OMG

OH MY GOD.

I think I might have finally worked it out.

What’s going to happen, I mean.

I didn’t know what he was doing, so I couldn’t work out the events … but now I know.

OH MY GOD.

Book Group

I had book group this morning. Last January's meeting was discussing Irene Nemirovky's Suite Francaise but when it came to the meeting only around three people had read it, one or two were half way through, and the rest hadn't got onto it at all. So this year we changed tack. Because it's such a difficult time of year to really commit to a book (such a lot to do, either travelling back home or having visitors here) we decided we'd meet as normal, but we'd present whatever we did read at Christmas. So everyone had a free choice and if they were willing to lend it out they'd bring it to the meeting.

So over Christmas I read Daydream Girl by Bella Pollen; Massive by Julia Bell; Saturday by Ian McEwan. Daydream Girl was okay - I picked it up in one of the secondhand places. Massive I really enjoyed, but as a young adult book I had already passed to Son to see if he wanted to read it so I couldn't take that. Which left Saturday: I did a bit of a Suite Francaise on this - I didn't really give it the attention it deserved, but still I very much enjoyed it and it was fascinating to see how he covers just one day in the entire book. Anyway someone wanted it and I borrowed On Chesil Beach from someone else, so all in all, it was a bit of a bookcrossing session too. Next month's book is The Door by Magda Szabo.

Book Group is such a nice group, people I see around and about, but don't necessarily do anything except stop and have a quick natter. I do love talking books. It only occurred to me today that when (if) I'm ever at the stage of needing readers, there they are in front of me!

Here we go again?

I am so sorry about my whining post yesterday but thank you to all of you who commented and emailed supportively.

I don’t want anyone to think I’m not willing to put the effort in; I am and I’m enjoying it. I don’t believe for a second that I should get handed something without putting in some hard work. I think I am working hard at it.

And I certainly don’t mean to have given the impression that I haven’t liked the criticism – well alright, liking the criticism isn’t exactly true – but after the ‘Oh my god, I’m so crap’ feeling wears off, I’ve realised how useful the feedback is: it’s exactly what I asked for and what I need.

The epiphany I’ve had is how much help getting feedback gives me. If I keep trying to write on my own I might be 85 before I realise what it is I’m doing wrong. The growth of someone as a writer working it all out on their own is going to be slower than someone who’s getting advice, that’s all I mean.

But if I join a writer’s group where everyone is like me; well, that’s gonna be the blind leading the blind, isn’t it?

Whinging, whining and Moaning

The article that I was working on that had me in such a flap before Christmas was rejected for ‘reading like a PR piece.’ I was instantly pissed off and upset, but being on my Skyros course I decided that I didn’t much care (I did) and my novel was more important, (it is, however…)

… I also care enormously about the articles I’m trying to write for the not for profits that have asked for my help. It’s all words, choosing them, making them work for you, shaping them, conveying something. I want to get it right.

Huh, but I’m some writer if I can’t get them published, eh?

Then I had all the stuff about the novel: wrong POV, started in the wrong place, etc. First reaction: a bit upset; second reaction: yup, I knew that bit, didn’t know that one, suspected that crit, etc, etc.

I get back from Skyros and think again about the article: Oh bollocks, yes, she’s right (the editor that rejected it) it does sound rather self congratulatory and I start to think about rewriting it with the further advice she’s sent. (I realise how lucky I am to get an editor to do this and say if it reads right they’ll still publish it.)

In the taxi coming back from the airport Daughter said, ‘You say you had a good time on Skyros? And yet, this writing teacher told you to start again? How can that be a result?’ (She said ‘this writing teacher’ in a rather disparaging manner for an 11 year old – I was a bit scared.)

It feels a bit like batter, batter, batter … it’s all wrong; I’m doing everything wrong. I so hate doing things wrong. I'm a giver upper of things because I don't like doing things wrong.

Because of these criticisms and my practise, practise, practice over the last year, my writing has improved a bit, I think. And I’m still determined, but doing it alone is so slow – I want to get there quicker.

I know that I could spend the years writing and slowly getting better, but I want it NOW. I really I think I need something else: more feedback. I’m not hinting here for anyone to volunteer, I guess I’m thinking of some kind of online course. God, I do hope Husband doesn’t read this: after Skyros, I think he’d go apoplectic (Husband, if you are reading this apoplectic means, calmly, generously and in your usual laid back style.)

The eagles have landed

Son and daughter returned from the UK yesterday: Hurrah. They’ve had lovely time everywhere they went and have come back with lots of funny tales, including the one where they were sellotaped into a crate at my parents. Their cousins were told a big box had arrived for them; it was too heavy to move and too large to leave in the hall until Christmas so they should open it now. Apparently one of the cousins spotted Son’s furry head and was momentarily appalled at the prospect of what was in there!

Of course there have also been stories emailed to me by the surrogate Mummies, including this one about British Airways’ unaccompanied children’s scheme, Skyflyers Solo:

“[Your children have] sung the praises of BA and the Skyflyers people … Son made me laugh when he told me that he and Daughter had slept through the first meal on the journey out and, waking up hungry, had gone to the cabin and asked for some food, claiming “It’s one of the perks of being a member of Skyflier’s Solo.” Apparently they missed their second meal too, because the oven broke down, at which point Son contemplated “making a fuss” in an attempt “to be upgraded”. They’re such cosmopolitans!”

Or spoilt brats, maybe? I do hope not.

I’m feeling a little wobbly about my lack of writing: the lurgy really knocked me off my pins, and after a full day yesterday I’m feeling a bit lightheaded again today. I have two articles to get done by … very soon… and I want to get on with the novel to see if I can… feeling a little bit unsure if I’m up to it!

Now, I’m off to my bed to see if I feel better after some zzzzzz.

Daddy? Or Chips?

I’ve got a problem.

It’s been apparent for some time but I’ve made excuses for it.

I’m married to a laid back man; No, no, that’s not the problem, though sometimes being so laid back you’re horizontal IS a pain in the backside. I’m sure I’m not easy to live with for a multitude of reasons, but last night I really irritated him. We were in a Mexican restaurant and I just couldn’t decide what to order.

It occurred to me that I have huge problems making decisions. I’m having problems making decisions in my plot and I have problems every meal deciding what to eat. Even when I can work out what to eat I nearly always get neighbour food envy, so I’m clearly making lots of wrong decisions. Today, I tried to work out what I could’ve done differently, so as not to have irritated Husband.

When I googled ‘how to make decisions’ I got 23,700,000 hits in .13 seconds: there must be lots of other people just like me unable to decide anything in their lives. One of the websites told me ‘Making decisions can be intimidating and time-consuming.’ That’s right, I wanted to yell. It’s difficult to choose between the enchilada and the burritos… what’s the difference?

That brought me to the first point on the ‘how to make decisions’ website. Assess what choices you have? Well, I wanted a floppy tortilla, which ruled out the chimichanga, the tacos and the quesadilla, but what about the fajitas? Do I need to worry about them? No, you have to assemble them yourself don’t you? I wanted all my food ready to eat.

Another piece of advice on the website was to collect as much information about the choices as possible. The list of ingredients was pretty much the same: both were served with refried beans and rice. One was two small enchiladas, and the other one was a single burrito; both had guacamole and sour cream on top. What could the difference be apart from the size?

Then the advice suggests that you get the experience that will help you to come to a decision, so I asked Husband: what’s the difference? “I dunno”, he said, “that one’s two small ones and that one’s one big one.” So I went onto the next piece of guidance: make a list of pros and cons for each decision. Well, actually, I think Husband would’ve been quite rightly pissed off at this stage, had I asked him for a pen and a piece of paper.

In the end after a bit of huffing and puffing he chose for me. I felt a bit sick about this, and wondered if I’d lost my appetite by then. The point is, I’ve always been able to make decisions in the past; as a mum I must’ve made thousands … is it like eggs? Do they get old and crappy after a while? Maybe only get a finite number of decisions in your life and then after that you loose your decision making ability?

What ever it is, I really have got to learn to do it.

Happy New Year!

Making magical wishes for 2008 with giant Chiang Mai sky lanterns. This was Christmas Eve at Skyros on Koh Chang. For New Year's Eve this year I was in bed at 10pm with a lurgy, so I'm going to pretend that Christmas Eve was New Year's Eve.