HANGING AROUND

Obsession has climbed on my back, wrapped itself around my shoulders, my head – which is lost inside a huge fiction...yes, thirteen books one after another will do that to you. I'm back in True Blood land, living in Bon Temps with Sookie Stackhouse, hanging on every word, to the extent of sometimes going back a bit to re-listen because my attention had strayed to the real world...of just one of my other fantasy places. It's a nasty addiction, this audio book trail, this reading with your eyes shut...this falling in love with the deep south accent of the same reader through the books. I've only escaped for a little while to skin Facebook, Twitter, and to force a scribble for blogging. The last book is calling me so I think I might have time to make a quick cuppa after I post this before the walls close in. outside I hear the rain running foul of the wind and am glad to be imprisoned in this wee flat, in this cosy bed.

Though, last couple of days I've been working on another set of tarot majors, including creating the hanged man above. I took that pic in Budapest more than ten years ago, and thought he would be an interesting take on the traditional image.

BOOKS AHOY!

I think I’m on the boil now, my attention caught up in reading three books; one is paper, Paul Auster’s The New York Trilogy - very deep and interesting…a bit mind-boggling actually; on Kindle I’ve sunk into a freebie from Bookbub called Wolves by C. Gockel and really loving it…only just finished chapter one so I’m hoping it will keep up the good work; just started listening to the third book, Stephen King’s Bazaar of Bad Dreams, which is a collection of stories…and I love his short/long stories.

There are sooo many unread books in this house, and my Kindle is following suit. I like to have plenty of choice when in a mad reading phase…which is where this recent mad writing phase has led me. So now I want to be all about schedules, and allotting half-hour sittings or more many times a day - and that doesn’t account for the time spent listening to a book… I will always do more of that. I seem to have already done quite a lot of things this year and we’re only at the end of the first week! Things are looking up for me.

Today, I slipped into the local charity shop and found a memoir by Janice Galloway, started reading it and can’t put it down - it refuses to share me with others, so I might spend the whole weekend with it.

LAUNCH DAY

It’s launch day for the anthology, Tales from Elsewhere, which includes a story written by me. There are some brilliant and wonderful tales in this book. http://www.amazon.co.uk/Tales-Elsewhere-Sarah-Thomas/dp/1522725628/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1452170228&sr=8-1&keywords=tales+from+elsewhere

I pondered what to blog about, on launch-day, and have already written about our group of writers on my personal blog - here, so I think the perfect thing is to offer you the out-takes, the bits of writing at the beginning of this project that never stayed in the story.

September 2014

My notes from that weekend include phrases like, ‘It’s bosomy here…’ There is also an unfinished poem, but I want to let that lie around for a while more.

OUT-TAKES

Liza had felt the invitation, the crisp flick of paper in her hand; she feared her sweating fingertips would smudge the officialness of her name, her right to go there...to drive up that lane listening to the arse of her poor old car dragging its tail on the un-gouged middle. This place was nowhere, with no witnesses...anyone standing on the moon would never give that landscape a moment's thought, wouldn't know of its existence.
She stepped out of the car in a gravelled circle and pushed the door closed with a click. Someone knew she had come, would have heard her scrunching up the lane and now the gravel could bring the meeting onto the path. Liza was instantly taken with a table and chairs set out under a tree but she turned towards the cottage's open door.
'Hello,' she called.
A sound from the door on her right might've been an answering voice – Liza opened the door and walked in...into a bathroom and found a little round woman sitting in a bath with all her clothes on.
'Did you want to speak to the Oracle?' the wet woman asked.
'Is that you? Are you the oracle?'
'Well, I'm in her bath so it stands to reason that I am probably her.'
'But you're fully dressed.'
'Which is my own business in my own bathroom.'
'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that, but the front door was wide open.'
'You must be expected then. Take a seat.'
She motioned for Liza to sit on the fluffy lid of the toilet.
Liza sat and looked at the woman.
'Why are you taking a bath in your clothes..if you don't mind me asking?'
'Why should I mind you asking me personal questions?'
'Well, there was no answer at first then I thought I heard someone say, Come in.'
'What's your name dear?'
'Liza.'
'Hmmm.'
Liza took out her invitation and waved it. 'I was invited,' she said, 'though I don't know why.'
'Well, Liza. Perhaps you might like to climb that little tree and pick me a few apples before we begin.' She pointed out of the window.
'Begin what?'
'Introductions of course.'
Liza stood up and peered around the flapping curtain out of the open window.
'Oh. Okay,' she said, and left the room.
She walked down the side of the garden, looking into bushy corners but no one appeared. It was a big space, not quite a lawn but pleasant short grass. Picking the apples was only the first task of seven; there were mushrooms to get, chestnuts to gather from the cemetery and Ginger-beer to bring up from the old schoolhouse. Now she was stuck at the fish and had no idea what the other two chores would be.

*

I can't see Liza in the kitchen but I know she's still staring at that gutted fish on the kitchen table; she knows it's dead but can't get past the wide eyes, won't chop the head off because it's a vile thing to do but is in a quandary about serving it up cooked. She's a carnivore for God's sake. Distance is a dance. I only met her a few hours ago and already she trusts me to teach her something that will help her to cope with all the things she can't talk about.
September here is bosomy. I live under this tree, sit outside all day and pretend it can change me, make me more fundamental, grounded in the basics that exclude electronics...and yet, knowing that the skies are hoaching with technology and I was reduced to candles, oil lamps and scrubbing carbolic wouldn't bring me the tranquillity I'd need to fulfil my purpose – if I had one. Liza thinks I have; she heard it from a good source.

*

'Oh I do love a bit of company,' said the Oracle when Liza came to join her under the tree. 'You arrived on time dear, now come sit. I feel the skin holding us together burst, seeding our words into autumn...'
'I feel as if I've been here for days.'
'And all the better for it. Tell me now, what is it that consumes you?'
'Last night I dreamed about a woman who could astral walk, talk to others and live a different kind of life but her body was killed while she was away, and all I can think about now is where does that leave her? Are we attached to our bodies even when we're gone? Would she be a waif-ghost?’
'What do you think?'
'I'd want to believe the most, the positive but the state of the world these days, what with all the privatisation and food-banks, I'm leaning towards the opposite. She's fucked, isn't she?'
'But she doesn't exist in the world of politics so cut them from the picture and see what's left.'
'Everything.'
'Exactly.'
'The fish must be cooked by now,' Liza said.
'Yes, the others will be along soon, oh yes I hear them coming up the lane.'
As they walked up the lawn voices drifted through the trees that used to be hedges.

There had been no introductions, no names, just women passing bowls of food to each other. Sauce boats sailed up each side of the table, crossing at one point before being captured and re-filled. The great fish had been picked clean, only remnants scattered inside the curved cage. Liza loved the way the steaming flesh had slipped off the bone just from the hook of a fork. Apples, cheese and cake appeared like magic as hands lifted the old course away...the talking caught her at every turn – she couldn't keep up. There was wine but not too much to notice and yet there must've been a lot. She counted fifteen at the table, though some of them just wouldn't stay still and their faces blurred into smiling characters from a story she'd read in her childhood. What was she doing here?

The next morning, in the middle of all the small conversations going on all over the place, there were shouts and laughter, and two heads rising over the lilac bushes. A little round woman was taking photos of the two gyrating women on the trampoline. Liza stood behind her and watched her capture them up in the air, legs and arms dancing – she was breathless just watching them and the world was suddenly quite overwhelming. Why was she here? And then a memory slipped into her mind – had she eaten anything? She couldn't remember the taste of the fish the night before, but she must've had some...she was right there amongst the others, who were all eating and enthusing and congratulating the cook. When she looked down there was a mug of tea in her hand.
'I am here. It is real, isn't it?'
No one answered her; she wasn't sure if she'd spoken out loud, but it was pretty noisy where she was and anyone passing was watching and laughing at the trampoliners.

https://talesfromelsewhereblog.wordpress.com/

HUNGER GAMES

I have a new project - of course I do. It will also help re-shape an old project, which is good; I'm building a book of prompts, and it's been lying around now for a couple of years, more than partly done so this idea should polish it into a finished product.

January is going to be all about Hunger in all its glory or mess, and the poem below is still in first draft but in essence is the birth of a creative spirit...whether you're new to writing or not.

HUNGER GAMES

The days in front of me are lawns of empty pages…
my stomach ponders the arrival of more food
but I'm thinking about women starving to feed children,
and the news I can't watch will offer visions of need
into my poor but satisfactory life. I buy bargain food,
save my money for £300 phones, and gadgets
that starve my muscles of exercise – I'm comfortable,
not ashamed to have survived my struggles.

Farewell; I may be gone for some time

Sailing into the new year and working extra shifts, grumbling all the way, but I suppose the money will help cover some expenses and get me on a level path again...not that I've gone off the path or fallen down the pipe. Things are cool in my world, though I have taken out a teeny wee loan with my credit union to treat myself to a new phone. Number 1 son got the old one yesterday so now I am phoneless, and have to go out into the world on Monday to work and be incommunicado for a change. The lovely new phone could arrive by the 31st so let's all pray I have a new gadget to play with on Hogmanay.

Now that xmas is over my next project is to put up new art in my hall. I took down all the postcards from my mad world hobby the other year but have chosen some to keep and find a new nook for them - maybe behind the kitchen door. So now I will have to sort out the printers - they only need ink and to be reunited with the laptops. I've been buying photo paper because I've got some fabulous doodled pics I want on my walls...captured a couple of pieces from Lesley too, and, demanded something creative from the boy Spencer.

As I clear and clean these neglected corners of my life and home I should be able to slip myself, my legs, into the hole in my desk - actually there are two desks in my room, and they are almost tidy, nearly ready to be put to work. I don't want to make empty promises again at this time of the year; it's time to do without quibble, to finish what's been started. In the last week I have found snug homes for lots of the jewellery-making supplies so the place is looking much more business-like and less like a mad poet's place - maybe that's because I'm on a prose-spree.

Next year I plan to read more paper books, prowl through what's on my Kindle, and write some reviews. I think that should be my only resolution...there's no point me saying I will try to be healthier, to lose weight, to go out more, I will just have to hope all these things happen accidentally, as by-products of my other obsessions.

TAROT TALES

Speed does not exist this month - time is full of essence and I am smelling all the roses, feeling languid, rested but itching to get up and go full pelt for December. I've got all the makings for most of my Xmas presents and am now clearing the desks (again) to begin with all the creativity...or I was. The other day I had a great idea to write a collection of stories around a tarot reading, but one set of cards wasn't enough for this project - I used 8 packs of cards, pulling out the reading from each one and laying them down in a grid so I could snap a picture for future reference. So, that has captured me for the last few days...I even taught myself a few new moves on Scrivener.

It's only been four days but I think the marriage of Tarot Tales and charm bracelets will do well.

The first story is inspired by the cards in the top row - they are all 8 of pentacles but the difference in the images is incredible from a writing/creating point of view. I've got 8 lines of description or character or place, and 8 names to choose from. Each card in the original reading sits on a position, which gives me a base-line for the story and characters...and the whole story of the reading is yet another level in the tales. It has turned out to be a fantastic exercise, so I'm hoping that the good first drafts of all of them might be ready to rest over the holiday season.

A VISIT TO THE SOUTH SIDE

We are all terminal but Linda is the only one I know who has a measurement in weeks or months – nobody is able to give her anything more definite than that, and she seems to feel strong, apart from the pain, so all the signals are mixed. When we left she looked pale and tired but happy to be part of pretty good crack between me, her two cousins, and Angela; the laughter spilled all over our table in the massively packed, busy restaurant on the first floor of the brand new billion pound hospital wing.

And now I've just finished eating flame-grilled cow with cheese in Burger King, waiting for my movie to begin; I can't pass up a trip to the city and not catch a film, get my money's worth from my yearly ticket; £16.40 a month, and the cinema is way out of my way...and I'm such a lazy bitch I can't get myself out of the flat on my days off. The year is up at the beginning of December and I won't be renewing it – I'll be rich!

Money will have to be spent in The Works; I can almost see it, along the road from where I'm sitting. Acrylic paints have been bought from Lidl's, and new brushes...I'll be creating a lot of my Xmas presents; Tibetan silver pendants and beads, and finger and hand puppets are winging their way towards me from all over the world. I love Ebay...and am itching to get crafting and arting.

Last night I was listening to a bit of Isabelle Allende's biography and it made me think of returning to mine. Linda's news enforces that, and again I find myself thinking that I must tidy up the pile, leave proper files and instructions behind when I saunter off this pitch. But now I want to wander a few yards of Sauchiehall Street in the late summer sun before the rain returns, and before the shop shuts.

LUCINDA

Oh, my eardrums echo with her white noise;
she's a ghost of herself, carving her desk
into a monument of waiting. Long
weeks hoot like quiet owls. Cancer doesn't
whisper: it growls deep in her bowels.
Surgeons cut and thrust the necessary,
bagging her like a take-away...and we
are left to wander. Memories, pale nights,
and three of us discussing possible
properties of money-oil – and how to
cast a spell to decimate financial
dyspepsia. Her laugh, like a cartoon
dog, wheezing in, and out of damaged lungs
reminds us to howl at the bloody moon.

A FANTASY LIFE

I'm reading, mostly with my eyes shut – I do love audio books. So far this year I've gone back and listened again to Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, The Dresden Files, The Walking Dead, and am now on the fourth book in The Game of Thrones. It's hard to explain why I keep returning to all these, but it's probably because there are so many characters and stories to love...I must be a saga-gal! I easily fall upon series, including TV versions, and often re-read True Blood and watch the dramas re-envisioned where killed-off characters live again. I love the differences.

My reading taste changed because I wanted to write fantasy so began reading lots of it...and then I found audio versions of Asimov's Foundation series, Orson Scott Card's Ender's Game and Terry Goodkind's Sword of Truth and oh the feeling when the right voice reads life into those characters is beyond fascination...it's a drug, and I became addicted so now am obsessed with listening to books, so much so that I hardly ever switch on the TV. It goes on for me to watch one thing and off again. I can't watch normal programmes, only drama. I don't live in the real world.

It doesn't matter that I'm not in the real world and I'll be gone from it soon enough I suppose, so why should I spend my last years trying to interpret the reported news and politics? I enjoy every minute I spend alone in my cave; I love the flashes of time with my many grandchildren; and I refuse to become a Moaning Minnie like the old woman I meet on a Monday morning at the bus stop on my way into work – if that's how the world bends us then I'm opting out. I can easily deal with the tension created on pages of text because I can turn the page to find out who did what when and where and to whom...and more than likely the why of it too...and yes, I believe in fairies.

Have I written my fantasy yet? No. Gestation is a bitch, but something is creeping out now and after years of working with Tarot cards I'm splashing some of it all over my pages. So there's a short story almost finished that will appear in an anthology, and some kind of magic has appeared in poems, some of which have been published. I started working on world-building a few years ago so that is always in the back of my mind when creating characters..and there are more than a few novels lazing around waiting for my attention. I'm drowning in fantasy...see the bubbles coming up?

RESOLUTIONS FOR 2011

Resolutions that contain a modicum of hope in being fulfilled:

1. Evict laziness from my life by actually doing the thing I think about when I think about it.

2. Step outside the flat every day at least once, even if it’s only to take out rubbish – smell real life going on.

3. Do more writing and creative activities than passive watching of the box.

4. Read the piles of books on my shelves and write reviews.

5. Settle down and finish editing (begin) the work in progress.

6. Lay the hall carpet – this year for sure!

Well, that doesn’t sound too difficult and there are very good reasons to ensure I carry them out. But, I’m already feeling the laziness attacking me from my bed and suggesting that I stay here today instead of going out; I took all the rubbish out last night and it’s too dull outside for good photography. My eyes are killing me because of the dust I disturbed while preparing for Christmas – and I’m digesting feedback from the new first chapter plus the eyes are not up to reading too much…and if I even attempt to lay that carpet the dust will get into my lungs and kill me!

There’s always tomorrow, and tomorrow and the days after.

Oh and don't forget number 7

7. Lose weight.

LAST POST OF THE YEAR

It will be 2011 in ten minutes, so I’m taking some of those minutes to sum the year up. Yes it was good for me; I wrote a whole first draft of a novel in November! That deserves some applause, and I’ve managed to make the living room look warm and lived in – so it’s more presentable now. There’s still a lot to do to this flat but I’m happy with what I’ve done so far.

Excuse me while I go pour myself an enormous glass of Tia Maria – I’ll be back…

Mmmm, that is gorgeous.

Yes, there will be resolutions to gather and carry out; Tia Maria and Cadbury’s Caramel are just the things to help me with thinking them up. There’s a dog barking – he must’ve been sent out as someone’s first foot! Quiet now, they’ve let him in; I wonder if he was sporting whisky or vodka.

PRIORITIES

It’s freezing but narry a snowflake in sight, thank God, and I’m shawled-up waiting for the cold to hit my nose before I put the heating on. Life isn’t hard – I just don’t want to waste good money on heat when I can spend it on books and tarot cards. We all have choices to make and different priorities.

Number 2 son gave me the £300 he owed me the other week and I immediately buzzed into town in an attempt to buy myself some electrical/techno gadget so it wouldn’t fall into the housekeeping budget (or, God forbid, go towards paying a bill). No siree – that’s not what free money is for.

I bought myself a little baby laptop, a 10 inch pink gorgeous thing that actually fits perfectly into a bag I’d crocheted earlier. So that’s £200 done and the shops were closing so I went home and treated myself to a Chicken Korma. It was two days later that I got the chance to go out again and, following a TV advert, I tootled along to Asda and bought: a Kodak 12 million pixel camera for 49 quid, a digital photo frame, a toaster and a jug blender. So that’s me sorted for life.

Is it really? I say that about every camera or phone or laptop I buy and yet a couple of years later there I am at it again! I feel good, that in continually forking out to Musician all year I’d saved that money so it also feels as if I’ve acquired all this stuff for nothing. I really should have bought a new washing machine seeing at the corpse in my kitchen will never do any kind of job again, but you can’t waste free money on things like washing machines. Well, I can’t. I’ll save some money in a jar, and in the meantime hand-wash and dry it on the radiators when the heating is on – and I don’t create a lot of laundry.

Meanwhile, I’m waiting for my Ebay and Amazon buys to batter their way through the Christmas post. What are they? Why, books and tarot cards of course.

SCARY TIMES

While biting down on a lovely chocolate, I broke my crown. Yes folks, I lost my front tooth! Snap and out it came; this was during a shift so when the phone rang I had to work and talk as if I was a whole woman with a mouthful (almost) of teeth. And, it was a Friday night, and I leave for work early on a Monday and finish at six – gappy ‘til Tuesday, at least.

As it turned out, I’m still gappy. It’s been stuck back on and since fallen back off while I wait to see if my Tax Credit covers the cost of treatment, which is considerable because the lovely new dentist has diagnosed me as possibly suffering from an autoimmune condition called Sjogren’s Syndrome. In the 18 months since I’ve seen a dentist my four crowns are dead in the water and I need about five fillings, two of them root-canal. Apparently because I have dry mouth from a saliva problem the acid attacks the teeth… and this is one of the main symptoms of Sjogren’s… and I’ve had the saliva thing going on for about twenty years.

So, is there anyone out there in the doctor’s office collating these symptoms? No, it seems not.

The lovely dentist said that she would pass my case on to the dental hospital’s medical department, so I await that appointment as well as the news about when they can begin my treatment and I can get new crowns before the others take off too…

Meanwhile, I called my medical centre and booked a non-urgent appointment with the only doctor I’ve seen there, and like. That took two weeks, and now I’m waiting for the results of the blood tests. Amongst other things, she is testing for Lupus and Rheumatoid Arthritis. Scary stuff. I feel old now, and all the aches and pains I was experiencing thinking they were just old age creeping up on me are taking on a huge aspect of early death!

But I’m okay really. Well, I’m a canny and very sensible Scot and I’ll take my medicine, take what’s coming for me and just get on with it.

So, I suppose I should really pay more attention to my health and try to lose a lot of weight. I’ve been re-writing my old diet blog because I want to keep it up to follow the madness that is me on a diet. Fatty McSlob is now a page attached to my writing blog. I’ve added pictures and hope it’s funny enough to keep a reader’s attention. I’ll catch it up to date soon.

This is my fifth day without chocolate, cake or biscuits. Pat me on the back!

WHAT HAVE I DONE LATELY?

Joined the gym. Honest to God, I did! Last Sunday I experienced my induction and made a pile of promises. I was supposed to take part in an exercise class on Wednesday but my grandchildren dragged me around Balloch park instead, which did the job. But, if I had written my status on Facebook on Thursday it would’ve read: Many Kit-Kats later, I remembered that healthy eating was supposed to be on the menu from this week.

I’d already warned my grandchildren that if they felt an earthquake then that would be me in the gym.

‘I never heard an earthquake, Granny,’ my granddaughter said, during our tour of the park.

‘That’s because I haven’t been back yet. Keep your ears open.’

Maybe I’ll go tomorrow. I told Carrie about it on the phone today and she said she’d text me. We’ll see. Meanwhile, two Magnum ice-lollies later, I’m thinking of popping out to the shop for chocolate.

I have been good though, on the writing side of life, and worked very hard on poems for the Scotia Poet Laureate competition at the end of the month…and there is also the Poetry Scotland event at Callander the weekend after. Looking forward to stewing myself in all that lovely poetry – well I hope it’ll be GOOD rather than lovely.

Still gripped in the arms of audio books and am presently diving into the cannon of Orson Scott Card; some of his work is brilliant, and so addictive that I just move on to the next book in the series; I’m on the last one of the Enderverse series – fantastic stories.

It’s so hard to believe that we’re racing towards the end of another year – and I still haven’t got carpet laid in the hall! Time doesn’t wait for old women – it just belts along and doesn’t care if we catch up or not.

I also cut my hair – actually made a right mess of it; it’s not as easy to cut decent chunks off long hair as it is to crop or style. It reached my bum but now that I’ve cut about eight inches off, it seems even thicker and unmanageable. Think I’ll just go the whole hog and cut it into a bob. Another we’ll see.

A NEW DAY

First thing I do when I open my eyes in the morning is check the time and work out what I'm supposed to be doing, then I switch on the laptop. So, how does the day escape? Is sucked into my evil clutches to be dawdled and frittered away while my mind flits across the net, forgetting that time is of the essence?

I confess – I am a time-waster. I need rules. The year has half-gone; last time looked it was spring.

Tonight is my first appointment with the health and fitness trainer. The doctor referred me in order to regain any future that might be allotted to me. There will be rules and regulations there.

I need to take a ruler and draw a margin down the side of my life, insert some kind of time-table, measure action against inaction – do the accounts before they become due because this inspector isn’t collecting tax!

Good health has followed me all the days of my life, so far, but if I don’t pay attention it might desert me for another – maybe it’ll have an affair with the woman across the road… God knows she needs it.

I confess; I have been careless and uncaring, presumptuous of time but now the borderline is racing towards me. Where are my manners? I should welcome a new world order and set the table with a freshly-embroidered cloth, and, plant a menu in the centrepiece to catch my wandering eye.

Much later…

Well, my fears were justified; two readings of high blood pressure put a stop to the proceedings until I see my doctor to discover if it’s a fluke or a problem. Am I late? Too late for a very important date? Put your scythe away Reaper, I’ll be battering down the door of the health centre in the morning. I’ll be back.

IT'S JUNE - AT LAST!

Maria MacKee wildly sings Show me Heaven…leave me breathless, in my ear and the wind blasts me from across the loch. I marched here – honest I did, but I stopped at MacDonalds on the way for coffee and a small chicken mayo sandwich.

Someone was sitting on my bench so I had to take another further back, so the view is not so nice…except that a man has just stripped off in front of me and gone swimming. He stopped to rub Vaseline under his arms and on his inner thighs. Oh that water will be cold; the sun’s hot rays barely touch us here.

See what I mean? That is a grey outlook. Now the midges are crowding me and Springsteen is crooning Secret Garden. Mmmm. As my brave swimmer went into the water Alexandra Burke sang her Hallelujah. There is no sun, just grey clouds and a light wind – a fine day for swimming in a Scottish loch, I don’t think.

I can see his arms curving out of the water way over the other side; this is the beginning of the loch, just to the left of where the river Leven enters. My lovely iPod Touch is loving being switched to music today, as opposed to books – that helped me march. I swung my old and lazy self a quarter of a mile to get here to completely fabulous sounds…and now it’s While my Guitar Gently Weeps.

My bench became free and I flew up the steps to sit on my little promontory to face my mountain with The Sundays wonderful Static and Silence in my ears. The swimmer is trawling around the bay and sometimes across to the wooden poles (don’t know what you call them). That’s some work-out.

Oh I’ve let my hair down – can’t remember the last time I did that, probably never, not at this length. It’s too heavy for the wind to lift and just lies down my back. Bruce is belting out, These are better days. It is so fabulous to be sitting here feeling the wind and sun on my face with the loch at my feet. The water doesn’t make the sound of waves lapping at a shore; it’s more like a river running. I need to get out more.

TRUTH & FICTION

Aye, the years are fair drawing in; I’ve been thinking about dying, and how it could come all too soon. Really, I have pondered on the fact that my family are not long-lived and I might only have a very small amount of time left to do the things I want to do. Hopefully I will be the exception and will bang on ‘til I’m a centurion. Mostly, I want to see my grandchildren grow up but the fact is, that the longer I live the more likely it’ll be that I’ll lose a child and I definitely don’t want that.

So, to be that selfish I will have to be tough enough to keep going through the loss of my friends and writing buddies, and whatever the barmy politicians drag us into – the way they’re going the western world could be wiped out this decade!

Someone recently asked, why do you write? I said I wanted to entertain my future progeny with true stories, and strangers with my fiction and poetry. It’s so easy, these days, to communicate and spread our personal history; we can tell the stories that would have died with us.

When I was a child I loved to sit and listen to the adults talking, gossiping and telling tales of old childhoods; my children had only a little time to spend on that because technology was interfering; my grandchildren won’t have a minute to allow old tales to sink into their memory. I hope there will be at least one amongst those future grandchildren, however great, who will be a reader and perhaps a writer, but interested in what has gone before.

I have experienced a lot in my life, and the horror is hysterical in its own way – I will make it attractive and someone will read it, I’m sure. But, I’m having fun learning how to show them how it was for me…of course, I’ll fictionalise the sexy bits so they won’t know what’s true to me or someone else. Ordinary life will be straight and true.

HAPPIER

I have just discovered Google Docs. How F.A.B. is that? I was prowling the app store looking for something to hold and move files, found a cheap office thing that invited me to connect with the Google Docs and I love it. I've never really used Google except to search...and here it's got all these lovely functions and stuff! You might not see me for days - weeks even!

So I've copied loads of bits of stories and ALL the novels over there so I can edit, write as the mood takes me when I'm out and somewhere with wifi. I've been inspired to blog three times tonight; once in my DIET blog too. Only good can come of this.

Well, What a Surprise - not

Well, I think I’ve battered Chapter One into the right kind of shape. Now I can push through the next four chapters to get to the muddy bit; the bit that hadn’t been written/created before I dived into Nano. This is where I have to take myself in hand and do the Billy Connolly impression – ‘Appreciate Cunningham, appreciate!’ to which I must reply, ‘Sir. Yes sir!’

I can feel the excitement bubbling up; the idea that I’m going to write through the missing middle of this book and eventually write the ending that’s just appeared in front of me (with a bit of help from Lulu) makes me want to freeze everything around me. I will sit down and do it, as much as I can as often as I can…but I’m still me – lazier than a sloth!

Internet and writing forums are my life blood but I don’t have to keep checking every ten minutes – I could get a whole paragraph done in the time I waste popping in and out of sites. Maybe a timetable would work. Pshaw! (I think that’s how they say that) ‘Know thyself!’ (Is that a bible quote?) This is just a little hump in the middle; it’s not a huge bloody mountain – it’s just that if feels like work. I like to slide along on the seat of my pants – do things off the cuff at the last minute.

I’ve been in this area for almost/about 15 months and am only now changing my doctor – days before I need my repeat prescription! It takes two weeks to get an introductory appointment so I have to go two days without my medication and pick up the scrip at the old place on Monday. Slap me now. Yes, I know I’ve demanded that before.

When I started this entry I didn’t plan on battering myself but it was inevitable.

TWINKLE

Thinking about fairies, my mind springs into a land of lilac and green. My whole bedroom is painted lilac (I was given the paint) and I stuck luminous stars on the ceiling with a crescent moon (was given them too) to bring a little magic into my life. The light shade is pale blue, an upside down cotton, four-sided pyramid with a tassel dangling about breast-height (this was another gift). If I could just get up off my arse and accessorise it would be little-people heaven, with crystals and all sorts of witchy bobbles. Actually, the ceiling is the only part of the room that could be called finished!

Though, I can feel the energy and impulse to lay carpets and style the walls with whacky and wonderful pictures, returning. The ideas sit in front of my eyes as I aim for sleep and slip back when I wake every morning. Soon, I tell myself, soon – but it’s almost the end of January already! I moved in here fifteen months ago and am still treading floorboards, looking at bare walls.

I suppose I could think of the flat as a new novel, or an autobiography, or an art journal; I’ve just bought a beautiful book about keeping an art journal, and created the first page. There are no fairies on that page but I have a lovely key-hook bar-thingy with fairies and tulips on the ends…and there’s a gorgeous pewter fairy who has lost her feet – I need to pin her up somewhere.

All my pretty things need homes; they want to be a part of my space – instead of hiding in drawers, cupboards, boxes and shelves. So, I shall spread my wings, sprinkle my fairy dust and wave my wand until this flat twinkles with eccentricity.

TIMING; Belt or Otherwise

A belt snapped and off went my Clio to the scrap-yard, to be ripped apart. What health bounds before me on these legs? Shall I walk everywhere or wait for buses? I could stride towards the train; a half-way trip of exercise and relaxation – more reading!

The life of a passenger might not be quite so bad. There, I’ve talked myself into it, a quiet happiness and more money…but then I’d be able to pay my debts so actually less money to me, but a more settled life and future.

Yes, this is a whole new way of life. When I was in Glasgow I lived beside the subway and could walk to work – though I always took the subway for that one stop. But this is almost the Highlands! It takes over an hour to get to Glasgow  on the bus; it would take me days to get to work! Well, that’s an exaggeration. A long time, but I could spend all that time reading. I like that. I haven’t had a lot of time for reading recently on account of fannying about on the net.

So, everything in front of me is rosy. That romantic far off future where everything is perfect and dreams come true. The truth of it is the reality of public transport and our notoriously changeable weather. I can work from home, for the moment, but as soon as my boss can change my shifts to all days I’ll be out in the cold, waiting for a bus – with my book.

Meanwhile, I’ll be saving up all the money I’m not paying to get to work, to buy a new old banger!