Suffice to say - I have been busy!
Work was extremely busy - living and working in a tourist area means you make the holiday for other people; you help them on their way to relaxation and fun.
The time came around for my own holiday, and for two short weeks I was busy luxuriating in central France, reading the uproariously funny How To Build A Girl by Caitlin Moran and feasting on bread and local wine.
We did all the normal things on holiday. We packed too much, yet somehow too little, we wore the same shoes in the woods, on the beach and in the lake. The 'beaches' actually belong to lakes, being as the central area we visited is very much the Midlands of France, in that is it totally land-locked on all sides. The plages we visit most frequently are in Indre or Creuse departments, and are woodsy, muddy and utterly charming. Speed boats fling screaming teenagers around on inflatables out on the open water, the occasional tourists brave the waves in kayaks and pale, hesitant girls (me) take an age to get into the very cool lake water. We visited chateaux, walked miles in cool shade and blistering heat all in the name of fitness, saw a dust devil on the hottest day and visited some wolves on the coolest.
We did some less common things on holiday, too. Like deciding to change our lives for the better. We agreed to read more, love more, talk more, and feel better. We also accidentally killed a hornet, which we felt pretty bad about. I always get chased by nature, and some notable and fairly comedic special guests this year included bats, wasps, massive flying beetles, beautiful dragonflies, a goat that sounded like a person, and many others.
Changing your life doesn't happen overnight, or even on one beautiful afternoon at Anzeme, watching a clear blue sky unfold above you as you accidentally crash into a French man while doing backstroke. Changing your life happens in a sequence of tiny steps, sometimes each one smaller than the last, but always moving forward.
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Sunday, 13 September 2015
Monday, 6 April 2015
New submissions
My new work is another submission for Are You Sitting Comfortably? hosted by The White Rabbit. This time the theme is 'heroes and villains' and I'm taking a sideways look at what it means to be heroic in a world of superheroes. Are the heroes the ones with their pants over their tights? Or are they the normal people going to work and keeping the economy afloat? Are the villains always the ones laughing in an underground lair, or are they the people who look just like you and me?
I've also found a writing group near me and I am working on a piece on the theme of 'intrusion', which is proving difficult to avoid stereotypes and clumsy plot so it needs a lot more thought.
I watch a lot of horror films (read: horror is the only genre I watch) so the theme is familiar to the point of being predictable - "What was that sound?" "Oh no, the serial killer is in the house!" The key is going to be avoiding cliché as much as possible.
Follow me on twitter for more ramblings and inspiration searching: @ruthsedar
Anything work or writing related is always tagged #amwriting but I am also prone to rudeness, swearing, tangents, observations and everything else. What I'm trying to say is I talk a lot.
I've also found a writing group near me and I am working on a piece on the theme of 'intrusion', which is proving difficult to avoid stereotypes and clumsy plot so it needs a lot more thought.
I watch a lot of horror films (read: horror is the only genre I watch) so the theme is familiar to the point of being predictable - "What was that sound?" "Oh no, the serial killer is in the house!" The key is going to be avoiding cliché as much as possible.
Follow me on twitter for more ramblings and inspiration searching: @ruthsedar
Anything work or writing related is always tagged #amwriting but I am also prone to rudeness, swearing, tangents, observations and everything else. What I'm trying to say is I talk a lot.
Wednesday, 4 March 2015
Spring cleanin'...gettin' ready to write.
After returning from the magical event at White Rabbit, my brain has been filled with excited noise and new ideas buzzing around.
I am, by nature, an extremely untidy person. Shoes remain where I kicked them off; papers go without filing for months; clothes are unceremoniously shoved in drawers and become a crumpled mess. Basically, I am a tidiness slut - in the original sense of the word, of course.
The only things in any order in my house are my books, films and music - a fact my boyfriend finds equally frustrating and hilarious. As a naturally tidy person, my incapability drives him up the wall. But my books, films and so on; those are perfectly arranged. Alphabetical and chronological to the last detail.
With this is mind, I've been trying to tidy my life up. I've put things away properly, thrown things away and recycled to my heart's content. Items without a home or purpose have been removed from the house, and I've tried to consider each item I am bringing in - even down to the last tin of tomatoes. I've found there's more room for ideas to sweep around in a tidy home. The ideas don't get clogged up in tangled cables, or jumbled up in laundry to be put away. They can flow about and imprint themselves on keyboards and in notebooks.
Spring cleaning is something I never thought I would enjoy. But here we are. The days are getting lighter, more sunshine is pouring through the windows and my brain is pouring onto the page.
I am, by nature, an extremely untidy person. Shoes remain where I kicked them off; papers go without filing for months; clothes are unceremoniously shoved in drawers and become a crumpled mess. Basically, I am a tidiness slut - in the original sense of the word, of course.
The only things in any order in my house are my books, films and music - a fact my boyfriend finds equally frustrating and hilarious. As a naturally tidy person, my incapability drives him up the wall. But my books, films and so on; those are perfectly arranged. Alphabetical and chronological to the last detail.
With this is mind, I've been trying to tidy my life up. I've put things away properly, thrown things away and recycled to my heart's content. Items without a home or purpose have been removed from the house, and I've tried to consider each item I am bringing in - even down to the last tin of tomatoes. I've found there's more room for ideas to sweep around in a tidy home. The ideas don't get clogged up in tangled cables, or jumbled up in laundry to be put away. They can flow about and imprint themselves on keyboards and in notebooks.
Spring cleaning is something I never thought I would enjoy. But here we are. The days are getting lighter, more sunshine is pouring through the windows and my brain is pouring onto the page.
Thursday, 12 February 2015
Courage is a rabbit
Years ago, I used to submit work without batting an eyelid. I'd contribute copy to music review sites, kept about four different blogs, sent spec letters to anyone and everyone. The courage of being 17 years old is a special kind you rarely feel again once you are past 27 and picking up speed.
I am beginning to submit work again. This is a Big Deal. Short fiction, mostly, to a few open publishers and I'm trying to write something, no matter how short, each day. Practice is as practice does. And courage comes.
I am beginning to submit work again. This is a Big Deal. Short fiction, mostly, to a few open publishers and I'm trying to write something, no matter how short, each day. Practice is as practice does. And courage comes.
Sunday, 8 February 2015
Inspiration
My inspiration comes from funny places. The same places as everyone else, I suppose - I'm not suggesting my own inspiration is more important or interesting than anyone else's.
To look outside and see a rare hint of Spring in spite of it being early February made me want to sit and write. "Spending warm summer days in doors..." Morrissey knows all about this, too. I don't know anyone in Luxembourg, though.
Projects this week are focussed around submissions I am planning on making, one of them being a short 'Alice' inspired story for http://www.thewhiterabbit.org.uk/
The Alice stories are some of my favourite things. I have a hardback copy of Wonderland and Through The Looking Glass which I received for a birthday present when I was seven. You know those people who read the entire Lord Of The Rings every year? I'm like that, but with Alice.
I want to work mostly on the reality themes, rather than the unreality and the surreal themes. I'd like to see Alice as an adult working through her messed up, subterranean childhood as led by woodland creatures.
To look outside and see a rare hint of Spring in spite of it being early February made me want to sit and write. "Spending warm summer days in doors..." Morrissey knows all about this, too. I don't know anyone in Luxembourg, though.
Projects this week are focussed around submissions I am planning on making, one of them being a short 'Alice' inspired story for http://www.thewhiterabbit.org.uk/
The Alice stories are some of my favourite things. I have a hardback copy of Wonderland and Through The Looking Glass which I received for a birthday present when I was seven. You know those people who read the entire Lord Of The Rings every year? I'm like that, but with Alice.
I want to work mostly on the reality themes, rather than the unreality and the surreal themes. I'd like to see Alice as an adult working through her messed up, subterranean childhood as led by woodland creatures.
Thursday, 23 October 2014
No. 1 - Writing About Writing
This sounds more complicated than the reality - I write, so writing about writing should be relatively straightforward.
Here's the trick - it isn't difficult. Writing is, in fact, frustratingly simple; you are using your fingers to type or hand to hold your pen(cil) and let these body bits be a conduit for the other body bit - your brain - and connect the two.
Pretentious nonsense aside - although it can be wonderfully indulgent to talk rubbish, writing can be a comfort or an enemy. More of that later.
It can be a reassuring sign that your brain is still alive and hasn't slipped into TV or internet-induced hibernation.
More than anything else, writing is something I do. There are lots of things I don't do, but it is one thing I can and do.
Today I am writing about what I do, when I do.
1. I usually do in any number of coffee shops - not to perpetuate the stereotype, of course; I don't sit alone in a corner in a beret, weeping into a steaming cup and getting the biscuits damp from my misunderstood, artistic tears - they just have free WiFi. And coffee, which is good. I do sometimes wear a beret in winter. Shut up.
Luckily coffee shops are generally quiet if you hit them at the right time, but the drone of the grinders and swooshy steamer can be kind of reassuring.
2. I also write in my flat. I chose an armchair specially for writing; this is my only nod to being extremely pretentious. Plus, it was second-hand and it is also the comfiest damn chair. Red leather, metal studs, little castor wheels - he is called Edward and he is the best chair.
My laptop has to be on my lap. I've tried smaller devices but ideally something with a 15" screen is a must and it needs to be a decent weight - at least 2kg - so it can't and hopefully won't slither off my lap. Laptops on desks don't work for me; I'd rather live with the shoulder and neck pain and frighteningly overheated thighs.
3. Occasionally I write on the train, although the little back-of-seat fold down tables drive me crazy as they simply aren't big enough and the lack of free WiFi is just rude. There's also the added peril of hot drinks with the flippy plastic lids. I'd rather get it all over me, or my neighbour, than get it on my laptop. (NB. Past spillages include an entire bottle of water over a keyboard and half a bottle of nail varnish remover which made the black plastic surround of the keyboard bleach white, then it sort-of melted. Don't let me near liquids.)
I have to take a lot of train journeys, and invariably I just stare out of the window instead of doing anything mildly productive.
4. I write in silence or with white noise (see above for coffee shop noises - Coffee Shop Noises, coming to a stereo near you). I used to only be able to write with music on - I don't know when this changed but it just distracts me now. Unless it's something one of my characters would listen to, I don't bother because it's just too much of a distraction. There will be more about distractions later.
5. I don't keep a diary. Only interesting people should keep diaries.
Here's the trick - it isn't difficult. Writing is, in fact, frustratingly simple; you are using your fingers to type or hand to hold your pen(cil) and let these body bits be a conduit for the other body bit - your brain - and connect the two.
Pretentious nonsense aside - although it can be wonderfully indulgent to talk rubbish, writing can be a comfort or an enemy. More of that later.
It can be a reassuring sign that your brain is still alive and hasn't slipped into TV or internet-induced hibernation.
More than anything else, writing is something I do. There are lots of things I don't do, but it is one thing I can and do.
Today I am writing about what I do, when I do.
1. I usually do in any number of coffee shops - not to perpetuate the stereotype, of course; I don't sit alone in a corner in a beret, weeping into a steaming cup and getting the biscuits damp from my misunderstood, artistic tears - they just have free WiFi. And coffee, which is good. I do sometimes wear a beret in winter. Shut up.
Luckily coffee shops are generally quiet if you hit them at the right time, but the drone of the grinders and swooshy steamer can be kind of reassuring.
2. I also write in my flat. I chose an armchair specially for writing; this is my only nod to being extremely pretentious. Plus, it was second-hand and it is also the comfiest damn chair. Red leather, metal studs, little castor wheels - he is called Edward and he is the best chair.
My laptop has to be on my lap. I've tried smaller devices but ideally something with a 15" screen is a must and it needs to be a decent weight - at least 2kg - so it can't and hopefully won't slither off my lap. Laptops on desks don't work for me; I'd rather live with the shoulder and neck pain and frighteningly overheated thighs.
3. Occasionally I write on the train, although the little back-of-seat fold down tables drive me crazy as they simply aren't big enough and the lack of free WiFi is just rude. There's also the added peril of hot drinks with the flippy plastic lids. I'd rather get it all over me, or my neighbour, than get it on my laptop. (NB. Past spillages include an entire bottle of water over a keyboard and half a bottle of nail varnish remover which made the black plastic surround of the keyboard bleach white, then it sort-of melted. Don't let me near liquids.)
I have to take a lot of train journeys, and invariably I just stare out of the window instead of doing anything mildly productive.
4. I write in silence or with white noise (see above for coffee shop noises - Coffee Shop Noises, coming to a stereo near you). I used to only be able to write with music on - I don't know when this changed but it just distracts me now. Unless it's something one of my characters would listen to, I don't bother because it's just too much of a distraction. There will be more about distractions later.
5. I don't keep a diary. Only interesting people should keep diaries.
A beginning
Is it possible to be defined by what we don't do?
Hello, I'm a writer; writing about not writing.
Trained print journalist, BA Hons, NCTJ PG-Dip and probably some other acronyms. GCSE.
I have had work published in print media, digital media, scribbled on envelopes and left behind on trains.
I have filled notebooks with encrypted stories, observations, snide remarks and poor illustrations.
I have an external hard-drive filled with maybe 25,000 words of a novel I am currently not writing.
I have also forgotten how to transcribe my own shorthand when it's been left for too long.
There are two projects I am currently not writing, because I am writing this; here and now.
There are dried up pens in every handbag I own, nestled among the old receipts, pennies and general bag detritus.
There are rituals, rites which must be performed before you can even think about starting to write.
Tea, armchair, lamp, your choice of distracting side projects; all of these and more must be ready before the true procrastination can begin.
This is intended as a short introduction to what I write about when I write about writing, and also what I write about when I am not writing that which I should be. Writing.
#writing #notwriting
Hello, I'm a writer; writing about not writing.
Trained print journalist, BA Hons, NCTJ PG-Dip and probably some other acronyms. GCSE.
I have had work published in print media, digital media, scribbled on envelopes and left behind on trains.
I have filled notebooks with encrypted stories, observations, snide remarks and poor illustrations.
I have an external hard-drive filled with maybe 25,000 words of a novel I am currently not writing.
I have also forgotten how to transcribe my own shorthand when it's been left for too long.
There are two projects I am currently not writing, because I am writing this; here and now.
There are dried up pens in every handbag I own, nestled among the old receipts, pennies and general bag detritus.
There are rituals, rites which must be performed before you can even think about starting to write.
Tea, armchair, lamp, your choice of distracting side projects; all of these and more must be ready before the true procrastination can begin.
This is intended as a short introduction to what I write about when I write about writing, and also what I write about when I am not writing that which I should be. Writing.
#writing #notwriting
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