Back in the saddle

Failed already, then. I was planning to post a blog every Friday (or as near as I could manage), but have slipped after only three weeks. There are mitigating circumstances, though.

January went by in a blur of campaigning for the local by-election. I was lucky enough to go to the count, and it was fascinating to see the democratic process at work, as bundles of voting papers were opened, unfolded, sorted, counted, then sorted again and re-counted. Goodness me, though, it was hard work getting to that point.

The week after that I decided I really ought to do some housework (I know!) and maybe stock the fridge again. There was work to catch up on, too. I'd been keeping things ticking over - a proof read here, an email sent there - but a client's 90,000-word manuscript kept tugging at my sleeve for attention. I'm pleased to say that I've made a good start on this book now and it's going well. I really should be working on it this morning, but this blog was saying 'Over here!'

The other project that has taken some of my energy is that I have finally sorted the paperback edition of my walking book, Jurassic Way. It's been a long slog, but has already had some interest and I think, overall, it's been worth it. Anyway, have a look and see what you think. If you like it, please leave a review; if you don't, then - er - keep quiet!

Watford, Northants - yes, as in Watford Gap

The question is: what shall I do next?

Mood swings

Writing: it's a funny old game. One day you're riding high because ideas are abundant and the words are flowing; the next day, you take someone's casual remark as a sign that your work is hopeless.

On Tuesday, while loitering in the Doldrums, I decided that if A Sparge Bag on the Washing Line  doesn't sell well I shall never write again. By Wednesday, I'd perked up again and I wrote a rather fine short story, if I do say so myself. I was also invited to submit two poems to an anthology being produced by a local writing group. Then yesterday, I heard I'm on the short list for the Writers Bureau Poetry Competition and I was approached to do some creative writing workshops. Today, Friday, I still have the wind in my sales.

If you're looking for inspiration, take a look at The Ruth Rendell Short Story Competition here. At £15 entry fee, it's a bit on the steep side, but it's for a good cause. The word limit is 1,000 and the prize is £1,000, which is a good per-word rate. The winner will be commissioned to write four more stories; I don't know if there's a further fee payable for this. I do, though, know someone who was runner-up one year; apparently, the awards evening is rather splendid. As always, make sure you read the rules and all the Ts&Cs.

Touching base

Pumpkin!

One of the magazines I work for is to cease paper publication at the end of the year and become online only and, most significant for me, will be produced in house rather than by the trusty band of freelances of which I have been one. Heigh-ho. It goes with the territory.

Strangely, though, the very next day after I heard this news, someone I've not worked with for nearly two years popped up and asked if I'd be free to take on a book in October. Yes, please! It's amazing how often it happens that I lose one client only for another to come along. Thank you, universe.

Also coming along in October is publication of A Sparge Bag on the Washing Line. I'm waiting to see cover designs at the moment, which is all very exciting. In the meantime, I'm planning a launch event and looking into advertising/publicity options. Watch this space!

In other news, the great pumpkin harvest is beginning. See exhibit A, above, which is 10 inches across.

I have sinned

Of the seven deadly sins, the one I succumb to most often is envy. (What did you think I was going to confess? Shame on you!)

I've decided that's what's wrong with me this week. I'm envious of my husband for having escaped into retirement, even though it was me who encouraged him to give up work; I'm envious of friends who have more money than me, more freedom, bigger houses, better clothes, whiter teeth; and I'm envious of writers who have achieved more success than me and at an earlier age. In short, I have a bad case of Poor Me Syndrome. This is, of course, ridiculous. I am healthy, I'm surrounded by loving family and friends, I have no mortgage and I earn a decent living doing things I enjoy. I should be ashamed of myself - and I am.

I've been looking back over my last two years' accounts; while my earnings have remained roughly the same, the amount of my own writing seems to have gone down, notwithstanding that I've published two books in the last 12 months. This presumably means I've been editing more of other people's work, which is what pays the bills, but it seems a retrograde step.

Today, then, I've entered a couple of competitions. I also popped into Sainsbury's to buy the new issue of Om Yoga & Lifestyle magazine, where I was pleased to see that Stripped-back Yoga gets a mention on the books page. It's not all bad, then.

Celebrating the small things again

Today I'm celebrating the end of my pastels course. Not because I'm glad it's over: just the contrary. I'm celebrating that I managed to stick with it and produce something reasonable. I'm planning to keep going at home and try to refine my skills.

Seeking inspiration

The other thing I'm celebrating is learning a new way of working. The choreographer we've been working with at the dance-theatre group sessions has introduced us to the idea of moving, then writing, then moving again. To explain: we visited a disused church, which we explored in our own time and plotted a route around, connecting elements that struck a  chord. Later, we re-created our route in the school hall where we rehearse. Next we had to write down a list of words that came to mind when we followed that route, then we took some of those key words and turned them back into movement. Honestly: I've never felt such a luvvie!

My task for the weekend is to review the proofs for Nine Lives. What are you up to? I'd love to hear from you.

If you would like to join this bloghop, send your details to laura.6eg@gmail.com  and she will do the necessary.

Changing gear

While rumours of my retirement have been greatly exaggerated - I wish! - it is true to say that I've passed two of my yoga classes on to another teacher, the lovely Angela, who is taking over from next week. I've taught the last session today and was overwhelmed by the kind comments, cards and generous present. My Tuesday group was my first 'proper' class after I qualified, and I shall miss them all.

However, I'm not retiring, just making space. I shall now have more time to concentrate on editing and writing jobs, and perhaps my WIP books will finally get finished. (Pause for laughter here!) I've said before that I think that September feels more like New Year than January ever does, so I've just started a week early. Mind you, there was a lovely autumnal feel to the air this morning, so perhaps the seasons have started to change. My little conker trees are starting to go orange and my tomatoes are well and truly over.

So it's onwards and upwards. I wonder what other positive changes lie in store.

Celebrate the small things, 20 January

This is a politics free post!

Today I'm celebrating what has been a pretty good week. I've done lots of editorial work and writing, enjoyed a fair bit of music-based activity and gone for a little walk every day. More specifically,  though, I'm celebrating the extraordinary courage of a couple of my yoga students who are facing difficult times with grace.

On a more mundane level, while I failed again to get a decent photo of the red kite that was circling tantalisingly close to my garden yesterday, I did get of shot of this fine fellow, who obliged by landing on next door's extension roof.

Best of all, I have nothing planned for this weekend: bliss!

Join the celebration: share your news on the bloghop Celebrate the Small Things  hosted by  Lexa's Blog.
 

Creative outlets

Image: Morguefile.com

I seem to be being offered outlets for creativity all over the place at the moment. Hot on the heels of the artist-led walkabout a couple of weeks ago, I went on a similar excursion on Sunday with storyteller Jo Blake Cave, who told us tales past and present about the Corby woods. I came home feeling inspired to write my own stories.

Prior to that, I was invited to take part in a dance taster session with choreographer Neil Paris -  'No pressure to commit to anything: just come along and have a bit of fun!' I was told. Well, I've been caught like that before! Of course, a taster is going to lead to something and sure enough there is a show in May, but before that we have to come together and create the piece. Actually, it was fun and I found I was able to throw myself into it pretty well, considering how controlling and controlled I  usually am. I wasn't entirely comfortable when asked to interpret four key words - fearless, empower, breathe and secret - through movement, but I did my best.

Elsewhere, the Weaving Words writing group came up trumps again with some fantastic stimuli (stimuluses?) for writing. I thought I was doing well. Then this morning, I was reading a couple of chapters of A Life Discarded by Alexander Masters and there on page 159 is the sentence:

'He mows the grass until it bleeds.'

How am I supposed to come up with something as fabulous as that?

Making space

Last night I taught a Wednesday evening yoga class for the last time. My other classes will carry on, but from next week this one will be in the capable hands of Claire.

I've been with this group for about seven years, which hardly seems possible. We've shared some good times. For instance, there was that memorable night in June when the council folk turned up at the school to set up for polling day and I forcibly evicted them for being noisy. Just because we're tranquil (ahem) doesn't mean you can push us around. Even last night, there was a funny moment when proceedings ground to a halt while a visiting spider was evicted, with considerably more care than the polling people, I might add.

Over the years, we've had news of new babies, weddings and other celebrations; and also some bereavements and other upsets. Through it all, my yogis have been loyal and turned up rain or shine to do some bending and stretching, some mindful breathing and some lying down.

I'm giving up this class to make space for other things, and it will free up quite a bit of time. It's not just the 90 minutes of the class itself, but also the half-hour either side for travelling and on-site admin: plus, of course the behind-scenes planning and follow-up paperwork. Perhaps I'll finally get round to writing that next yoga book. Watch this space.

Namaste.

The spice of life

Mixing things up a bit this week. Monday was a mixture of yoga and editing, as usual, but then in the evening I went to the Friends Meeting House in town for a fundraising event for the Tibet Relief Fund organised by the Northants Buddhists (multi-faith indeed!). We did some Tai Chi and Qi-Gong (which was VERY strange - in a good way) and a little yoga. Then we had a talk followed by meditation. It was a peaceful evening.

In complete contrast, I went to visit an engeering firm this morning to glean some information so that I can write some website copy. It was a proper grimy place and the desk in the 'office' was littered with peculiar-looking lumps of metal. I was quite happy - I love the smell of workmen - and I now know what it means to spark erode broken taps, which I'm sure will come in useful one day. The premises are tucked away in the far corner of one of Corby's industrial estates, where all sorts of businesses make a living: there's a crisp factory, a breakfast cereral manufacturer, body shops, workshops, IT businesses, kitchen-makers: you name, there's probably one there. Hm. I smell a sitcom!

Tomorrow I'm going to the launch of 'Our Woods', a festival of events to celebrate the woodlands of Corby through song, dance and light that will run from September to next May. Then I'll be dashing off to ukulele practice.

It's all go. I might find time to get a bit of writing done, too, if I'm lucky. 

Notes from the past

Scratting about in my drawers for a notebook, I found one lurking at the back from years ago that I'd never filled. Incredibly, it seems to be about 20 years old, because there are notes in it I made when I worked for the Adult Learning Service. And I reckon I'm not a hoarder...

When I did my secretarial training back in the days of manual typewriters, we were taught only to draw a single line through old notes on our shorthand pads, just in case we needed to refer to them, a habit I still have. This means that I can look back and see what I was up to in the last century.

Some of the notes still make sense - for instance, there is what is clearly a list for my son's birthday party, including the names of now forgotten friends who needed invitations, together with party bags, balloons and cake, the latter being underlined twice.

Others are more unfathomable. This list looks like one of the 'random words' writing challenges:

• Doc Martin
• JCB
• John Timpson (who?)
• Weetabix

No idea!

Then there are quite extensive notes that seem to have been made on a time management course, including this gem:

'Look in any mirror and you'll see your biggest time-waster.'

There's also a couple of pages of ideas for a short story set in a pub that I don't remember at all, alongside the detail that a Cheeky Vimto is made from equal parts of port and Blue WKD! I'd better get writing.

Character study

I've just been listening to an interview with Irvine Welsh on Radcliffe and Maconie on 6 Music. He had a lot of interesting things to say, but I was particularly struck by a technique he uses for developing a new character. He imagines the sort of music that person would listen to and then immerses himself in it until the character emerges. Isn't that a good idea?

My son (the one with the Creative Writing degree, not the drummer) says he draws a picture of the elements he knows - landscape, clothes, scenery, weapon, whatever - and the unknowns gradually become the knowns. Other writers I know start by think about the sort of shoes a person would wear or what their bedroom would look like. As I consider this now, I realise I always have the accent in my head.

If you're a writer, what's your top tip for bring a fantasy cast to life?

Another busy week ahead

As another Monday morning dawns, I'm pleased to note that my New Year enthusiasm shows no signs of fading. I have a head full of ideas for stories and projects. However, I'm also extremely busy with proper, paying work, so for now I'm having to content myself with jotting down some notes 'for later'. I've heard that I'm on another competition short list, which is exciting, so perhaps that's adding to the creative flow.

One opportunity that has caught my eye, courtesy of Writers Online, is a competition to write a 40-minute dramatic monologue. The winning entry will be performed at the Octagon Theatre, Bolton, with a professional cast (though a chunk of money would be nice, too!). I do love a monologue, so I might have a go at this: but how many words is 40 minutes' worth? I've just read out a 1200-word story in seven minutes, but this doesn't allow for dramatic pauses - and I do have a tendency to gabble. What do you reckon: about 6,000 words?

If you fancy having a go, details are here:

Nearly there: time to celebrate

Next Friday will, of course, be Christmas Day, but for now I have more practical matters to celebrate.
First off, did you get a fabulous sunrise today? As part of my drive to power through my to-do list, I have been getting up early this week, that is to say, before the sun, so I was at my desk for the view shown in this pic.

Second, I've wrangled a lot of words this week. As well as teaching five yoga classes and two one-to-one sessions, I've written 2,000 words on llamas and started a follow-up article, and finished the subbing/proofing of my two monthly magazine jobs.
Third, it's girls' night tonight. All round to Elaine's house for food and gossip.
Fourth - and this is actually the biggest celebration - Tim Peake is safely installed on the ISS.
Have a good weekend, folks.
Celebrate the Small Things  is a blog hop. Visit Lexa's Blog for the rules, and then post every Friday about something you're grateful  for that week. Originated by VikLit) and co-hosted by L.G. Keltner @ Writing Off The Edge and Tonja Drecker @ Kidbits Blog.

Happy Monday!

My day started well when one of my yoga students gave me a plant she had grown from seeds she brought back from Monet's garden. Wasn't that kind of her? Then one of my editorial clients told me I was awesome, which was nice, too.

A look at my finances has led me to the conclusion that I need to work smarter. I always seem to be busy, and yet my earnings aren't high enough. I'm not on the breadline, the house is safe and we never go hungry; but a bit more of a cushion would be nice. As I write this, a builder is unloading some equipment in my garden with a view to fixing some structural deficits. We seem to have cured the leak, but as always with old houses, one problem solved reveals at least one more than needs attention. (Cue husband, mumbling something about a moneypit.)

My writer friends will no doubt have received the latest missive from 'Writers & Artists', which includes a link to an article by Melanie Sumner called 'Who will buy your book?' Actually, it's about  why people won't buy your book: maybe they don't understand how the book world works, perhaps they're broke, or maybe they just don't like it...

I'd better take note. Then I'd better work smarter and get another book finished.

Business as usual

I've been writing my column for the March issue of OM magazine. This means I've been trying to think about spring and not New Year or the fact that it's raining and already dark, even though it's barely four o'clock. I've tried to be lyrical, but it's hard when you can't feel your toes.

The lovely Christmas break gave me plenty of time for reading and (thinking about) writing. I've got quite a few ideas for articles and stories; all I've got to do is place them, of course! I'm also toying with the idea of checking out Gumtree in case there are any opportunities there. Anybody any experience of this?

My yoga classes don't start until next Monday so I'm also trying to get ahead with my lesson planning - and there's talk of running an all-day yoga workshop with a fellow teacher some time soon. That should be fun, as well as challenging.

It's already nearly the weekend (I love short working weeks) and I'm looking forward to seeing The Divisional play on Friday night (with my son on drums), and then on Saturday I'm off for a bit of Stripping The Willow at a barn dance. Plenty of comic potential in the latter, I'm thinking.

Yogic inspiration

I woke up on Saturday morning feeling grumpy. Fortunately the sun was shining, so I strapped on my walking boots and set off for a brisk walk to clear my head.

There is a yoga mantra I like to march to, Om Gam Ganapataye Namaha, which roughly translated means Salutations and prostrations to Lord Ganesha. I’m not a Hindu so the call to Lord Ganesha means nothing to me on a religious level, but I’m not averse to tapping into his energies. He is the one who it is said helps in overcoming obstacles, so was ideal for my frame of mind. That’s often the way with mantra: it’s not the literal translation that matters, it’s the way it makes me feel that’s important.

Anyway, whether it was some other-worldly power or just the blast of cold air, I don’t know, but something did the trick. Since then I’ve felt quite inspired. I’ve subbed and proofed a batch of copy for a professional journal I work on, entered a couple of writing competitions, written a list of possible themes for future yoga lessons and planned my lessons up to Christmas. Hell, I’ve even signed up for the Sport Relief Mile next March!

My main challenge for this week, however, is to make sure I’m as near note perfect as I can manage for my choir performance on Saturday: highlights from Handel’s Messiah, a bunch of carols and, just for fun, a selection from White Christmas. Should be a good evening.