Redrafting and a Question

Here's the latest news on the book front. A few weeks ago I pushed down all the fear and anxiety bubbling up inside of me and passed over my first draft to a friend to read.

I felt a little bit ill. I take criticism very emotionally, and I was worried about how bad my writing was.

Good News: She gave very positive and helpful feedback to make the book make more sense. It wasn't as terrible as I thought it would be. I can actually take feedback quite well, it transpires.
Bad News: She thinks that it needs to be a bit longer in the middle to make the ending more climactic.

So, now it's back to writing. First up is tidying up all the mistakes and typos and plot holes, and second is adding a bit more adventure in the middle section, third is redrafting the new bits, then fourth is handing it over to my second reading volunteer.

All in all, I can't help but feel that it's going quite well. In May, I had never written anything non-academic longer than about 2000 words. Now I've written 31,000 words of children's fiction.

Phew. I hope Josie and Lori like it!

Interesting Fact For Today: The name Irene is derived from Eirene, the Greek Goddess of Peace (Roman equivalent: Pax).

Eirene. She's the best.

Now for the aforementioned question of the blog title:

Can anybody tell me whether there's a statue of Peace in and around the centre of Edinburgh?

Happy Birthday, Josie!

Strictly speaking, I wasn't being entirely honest when I said I had no deadlines. I was (secretly) hoping to have completed the first draft before Josie's birthday, which is today. However, that was always quite ambitious, so I'm pretty pleased with the progress so far despite not having it fully completed.

We went to the Museum of Scotland today for her birthday, and I took the opportunity to do a little more research on the local statuary. The statues of Edinburgh can largely be split into two categories:

1. Historical figures, who are mainly male and close to ground level.

2. Mythical concepts, who are mainly female and adorn the porticoes and domes of neo-classical buildings:

There are a couple of exceptions, but the rule mostly holds true.

I wandered around between the Royal Musuem of Scotland, on Chambers St., and Games Workshop, on the High St. (known to visitors as the Royal Mile, but the postal address is High St.).

It's an area that holds a lot of memories for us. Andrew used to work in Games Workshop, and we lived across the road on the second floor of Geddes' Entry. Geddes' Entry is a Close, which is thin alleyway leading to a common stair. It was built in 1797, and it had a lot of character, by which I mean the floors sloped, and the windows rattled behind the shutters. This is the Close one down from ours:

Anchor Close in the twilight

On my wanders, I was surprised to find a statue of King Charles behind St. Giles (commonly called St. Giles Cathedral, but it's more properly the High Kirk).

I've walked the front of St. Giles countless times on my daily commute, first to Uni across George IV bridge, and then later down the Mound to my first grown-up job. I've walked round the back, to where the statue stands, perhaps ten times fewer, but even then...I would have thought I would remember him. He must have some good ninja skills:

The obfuscating King Charles II

He's dressed as a Roman Emperor, and sits astride a huge horse. He's the oldest lead cast statue in Britain, but originally it was planned to be a statue of Oliver Cromwell. The Restoration of the Monarchy changed that!

I wonder how heavy a lead-cast statue that big would be? And what sound would it make when it clopped down the street? What other statues that I thought were bronze are actually lead? Interesting questions, but they're not getting that final chapter written any quicker!