da-dah! and suddenly a novel pops out of my ridiculous little hands as if by magic. It's not magic; it's hard work. Come on. 

The last thing is I am going to spend time reading this year and thank the gods it is because I want to be reading and not because I have essays and exams to write, and that's a beautiful feeling. It's so easily possible to get addicted to reading when it is a good book or story or poem or anything really. If van Houten wrote a shopping list, I would probably be inclined to read that to. The fact is I have a love for so many authors and I read very, very little in 2015. I watched all of the films, but books didn't go so well. Especially not finishing books. My God, I started 1984 again, but then stopped past halfway through to pick up To Kill a Mockingbird so that I could finish that before reading Go Set a Watchman, and then didn't finish that because it's no To Kill a Mockingbird. I also started countless philosophy books for exams and thought, oh, this is very interesting I shall have to read more when I graduate. Well, Charlie, your diploma is in the drawer and those books are still gathering dust. 

Anyway, I'm probably just spouting the same New Year idealisms as most people right now, because apparently the changing of one calendar to a new one, a night of fireworks and the changing of the last number in the date make us feel like we ought to be wildly different than we were just a day or a week earlier. For some, New Year holds a lot of meaning. I know of a person who seems to wait until New Year when we fall out to try and fix things because New Year was important to us 9 years ago, but for me, it is not special, it is not magical, and it's only real significance is that it marks a passing of a lot of times since everyone last got hysterically reflective over their lives. I can't hide away from these reflections and I can't stop myself looking at the good and bad things that have happened between one loud, drunken celebration and the next (even though I have only celebrated one New Year in such a way and the rest of them I have been in my pyjamas). What I do think though is that New Years Eve makes an excellent bookmark. People ask me when I became a vegetarian - when did I make this Massive decision which really impacts my life and I do my best impression of a goldfish, attempt to remember how old I am and subtract 13. If I ever get the opportunity to be asked he question, when did you decide that you were serious about a career in writing, I want to know that answer almost to the minute. This is not a whimsical decision. This has been a part of my life for a long time, but now it's more than that. 

Also, if you want to see one of my favourite photos from graduation, check out my Twitter profile. @charlieswrite

Butterflies,

So, occasionally there are things I want to do, and I make a commitment to them, and then life doesn't pan out the way I think it will and so things go slightly off course. Or very off course. 

I had committed myself to the idea of writing every day in June, and I wanted to stick to that, but I haven't. In many ways it has been a difficult month. Finishing university felt like such a flooding relief because I didn't have such an amazing time of it, as has been evident, but the thing is, my expectations of myself were really unreasonable and I felt as though I would have all of this freedom and not know what to do with it. The actual fact is I have been run down and exhausted from going back to working full time and it's all felt pretty none stop. I have made myself feel quite ill by just throwing myself at it at full force instead of allowing myself to just stop and just be for a bit.

The good news is I have been writing, just not on here. 

I'd love to say that I have got a new novel finished or been editing or something, but the fact is that I am struggling. 

I'm tired and I'm not doing great at being healthy - in the sense of eating three proper meals a day and sleeping properly and making sure I'm taking all my vitamins and such. More than anything, I've been coasting myself along a little in lieu of a major kick up the arse. 

The fact is that at some point I need to accept that I'm 22, not 17. I'm not on a summer away from college and I don't have a separate study where I can hide out, not eat, work frantically from when I wake up at 10 in the morning and only hear my stomach yelling "feed me!" at something past four in the afternoon. If writing is something I want to do, and it is, I need to get my life sorted and be able to accept that things are different from before. I am no longer able to throw all my time at it, because I have to keep a job, pay bills and all that sort of thing. 

Saying that, there is a lot of things I could learn from 17 year old me, and I'm trying to.

Despite a habit of being something of a jeans girl, I put so much effort into how I looked at 17, not because I needed anyone else to tell me I looked good, and not because wolf whistlers don't piss me off, but because it's something of an ego boost when you walk out of the house thinking, everyone else can think what they think, because I am happy with how I look today.

On the other hand, 17 year old me is just going to have to accept that maybe Scivener isn't as bad as she thought. 

The overarching thing that I am trying to emphasise is this - the somewhat constant state of flux which my life is currently in means that I am kind of awful at making concrete plans for what to do with my noveling career, but the fact is that I am no more willing to accept that it's a pipe dream than I was at 17. If anything, the last few years have taught me to respect the fact that I can't change who and what I am, and an integral part of that has always been, and will always be, the dream of being able to write, and publish and anything else is just a bonus.

From October,

I do realise that's been almost an entire month since I've posted anything on here and for that, you all have my apologies. I've been having some pretty awesome adventures, been spending some quality time with the loved ones and have also encountered a couple of health problems, but I'm now on the mend, and just in time, as NaNoWriMo2013 starts at midnight tonight. Are you excited? 

I KNOW I AM!! 

I'm also petrified. For those of you who don't remember, I was a stroppy little sod last year after not achieving my favourite 'I have no life' goal of completing a 10k day. It is quite literally as the name suggests, a day where you write 10,000 words. I took three days off last year and finished on the 20th of November - definitely an 'I have no life outside of NaNo' achievement, but I couldn't quite feel satisfied. This year my goal is to have that 10k day. Maybe even have two, one for this year and one to heal my wounded pride from last year....I'm kidding. I think....

I've already had one of those nutty 'OHMYGOD IT'S NEARLY NANO; IMMA DIE!' moments yesterday, so it's probably a good thing that my housemates are in Portsmouth and there's possibly a strike of our uni lecturers, because I don't cope with people very well the day NaNo starts and I get the same sort of look as a piece of flat pack furniture with no instructions. (The best description of it is, I don't know what it is, and I have less idea of what to do with it. That kind of a face.)

On the plus side, I have an idea, a vague form of a plan, and a freezer drawer full of homemade ready meals, so that I don't just resort to pizza and coffee. I am also, because of my recent health blip, required to eat at least once a day so I can take my medication. It also requires me to consume vast amounts of orange juice, so maybe I won't end up with too dreadful of a NaNoFlu this year - trust me, it's a thing - but then again, who can know what November will bring? 

I have two gigs planned, can hopefully throw in a trip back home to see Jamie, Dean and their lovely cohort of Manchester WriMos, a rugby game this weekend (no, I'm not playing, look at the size of me for Pete's sake. :')) lectures, assignments, my family, my friends, my job, my amazing boyfriend :), and the general things of life like cooking, cleaning and the wonders of the ASDA weekly shop. There's Christmas shopping, sending Christmas cards and all manner of stupid things to think about, but they can wait, because it's coming, it's starting. 

REAL LIFE ENDS TONIGHT, 

Welcome to NaNoWriMo2013