36,036 words and counting.

However, my main character hasn’t made it to Argentina yet. It’s funny how that happened. This novel has developed a momentum of it’s own and I think the whole story is going to be longer than 50,000 words. To really do the story justice I should learn the tango and take a trip to Argentina. But for a first draft, it’s coming along well.

Other than that, my life is pretty mundane. I might start making things up to write about on my blog, because the real-life news in my life is numbingly boring. I was telling someone that I was finding it hard to make good friends here, and they said that cork is a very insular city. It’s the perfect word to describe the situation:

1 a : of, relating to, or constituting an island b : dwelling or situated on an island (insular residents)

2 : characteristic of an isolated people; especially : being, having, or reflecting a narrow provincial viewpoint

3 : of or relating to an island of cells or tissue

I think I’m going to have to learn to be a bit more pointy in order to break into the scene. Dublin is bigger and more multicultural, but Cork feels like a swollen village. There is hope though: we went out to a club last friday which was hosting the Art Trail 2003 – a weekend of art events. It was excellent, and the crowd was really friendly (or at least not hostile) and nobody spilled their beer on me. The art itself was very well done too, there were lots of short films and multimedia presentations, some of which had modern dance as accompaniment. Very enjoyable.

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