Is it wrong to blame the horse?

I haven’t got as much writing done as I wanted to lately. Despite being prepared. A schedule was pinned up above my computer with an easy to understand time line for my editing, I had ample coffee, snacks, even organised the odd sleepover for my son, but then the horse arrived.

The horse is cute. A paint mare, who my neighbour suspects is pregnant – aw, even cuter. Her name is Lady Ga Ga. She is doing a champion job of mowing my lawn, and I’m filled to the brim with gratitude that I don’t have to be out there in the forty degrees heat cutting it myself.

In theory, this horse should be low maintenance. But I can’t help feel that she’d like an apple [she came inside the house on the weekend and took one herself], or to have her mane plaited. And I have to check that she has enough water, hay, love, pats.

Anyway, that’s my excuse. Not enough writing. Too much horse adoration.

But there’s always an excuse for not writing, isn’t there?

What’s yours today?

Aspiring authors; make a pact.

I was visiting Ollin’s site, Courage to Create this morning, and remembered an important part of my journey towards publication. It happened a long time ago, took seconds, but I suspect it was a pivotal moment.

I’d joined a writing group. I think there were about ten of us; all keen and excited to be working on our manuscripts, looking for useful advice and hopefully some positive feedback and encouragement.

Slowly, the numbers dwindled.  Some left after a rejection from a publisher. Or because life can get hectic and writing can start to look like a self-indulgent hobby. For all kinds of reasons.

In the end, it was just me, and Stephen.  We were both passionate about writing, absolutely determined in our desire to improve our work and stubbornly fixed in our quest to find a publisher.  Over a glass of red wine one night we shook hands and made a pact.

To never quit. Not ever.

Not when the rejection letter came in. Not when we couldn’t see a way to write the ending or improve one of the sagging chapters in the middle.  Not when we read a brilliant book and feared we’d never be good enough to scrape the mud from this author’s boots.

We sent each other interesting articles on writing. {Thank you Ste for the McKee book} We commiserated when we got rejected. And celebrated the wins. We gave each other stern talkings-to if one of us wavered and wanted to quit.

And we did it.

The books we were originally working on when we met were put aside and we started new ones. We were working at different speeds, trying different approaches, contacting different publishers, writing different genres, but somehow, in a weird twist of fate, we somehow managed to have our novels come out in exactly the same month: June this year.

So, here’s my question, writing friends; who can you make a pact with? If no one comes to mind, then perhaps it’s time to reach out and find some like-minded literary types to connect with.

Then, once you have your buddy ready….

… just hold out your hand [virtually is fine too] and shake hands, and make the same pact Stephen and I did all those years ago.

To never quit. Not ever.

I wish you all success and joy along the way.

xxx

Lisa

It’s you, you’re missing.

What I’ve noticed lately in the “top posts” section is that there are a lot of people google-ing the following:

Something’s missing but I don’t know what it is.

I even wrote a post about it not long ago, but at the time I didn’t really have any answers. It dawned on me a few days ago that the feeling creeps into your heart when you’ve abandoned yourself.

How do you abandon yourself? By taking more interest in other people’s lives/opinion/choices than your own. When you are there for everyone else and forget your own needs. When you get busy and run around chasing goals and deadlines that have no real meaning except as a distraction from being present to yourself. When you try to escape yourself by watching hours of TV (other people’s lives again) or over-eat/drink/shop etc.

So, right now, take a breath and ask yourself the question: Where am I? Notice where your focus and thoughts are.

Chances are you’ll be far away.

Come back to yourself.

It’s you, you’re missing.

[How I came to “like” my post – it was an accident really; it was simply a matter of wondering what the “like” button does.  So, although I don’t dislike this post, I’m probably not quite as enamoured of it might seem. :-)]

Sunshine and getting tagged.

It didn’t matter that it was raining this morning (Spring, you missed your cue}. Didn’t matter that the dishes from last night were still waiting for me on the sink, or that the dog put her muddy paw prints all over the floor.

Because inside, I’m sunshine.

And no amount of rainclouds or mud will dampen my spirits today.

Also, the lovely Leslie from Coffee, Pearls and Grace tagged me with some questions:

If you could have one superpower what would it be?

To turn water into wine. Or coal into diamonds. Basically to transform objects. Hey, I’d be a transformer, without the clunky wheels and butch engines though.

Who is your style icon?

Probably Cate Blanchett. I love her elegance and simple style of beauty.

What is your favorite quote?

I have hundreds of them. But recently: “For whatsoever from one place doth fall, Is with the tide unto an other brought: For there is nothing lost, that may be found, if sought.” — Edmund Spenser

What is the best compliment you ever received?

I can’t really think of anything specific. But someone recently emailed me to tell me that Milk Fever was their all time favourite book. That gave me a very warm glow inside.

What playlist/CD is in your CD player/playing right now?

Maxwell – Black summers night is my current favourite.

Are you a night owl or morning person?

Night owl. Definitely. Although due to the weekly school run, I can’t stay up as late as I’d like to anymore. So I have been forced into a better balance. Left to my natural rhythm though, I’d go to bed at 3 and wake up at 11. Lovely.

Do you prefer dogs or cats?

Can’t I have one of each? No? Well, in that case, dogs. Cats don’t need me anyway.

What is the meaning behind your blog name.

It’s the title of my debut novel, Milk Fever. The condition is something cows get when birthing and calcium levels in the blood drop dangerously low. It makes an appearance in the book.
So, now  I need to nominate two other bloggers to tag.

1. shylockbooks.

2. jpcabit.

Enjoy your inner sunshine folks.

Stubborn is good

Driving home from school pick-up the other day, my son asked me if it was ever a good thing to be stubborn. I suspected someone had perhaps called him that, so I hesitated to give my first answer, which was no. I said, ‘yeah sure, perhaps sometimes.’ Fortunately, he didn’t expect any examples from  me, because at the time, I couldn’t think of any.

It occurred to me three days later,  as I sat stubbornly, like a pit bull, in front of my manuscript, daring the muse to  ignore me one more time, that being  stubborn, being bloody-minded, being aaarghh-I-will-do-this was a necessary trait for a writer.

Writers need to be not only determined and persistent, they need to be stubborn too. When the rejection slip comes in.  When you can’t write the ending. When the sun is shining and calls you outside. When your friend/partner/blog feels neglected. When cleaning the bathroom suddenly seems more appealing than writing dialogue.

Be stubborn.

Write.

The soundtrack

I had a lot of fun chatting with Robyn Hodge and Bernard Ryan from The Blurb radio  show on Tuesday.

They asked a lot of great questions, but one in particular really stayed with me and required a fair bit of thought.

If Milk Fever had a soundtrack, what would it be?

Hmmmm.

After some serious thought, this is what I’ve come up with:

For Julia

Rimsky Korsakov – Scheherazade

Visnja – Dishes and Coffee

Tchaikovsky – Swan Lake

For Tom

Cold Play – Yellow

Beatles – Hey Jude

John Mayer – Bigger Than My Body

So, folks, when you consider your work in progress/ novel/ manuscript what soundtrack does it have?

They either love you, or teach you.

This is a simple statement of gratitude to everyone who has ever walked into my life.

Whether you were the kind soul who offered your seat when I was hugely pregnant. Or changed my tyre on that scary bend in the road. You brave thing. Or the one who shared a laugh with me waiting in line at the  supermarket the other day. Or perhaps you cut me off in traffic. Or broke into my car to steal that packet of chewing gum (sorry there wasn’t much worth taking}.

You might have taught me how to look both ways, or lock the car. You might have taught me patience. Or how to kiss or cook. You might have made me cry, or swear, or sigh or laugh. You might have inspired a lot of love in me.

Recently, someone taught me to trust my intuition. And for that, I’m grateful.

So no matter who you are. Whether you came into my life for seconds, minutes, months or years, I am truly grateful.

You either gave me love. Thank you.

Or taught me something. Thank you.

Or perhaps both.

Once again, thank you.

[My new manuscript is calling to me and I can’t ignore it anymore, so I will have to cut back on the blogging a little, for a while. Love to you all.]

{Writers can appreciate everyone, especially those that hurt us; they make for fascinating character studies. The question to ask: what would make someone behave in that manner? Hmmmm, thinking, thinking…}

Something’s missing, but I don’t know what it is…?

This is going to be one of those posts I’ll wish I never posted. No matter how bad it is though, no matter how silly I feel, I won’t delete it, because I promised Ms Ruby, most sincerely, that I would never ever delete another post. Of course, I could always draft it first, but drafts are boring and for sissies, so no, I’ll take my chances on regret.

Something is missing in my life. There is an emptiness that chocolate wont fill. Nor red wine. I have everything I need for happiness. I really do. And Spring is 14 days away. That always cheers me up. But for some reason, not this week.

Whatever this thing is, it’s also missing from my writing, which strangely enough is about missing things. I can feel it missing in my voice when I chat to friends. It’s missing all the time. But I don’t know what it is.

Perhaps it’s human nature; the need to fill spaces. Handbags. Cupboards. Houses. Minds. All getting crammed with stuff.

Anyone else feeling it? Perhaps it’s got something to do with Saturn moving through an empty part of the sky. Who knows?

At this point I could hit the “Move to Trash” button….

But no, despite this post having nothing to do with writing. I’ll leave it here.

Filling up a little bit of space on the WordPress site. Making one tiny spot less empty.

What is the most ridiculous number?

Answer: your age. Seriously, how many decisions do you make with that number echoing inside your head? Too old to take up an instrument? Or study? Or have a change of career? Too young to marry? Or settle down?

Once you hit 18 it’s time to throw that number away. Once you hit 18 you’re a grown up and your life is your own.

Change career. Move. Study medicine. Or archaeology. Write a book. Paint. Travel. Take up violin. Fall in love. Learn to ski/tango/meditate/fly/sing.

Do whatever you passionately want to do. Forget your age. It’s just a very silly number. A ridiculous number. An excuse.

There are no limits to who you can be unless you make it so.

Invent a theory day

Theories are not just the domain of scientists and philosophers, anyone can create one. In fact, I recommend coming up with a spectacular or ridiculous theory every day.

It’s fun. It’s free. And it stimulates your mind and heart to come up with creative ideas for seeing life.

Jpcabit thought my theory on many earths, which I shared on my “50 posts later post”, was a little OTT.

Let me explain it here, in more detail. Deep breath. Thinking cap on.

Right. Here goes: Let’s just say that there are many ways of feeling life. My way is different to your way. Also, we only use a very small percentage of our brains, which really opens up billions of portals just there for other ways of experiencing life. We are basically just energy. And this world is perceived through our senses, which perceive energy. So matter is a bit of an illusion. And really [she’s faltering here…] consider how many varying ways there are of looking at life. Aren’t we just like sophisticated holograms?

Perhaps it’s a dimensional thing.

Okaaaay, so it doesn’t make a lot of sense, but that’s the exciting thing about some theories, I guess, they only work in your head and then as soon as you share them with someone else you can see that there might be one or two insy-winsy flaws.

But then you can simply think of another one.

So, come up with a theory today. Make it silly. What’s your theory on why men won’t look at the instuctions for IKEA furniture and wonder why they have bolts left over?

Why does the bus arrive when you light a cigarette? As a non-smoker my theory is because some higher power is looking after your health, buddy.

Why do I feel compelled to share ridiculous ideas on my blog….?