How to make up a lost day...



http://www.justwritegifts.com/



Today is Thursday

I missed my WordsOnThePage session yesterday. I spent the day instead at DreamWorld with my beautiful children and some lovely friends. Last night as I crashed into bed exhausted but with a smile on my dial. I vaguely thought about getting back up and doing some late night writing but...

The next thing I know

It's morning and I slept through the entire night in incredible peace. Thing One and Thing Two were so exhausted from all the fun, they did not stir once. I did have a teeny tiny moment of self flagellation but then I remembered the fun we had and I got over it. I figured I would put it behind me and start fresh today. What didn't get done yesterday, can be done today, no biggie.

The How to of How To's
The only way to make up for a day lost is to simply move forward.
I can't change time (although that would be an awesome trick to have in the party tricks hat),
I can't create time (add that to the list of most wanted tricks, check),
but I can be flexible with my time.

Now enough babble - I have some writing to just write....

Two Things Every Writer Needs

Yesterday

I posted about my

inability to write.

My first MS,

with whom I have spent the better part of three years in a dramatic love / hate relationship,

is currently languishing

in a bottom drawer

crying out for some much needed TLC.

You see

the last time we spent quality time together

it all ended in tears.

The break-up of all break-ups.

The MS haughtily took itself to a quiet corner to sulk

and I, ashamed as I am to admit it,

took solace in the world of another.

The new MS idea almost ended my first meaningful MS relationship.

Don't get me wrong,

I did try.

For 6 long torturous months

I tried.

I have dug deep,

 tried reconciliation,

counselling,

self help books,

 the works

but...

each time we sit down together

each time we think we have it all sorted,

the new MS sidles up to listen in.

The new MS is well meaning,

full of inspiration,

full of big ideas,

but the new MS is not helping.

Yesterday

I thought we had hit rock bottom,

I thought there was no way to pick up the pieces.

That is until I spoke up.

I stepped away from the MS's

and I went to my peeps.

The Two Things Every Writer Needs

1. Someone to tell you what you WANT to hear

2. Someone to tell you what you NEED to hear.

My bestie (and critique partner) took the brunt of it

(that's what happens when you drop by at wine o'clock).

She listened,

she asked appropriate questions,

she considered

and then she agreed.

I felt great.

I had secured my

No 1. Someone to tell you what you WANT to hear

Later, over another glass of wine and dinner

The Cat  -husband not animal - asked how my day was.

Now usually I regale The Cat with stories, funny incidences

 and the drama of spending the day with 

Thing 1 & Thing 2. 

Instead he found himself nodding uncertainly to

 my incensed ramblings

 about how the old MS and I had fallen out of love

 and the new MS that was flirting with me at every opportunity.

I detailed the tears,

the laughter,

the fights,

the jealousy

and finally I admitted

the guilt.

The Cat cleared his throat, folded his arms and sat back,

"So, you're giving up?"

My stomach dropped, "No!"

I shook my head vehemently, "No no no."

I tried to explain how suffocated I felt by the first MS,

how needy it had become,

how it was stifling my creativity.

The Cat nodded in understanding.

I sighed in relief.

The Cat hugged me close,

"It's OK to admit defeat. If it's too hard, then it's too hard"

I nodded gratefully...

Hang on...

 "No. That's not what this is. I'm not giving up because it's too hard!"

 Cat annoyingly raised one eyebrow.

 (How? how does he do that?).

"Are you sure?"

Am I sure. Am I SURE.

I snatched up my glass of wine and stomped away.

AM I SURE. Huh!

Dinner was eaten in silence.

Half way through Cat

commented on my choice of wine.

Three quarters done

and Cat complimented the dish.

As I finished Cat collected the plates and loaded the dishwasher.

Cat poured us another glass of wine.

The Cat is a lovely husband.

He knows me, hairy armpits and all.

He has my best interests at heart.

Maybe he has a point.

Am I sure?

No 2. Someone to tell you what you NEED to hear.

Today I am back on track.

MS no 1 has been given a new lease of life.

She has three months to get her act together.

MS no 2 has agreed to wait patiently in the side lines.

Her time will come.

May 30 - my 33rd birthday - MS no 1 TBC.

A deadline.

Accountability.

I owe it to myself and to my wonderful support network.

I am so grateful to have two people who know me so well.

What in this writerly world are you grateful for?

Progress of a novice novelist

The journey of first time novelist is indeed an interesting one. Several months ago, Cat and I found ourselves discussing the mountain of projects I had accumulated over the last 12 months. His concern was that I, a woman who has not exercised with any great regularity since she was 15 years old, would not be able to scale the mountain without causing a landslide of epic proportions. I assured him that it wasn't as high as it appeared and I was already at the top.
Cat put his hands on his hips, cocked his head and quite firmly (in a sexy Tony Danza from 'Who's the boss' kind of way) asked me to come down right now!

Now don't get the wrong impression here, Cat is the most understanding and supportive husband a girl with plans could hope for, very rarely does he say no and more often than not he is the one to encourage my harebrained schemes- even the idea I had that involved packing Thing 1 & 2, ourselves and my mother into a camper van and touring New Zealand for two weeks in the middle of the coldest winter ever.As it turned out it was a great holiday and fun was had by all, nevertheless even I have to admit, this year I may have taken on one too many a project.

It started out innocently enough, really. After 17 years I was only 8 units away from completing my degree and I thought to myself  Eight units is only one full-time year of study. I could be finished uni by the time Thing 1 starts school! Over Christmas further rationalising occurred and a serious conversation with mother secured a 2 months visit in the new year. My little mind started ticking over, I could finish the 3rd draft of 'Elysium' while mother spent quality time with the Chillin's all through February/March. Come first term I would be free of my WIP that had dominated most of my head space for the past two years (slowing the progress of the degree somewhat dramatically) and ready to sink my teeth in to full-time study.
Further more, Thing 1 was starting two days in kindy, which I decided would give me some extra time to study.

So far so good, come 30th March, the 3rd & 4th drafts of Elysium were complete and I was able to put it aside for a planned 6 months to mature before tackling the final rewrite. In the mean time I had committed to hosting a Steiner based playgroup in our home one morning a week. I also had agreed to be part of a New School Initiative to start a Steiner School in our region and further I started another book and a second blog. But it was all fine, really I was on top of it.

So although suddenly my days were not as free as I had imagined I happily ticked the months of the calender and managed to keep my head above water. Come the middle of the year I was starting to get antsy and a little bored with how well I was managing it all so I decided to add another few feet to the already extremely high mountain, I committed myself to a Collaborative Writing Project and agreed to pen another book.

Then quite suddenly a friend came to me and very gently asked if I was doing OK? At first I looked at her strangely, smiled through my shock and said 'Yes of course' and promptly started putting the clean laundry in the refrigerator.

I closed the fridge door and paused. My stomach flipped and I found it hard to breath. I rolled my neck to release some tension. It was really sore and tight. I should see a physio I thought. I turned back to my friend and smiled, 'Do you know a good physio?' I asked. She said yes, found me the number and we resumed drinking our wine. Later that night I considered what she had said and dismissed it. The next day after I snapped at Thing 1 unreasonably I dismissed that too. A week later when I sat on the closed toilet seat and wept because I was too tired to have a shower I thought about the comment again. Still I dismissed it.

It was only after Cat  found me perched atop my mountain hissing like a wild animal and firmly asked me to climb down that I actually gave weight to the situation. Okay, I admit it, I think I am super woman.

Yep, that's right, I was raised in an era where I was told I could do it all and I believed it. Delusional for sure but even now, after spending months going to bed at 8pm and being unable to drag myself out of bed in the mornings in any kind of good humor, I still struggle to admit that maybe I don't have to do it all. The trouble is, there is so much that I want to do, so much that I have convinced myself I must do, I find it hard to separate the want from the must.

fast forward a month or two and here we are. I have agreed with Cat that I will focus solely on completing the degree and polishing ' Elysium' to the stage where I can happily start sending it out to agents. This is a good strong sensible plan and it is plans like these that make Cat and I perfect for one another. He allows me to go off on a wild ride of fun and crazy scheming and I allow him to reign me in when I get out of control.

Thus far I haven't found it hard to let go of the obsessive cleaning, that was an easy one. After having a meeting with local councillors regarding the Steiner School I even happily relented on the hardcore campaigning and I have agreed to relinquish our beloved playgroup after this last term of schooling. But...

I have to admit, the extra curricular writing is continuing to grow, much like mushrooms in a dark damp corner. Now the fungus has taken hold, it is proving hard to eradicate and truth be told, I am not trying very hard. There has been no industrial strength fertiliser, no shovels and compost heaps, and certainly no hand weeding will be taking place any time soon. The writing has a mind of it's own and it has planted it's roots firmly in my life and I am happy and comfortable with this development. Thus I have taken the writing underground. It is all very hush hush at the moment and Cat is confident that I am once again safe at the bottom of my perilous mountain. And I am positive Cat will be more than understanding of this little underground activity when I secure my first deal and all is revealed.

So that is where I find myself. I have 2 more units of uni to complete over the Christmas semester, I have no less than four new WIP and I am standing at the bottom of my mountain where it seems I did manage to climb down one step at a time without causing a major landslide. However I must give credit where credit is due, the sides were safely secured with a strong sturdy wire frame provided by my own personal super supportive construction company.

Tell me, do you ever feel like the need to write is almost organic?