Writing when life has you by the short and curlys ...

Hi. If anyone is still here to read this blog, I'm just going to get this out of the way ...

I'mabadbloggerandhavesadlyneglectedthisblogbutIhavemyreasonswithwhichIwillnotboreyoubut IwilldobetterIpromise ...

So, I'm still plugging away at this book. It, like this blog, has been sadly neglected these past few weeks. So, I'm wondering, how do you all write when you just don't have the time? And I don't mean no time as in "oh gee, I'd like to write but I have my nails to do, the fridge magnets to re-arrange, the cat's hair to plait" kind of no time. I'm talking about the really hard stuff, the days when you don't know how the heck you're going to come out the other end without going mad or forgetting something vitally important. Like picking your child up from soccer. Cough.

Do you get up at 3am and tap away while slugging down the caffeine? Write like a demon in the spare five minutes you find between those jobs on the "to do" list? Or, like Tess Gerritson, do you simply put the writing aside, do the other things that Must Be Done, and come back later?

Help a struggling (and frustrated!) gal out!

Good news

My dad's OK.

There were a couple of days where his blood pressure was seriously, scarily, low, but it came back up and, after the docs ran every test possible on his ticker, he was declared fit to come home from hospital.

I saw him yesterday. He's not one to complain, not one to talk much about his health, but yesterday, when I asked how he was, he took a sip of his tea, looked down at his hands and quietly said "I thought my time was up."

I'm beyond glad that it was not.

Life: what happens when you're busy making other plans

(... to hash a John Lennon lyric.)

Two milestones this week.

Yesterday was the last time my daughter and I had the whole day to hang out with each other, just her and me.

Yesterday, after I picked her up from her second to last day of kindergarten, we chatted over cheese sandwiches about the merits of fingerpainting versus painting with toes, painted our fingernails a glittery shade of plum and chopped up vegetables for the evening meal of pumpkin and potato soup. It was a lovely afternoon; I'm glad we had it, for Miss Four can be one Mighty Handful and it was great that our last free afternoon together did not entail any time-outs and revocation of DVD privileges!

Then today; her last day of kindergarten, ever, marked by a five minute graduation ceremony (apple cup cakes and a farewell song) and photos. Then we managed to kidnap her dad away from his work for a celebratory lunch.

And that's it. My sons are home now for school holidays, and then, come July 23, she'll be heading off to school with them. I'm kinda gobsmacked at how quickly this has come about. It seems like just yesterday she was born.

I've been dying for her to get to this point for about a year now (this is one child who is SO ready for school and all it's busyness, it's not funny), but now that it's here ... hmm. I admit I had a tear in my eye today; which rapidly dried when I reminded myself the alternative was for her to stay home with me forever (lunatic asylum, here I come!)

My kids aren't the only one getting older, though; so are my parents.

Today, my dad was taken to hospital by ambulance after suffering chest pains and generally feeling awful. He's in hospital overnight for observation. Hopefully it's just a side effect of the mountain of medication he takes to deal with the triple by-pass he had eight and a half years ago. But, as he said, there's also a chance that once again, his heart plumbing is shot, which means another bout of open heart surgery, pronto.

And life goes on ...

Girls & Grandfathers

My daughter loves her grandfathers.

Don't get me wrong; in her estimation, her Nannas are pretty cool. Heck, they're the ones who feed her all the shite that I don't dare, who'll let her spray their perfume all over her and her teddy bear, who'll ask "how high?" when she says jump.

But her grandpas - especially my dad - are something special to her. She loves them to pieces, has them wrapped around her little finger and, as you can see from this photo of my daughter and my dad, the old boys don't mind one little bit. 

And it's just great.

Seriously Good Book on Writing

"The Courage to Write: How Writers Transcend Fear", by Ralph Keyes.

The book arrived via Amazon on Tuesday, and I finished it on Wednesday. Not a mention of "show don't tell", or of the perils of overusing adverbs, or the necessity of story arc, etc etc, and damn, is it a good book! It made me realise all the quirky little  rituals I've unconsciously employed to psyche myself up to write are in fact quite common, and that being afraid and anxious about writing is not only normal, it is vital. That to be afraid to write is absolutely necessary to produce anything worth reading.

And then he helpfully suggests how to harness and transcend those fears. (Phew!)

Go forth and read it. You'll still have all your writerly neuroses, but at least they'll now make sense!

Write when you least expect it ...

... to work, that is.

I've been off air for a while. There are many reasons (aren't there always?) -  I've been busy with the writing (yay!), even busier with the kids, but this last week I've been busy being sick. Head stuffed with cotton wool then set on fire, sick. Stuck on the couch, feeding the preschooler salt & vinegar rice crackers and Barbie DVDs to keep her off my case, sick.

I'm marginally better today. And, somewhat miraculously for a Saturday, I found myself alone in the house for one whole hour. I did not feel like writing. Not one little bit. I have some great books sitting on my TBR  pile, including an excellent beta read I'm part way through (but that's another (really good!) story). Suffice to say, the couch and the books were beckoning. But then the guilts got me. Here I was, with time to write in a quiet house, the very thing I always bitch about NOT having - what kind of hypocrite would I be if I didn't make the most of it?

So I sat down. Typed a paragraph. It sucked. Deleted it. Started again. Still not happy with the para but moved on. And, to my amazement, it all began to flow. I cranked out 1100 words in that hour, not all of them bad. Got my protagonist in the face of my antagonist, with a pistol and a few nifty manouvres with the drapes involved.

It was a lesson I've had before, but needed to learn again. 

Just. Bloody. Write.

No matter how many excuses there are not to, just do it. You just might surprise yourself. 

I know I did.

The Ruby Oracle

Today, I finally made it to The Ruby Oracle (their site is under construction, but you should get the picture.)

It's a gorgeous little shop I drive past every day on the run to school, but I'm always too busy to stop and have a browse. Well, I found the time today, and I was not disappointed. It is a Francophile's heaven -  Rocco style crystal earrings, bracelets, and necklaces, all made in Paris using 18th century molds, lace parasols, leather gloves, velvet scarves, white linen night gowns ... despite the many temptations, I was very good. Nothing for myself today, but my mother and mother-in-law will have lovely gifts to open next Sunday, for Mothers' Day. 

But I did, however, drop a none too subtle hint to my husband about where he should shop if he's ever in the mood to buy me a little, sparkly, something.