Back on track

Yesterday was the independent publisher's event that I'd signed up for.  It was strange being out all day without the children in tow, and the two year old went and developed a fever the night before, so I felt guilty all day, in bursts.

It had been a little misadvertised, as it turned out to be as much a reader's day as a writer's day, but that didn't mar my enjoyment, since I'm a reader, too! I felt a bit starstruck, listening to Berlie Doherty talking about her latest offering.  Also got to hear Trilby Kent read some of Smoke Portrait, too.  She looked, at first glance, like a teenager, but she was so articulate - intelligence in every uttering! - and so well travelled and confident.  I've added her book to my list of books to read.

Age was a bit of a theme for me.  I was startled by the overwhelming number of people attending the event who were female, and of retirement age.  I sat behind a row of content ladies who had to fiddle almost constantly with their hearing aids to hear anything.  It was almost funny seeing them all recoil in horror when the discussion came around, briefly but controversially, to the importance of social media in self-promotion for writers.  It made me sad, too. Of course, you can't see inside these lovely ladies' minds.  I'm assuming a lot when I say, perhaps they've missed the boat.  But I was glad that I'm doing this now, and not waiting till I have time.  I'll still enjoy it as much when I'm sixty, seventy or eighty, I'm sure.  But it's no good waiting for your dreams to come to you; I'm rolling up my sleeves and pursuing mine.

The day did what I wanted on the whole. It made me feel like a seriously aspiring writer.  I met like-minded people.  (Funny, how many wannabe writers are clearly uncomfortable in social situations). I got to listen to some inspirational stories about the journeys some published writers have taken. I learnt a lot about the way independent presses work, and the pros and cons regarding independent publishers and the large commercial publishers (some of which was daunting learning).  I came home with three new books to read, and one of them was free (always a major bonus). I have some pencilled notes on the back of a scrap of paper of recommended websites, and a publisher who will be looking for short story submissions in the next few months.  I found out about a very local creative writing workshop that is starting up next month (sadly, while I'm on holiday with the in-laws, but there are other dates).

I think that's what you call a successful day.  Now if the two year old can just recover, I'm ready to leap into a new week, keyboard at the ready...

Princess for the day

Today is the five year old's birthday.  This time six years ago, she was an hour old, and I was bemused and wrung out and terrified.  I wish I had known what fun it would be, and how much laughter she'd bring. Sometimes I can hardly breathe, I'm so proud of the girl she is growing into.


 She had her Princess Party last Saturday.  She chose exactly who to invite, and they were all so lovely.  It was an unnaturally calm party, they were so well-behaved  - really easy for me, in the end! I can imagine her keeping these friends through the teenage roller-coaster years. With such kind, sweet friends, she'll be fine, I think. 

My writing energies have had to go into cakes fit for a princess...

The girls all looked so wonderfully tacky-princessy in their pink and yellow dresses. They talk about the Disney princesses as if they are classmates. The boys turned up as knights, though they soon got fed up of their costumes.  As for my boys, who would both happily have donned dresses and plastic high heels if I'd let them, Steve stopped me from buying them tunics online, and promised he'd fashion them a costume from cardboard, double-sided sticky tape, and sticky-backed plastic. (Too much Blue Peter in the formative years?)  The day arrived; Steve was away for the weekend, and the costumes only existed in his highly unrealistic imagination.  I had to ply the boys with extra pink sparkly birthday cake to make up for it.  I have a feeling that was just fine with them.


As for Bean, she floated on air the whole day, and on her birthday today she has been fizzy as shaken cola.  There's something about those shining eyes that makes my heart skip a beat.  These have been the best six years of my life.  I wish I could go back and tell that worried new mum I once was that it was going to be better than all right.  I wish I could tell her to ride out the colicky days and nights, the black panics, the hopelessness and tell her how it feels when her daughter slides a card into her hand that says 'I made this lait valntains card for you. I love you Mum.' I wish I could tell her that you don't get your old life back, ever, but you get a better one, and that one day there'll even be time to start chasing those dreams again.  


In fact, the six year old had so much fun being princess for the day, I'm thinking of trying it myself one day soon.  I'll put on the most ridiculously fancy dress I can find, accessorise it with every piece of jewellery I own, add generous helpings of glitter and then spend the day locked in my own personal tower, writing.  I'll wave regally from the window when I need to have a stretch, and I'll ring a bell when I need Steve to make a cup of tea or supply me with chocolate.  
I might leave off the pink plastic shoes, though.

Walking in heels

I have to stick my tongue out to walk in heels, too.  I hope the little one has a sense of humour when he gets to eighteen, because this photo is going to be everywhere. In fact, both the boys seem quite fond of their sister's shoes at the moment.



My manic fortnight is nearly over  - I've been writing a newsletter for the local pre-school tonight, otherwise I might have fitted in some real writing time.  I contemplated starting now, but it's half past midnight, and I need some matchsticks to prop open my eyelids as it is.  Maybe tomorrow? I can dream...

Darklands

 By happy accident I bumped into another aspiring writer, Emma Woodcock, through a mutual facebook friend - see, technology isn't all bad.  I've not made it to a writing group yet (there aren't any very close to where I live - about fifteen minutes away to the nearest),  and I've heard very mixed things about online forums and groups, so it's been a real delight to find someone to talk to who is nearly at the same stage in her writing career as me.  Well, that's not quite true.  In fact she's way ahead of me, in terms of craft and also having her first novel (which is for young adults) already up to submission standard.  Having read it, I was in awe - it was really original and she kept the pace going and the story twisting at a fantastic rate.  You can read the first chapter here  http://www.darklandsthenovel.net/
  I'm looking forward to hearing she has an agent, soon!

Quandary

It's been a week without writing, and I'm missing it. I hope the habits I had begun aren't eroded in this two week break, but at least I'm at the half way point, and at the end of it I'm attending an independent publishing event, which I'm pretty nervous about going to alone. I made myself a promise I was going to take my writing seriously, though, and I booked myself in for the event as a way of keeping faith with myself.  Now I'm glad; it will punctuate this enforced absence from writing, and hopefully inspire me to jump right back into my routines!

Which brings me to another thorny issue, which may never materialise.  I'm potentially going to be offered two extra days teaching work, as supply in a very local school. It would be a totally different experience to where I am now; 18 children in a mixed age (Reception, Year 1 and Year 2) class in a village primary, as opposed to 54 Reception children being team-taught in a town-based infant school.  When I'd stopped laughing about the ratio of adults to children (apparently there's a full time TA, so nine children to one adult) I felt quite excited about the opportunity - the first time I've felt fizzy about teaching in quite a while.

Don't misunderstand - I love my work.  But the admin side gets me down, and there are some dynamics in my current school which sometimes make the part I love - teaching - very stressful and not so much fun.  So I think this could boost my confidence; give me chance to develop professionally.  It would bring in a little extra cash for the extension (or the new car - Ste's has begun to sound like it swallowed a hammer), just at the right time - the supply work would be regular but only for five weeks.  Most importantly, it would get me known as a teacher in another local school.  I work forty-five minutes from home at the moment, which seemed like nothing once, but ten years on there are three little children clock-watching for me to get home, evening meetings that seem like a burden because of the drive, and prices at the petrol station that sound like a bad joke, till you actually have to pay them.  So the idea of moving to a school nearer home is appealing, and this could be a way in.

So what's the problem? I don't know what to do about childcare - Mum can't do any more, and other people have volunteered, but I'm not sure it's fair, and there isn't time to find a child-minder.  And after all, it may be only for five weeks, but they are five weeks of my children growing that I will never get back, and it's my last year with the four year old before he goes to school.  I'm already so busy - I don't know where I'd fit it in - though it is temporary.  And... it might be great for my teaching career, but do I want a teaching career?  I know writers are told a day job is a good idea even if you have some success. And my current novel is about a teaching related issue - my work can be exploited for some great stories.  But it comes back to that promise.  If I take this supply work on, it's money in the bank, but there'll be no words added to the book for five more weeks.  It feels like a test of how serious I am about writing! Yet, a break wouldn't kill my story, and would give me fresh eyes - if it had come at the end of the revision I'm in the middle of, it might even have been a welcome distraction while the whole thing cooked some more.

What a dilemma...and I may not even be offered it, then all this wondering will have wasted mental energy that could have been directed elsewhere!

Birthday One - Turning Two

Today the one year old became a two year old, and I did manage to enjoy it and smile (even if the smile crumbled a little at times!) in between frantic shopping for the OFSTED inspection and icing a cake  to look like a ladybird. We had a family birthday tea at my sister's house; I prepared all the food and got it there, and she provided space and chairs.  Exciting to think that soon we will have the extension done and will be able to fit people around our own table.

In the midst of all the rushing and dashing and pressure to make it fun, I think the two year old had a lovely day, and there was something special about having lots of family to share the fun.

And now a half hour lull before I need to get ready for tomorrow.  It might be a rough fortnight, but it's speeding past, and I'm still aiming to wring some enjoyment out of each hectic day.

As I thought, no time for writing, and barely any for even mental wrangling of plotlines and characters.  However, my £30 cheque arrived for the published letter. It made my throat go tight and my vision cloud over, just for a moment.  I know I want to see more of my writing in print;  I just hope I can learn to be good enough.

Technophobe

I already talked at some length in this blog about my frustrations with technology, but this one made me smile.  I have a shiny, new touch-screen phone (though it refuses to do half the things I ask it to). Last week we travelled to the Midlands to visit Ste's gorgeous sister. When we were approaching her house, he asked me to text and ask her to put the kettle on.  You may not believe it, but we'd actually had to go nearly an hour and a half without tea at that point - I know, but we were brave about it.  After I'd sat beside him in the passenger seat tapping futilely on his phone screen for a full minute, he pointed out that his phone doesn't have a touch screen.....d'oh.