Memoir

February 1, 2017

Time for a change

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Time for a change.

I’ve been thinking it’s time for a change, and wondering where that might come from.  Then it hit me.  (Not literally, but another few pieces of the jigsaw slotted neatly into place, and the picture became a bit clearer.)

To change my mind is remarkably easy.  Not because I am easily swayed one way or the other on the international situation or the state of the environment….but

When something goes the way I don’t expect it to – Today, I prefer not to say, ‘goes wrong’ – I’ve been in the habit of getting all upset.   Naturally, I then give into those feelings of regret, loss, pain, anxiety and frustration.  We all do this, so it goes unremarked, except by those – oh, the irony! – of us who live nearest, and who have to put up with sunny one minute, cloudy the next.  It is scant comfort to my family that I have been as puzzled as they.

After a prolonged bout of existential angst, yesterday I was hanging up laundry – again – and abruptly thought, ‘Say something positive – go on, try!’ and murmured, “Well done!”  Instantly, like someone had switched on a light, I felt a bit better.  So I said it again, and a bit more heaviness lifted.  This felt so easy, I thought, ‘Why don’t I spend the rest of my life being positive?  I can just as easily say something positive as the other…. And it would be a lot more fun!’

So that is my latest resolution, reinforced by the growing awareness that the things we dream of, aim for and fantasize about have much less to do with our minds than we think: Our dreams and our minds serve different purposes, and if writing has taught me anything, it is there is no limit to what we can dream.  Whatever our minds may have to say about that.

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January 23, 2017

Wish Fulfilment

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Wish Fulfilment

For me, the ultimate thrill of authorship is wish fulfilment.

‘I wish I had a million pounds….’ Well, maybe I don’t quite yet, but, with a bit of hope, a bit of a decision to think big, who knows?

I was brought up with the saying, ‘Seeing is believing’ and I suspect that most of us were.  But if we turn that round to ‘Believing is Seeing’, then we really have a scenario in which whatever we believe – whatever we put our energy into – can come alive for us.

So say I write about an orphan girl, unloved, who wanders the streets of London, finds a lottery ticket that someone has dropped on the pavement, discovers it is a winning ticket and starts a new life with three hundred thousand pounds in her back pocket.  Will I be making that more likely for myself?  I might invest my character with many of my own characteristics, and I might take her places and to meet people who are like my friends, but directly, I am unlikely to win at the lottery just because I write about it.

But there are two lessons I can draw from this at the moment.  The first is that the positive energy that comes from a great, heart-warming or inspirational story, the optimism of a saga that sweeps through the generations, does affect our lives.  As we create worlds, we imbibe that energy – we have to, if we are to make our worlds and our characters feel real to us – and in that process, our personal ambitions cannot help expanding.

The second lesson is that as we write, – just as when we read great books that others have written – we can collect ideas and convictions that we can take up in our daily lives and turn towards good.  Writing is not all a one-way street to characters who are needy, hungry or deprived.  There is also the small matter of their eventual success, their reconciliation, their triumph over adversity and their decision to escape, make new lives for themselves, or allow themselves to fall in love….

I’m grateful to my characters, since, writing about their vindications and their success, I feel more likely to succeed.

 

 

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January 18, 2017

Ideas will come

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Ideas will come

 

I have learned that the most important part of any endeavour – any plan, idea, thought or wish – is to admit the idea and make a start with it.  Because – and here is why – when we make any start with anything, our commitment brings up new ideas that – Wow! – we would never had thought of, if we hadn’t made that start, decided to allow any sort of beginning its space to blossom.

To give an example, I’m writing a series at the moment on the Joys of Writing, which, I’m surprised to notice, I have not directly mentioned before as a topic well worth considering, except in passing where I occasionally use words like: love, joy and pleasure, fulfilment, fun….

When I started thinking about the Joys of Writing, I was simply taking the flip side of all the things I had been writing about before – all the pitfalls and caveats that writers like to worry about – and saying, ‘So, what can I do with that, then?’  It seemed like a good thing to contemplate, even as I notice – and how is this even remotely possible?? – that the real Joys of Writing are a subject that appears rather to have passed me by, until now.

And, lo and behold, having started to write about the Joys of Writing, I find that lots of ideas for blogging on this topic start popping into my head, ideas such as wish fulfilment, realism in fiction, feeling alive, playing God….There are lots of ideas waiting to be explored.

So through this exercise I have learned, again, that the most important part of doing anything is to make a start, show willing and commit even a tiny corner of my mind to whatever I am contemplating.  Because only that decision will unleash all these ideas – which are limitless, really – all just waiting to be discovered.

Thanks for reading.

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December 20, 2016

We write what we know

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We write what we know

We write what we know, of course.  What else could we ever do?  And when we don’t know, we have that wonderful excuse, ‘I’m doing research’ to justify our trips away, our experiments with the testers adorning the perfume counters at an expensive store, our trips around winter markets savouring the festive atmosphere….

Actually, the last Christmas market I went to in Glasgow city centre was replete with the cries of vendors selling sizzling burgers, shredded pork on a roll and barbequed chicken legs; and a pall of chokingly unpleasant blue smoke hung over the proceedings.  Not wanting, on this particular occasion, to end up smelling like a bacon butty, I beat a hasty retreat from the orgy of meat grilling, frying and sizzling.

But perhaps that is my point.  Research brings reality to fiction, taking it away from the festive clichés of delightful lights, the warm aroma of melted chocolate, the scent of pine-needles wafting in the chilly, snow-kissed wind.  It was mighty cold that day, and I risked skidding and ending up sitting on the pavement, but thankfully, I stayed upright…and I did relish the feel of icy wind in my hair.  It was a great day.

We write what we know, of course, but it evolves beyond the basics, to include a heightened version of the spice of life, a bit of adventure, and a few deliciously competent – or lovably incompetent – dream dudes / role models to give us heart for the next dose of real life.

Real life can be so chilly and relentless, that from my point of view, I don’t relish too much more reality piled on top of it.  Enough realism, perhaps, to make me feel grateful for that reality which I am currently enjoying, enlivened with the possibility that anything can happen, and that dreams are lurking just around the next corner.

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December 5, 2016

Would I do this all again

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Would I do this all again

One of my sisters and I have a polite disagreement pending, which I suspect will never be resolved.

Whereas I spent acres of my youth sitting still and reading books – in the process learning about life and other people, and how to write, but feeling as if I neither experienced nor did very much at first hand – my sister spent her youth gadding about, and she is still gadding.  She is very much a doing at first hand kind of girl.

Now, with the onset of late middle age, I begin to start moving around, timidly and uncertainly, but finally – YES! – I am finally moving around, and doing things, (because if I don’t start soon, it will be too late).  Whereas my sister, who is getting tired from all her gadding about, tells me she relishes sitting and reading a book very much.

My point being, I have a suspicion that for me, reading, as much as anything, can become an addictive reaction; whereas my sister, who is so active, sees nothing sinister at all in sitting still and enjoying the refreshment of a good book.

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Which brings me to what I wanted to say at the start.

In the last ten years, since I stopped reading quite so much and started writing, I suspect that Life has taken this glimmer of an opportunity, to throw at me all the lessons that I should have picked up earlier, and which I would have picked up, if I had hidden less in reading and had more of an active life.  (I know reading can be an addictive pastime, because I can still feel myself, occasionally, yearning to dive into a good book when I want to run and hide from life.)

I suspect I have learned more about Life in the last ten years, than I did in the previous forty years.  I daresay all the lessons, inspiration and hard work that I have got through to get to this point would have come to me, sooner or later, in different forms.

So, yes, I would do this all again, but I’m very glad I don’t have to.  I’m very pleased and relieved to have got to where I am today, alive, in one piece and with my love, optimism and determination still intact.

Thank you so much for reading.

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December 1, 2016

Almost Ten Years and Counting

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Almost ten years and counting

Welcome to December.  I can’t say I’m sorry, exactly, to see 2016 coming to a close….

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I started writing seriously in 2007, and, as may be a common experience with writers, Trapped was not my first attempt at book-length penmanship.  That honour belongs to my first book, Happiness Matters, which, if anyone is interested, is submission ready.  (It makes me laugh to read occasional reviews of Trapped commenting, ‘my God, she’s pessimistic, isn’t she?’ or words to that effect, because no, I’m not, though for a fairly long time, my life and my world were.)  Trapped is about a period of my life that is thankfully over, and which I look back on with a mixture of sadness and awe.

I’m very glad that I have arrived here, now, with so many apparent lessons behind me.  I can’t say what I’ve learned from them,  whether I have picked up what I was supposed to, or whether I have arrived where I am supposed to be.  But after a decade of what has felt a bit like drill school, I feel an overwhelming, almost paralysing relief, to have arrived here in one piece.  I don’t care about being ten years older, either.

In what feels like an accelerated learning course for people who have spent too long hiding in books and now need to cram a life’s worth of maturing lessons as quickly as possible I can say that yes, the effort has been worth it, but please don’t make me do it again.  Which is another way of saying, yes, I would do it all again if I had to, but I’m very glad that won’t be necessary.

People read Trapped  and, understandably, think they know me.  But although the book attempts to cover forty years of one life in under two hundred pages, readers only glimpse a partial point of view of that one life, a view has become fixed as at the time of writing, and that I trust and hope has grown.

I have changed and moved on – thankfully – and the lessons I have collected so painfully, I hope make me a kinder, more patient woman, willing and ready to deal with what comes next.  As we turn our attention away from the strange happenings of this year towards what is coming in 2017, let us hope that our optimism shines, and makes miracles for all of us.

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November 29, 2016

In Control Scotland

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In Control Scotland

Last week I had the pleasure of attending the AGM in Glasgow of In Control Scotland.  ICS supports citizens in Scotland to make the most of their self-directed support, to advocate for greater awareness of SDS, and to ensure that a person centred approach obtains meaningful outcomes which help us all to achieve good lives.

Going along to the venue last Thursday and meeting people from all walks of life, I was again amazed at what the average bod in the street takes for granted: the right to decide whether, when and how to do something; the right to enjoy activities outside their homes and engage in employment, hobbies and socialising; the right to make friends and find companionship and love; all these things we so often assume we can enjoy.  And if someone somewhere were to come along and say, ‘sorry, you can’t afford to go out, and you can’t afford to socialise in your modest way, your budget is being cut….’ we would be irked, to say the least.

In a climate in which rationing is fashionable, and in which service providers are often expected to focus on ‘areas of greatest need’, social care budgets are under constant scrutiny.  For my money, the only way to ensure that social care provides relevant services to its citizens is to ensure they remain user led.

Thankfully, legislation passed by the Scottish government ensures that Self Directed Support is now the default position for all care provision in Scotland.  Although this option has several complexions, (some of which hand back control of care and outcomes to the social services departments from which they have been devolved) to have the principle enshrined in law is an immensely helpful first step.  But a lot of work still needs to be done, to ensure that these rights are not eroded and to guarantee that people have the right to make meaningful choices and are awarded the dignity and privacy to make full and rewarding life possible.

Many thanks to everyone for extending such a warm welcome to me for the afternoon, in particular to John Dalrymple for the invitation to attend, to Catriona, Marie, Louise and Lorna for their cheerful company, and to Diana for recognising me, and for the lift home afterwards (in very frosty conditions).  I had a wonderful time.

 

‘Colours of Happiness’ 3″ by Camdiluv ♥ from Concepción, CHILE
‘Colours of Happiness’ 3″ by Camdiluv ♥

 

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November 25, 2016

How Long To Write A Book

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How Long To Write A Book

Okay, apart from NaNoWriMo, (National Novel Writing Month) which takes place through November each year, timed, I conjecture, to fill the time between Hallowe’en and Thanksgiving, how long would we take to write a novel?

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I like to be clear about this so that I can minimise self-imposed stress.  Having a clear strategy keeps my sense of fun alive and well.  If I’m not having any fun, why am I writing?  Good strategies have to include fun time.  So long as we have a strategy, we can work with it, improve it and vary it with the seasons. Having no strategy simply adds to hassle, and no-one wants more of that, do they?

As a bench mark, I like to say that it takes me a year to write a book.  By which I mean, a good, solid, complete outline which probably needs a bit of editing and fine tuning, but with all the ideas and plot lines in place.  That also gives me (and other people) an easy ready reckoner, and time to deal with and enjoy the rest of my life without undue stress, and with most weekends off.  Yes, I do try to take weekends off because that keeps the rest of my life in perspective and I like to see my daughter sometimes, not just bark at her from my office chair.

So, a year, then.  That is a time-frame that works for me, at the moment.  It might change, but with so much other stuff butting in all the time, I find it is very, very important to give myself plenty of time, or, at the very least, the illusion of it.  (I can write under time pressure, but not for ever.)  Time pressure does tend to banish colour, whimsy and the humour that I do love to insinuate into my characters’ lives.

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November 21, 2016

Self Imposed Stress

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Self Imposed Stress

 

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Self-imposed stress is one of these ‘working for ourselves, got to work’ bugbears that, I think, infects all of us creative people, at some time or other.

Just to be clear: a bit of self-imposed stress is A Good Thing.  We can all do with taking our work seriously, with planning and setting out our strategies, and taking the time to bother with the details.  And a few deadlines thrown in there to motivate us do no harm at all.  Sometimes, I wear a smart jacket to work in the lounge.  I find that working and being alone for long periods, this kind of device helps to convince me that what I am doing is good, pays well, and makes a difference.  But what if stress becomes paralysing and self-defeating?  What can we do about stress that becomes all consuming?

A lot of unbearable and unhelpful stress comes from the divide between what we tell ourselves we should be doing – with our logical, bullying minds, as often as not – and what we want to do, which is to rest, relax, take it easy and go with the flow.  We consult our diaries and lament that we only have two days left this week to write seven thousand words.  We decided on our strategy ages ago, so we must do it, by golly, or the rest of our plans will be in shreds.  And our failure to adhere to our own plans can then feel like the ultimate betrayal, which just makes us too stressed to work at all!

Here are my top tips to avoid stress:

  • I try to take the weekends away from my work.  Thus, I have time to re-engage with normal, gentler routines and expectations, and enjoy conversations which are not punctuated by the clack of the PC keyboard.
  • To help demarcate my work / life boundaries, if I need extra motivation, I wear a jacket and my smart clothes to work and change out of them after work is finished for the day.
  • As I work from home, I accept that if I worked in any other office, I would be out of the house until at least 5.30 in the evening.  So, I don’t worry if I have to work a little after my daughter is back from school.  That’s okay.  I am here for her.
  • I vary my routines.  I don’t always write every morning or afternoon, but keep myself moving through the day. This helps to keep my focus strong.
  • I keep lists of stuff to do, and a pad by my bed for collecting ideas, so I don’t have to pad around the house at midnight to pin down a brilliant idea.

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November 17, 2016

Not getting finished

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Writing Hazards – not getting finished.

Continuing my occasional series on the hazards that wait to trip up the unwary writer, I’d like to spare another glance at that perennial nightmare, not getting finished.

I’ve always found it very easy to start new projects.  Ideas come to me all the time, and starting a new piece of writing is brilliant fun, lively and very exciting, unlike any other feeling.  Finishing was always my biggest challenge, so nowadays, I also feel the most enormous sense of achievement when I finish something.  Finishing a piece of work I started a year earlier means I have taken it seriously, valued my time, persisted and crossed the line called THE END.  Hooray!

It is natural, when writing, to want to find the right words, to care about the plurals that don’t need possessive commas, and the possessives that do, and to search for elegant phrasing and a good style.  In managing all these hopes and dreams there is nothing more valuable than a gram of practical common sense to ensure that we don’t get bogged down in details.

To start writing is obviously important, and to finish is equally important.  But the questions will arise, am I finished yet?  Have I done my best?  To answer, well, I’m knackered, is not conclusive, as we might merely need a break for a week or two.  We might need to put the writing in a drawer and leave it for six months.  That might be part of our proving process.

 

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But if we keep saying, ‘No, not yet, not quite, just a little bit more here and there and everywhere’ there is a chance that we are caught in the net of detail, of fine proofing everything too far, of caring so much about the details that we cannot stand back and see the project as a complete, vigorous whole.

We have to give it room to move, we need to allow it to stand up tall, and we must take the risk that yes, we might have done better – or hey!  We might have written a whole different book! – but this is where we are, what we have, and finally, it has to be good enough or we will never have the courage to let go.

If it helps, we might call the stages to completion ‘finished in outline’, a ‘finished first draft’, or ‘I’ve finished the barebones’, but somewhere, the words FINISHED will feature.

Writing, as I may have mentioned before, is an approximate art, which, in hoping to write for fluency, drama and pace, will inevitably sacrifice some detail, a few accurate niceties and the more delicate handling of a more sedate piece. But this is a price worth paying for a complete work.

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