Turning corners

Reasons to be cheerful

Today I feel nearly normal health wise. Well, apart from an interesting electrical crackly noise in my right ear every time I swallow. I am a bit … you know, snottily congested still.

During the day I went to look at my RSS feeds and found Lane had updated and I discovered she’d bestowed an award on me. I beamed big and wide. Thank you Lane. I bestow it on Hesitant Scribe, who is just brilliant, brave, honest ... I could go on, but don't want to embarrass her.

I told Husband I’d got an award, and he asked if it was “a miserable sod award? ;-)” because my last two postings had been a bit depressive. “I was sick” I said, but even his jibes didn’t stop me feeling pleased.

I had a meeting this morning and I picked up quite a number of jobs, but my web assistant is working out very nicely after only two lessons. I must be a bit of a dolt because it took me much longer than that. But today I don’t care if I’m a twit because my web assistant is working out and that makes me smile ear to ear.

Son was a vile teenager from the Dark Side this morning getting up for school, but when he came home this afternoon he was charming boy. Lovely. You can never be sure which boy will turn up.
I started writing the novel the day before yesterday and that bloody demon came back BUT I persevered in little bits and yesterday he was quieter. Today I did some writing (planning, really) but he was quiet. And I feel less crap. So that makes me feel good.

This morning I went investigating after Laurie raved in her blog about a programme she’d seen on Pete Seeger. She was enthusing about how great it was even if you don’t like folk music … which I do, but know very little about. Then she mentioned some of the other people on the programme one of whom was Johnny Cash, who I love. So I went surfing to YouTube and I found this, below. It produced a great big smile from me this morning and I’ve been singing and grinning it ever since. Now, I’m not old enough to have been around when it was recorded, but it was one of the few singles my parents had.

And finally, I can't believe I've worked out how to get this YouTube thingy here. I know I'm supposed to be a webmaster, but you know, in this non profit, voluntary sector, beggars can't be choosers. So they got me and my IT doltery. Very cheering and webmasterly.

War Child pt 2

Despite feeling all sick and bad, I've been working on my War Child piece. Even if it's a pile of crap I've got to be brave and submit stuff. I am so afraid of appearing a tit and having you all fall about laughing at the idea that I might think I can write. The irony is not lost on me: given my 'You're Not The Only One' piece is about fear, scaredycatness but doing it anyway...)

My viral infested head got further befuzzled trying to work out what my deadline is in Bangkok for a midnight deadline on 29 February in the UK while you are seven hours behind not six because you're still in wintertime...

Confusing isn't it?

I went to Peach's blog and was delighted to see the deadline has been moved to 9 March. But then felt pissed off that it comes with a plea for funny ones, which mine was (assuming I can crowbar the humour back in.)

Oh, any old excuse for procrastination. Just get on with it.

Why won't Blogger put my paragraphs where I tell it to?

Nice

I must be nicer.
I must be nicer.
I must be nicer.

I like the word nice – maybe not to use in writing – but it says what I mean. I am a nice person; not perfect, but mostly I am nice, in a kind of bland and average way.

I’m no Mother Teresa but nor am duplicitous. I try not to judge too quickly and if I do, I try to give people a chance, even a second chance. I sit uncomplainingly next to the mad aunt at the wedding or the neighbour with halitosis. I’m kind.

Today I’m sick. I have been since Sunday evening. I’ve only got a rotten cold, but I feel crappy. Add to that that a chronic grumbly belly that I finally went to the docs about and returned with three different tablets. I feel horrid.

Today in Bangkok it’s hot. It’s always hot in Bangkok and most days I need air con in my office. Today I need it, but it’s also too cold all at the same time so I am wearing a moth holey cashmere jumper that was so expensive (despite being a sale item) I refuse to get rid of it (Can you see the holes from there? No, well I’m not offending anyone then.) I am – and this is a first in Thailand even for me – wearing sheepskin slippers that I bought in the UK. They are delicious; comforting and like eating chocolate.

That’s how I know I’m sick. So why, if I know I am sick, am I being so horrible to myself?

I must be nicer to myself.

When I am well again I will decide if I can’t write for toffee; if I am going to give up trying to write a book. Not yet.

Edit, Edit, Contextualise

Having missed out on Messages, I started work on a piece of writing at the weekend for War Child. It was based on a letter I wrote two years ago to my best friend, the High Priestess of Punk-chew-ation, which made her laugh a lot. It was a single incident about facing fears and the power and strength you feel afterwards. I had to put it into context and make it less aimed at her.

And what do you know? As I contextualised the story, I wrote away every single funny bit and it turned into the most boring piece of writing I’d ever seen.

*sigh*

Miscellanea

Today is … Sunday.

The end of half term.

Daughter’s 12th birthday. OMG. Where did that go? Just a few minutes ago I had small children… I turned round a couple of times and they’re both nearly teenagers.

Today, at the Londoner Pub for Sunday lunch I decided that I loathed my lead character’s name: Ursula. Sorry to any Ursulas out there. I don’t actually loathe the name – I like it, that’s why I chose it, but you know what? It just isn’t her. It’s not right and so I’m thinking Julia or Emily. What do you think?

I do have a personal preference here, but would be interested in your opinions. After the hilarious kerfuffle on A.Writer’s blog a few weeks ago here and here about names, I thought I’d run them past you all. ‘Lucy’ would be a perfect name for her … but obviously I can’t do that!

Oooh, and check out this photo of Son and Daughter celebrating Daughter’s birthday with the Londoner staff.

(Sorry for the blurry faces: at Son's insistence)

Amateur Alert!

Just because I stopped posting about that article, doesn’t mean I got it finished. Until now, that is.

For those of you who don’t remember, I was asked to do an article by Andaman Discoveries for the English language daily newspaper The Bangkok Post about my trip to the sustainable tourism project. It was one of four articles – the other three being for magazines that are just grateful to get something to fill the pages…

The Bangkok Post article was sent off before Christmas and while I was away on my Skyros holiday I received an email saying that the editor had said it read like a PR piece, and if it could be rewritten to include more of this, and less of that, she would still consider it. I wasn’t able to do anything about it then but told them that I’d redo it in the New Year.

Good gawd, what went wrong? Well, I tried to use the framework of what I’d done to tweak it to their brief – cutting corners? Well, yes, I guess. I tried jamming the square article into a round hole, but it just wasn’t going, despite every effort on my part to persevere. Eventually I accepted that I had to start from scratch, but still I held on to one or two paragraphs that I believed were relevant. Eventually (again) I realised that I’d somehow fallen in love, somewhat myopically, with certain bits of writing from the previous article. The sooner I admitted that they were wrong and didn’t fit the journey for that article, I was nearly there.

It was agonising and I’ve learned, but reckon I haven’t done myself any favours. It’s taken me six or so weeks to deliver; I’ve properly cocked up and come across as a right amateur.

And now, if it comes back not right again, I think I have to say farewell to my fledgling career in journalism …

Lots of links

I was just reading the Friday Novel Racers’ Coffee blog, brought to us this week by BE Sanderson and I’ve ground to a halt before making my own comment.

The reason I stopped is to come here and write about something that’s been in my head for a week or more. I suddenly realised that I haven’t done it and while I know others have posted about it and you’ll already have seen it, I want to add my bit too.

If you look left to my sidebar, you’ll see a rather striking book jacket for Caroline Smailes’ ebook, Disraeli Avenue, which you can download here. The book jacket has been made into a widget by the clever and talented Stray (who I know through a non cyber life too). You should all know by now that Disraeli Avenue tells back stories about the folk we met through Jude in Caroline’s debut novel, In Search of Adam. It’s a tough subject, exquisitely told.

Caroline is asking where possible we make a donation to One in Four, a charity that helps people who have experienced sexual abuse. Research shows that one in four children experiences sexual abuse before the age of 18. Any child being abused is too many, but that’s a horrible number to contemplate. What that makes me feel as a mother, aunt, godless parent for the children around me, is terror and fury.

If you want you can add your own secret to the widgety thing that Stray made – I’ve done it. I keep looking at that widget; I’ve sat looking at for quite some time, with the secrets rotating past… And it makes me realise that even without any incidence of abuse, we humans are fragile creatures. We’re full of anxiety, vulnerability and fear. We’re happy too, which is great, but we don’t always feel we deserve it.

So if you’re in a position to donate, please do. And don’t forget to download Caroline’s ebook Disraeli Avenue, too.