Fighting Talk

So a brief hiatus because of half-term. A break from blogging but not from writing. It seems that my 'time' to write is the beginning of the week. Give me a pad and pen Mon-Weds and I'm all over it. Life takes over on Thursday and before you know it the weekend has come and gone without a word being committed to paper.

Last week was no exception. A lot of writing, not yet typed up and a LOT of thinking. I've come to realise that I need more conflict in what I'm doing. Cracking out very short stories means that something has to give and in my case its the journey. The conflict. The meat. It happens, it's brief, it's over. A bit like a damp squib.

So my objective this week is to flesh out the fights. Give them some more impetus. A bit more feist. See where that takes me.....




9UT5G75YK3PN

It's Just a Matter of Time

So the big theme of last week's lesson was that it's all just a matter of time. About making time to write. Whether it's on the bus, tube, train, before you go to sleep, before you get up. I had a lecturer once who told me there was no such thing as 'not having the time'. It is purely an excuse and you have to MAKE time. Since he told me that (and I was making an excuse at the time so I was completely rumbled) I've always tried to adhere to that tenet, funny it's come back again.

I've tried writing on the commute, it's such a brief amount of time though, you just get into the swing of things when you're at your destination and fumbling to stuff your pen and book into your bag, pick up your coat and scramble of the train before the doors close. First thing in the morning is not an option with toddlers so for me it's evenings. And you know what? I'm enjoying it. To start with I found it impossible to concentrate because I wanted to stare at whatever tosh was flickering on the TV. Now, I'm getting so into it I couldn't begin to tell you what's going on around me. My husband is complaining that I don't respond to his ongoing commentary about his day/football/tv viewing. I can't eat my dinner fast enough because I want to get back on my laptop and research. And write.

The writer's realm is a parallel universe, one of peace, calm and serenity. I love it. If you haven't already, you should try it.

The Big Secret

I made an interesting discovery at class last week. It seems that quite a few students, myself included, have opted to keep our pursuit of literary technique a secret from everyone except our very nearest and dearest. Friends, colleagues, siblings and even children are ignorant of the fact that we are earnestly meeting in hallowed halls of learning and engaging in secret scribbling.

Is this a terribly English thing? Are we so afraid of failing before we start that we don't want to broadcast our imminent failure? Is it the fear of ridicule? Or is it our guilty pleasure? Could it be because we are  taking time out for ourselves? Time is so precious it seems over indulgent to even consider taking a 2 full hours out of a week, away from work and responsibilities to pursue a skill that eludes so many and favours so few? Shouldn't we be ironing, driving, organising, cleaning, gardening, volunteering, caring?

The thing is of course that it's not just the two hours at school. It's the surreptitious ducking out of life, excusing yourself from a room to jot down the character traits, plot lines or perfectly crafted expressions that pop into your mind while you're supposed to be concentrating on more important things. One of our lovely ladies likened it to having an affair. With a pen and paper? It could be far worse.

Serendipity

Friday was a day of revelations. College was brilliant and afterwards I had an epiphany. I realised why I was really doing this course. I am a mother of two beautiful children with my own business.  On Friday's I 'work from home' but the reality is 50% of the time I need to go into the office. This means we have a full-time, daily nanny (the lovely Kerrie).

If I'm honest when I am at home on Friday's I feel like a spare part. The children and nanny have their own routine and their own set of friends who I don't know. I've increasingly struggled with what to do with myself when I'm 'working from home' which with two young children is impossible anyway. When I found this course on Friday mornings it seemed serendipitous.

The guilt of deliberately going out when I feel that I should be spending time with them is overwhelming, but equally I feel its unfair to dip in and out of their weekday routine at my own whim and convenience. It seems so selfish.

So here I am. Lonely. Guilty. Inadequate. Insignificant. Being a parent is such a big job but at times it can make you feel so small.