The Spirit of the Stairwell

Finally, it returns. I haven’t got any better but at least this time you can listen to Laura singing.

It’s that time of the year again where people from around the world all try to write a 50,000 word novel in a month. National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo to its friends, is a pretty insane undertaking where thousands of people all turn author simultaneously and, using the ‘Kill or Cure’ method of novel writing, throw themselves off the stony cliffs of procrastination to plunge unprotected into the boiling flotsam of literary endeavour.

And if you thought that sentence was hard work – wait ’til you see my novel.

Yes, I’m participating this year for the first time along with the Urban Cowboy, Shoelace and Red. I can’t speak for the others but my intention is to finally kick start a writing career littered with first chapters, opening acts and dead blogs. I dig the concept of writing at a break neck pace where necessity dictates research, editing and planning take a back seat to instinct and invention.

Historically, I’ve never finished writing a  book because I’m constantly rewriting its first chapter, so this is like shock therapy for me. I’ll produce something even if it’s awful.

Even if it kills me.

You can play along at home by following the wordcount on this blog and by tuning into the posts I’m intending to write every day. Because on top of the 50,000 words I’m going to start doing this blog in earnest – even if it’s a paragraph long, even if it’s just a bit of the novel I’m particularly proud of.

And I’m still training to go to Copenhagen.

And learning the Ukulele.

And starting to Improvise in front of a paying audience.

It feels like a good time for a revolution.

I’m learning to play the ukulele. It’s a tiny little guitar and it makes me look like a giant. At the moment, on a scale of 1 to 100, I’m absolutely rubbish.

Anyway, I’ll be putting up a video about once a week so I guess we’ll all see if I improve at all.

In this first musical extravaganza I play something that sounds a bit like Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony while maintaining a look of pure terror on my face.

Also once it’s finished I look inappropriately pleased with myself.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you my first faltering steps towards competency, I give you Ukulele Diary: Day One …

Not a lot I can really add to this. Ukulele’s are obviously pure sex wrapped up in curvy wood. I’ve only recently started to learn and I’m already having to turn down dates with Uke-loving super models and Brick Lane-dwelling hipster chicks in floral dresses and thick rimmed specs.

Plus I can only really play the first 5 bars of Ode to Joy at half speed with a 70% note accuracy.

Here’s two funny ladies playing a mega mix of 90s hits on a Uke/ Gee-tar combo. Because you demanded it.

They’re called Garfunkel and Oates and I reckon they should be as successful as the Conchords. Fact.