taking the train...

MAY BE rather quiet on the blog front the next few days; I'm heading to my parents for a family gathering over the weekend - hopping on train tomorrow.  Have packed most of what I can today; must not forget train tickets.  Aside from the getting on and off between train connections I rather enjoy train travel.  Sometimes I think - I shall write reams!  But actually often I find it a good space to allow my brain to rumble to a (relative) halt.  Am taking equipment needed for writing with me but do not anticipate doing much.

I feel a little unproductive of late - but sometimes I need to step back and breathe, and recollect previous enthusiasm and vision.  Hopefully I shall return geared up for lots of lovely words.

Be blessed.

memory...and all its friends

THE MORE I LOOK at the topic of memory, the more I realise how many avenues, how many side streets there are. (I almost compared these to dendrites on a neuron - which shows what I busy my brain over these days!)  This is especially true when talking to people.  I mention to people I am writing a book about memory, or more specifically the role of memory in faith, and they come back with some really interesting thoughts and questions.  I chatted with two old friends earlier this week - and conversation with one led to the topics of story telling and of severe memory loss (in reference to forms of dementia).  The other asked the question: what about memories you want to forget?  (I.e. how to deal with bad memories.) Strangely enough, I'd been typing up some thoughts on that very topic only the day before.

All these things fascinate me.  There have rarely been any topics that have fascinated me as much as this one; I'm not sure an 'idea' has ever held so much staying power in my mind before.  But I know I cannot cover everything in this book.  I want to recognise the issues involved, while acknowledging the limits of my subtopic, if that makes sense.

The book focuses on the importance of remembering in the life of faith (looking at the role of memory both in biblical times and today) and the flipside of this - the problems of forgetting.  And I suppose the book does focus on forgetfulness - recognising the damage and distress it can cause, looking at how our memories are so essential to questions of identity - another point I emphasise throughout the book.  Within that I recognise the distress for those who lose memory through degenerative illness, but I cannot make this a primary focus.  I also refer in one chapter about the power of our memories - and the potential mastery of 'bad memories'.  So far, that chapter is more reflective than anything else - asking questions without rushing in with clumsy answers.

At the moment I'm doing a lot of science related research, learning about how our brains work, what memory is (itself a matter of disagreement for many) and how we store and experience memory.  I know this is will not be a major element of the book but it is essential to have this in the background, underpinning my paragraphs and ensuring I don't write anything...well, dopey.

I described it recently in an email to a friend as a many tentacled thing, and that is what it feels like.  There are a lot of tentacles, but I adore my topic.  My problem is that I can't work out how much time to spend on the book and how much to spend on one off article writing...although I'm considering using the 'tentacles' as topics for articles, too.  It seems sensible to make the research fuel more than one area, and that way I don't feel disloyal to either form of writing.

Finally, I am trying to work out how to build a 'platform' for the book when I do start trying to get it published.  I suppose related articles (and frequent blog bashing) is good place to start!

book-tastic

HEADED for the university library yesterday - my first time, to see what it was like.  Signed in and went directly to online catalogue.  After I'd made a few jottings I noted the shelves which had the most related books on my topic (memory, what else?  Had you forgotten?).  When I finally found the part I wanted among the rows and rows of stacks I stood there for some time, gawping.  Shelves and shelves of books on memory, forgetfulness, memory and emotion, memory and attention...jiggled about trying to contain urge to go and grab a person and drag them to the shelves and squeak: Look!  Look at all these books!

Thankfully no one was in grabbing range.  I rationed myself to three books at a time and went and found a lovely desk by the window.  Entered realm of library bliss.  Definitely going back - this time with high energy food and covered drink (allowed in certain sections), a ruler - because I felt a strong desire to underline my headings (!), and some ear plugs - for when students' boyfriends/girlfriends come in and start whispering and giggling.  I'm used to general noise in the city library but constant whispering in an otherwise silent place is rather grating.  Cannot make notes and have fingers in both ears at the same time.

Unfortunately the tiredness hit rather hard after 2 hours, and I couldn't help feeling acute frustration on the way home, wishing I had the energy to stay longer.  As it is, I had to go and lie down and feel fairly useless in the afternoon.  That aside, it is a tremendous resource and I know I've barely skimmed the surface.


Image from stock.xchng

why this time it's different

A PACKAGE has been left for me in the church office.  I open it excitedly and expectantly and there it is - a copy of The Making of Memory by Steven Rose, lent to me by a church member and retired doctor - a very thoughtful and clever man.  The loan is a result of a conversation we had last week.

This would never happened a couple of years ago.

Because the reason my friend has lent me a book on memory is because that he knows I am writing a book relating to the subject.  The reason he knows is because I told him.  If people ask me what I am spending my time on, I tell them I'm writing a book.  If they're not careful, I tell them what it's about.  If they make the mistake of appearing really interested, I'll start talking to them about their brains.  Their brains.

Good grief!

Previous versions of me shudder at the thought - being bold enough to talk about my writing?  Confessing (with no coercion) that I am writing a book?  And - unheard of - telling them what it's about?

It's not as if I've never tried to write a book before.  So what's the difference?  Why now?

There are two main reasons, I think - one general and one specific. The first reason is that I have now owned my vocation as a writer.That is what I am. I no longer say things like 'I'd love to write' or 'I like writing'; I say 'I am a writer'.  If they ask me what I write, well, I've already told you what happens then.

The second reason, I have recently realised, is that I love this book. The more I research, the more interested I get.  The possibilities breed and expand, connections are made, and the more I discover the more I love it.  It's not petering out, not like previous projects.  This time it's different.  I'm not hampered by worry over its potential success.  I want to finish this book. Actually, from my perspective, it feels like it wants me to write it, which is the other way round.

Those are two of the reasons why this time it's different.  And the sense of purpose can occasionally be intoxicating.  Of course, there's a lot of hard work involved.  I know it will take a lot of effort to do this and to do this well.  But I have every intention of doing it.  Which, I suppose, is Reason Number 3.

the secret of writing

I have a quote scrawled in one of my notebooks from a writers' day I went to earlier this year.

The secret of writing is avoiding not writing.

- W. Goldman

Whether it should have the italics I don't know - was I adding my own emphasis?   But it sounds sensible.  I try and implement it as much as possible!


Image: mine

why I love Google Street View

Yesterday's trip went well.  I did indeed head library/cafewards initially - spilling out some words in my well weathered notebook, and having a quick peruse in the library itself before heading off for my 'appointment'. It was great talking to the two pregnancy centre workers - I find on-the-scene research really makes a subject come alive, and gives me the opportunity to meet new people too - we got on very well and I went away very glad to have made contact with such lovely people.

Of course all this entailed knowing where I was going. It was in fact on a bus route of one I already take frequently - it just went beyond the point where I usually got off. This is the classic problem I have always had with buses - knowing where to get off. You may know where it is on a map, but guessing it from the seat of a bus is quite another thing. This is why I love Google Street View. I get an advance glimpse of where I'm heading - not merely of road names on a map but the pizza places, shops, pedestrian crossings that all act as markers. I could tell, for example, that if I passed McDonald's I had gone too far - I'd need to get off at the next stop and backtrack.

And I need more than one marker. There is more than one set of traffic lights or traffic islands on a journey.  I need several backups - things that put the scene in context, let me know where I am in relation to my goal - and in relation to the other markers.


Uh oh.  Analogy approaching.

Sometimes we only use one marker in our patterns of thought and interpretation. We hurtle down the road thinking we're going in the right direction - aha!  Metaphorical weeping willow on right!  But we forget to look at the other markers which define the context, put things in a different light, show us another, better approach. Plus we forget that different people use different markers - different associations, memories, worldviews (street views?!). We can't understand why we've landed at such a different place.

I need to know what markers are there to tell me when to get off the bus. But I need to practise spotting them in life too - whether when reading the written word, listening to a conversation or a quiet confidence, understanding that there is usually more than one point of reference. If I forget to look for others, I usually misunderstand - I get off at the wrong stop and can't work out why.

writing and watermelons...sort of

Feel the need to write a vastly entertaining or astonishingly profound post.

Alas, such a thing is not forthcoming.

Have done various 'little jobs' today, including typing up the most recent instalments of the book, which inevitably includes editing and adding along the way.  (I managed to continue doing this even when the cavity wall insulation people were drilling holes a couple of feet from my head - impressive.  Earplugs were required, although it was still very very loud even when wearing them.)

At first it feels like a chore - sitting down to type up what I've already written - but soon it enlivens and inspires, reminding me of the reasons I am doing it and helping me breed further thoughts.  You may ask - why don't you type it from the start?  Well, sometimes I do.  But regular readers will know my love of notebooks - the paper kind - and how I love to sit in cafes scribbling aggressively, accompanied by a generous cup of coffee and possibly a packet of crisps or a banana. Last time I purchased a mini fruit salad which felt nice and naughty all at once.  It had watermelon in it.  What is it about watermelon?  Cool, crisp and refreshing.  It doesn't exactly go with coffee but never mind - I ate then drank.

I'm taking a trip this Wednesday to visit a pregnancy crisis centre to do some research for an article.  I'm assembling the pieces in order to make a pitch and hoping that someone will be interested!  It's one of those things where there are so many coincidences - people I know who are involved, stories I've been told - that I felt it was almost wasteful not to look into it further.  Those involved are very keen - I only hope I don't disappoint them.  Perhaps I should not feel so much for my subject matter - but passion (and compassion) are powerful things and I wouldn't want to write about certain things without them.

Rather than flutter about in the morning at home I shall probably go to the library (or neighbouring cafe!) first - get some thoughts flowing - although my current notebook is nearly full.  I'm sure I only just replaced the last one!

You never know, maybe I have some watermelon while I'm there...watermelon on the brain.  Is that normal?!

I can't seem to draw this post to a close; it's pure rambling.

I shall take a breath and punch in my last full stop.

Image from stock.xchng

blogging: a writer's dilemma

Theoretically, I have been blogging here for four years this month.  I say theoretically, because my stuttering start in May 2007 didn't really add up to much. It was only in 2008 that I started picking up post wise.

At the beginning, any reluctance to blog was a kind of protectiveness, a dislike of laying myself bare. I wasn't really blogging for an audience;  I was just trying to express something. Around that time I started my regime  programme for dealing with CFS/ME, so it helped to put some words somewhere. I didn't get to do much wider communicating, otherwise.

This was also prior to my decision to make writing my reality, before accepting it as a vocation rather than a dream. I was still in the turbulent relationship where I tugged at it and snarled at it and wished it away and wished it back again.

Now, I have found my blogging 'voice' and don't mind using it; I have fallen into natural habits over what I do and do not share, what I consider public and what I most certainly do not.  This seems to vary from blogger to blogger.  Plenty of bloggers post personal photos of their families and friends; I have chosen not to.  These days I allow a photo of myself - I didn't, initially - but I still don't share pictures of others, unless they are already 'public'.  That's my choice, one of the lines I draw.

But the question now is not - do I dare to blog? but Where is the balance?  Because it's not just about time and energy - it's about the writing.  Me as a writer.  I'm currently focusing a lot on my (non fiction) book, which is privately satisfying but inevitably it doesn't 'show' in any way; it is a working towards something that might be published in the future, not an article I wish to get published now.

During Lent I blogged every day over at Thirsty Ground and did a fair bit of blogging here, too.  Now Lent is over, I'm easing the pressure over at TG and deliberately slowing (as if I could go much slower - I take such small chunks of the biblical passage!).  It takes quite a bit of writing energy.  Blogging is writing, after all, and it's important to me that I do, to some degree, craft my blog posts, not churning them out in splurges of feeling or rolling paragraphs with no breaks and strange punctuation and dense sentences that go on forever and ever and multitudes of ands and aggressively overwhelming quantities of exclamation marks - argh!!!!!!

Anyway.

Actually, it doesn't take me long to write a blog post.  The crafting comes quite naturally.  But it's still using writing energy.  Not to mention brewing time. I'm quite the teapot.  Subjects churn and build and brew into reality.  Eventually - hopefully - I write them down.

Sometimes this scares me a little - how many thoughts, ideas, articles and books am I capable of but will never fully externalise due to sheer lack of self-discipline?  

I'm sure I have a point.  Oh, yes.

For a writer, blogging is a dilemma.  It's very positive - a way of practising our craft, of getting into the habit of writing, even a showcase for our work.  A web presence, as they like to say - a touchstone, a vehicle, simmering with possibility.

But it also takes time - time for thinking and explaining, time for tweaking and commenting, for interacting and editing.  All good things, but all things I need to do in my day job.

So - I will blog, but I will blog moderately. There's always a balance. Enjoy it, use it, but don't let it swallow all  your time. It could be said of so many things...

Hold all things lightly.

inspiration in unexpected places

At one point, as part of my writing course (yes I am still doing it - although admittedly very behind on my current assignment!), I was supposed to research trade magazines and specialist publications.  Now, I could have spent hours trawling through 'Happy Tractors' and 'Existentialism for Beginners'¹ in WHSmith.  However, I decided to be practical and use my current contacts / resources - which is what a writer is supposed to do anyway.

I put a notice in the church notice sheet. Magazines, please!

Inevitably I got a very varied assortment!  Some were of real interest, others were so jargon-ated I didn't have a clue.  The idea was to find new markets for writing, and to see what was required to write for such magazines - content, references, style.

I did a sort out the other day where I was going through my general magazine 'stash'.

I decided my collection of Insurance Times could probably be recycled. But some of the others I kept - one technology and engineering magazine I found surprisingly fascinating.  Management and business magazines can have articles on people skills and team work and stray into how people tick - very interesting.  One had an article on the role of gossip - I kept that one, and will  probably cut out the article for my clippings file eventually.

Yesterday I found the British Journal of School Nursing in my guitar case (what a strange sentence!)  Someone must have given it to me when I had my guitar with me, and I slipped it into the nearest available compartment.  Since I stopped my involvement in music at church for energy reasons, I've only just discovered it.  I'm not a school nurse.  I'm not a teacher.  I'm not a parent and I'm not a child.  But it is really interesting.  This was an issue from 2008 and had articles on stress and mental health, confidentiality, sex education, weight, drama in education, competence and the age of consent and an interview with a school nurse at an independent Faith School.

Now I am not necessarily thinking of writing for any of these magazines - my knowledge on the subject is full of holes.  But they cover topics that act as triggers - stimulating ideas, providing illustrations, looking at wider issues in specific ways.  And, of course, they open a window on other people's worlds.

We need to stray outside our specialisms, including in relation to faith and theology .  Many of these 'outside' elements can trigger connections we never knew were there - whatever our field or area of expertise.

¹As far as I know these titles do not exist².  But if you fancy some bored googling, you can confirm that for me, if you really want to.


² Rather ironic, considering the second one's title.

library love

On Tuesday, after my usual dithering over energy levels (I always have to try and work out how much activity I can do each week) I took myself off to the city's central library.  It had been a long time since I'd managed to get there, but it was clear as soon as I was on the bus that it was a good thing to do.  I find working from home very difficult, in spite of the fact I've chosen to do so.  I often feel daunted each morning about sitting down and starting something, or I get distracted by other chores.  "Going out to work" is helpful for me, as long as I can come home when I get tired.

Initially I took myself down to the lower level and found myself a little booth to work in.  I love that feeling of privacy while still being aware of others around me.  I tentatively brought out my netbook and began to type up some notes I'd scribbled on the manuscript of my book.  It was the first time I'd taken the netbook "out to work" with me since I got it for my birthday last year.

The library is part of a larger building, which includes an art gallery (with small shop) and cafe, as well as being attached to the guildhall and civic centre.  Basically, everything I need is in one place - more energy saving, which is important.  I took myself for a coffee break in the cafe, bagging a sofa and reading an interesting article about a certain tribe in one of the many copies of National Geographic.  Alas, it became apparent I would need to visit the ladies before I'd finished the article (National Geographic articles tend to be long!).  The ladies, of course, was just across the corridor and then I slipped back into the library, this time heading upwards, to check out the Religion section.

I immediately discovered some helpful tomes among the various dictionaries of theology and Christian thought and, finding myself a little table under a window, I proceeded to spend the rest of my time taking notes on an interesting and highly pertinent (to my research) article on memory.  The view was not terribly inspiring (although I believe they are doing some work on the building in front), but if I leaned slightly to the left I could see the saplings in the new Square, and watch pedestrians wander to and fro.  It felt nice to sit in the window, anyway.

The next window along contained a man perched with a book in front of him; he wasn't reading it.  He was asleep for the whole time I sat there, occasionally uttering little peaceful snores.  He stirred at one point, but then settled himself back down.  I'm not convinced he ever intended to read the book.

Reluctantly realising I needed to leave in order to have energy for the rest of the day, I caught a different bus home.

I don't drive - time, health and money have never had the right convergence. Health is the most problematic of all when it comes to learning to drive, although I have had some lessons.  Alas, I would come home shaking with exhaustion which lasted for a week - until the next lesson. 

Buses are important for my sense of independence.  It's only 15p more for a day ticket now than it is for a return to the city, and it frees me up to hop on whatever bus I want.  It took me an unfamiliar and therefore interesting route before dropping me off less than 10 minutes from home.

A very satisfactory morning (although I was very tired in the afternoon) - but possibly a boring blog post!

Image from  stock.xchng

the joy of discovery

Was feeling incredibly weary this afternoon, but decided to do some work on a long term writing project.  So glad I did - was a very energising experience.

Not least because I was getting incredibly interested in researching one aspect of the project.  As I wound down for the afternoon I paused and considered: what if I take this and add it to a previous topic I'd been looking at?  All under the same general banner, but so far divided, subtopics in different sections, if you like.

I took what I'd been learning and applied it to my previous research.

Wow.


It was one of those moments when I realised there was no need for me to make a link; the link was there waiting for me, radiating through the subject matter, ready to be discovered.

I was so excited, mind spinning with delight.

I can't declare that it is an 'original idea'; I'm sure I'm not that clever, but it felt so specific, so different that I half wanted to write a dissertation instead of a book.

You're either baffled in a bored kind of way or frustrated that I'm not telling you what it was.  But my thoughts feel too precious right now; I need to clutch them to myself for a while.  When I express them I'll be doing so properly - writing them out, making the book work.  In all honesty, it's not something I could easily summarize at this stage.

It wouldn't seem all that exciting to anyone else anyway.  But when you've been researching a subject, following ideas and then suddenly, unexpectedly, bam! A new vista opens up, a eureka moment takes place.

I don't have them very often; it felt so encouraging.  It reminded me of the joy of discovery.  I love to learn and to study, and to express this in writing is something I find hugely rewarding.

in these pages...

Some time ago I was entertained by Angela's post about what we write with (and on).  For non-writers, or people who can't stand stationery* talk, this may be achingly boring.  Apologies.

As I've mentioned at other times, this notebook is my touchstone of notebooks (read more about where the transferable cover came from here).  It's what I huddle over in dentists' waiting rooms, hospital clinics and (rather more pleasant) cafes and teashops.  It's my place for ideas but also many first drafts: taking a theme and running with it, hitching on to sub topics and thinking as I write.  This a process of excitement and discovery as I write down my thoughts as they tumble through - and draw out new ones on the way.

Of course, I don't always have room (or the forethought) to put this A5 notebook in my bag.  Thus I usually carry one of the following two: the 'elephant' - mentioned here, and the pink polka dot - mentioned here.  One or other of them is usually in my bag, the other often in the top drawer of my bedside table.  I don't know why they swap about so much - but there you have it.

When one of these is finally full, I have one lined up which Andy gave me last year, pristine and patient, waiting for its time...

       

                                                                                           

This is something a little different, because I call it my writing journal - and is used sporadically.  It's more personal - I will write things in here that I would not write on my blog, for instance, but it has a wider function than a mere diary.  If I'm suffering from writers' block or am feeling disillusioned or hopeful (or even both at once - strangely plausible when you're me) I may choose to write about it in here.  This lives in my bedside drawer and is not something I carry about with me.  It's not 'lock and key' kind of private, but it is less of a tool and more of an outlet, unlike the others.

The thing about all of these notebooks (well, in the first case, the cover at least) is that they have been given to me by people who know I love to write.  This makes them all special.  They're also bright and colourful, which is incidental, but I like them for it.

Of course, there are the napkin /tissue paper/ receipts / wrappers/ even toilet paper  moments when ideas arrive and there is simply nothing else to write on.  If I have paper but no pen I have been known to indent one word into the paper with my finger nail, so I don't forget the topic, at least.

Yes, writers can be just a teensy bit crazy...

* Stationery  = the desk, paper related sort of stuff.  Stationary = not moving.  


(May think of more things and add to this post later - who knows?)

the power of space

I'm an odd mix.  I like neatness and clearness to work.  Yet I'm a haphazard worker - creativity going berserk as I rifle through papers, jot down ideas on the nearest free surface (paper, post-it, napkin if necessary).  My mind is a natural bundle of chaos and it thrives on it.  But I do need space to sit down and pour it out.  Hence, some of my days I spend merely creating space for me to work in.

Sometimes I find this frustrating.  As I work (write) from home I need to be aware of things like housework - maintaining a multi-purpose space, which can be challenging.  I need to learn to prioritise what needs doing and what can wait.  But it can feel I have to wade through an awful lot of things in order to get to an open space - and this is as much mental as physical.

But the space creating in itself is part of creative process (being creative in creating space in which to be creative?!) as my mind reshuffles and sorts, tidies and catalogues.

Not sure how to end this post, as my mind is still shuffling.  I'll leave you with a blank space and say go create.  And making the space for it is a necessary part of it.

What needs clearing, decluttering, cataloguing in order for us to get on with the process of dreaming, inventing, discovering?

do not forget what you have been given

Recently I've been carving out more space for thinking and reflection.  I don't think I've done this deliberately, but suddenly my mental synapses are firing happily away, my tendency to pause and think is re-invigorated - not least due to the words written by others, be it through books, articles, or blogs.

The beauty of our capacity to think and feel astonishes me - taking some inward part and tugging at it, creating a need to think more deeply and communicate more profoundly.

Which makes me look at my own writing projects and think: what has got left behind?  What should I be focusing on - but I am not?

My main big project, bubbling in the background is still the 'book' on forgetfulness and memory, a bubbling that does not stop, but is often trampled on by my medley-like mind, churning with ideas.  I'm challenged to take time out and truly focus on it, in the manner I did in November for my novel writing project.  That project was purely for fun, but it showed me how much I could write if I developed the daily habit of working on one longer piece of work.  I'm more nervous at approaching this one - because I take it more seriously.

It's a book about our tendency to forget - and how this impacts our sense of identity and our faith, yet often I myself forget to actually work on it (pulls face at irony).

I pray that some how I will be able to choose wisely what I focus on and when, not neglecting the important things nor stealing time from those who need me.

Something has happened to me in the past year whereby I no longer desire to 'be' a writer; it is what I am.  Suddenly I am experiencing something that I had always hankered after: a sense of vocation.  I can feel it running through me, fiery and passionate, desperate to be heard.

I do not know how to describe it, but I am utterly grateful for it.  I just pray I use it wisely.

stretching the muscles

Today have been trying to exercise writing muscles gently after a few days busy doing other things.  Focused mainly on a couple of poems which I'm hoping to submit to competitions - not that I've ever won a poetry competition in my life, but still, it's worth a try.  Still pondering over my next poetry collection after  Fragile World - can't decide whether to do the same again or  to approach an actual publisher.  Unlikely to succeed - poetry is a hard sell.  But I'd like to start collating some poems for it anyway, including ones from this blog.  Any favourites? I want to use this one to raise money for the women of the Congo - those who are victims of the awful atrocities and sexual violence that we wince to hear about.

I am also trying to get to grips with water and sanitation again - this will be my fourth or fifth re-write.  It's not proving easy to find a market but it's a subject I think is so important.  Seriously, neglecting these things has a knock-on effect on all areas of development.

Now, however, I think it's time to wind down.  Have another crunch-click-cringe remedial massage tomorrow.  As usual, I need it, although I have been trying to re-invigorate my stretching regime to compliment the pummelling this week.  Sounds such fun, doesn't it?  But I actually enjoy the fact she's actually getting to the problem places - it's a relief more than anything.  Finding and recognising the problem enables us to actually work at it, in whatever area of our lives.


image: mine

'for further details, see elephant'

I've just got a new notebook which I use for writing - ideas, inspiration, all sorts.  It's a plain A5 one which I put inside the lovely cover which was made for me by a fellow blogger over a year ago.  See the original post and link to her blog here.

I was sitting in a coffee shop on the way back from a rather painful remedial massage on Thursday, transferring some notes into it from a smaller pocket notebook.


If you read it, you may get confused.  There are an awful lot of elephant references.  'See elephant' it says, frequently.  Or 'inside elephant' is another common one.

The slightly more helpful 'notes in elephant' may give you a clue; the pocket notebook in question is a Bang on the Door one which Andy gave me some time ago, with a picture of a fabric elephant on the front.  All very easily explained, but you have to wonder what would happen if someone read the bigger notebook without this frame of reference.

What elephant? And why?!

Which goes to show how important it can be to know the context of something, otherwise the meaning is entirely baffling or easily misunderstood. You have only one half of a conversation, one piece of the puzzle.

You have an elephant, and you've no idea why.

Reflecting on NaNoWriMo...

At 54, 364 words, the first draft of my novel has come to an end. Coincidentally, today is the first day that you can 'verify and win' at the NaNoWriMo site, so on finishing my novel, I was immediately congratulated and declared a winner.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, this whole experience has contained a remarkable amount of certainty on my part - certainty that I would, indeed, complete a novel of 50,000 words in month. It's been 25 days, including a weekend break, and it has been a very refreshing time for me.

Some might find this confusing - that NaNoWriMo, far from being stressful, was one of the most relaxing things I could do at this time. Putting aside all the lists and expectations, all my normal writing projects, and just letting my mind and fingers go was incredibly releasing.

Most of all, I enjoyed dumping my own expectations of myself. I didn't try to make the story anything I felt it should be, I simply made it what it wanted to be. It may not be a literary masterpiece, but it exists. I've realised I should never try to write a literary masterpiece - it freezes my brain entirely. This is so often the trouble I have with writing - it is not typical writer's block, but it is a kind of barrier.

I need to learn to write a first draft, without caring about the quality of it, at least not initially. This is something I have known in theory for a long time. But participating in NaNoWriMo forced me to practise it. It enabled a story to emerge, unhampered by self-imposed rules over what it should be like. I was doing it for the fun of it...and that is what allowed me to do it.

I hope that I can carry this lesson over into my non-fiction writing, which has been my main focus this year. I hope that I can learn to spill out words on a regular basis, reflections and thought and ideas - simply because I can. Constantly thinking about the end result frequently prevents me from beginning. Writing a novel chronologically was an interesting discipline for someone who leaps about naturally, forcing me to immerse myself in the writing without fretting over what I would do with it.

Nevertheless, people are asking what I will do with it. Well, I shall lay it aside for a time, during which I may do some casual reading around the period - some gentle research. Then, I hope to go back to it and rehash it entirely - not changing the overall story but filling in the gaps, sketching the characters more fully, building on the sub plots. Giving more of a sense of why the characters feel what they feel and do what they do. Now that I've written over 50,000 words, I'm not inclined to lock it away and forget about it.

I will, at some point, privatise the 'Almost A Lady' blog. The longer it stays public on the Internet the more protective I feel of it - at some point I will draw it back to myself and work on it in private, in my own time. I will also try and think of a different title, as I have discovered there is already a book with that title. There's no copyright on titles, but it would help to be as unique as possible.

Meanwhile I have a non-fiction, inspirational 'book' which I've picked at throughout this year - I'm hoping to bring the discipline of NaNoWriMo to that project, so that I can write it unshackled - and edit later. As I have a perfectionist streak, this is not easy, but this month has proved to me that it is possible.

Finally, a huge thank you must go to those who have determinedly read along as I've posted new paragraphs and chapters day by day. Your encouragement has made all the difference. When someone 'can't wait for the next bit' it is very hard to disappoint them, even when I have been uncertain about how it's been going! Thank you so much - this has not been a lone journey and your company has been incredibly helpful.

To those of you have already finished reading, you may smile when I end this post, on a day where many of my readers are particularly prone to thankfulness, with one word:

Thank you.

out of character

Have now passed the 40,000 word mark. Before you roll your eyes at me, I know it's only half way through the month. I do want to have some time off this weekend, as well as finishing early. My health is never entirely predictable, and I always like things to be sent off and verified before something unexpected happens (computer blows up, internet connection mysteriously dies, etc.)

I confess: when I signed up for NaNoWriMo initially I had no clue as to what I might achieve. I decided that any words would be good, be it 10,000 or 30,000. (My record, by the way, lies around 20,000 words. I have never progressed further than that, until now.) But I will also confess: in the days approaching November something rather surprising happened.

I realised: I believed I was going to do it.

Now this may not seem particularly noteworthy to those who are naturally disciplined and have vast amounts of self confidence, but I am a doubter by nature.

But I realised, to my own perplexity, that I genuinely believed I would write a 50,000 word novel in a month. I tried to squeeze some doubt in, just because it felt odd otherwise, but the doubt wouldn't take. It was deflected completely.

It was an astonishing sensation.

I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror and tried to identify a glimpse of anxiety, of unbelief, in my eyes.

Nope.

That realisation felt extraordinary. The words, filling the pages, only vindicate that belief. They do not surprise me.

The only thing that gives me a tweak of dismay is the idea that I might not have signed up. That there was a good chance I would not decide to do this.

But I did. And was instantly completely calm about it..

This is quite weird, for me. Entirely out of character.

But rather nice, all the same.

The Middle

Still writing, but the words are harder now - the second week has lost the novelty of the first, but now I'm entrenched in that overwhelming part of novel writing which is The Middle.The Middle is the hardest bit to push through. The momentum of The Beginning has sputtered and died, and the force towards The End has yet to kick in.

Sometimes I think I live my life stuck in The Middle.

We tend to autopilot through our days and when the autopilot freezes up we clench our fists and panic. The joys of The Middle!

The Middle is the real test. The test of determination, of character, of what we are made of. The Middle is what makes us, moulds us but above all shows us who we really are.

The Middle is where we have been journeying for a while. We cannot yet see the end, and the miles stretch out before us. Sometimes, we get a little travel sick. And that's okay.

When we're in The Middle, we need to reach out and beyond ourselves. To find a strength beyond ourselves, to recognise the companions who aid us, who teach us.

The Middle is invaluable, because without it there can be no ending. The Middle can offer us so much.

Lord, save me not from the journey, but go with me and before me. Beginning, Middle and End.

words,words,words

That's my main occupation this month. My NaNoWriMo attempt has begun and I have broken the 4000 word mark on the second day which is encouraging. If I write more than I need to when I can, it covers any unexpected happenings or busy days when writing is more difficult.

I'm hoping the blog itself is reasonably user friendly although, as I warn on one of the pages, it's set up primarily for me to write, not to be read. I've considered putting the oldest post first so that you can read it straight down...but this may cause problems for those who simply want to read the newest installment. I can't spend to much time fiddling with presentation as I need to do the writing..

Anyway, thanks to those of you who have given encouragement, please feel free to leave me comments!

Am enjoying it so far. Hope that you are too.